January Comes Quiet in Dayton

. . . While at first the only sound heard was the scraping of the snow plow and the occasional passing train outside, the more time I spent with the old instruments, the more I began to see the notes that were once played. As I focused my camera lens upon an interesting array of strings or lines of well-worn organ keys I began to realize that each instrument was at one time the extension of an individual musician, perhaps some accomplished professionals; maybe others just students. Here were the artfully crafted tools used to share a talent and give to others the pure pleasure of simply getting lost in the notes, whether it was with family in a living room, in the church loft above some congregation or in the music room of a grade school.

In many ways being in a room full of such reminders of life moved onward is like the feeling of walking into a child’s room, still adorned with toys and murals from more innocent times, after the child has grown and moved away. I think there’s something in all of us that secretly hopes for a return to those earlier days. Unfortunately the painful yearning of that hope often arrives too late. Yes there’s an element of sadness involved when photographing still life subjects that were once part of someone’s life experience and musical expression. Not surprisingly that’s exactly why such subjects have such a strong appeal to most visual artists. The resulting work is the expression of the heart exposed and is the proof presented of honest intent to just simply share that which is felt within.

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