He was not an old man, but age did not wait for him
to grateful. In fact, his dog looked older than he was, and it was his sixth 6
dog of his life.
“You find inspiration in all the things that make
moments non-memorable” I once told him.
“And you, when you take a photo, do you look only at
the subject you had in mind to capture?” his response was. “Or do you celebrate,
under your loupe, looking at all the details, shapes, and perhaps stories that
had found their way into your film’s negative strip when you were focused on
the subject you had in mind?”
… We all eventually remember what we thought we had
forgotten. It can be words, images, sentiments, taste or colour. But we do
remember even when we are unaware how past experiences find their space in what
we cherish, what we build, what we paint, or what we write. They find their
space in who we were and who we become.
“And I assume you have something to share about why
and how the morning dew is more important to you than the rare rain storms in
the desert?”
“It is all about how you transfer your inspiration
from one object, one event or one person to another. I used to think that I had
to be inspired by the idea, the subject, or a pair of brown eyes to feel
closeness, perhaps even love to that subject. But it was when I found
inspiration in its own right, without a smell, colour, shape or words that I
learned how I could transfer it to all things around me. Finding inspiration
outside a person will allow you to be inspired by that person.”
… We all eventually remember what we thought we had
forgotten. Or wanted to forget because we had not learned how to incorporate a
person or event into who we were becoming. There was no space, no place, no
urgency for such an inclusion.
“Sometimes I repeat thing, or maybe things get
repeated. It is not spiritual, but all around us is repetitive. I think that
when one finds that rhythm in small things, they end up like a rhyme. And they
become poetry. I know that means something to you, yes?”
… Today, for whatever reason, I recalled this
conversation which took place under far away skies, next to a sea, at a time
when we all thought times would remain calm and predictable.
And I let my mind fly free, or fall free just
because I had not revisited these words for a long while.
And somewhere during that flight or free fall, I
thought about a famous French poem by Apollinaire, “Le Pont Mirabeau”.
Why? Because of the suggestion that all things
around us are repetitive, and that identifying the rhythm of repetition helps
us see the larger picture.
Here are the opening lines of the poem I still
remember vividly:
Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine
Et nos amours
Faut-il qu’il men souvienne
La joie venait toujours après la peine
(Under the Mirabeau Bridge flows the Seine
And our loves
Must it remind me
That joy always came after the pain)
And I realised why this poem came back to visit me:
it was because we were taught that Apollinaire used repetitive words and
imagery to help the reader appreciate the scenery, the feelings, and the
moment. Just like what my friend was telling me about how he transferred inspiration
from outside the subject to the subject to appreciate, love and celebrate that subject.
For the poet, it was a style of writing he called calligram; for my friend it was the way
he found serenity; and I wondered if I had learned lessons from poetry and a
wise man without knowing it. Had my past decades, my photography, my own
writings found inspiration for the sake of inspiration, and then helped me
celebrate life moments and people through that cache of inspiration ready for
those red-letter moment?
I do not know. Perhaps the photo I took on a snowy
day has the answer. It is all about simplicity but also the calm snow covered
bushes provide, as the snow repetitively falls upon them, to transform the
scenery, to make it new with every snow flake.
Yet, every snow flake is different.
But I will not have a chance to ask him – I learned
that he passed a few years ago.
May 21, 2025
© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2025
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