A hornpipe dancer makes a final adjustment to her hat prior to a dance performance at the Caledonian Games in Athena.
Photo by Jeff Horner.
Music and dance.
Parades down Main Street.
A good pair of blue jeans.
Some things are timeless. Without beginning or end, they have an unusual shade or out-of-place sparkle. They catch our eye and stand out in the crowd.
Whether it’s an old fashioned, mule-drawn buggy blurring the spin of time, devoid of most modern day color and sending the faint “clip-clop, clip-clop” echoes from our often perceived black-and-white past or the soft, full-blown color of a red combine cutting golden grain against a backdrop of placid blue, our thoughts are colored by the familiar.
Fragments of yesterday stand among the moving crowd. They walk with us in the preparation for a Scottish dance competition. A last second adjustment — just the right tip of the hat — to pass the scrutiny of our inspecting eyes.
If somehow our collective subconscious could reveal what fragments hold us together, unite us within the spinning fervor of relentless time, we might some day come to an understanding of how little we change.
The past, present or future doesn’t have to register within the visual spectrum of the human eye for this to become clear. Often clarity and a sharp image resides in what we don’t see, rather than what we do.
The leap of the imagination.
The first step through the gentle veil connecting our visual moments within a mixed, yet tangible, time frame.
Photojournalism seldom allows the opportunity to break rules of reality. What we see is what you get.
For a moment, though, let’s break the rules. Let’s journey into the twilight zone inside my head and behind my eyes and inspiration.
Just like the pre-1950s world did not exist in black and white, the black-and-white converted people in two of these images were not without color.
But full color is not their value.
Their value comes simply from universally, yet oddly, fitting in while still being just a frame out of time. They represent the connective quality of everyday folks and everyday cycles and the persistent, haunting presence of things that last.
The colorful capture of passing time will always be dominated by the immediacy of those moments close at hand while bridged, imaginatively, by timeless familiarities faded gray only by the turning of the years.