Still looking at beauty and where we find it. I love the colours of rust, the textures and stories that I can conjure from them. This is an image from inside the bell at Qinglong Temple in Xi’an.
Each temple and city in China traditionally had a bell and drum tower. The bell was rung in the morning, the drum at dusk. A lovely way to mark the beginning and end of the day. Most of these are now just ornamental, their purpose being taken over by watches and clocks.
Can we find beauty in the disused, outdated and time-worn? I think so. The beauty is in the colours of the past, the textures of the disuse and the stories they could tell if we listen carefully enough.
Most photographers love photographing the faces and hands of the elderly – and I guess for pretty much the same reasons. Those faces and hands can tell so many stories and those stories can enrich our lives so much. History is written for us to see in the eyes, wrinkles, knotted fingers. Babies and littlies are sweet, but their faces, as yet, tell us little.
I can find beauty, even in death, if it is surrounded by life. A well-lived life, with work done, goals achieved and loves fulfilled, is not sad in death, but beautiful. The death of an old tree in a forest surrounded by young trees, speaks of the wheel of time, the ever-renewing face of life.
Beauty can be found in the old and forgotten. It can be found in rust and cracked paint. It can be found in death.