Same view, different weather

A couple of weeks ago I posted this scene. Yesterday, I went past it again and found it looking like a bit more dressed up.

We had a strange, yet colorful dinner time conversation this evening. I begin to recount to the family how a colleague and I recently went on an assignment together armed with our cameras. Later after comparing our images, noticed that it looked as though we had approached our subject in such different manners that it appeared that we were not even at the same place. We obviously 'see' differently. At that point my youngest child jumped in and said that she also 'sees' differently than other people. I was rather taken aback that she actually could conceive of such a concept as I was not enlightened to the fact that people 'see' differently until I was a much older age. She begin to describe that she sees the world in unblended colors; as dots of red, green, blues, etc...She said that she sees details sharply, but the colors are not blended. I started to get excited as my husband and eldest child were only mildly amused. Throughout her childhood I have always noticed that she has a tremendous sense of colors. Her stick figures may not have been anatomically correct, but she would pick strange, yet pleasing color combos for the hairs and eyes. At this point I asked her, "ohh, please draw me a picture of how you see." To which she got out a pen and paper and drew our kitchen curtains and her sister and then decorated with colors. My husband glanced at the drawing and then looked at me and said, "Oh I get it, she sees life in pixels!" I'm not sure if I should be worried, but knowing this child...she'll be fine.

Comments

[drew]

Very interesting, Marie. This reminds me of one of my favorite chapters, "Seeing" in Annie Dillard's "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek." That's where Dillard talks about how the newly sighted see, and the little girl who sees a peach tree as "the tree with lights in it"... and she also shares that remarkable (albeit, sad) line: "Form is condemned to an eternal danse macabre with meaning: I couldn't unpeach the peaches." Your story reminds me of that gift we best possess when form and meaning are still dancing playfully in our young minds, a gift we manage only fleetinlgy as adults: the ability to see things for the "first" time. You siezed the moment to celebrate that gift with your youngest--good for you and her.

Since at middle-age I don't come by it naturally anymore, I frequent your site for a chance to look at things for the "first" time through your own remarkable eye--an equally important and too rarely shared gift. Thanks, Marie.

[Ana]

Very interesting! I spent a couple of minutes after I read your post, trying to imagine how that would look.

[Ana]

Incidentally, I ony just now realized that the title to your post, same view different weather, is perfect for both the picture and your story. Maybe I'm late to the parade, but I just wanted to savor how fitting that seems.

[Marie]

Thanks Ana, and for the record I noticed the title and photo and story connection only after I posted the entry. I can't plan blog posts--it strains my brain.

[Justin]

That's interesting. I think very visually, myself.

Have you ever looked at Zoetrope.com? They have a virtual studio where people can critique each other's photography...I have a few up there myself.

[Medb]

It was a lovely scene before, but it's amazing how some snow can turn it into a sparkling vision!