 Christmas Cactus Bloom, November 2020 Photo by ERSwett A single small plant, a gift in 2003, grows for 17 years, blooming regularly just before Thanksgiving, as if feeling our longing for color, just as the days darken and trees stand baren.  Christmas Cactus Plant (a gift from my mother-in-law in 2003), Fall 2020 Photo By ERSwett It was a gift from my mother-in-law, its abundance reflecting her deep love for the keeping & caring of all kinds of plants. During this time of Thanksgiving, I am grateful for her and for this pink cactus.  Dried Blossoms on Paper, Fall 2020 Photo by ERSwett For me, photographing the spent blooms has also been an invitation to see the beauty embodied in decay, especially during the past 3 years, when she has been in decline.  Composted Blooms, November 2020 Photo by ERSwett Last week, the pink blossoms lay beside stale bread & a banana peal. 3 years ago, those blossoms lay on fresh snow, mixed with spent leaves & flowers. I doubt Pam ever imagined the powerful impact that small plant with its pink blossoms would have on me. It was this image from 2017 that inspired me to begin sharing my work in new ways, including making a set of greeting cards with a variety of images from that year.  Dried Flowers, 2017. Photo by ERSwett This first 'dried flowers' photograph is part of my original "Compost Composition" greeting card collection. There is still a limited supply available, which I hope to get out into the world. Please express your gratitude for the US Post Office by writing cards to those you love. Rumor has it that these images make people feel good. Here's a link.  Mixed set of 8 Compost Composition greeting cards, Fall 2020  I believed & it was true. Wear a pair of black leather boots & you, too, will feel powerful & confident. It's been five years since I first purchased these on consignment, polished them up and faked it till I made it. They worked their magic.  After wearing them a few times, I started to actually believe in my power - - not in a dominating way, but in a deep visceral kind of way that flowed from my fascia and radiated outward. These boots lead me to the edge of my known world....  If I step off the path, I might harm this ecosystem, but if I stay on it, I may never come to understand it. What if it's not even a binary question. Maybe it's about stance and learning to tread more lightly.  And maybe there is more power in a backward glance made with curiosity, wonder & the core of who I am, than there is in a pair of boots & a projection of false confidence.   Banana: Look at Me! Fall 2020 Photo by ERSwett Colors. Textures. Shapes. Invitations to pay attention.  Balanced Greens, Fall 2020 Photo by ERSwett Gorgeous Garbage. Mixed up and mingled.  I Voted, Fall 2020 Photo by ERSwett Curious about time & the need to document how I use it...Fear emerges: Will we have the time we need? Thoughts shift.  The Executive Calendar, Fall 2020 Photo by ERSwett If my daily calendar is empty, did I exist? If we live without record, do we exist? Or, is there something more powerful I don't yet understand that connects us to the spirit of things & not things themselves?  Yellow Rose Petals, Fall 2020 Photo by ERSwett Trump's election sparked my initial focus on compost. Since then, the pile has shifted from metaphor for America (a diverse soup), to an invitation to explore my relationship to just about everything and everyone...including myself.  Tea Cup in Sharon, VT, Fall 2020 Photo by ERSwett So I've been hanging out with tea-cups submerged in ponds and feeling the power of moss while in prayer.  Moss & a Prayer, Fall 2020 Photo by ERSwett I wonder: Will I take this invitation to change, to emerge from this time with renewed interest in what's possible? Or will I hold on to what I know & to what feels safe because I am afraid?  What's This? Fall 2020, Self Portrait For me, it's a choice, & fear is not an option.  The Choice is Mine to Make, Fall 2020 Self Portrait  Black Boots on Wood, Sharon, VT Fall 2020 Photo by ERSwett Sometimes a gal has to shake things up a bit.  Embroidered Moccasins by Sarah C. Swett sometime in the 1980's. Photo by ERSwett If, for example, she can't actually walk in other people's shoes, she can at least experiment with wearing her own in new & different places. Or, perhaps, not wear any at all.  Barefoot in Fall Self Portrait, October 2020 It turns out, for example, that feeling cold wet leaves beneath your toes while staring at your camera is quite luxurious.  