Saturday, March 17, 2007
Look up, waaay up
London, Ontario, February 2007 [Click to enlarge]
Back in December, I took this picture of architectural columns. As I returned to the scene of that photographic crime, I thought of different ways of looking at a topic I'd already captured. (Carmi's photographic philosophy, part 8: you can take pictures of things you've photographed previously. The challenge lies in finding different ways to see the familiar. End digression.)
In keeping with my lifelong habit of looking up when I really should be looking ahead, I thought a view from the base of the column might be in order. As I composed the image, trying to ignore the growing sense of nauseating vertigo as I imagined what the two-dimensional image would look like, I thought about what it must have been like for the craftspeople who built this thing in the first place.
It would been built around the turn of the 20th century, right around when my late grandfather was born. No huge cranes or massive bulldozers. Just a bunch of skilled men with the gift of turning an architect's vision into large-scale art. I suspect my grandfather would have found it cool to watch them build this creation from scratch. He would have also found it cool that I'd be thinking something similar so many years later.
Suddenly, I felt really small as I tried to reflect the wonder of these century-old creations, and the fact that I got to look at history from a strange and unusual perspective.
Your turn: Do you feel small looking at this image? Why/why not?