Let's Reframe: By Degrees

Compost Compositions 2019

12/31/2019

 
Picture
First juried show at AVA Gallery in Lebanon, NH Summer 2019
It's been quite a year.
Picture
Rhubarb, Pea Pods & Paper, 2019 By ERSwett
Each week,
​110 pounds of compost
processed in the bins behind
our garage.
Picture
More buckets of compost from Umpleby's Cafe in Hanover, NH
That's 52 weeks
of at least 110 pounds 
each week, which adds up
to 5,200 pounds or
2 1/2 tons.

Picture
Mashed Pumpkin and Pea Pods, Fall 2019 By ERSwett
As you know,
compost is a thing
for me, coming from a
place of deep caring
and ongoing
​curiosity.
Picture
January 1, 2019 - - My first sampler: "This Compost" by Walt Whitman
In 2019 
that compost
inspired oodles of
photographs, yards and
yards of embroidery, and an
entirely new way of 
thinking about
myself.

Picture
Re-imagined Grandmother's Dress, Spring 2019
Picture
Re-imagined Self, Summer 2019
I wonder
where these tons
of compost will lead
in 2020 and
​beyond. 
Picture
Apple Peals, Fall 2019 By ERSwett
What twists
and turns will emerge?
Will there be chaos or coherence?
Every year, it's the same 
wondering. What's
next? Will I
be OK?
Picture
Dried Roses, 2019 By ERSwett
Will we
be OK? Will 
we find renewal
from transformation or
will we remain
stuck?

Picture
Christmas Cactus, 2019 By ERSwett
Will we
choose uniformity
or diversity? Will we hover,
like these hydrangeas 
above the fray... 
Picture
Hovering Hydrangeas, 2019 By ERSwett
...or will we
let ourselves 
​mix
and mingle with others, and
in the process, embrace
the mess that may
emerge?

Picture
Hovering Hydrangeas and Orange Peals, 2019 By ERSwett
Will we?
Will I? These are
the kinds of questions I
ask at the end of each year. It's hard
not to, especially when there's so much going
on. At this moment, though, I wonder how these compost
photographs will inspire you and me to transform
ourselves in 2020 and the decade ahead.
Keep me posted. I'm curious...
Picture
Compost Compositions at The Mayor Gallery at AVA in Lebanon, NH. A quiet space, ready for conversation.

Cornucopia in the Compost

12/15/2019

 
Picture
Cornucopia in the Compost, 1 By ERSwett
The cornucopia
came home with us after
Thanksgiving in CT. 
It sat on
​the windowsill.

Picture
Cornucopia in the Compost, 2 By ERSwett
The flowers
started to wilt and I
noticed the texture of the
drying petals and the play of light
​from different angles.
Picture
Cornucopia in the Compost, 3 By ERSwett
And the
roses captured
my attention.
Picture
Cornucopia in the Compost, 4 By ERSwett
And kept
my attention
even when tossed into
the compost
​pile.
Picture
Cornucopia in the Compost, 5 By ERSwett
It's strange.
I've actually never
really liked roses. They're 
hard to grow and their thorns
hurt. It has always struck me as odd
that a flower that can cause pain would be
one so many use to express love.
Though maybe that's the
point. Love hurts.
Sometimes.
Picture
Cornucopia in the Compost, 6 By ERSwett
On this 
particular day
in the compost pile,
though, I fell in love with 
the roses. They seduced me and
inspired me to hang out
with them, despite
cold fingers &
 a runny
nose.

Picture
Cornucopia in the Compost, 7 By ERSwett
I know
they must 
have traveled
far to arrive fresh
in Connecticut in late 
November. Perhaps it is 
out of respect for their journey
that I can't take my eyes
off them - even when
things get a bit
stirred up...
Picture
Cornucopia in the Compost, 8 By ERSwett
...and more
compost arrives
& gets mixed & mingled
with the coffee and
the discarded
cornucopia.
Picture
Cornucopia in the Compost, 9 By ERSwett
They are
​unstoppable,
these roses, determined
to not get left behind or forgotten.
They refuse to be outdone
by the dryer lint, kale,
or banana peels. 
They persist.

Picture
Cornucopia in the Compost, 10 By ERSwett
Maybe that's
why love and roses
go together. If we pay attention,
it's not the rose at first glance, it's the rose
that still captivates as it evolves,
edges drying and petals
falling off. For me,
that's what
love is...
Picture
Cornucopia in the Compost, 11 By ERSwett
Love
for my family.
Love for my friends.
Love for the earth that sustains
us. Even when tested and tossed around
a bit, real love persists, captivates, and has the
power to transform all those paying
attention to it.

Picture
Cornucopia in the Compost, 12 By ERSwett
    Picture
    Lyn Swett Miller
    ​
    reframing the narrative, one day, one image at a time
    Picture
    compost re-imagined
     Let's ReFrame: By Degrees
    A place where photographer Lyn Swett Miller considers wonder, joy and transformation in a complex world.

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