They say we can only see 32 shades of grey, and yet there are over 250 of them around.
Millions of colors and yet to some we are still primaries. Secondaries. A color wheel.
My camera, the extension of my eye, sees the world different than I do. It sees more.
My eye is influenced by sound, by smell. By motion. The camera blinks when told.
Nine points of focus, each one seeking something to hang on to. Zzzzzzzt. Zzzzzzt.
Tripod, arms, truck hood and sometimes a contortionist position is done for it.
I see the colors in the image, and the camera does not. I growl. I take more shots.
Once in editing, I move the scale. Back. Forth. Right Left. More. Less. This. That.
And I see what I didn’t see. The camera, with no discernment, catches it all. All.
The apple tree I wanted was out of focus, because the camera saw the bird fly.
A bird in flight cropped becomes the image, the colors, that I never planned.
The camera sees the lines. The wrinkles. The color 9 that smells of my life. Mmm.
It builds me a treasure box of smiles. Memories of laughter. The colors of sound.
The colors of feeling love. Joy. Excitement. Tension. Joy. Wonder. Awe. All of it.
Colors become the breath between each shot and memory. Color becomes feel.
Color immerses me in sound. Texture. Taste. Memory. More than shades of this.
More than colors of that. It is an impartial eye, preserving like a historian.
It becomes a comedienne. Laughing at the foibles of memory catching. Caught?
Abhra Pal has us thinking about immersing in color, being inside or being colored on the outside. Poetics is about how we get colored, and become the colors. Join us for Poetics at dVerse!
Sunflower Poetry 