Self Portrait at The Land, October 2020 Photo by ERSwett I've been needing these experiences this past week, because while those in power continue to belittle women's voices, & the voices of those without power, I struggle to find mine.  The Dress - Blowing in the Wind, October 2020 Photo by ERSwett The dress, like so many past beliefs is gone, blowing in the wind, beautiful but not useful anymore.  Reclining on a Wood Pile - Self Portrait October 2020 And I recline on a wood pile, wearing those cool black boots from The Pink Alligator & a black shirt dress from Revolution. It all feels quite liberating...  Hydrangea at The Landfill, October 2020 Photo by ERSwett Each step in my own shoes brings me closer to what I love -- finding balance & power at the landfill & in my compost pile, each photograph transforming the discord & pain I feel in the world around me into something else entirely.  Now the demitasse, filled with coffee, sits on the coffee grinds from which it came, connected and real. In times like this, it helps to stay real.  Self Portrait with Panels, Fall 2020 Photo by ERSwett And then I remembered how powerful I felt when we first installed our solar panels in 2010. For less than the cost of most new cars, we could actually generate power - - 56,000 Kwh to date, in fact. So I created this self portrait, wearing those same black boots & holding a mug of coffee made by a good friend. This is real.  2020 Ballot Photo by ERSwett And this is real too. So after the photo shoot at the panels, I filled in my ballot & delivered it to Town Hall, feeling very very powerful. I hope that on November 3, 2020 you will vote as if your life & the lives of your children's children's great grandchildren depended on it.  Self Portrait - - As a Tree, October 2020 Because here's the deal. If you can, do. If you believe in your power, you can generate power, not just with solar panels and your vote, but with the very core of who you are. I'm a mover & maker, so I learned to embroider so that I could share Whitman's poem, This Compost, and the oh so powerful final stanza...  This Compost on a Jacket - - Self Portrait, October 2020 Now I am terrified at the earth, it is that calm and patient, It grows such sweet things out of such corruptions, It turns harmless and stainless on its axis, with such endless successions of diseased waste, It distills such exquisite winds out of such infused fetor, It renews with such unwitting looks its prodigal, annual, sumptuous crops, It gives such divine materials and accepts such leavings from [us all]. -Walt Whitman, This Compost (From Leaves of Grass)  The Connecticut River at Dawn, September 2005 Photo by ERSwett Renewal is the operative word. Like all this stuff about demitasse & cotillion dresses & going deeper into who we are & what we believe. It's so much easier to explore when feeling powerful.  Self Portrait - Being a Tree in the Fen, October 2020 in Sharon, VT Afraid of what might happen this week? Be a tree & remember, if you can, do. Connect with the earth. Stand tall. Be Real.  Self Portrait - Being Real, October 2020 in Sharon, VT
A dress worn to a party in 1984, re-imagined & transformed, becoming muse & metaphor in 2019. With text from Walt Whitman's poem, This Compost & embroidered ferns traced from actual ferns in my garden,
it took over a year, for the dress and the woman to emerge - smiling.
Always smiling.  Self Portrait, Fall 2020 "I am terrified at the earth," but I drink my demitasse and smile. Really? Is that all? What an incongruous sham!  Self Portrait, Fall 2020 But am I allowed to show fear or anger? Do I even know what these emotions feel like? And if I can't show them when no one is looking, will I ever be able to be real?  Self Portrait, Fall 2020 I've buried them for so long, always hiding behind that smile. Don't get me wrong. I've only recently understood how beautiful it is. But just as the demitasse is a curious distraction, so is a smile a fabulous cover.  Self Portrait, Fall 2020 It was only after these exploratory photo shoots in Maine that I started to go deeper. If I am going to re-imagine my relationship to everything and everyone, including myself, I'll need to accept that it won't always be pretty.  Self Portrait, Fall 2020 |
Lyn Swett Miller
reframing the narrative, one day, one image at a time 
compost re-imagined
Let's ReFrame: By Degrees
A place where photographer Lyn Swett Miller considers wonder, joy and transformation in a complex world. Archive
September 2021
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