![]() |
18th Street and Belmont, Washington D.C. |
Showing posts with label Washington D.C.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Washington D.C.. Show all posts
Sunday, September 18, 2016
City of Skinny Bricks & Wrought Iron
You might think that Washington D.C. is the city of marble, granite and blue gneiss, but those are the monuments. The city itself is built of skinny brick and enough wrought iron to outpace New Orleans, thrice over.
Saturday, September 17, 2016
No Pictures, Just Words
Arlington National Cemetery
I couldn't bring myself to take pictures here because I struggled to see the "beauty" of the cemetery. If you have seen my pictures, especially the one's from last summer's New Orleans trip, then you know I have an affinity for patterns.
At Arlington National Cemetery there are patterns built into the foundation of the place, buried deep in the ground and echoed along the surface. Tombstones are placed deliberately so that they do not overlap. The names on the headstones always remain visible regardless of which direction you look towards them from the road and pathways. These white headstones ripple like waves cresting over the hills so you feel lost at sea among the dead.
I couldn't glorify it or try to recapture its sacred sorrow in pictures like a place that needed to be checked off a tourist's list and take my designated smiling selfie. I couldn't find it in me to frame the sorrow-scape in photographs, but I do feel compelled to record the visit in words.
I couldn't bring myself to take pictures here because I struggled to see the "beauty" of the cemetery. If you have seen my pictures, especially the one's from last summer's New Orleans trip, then you know I have an affinity for patterns.
At Arlington National Cemetery there are patterns built into the foundation of the place, buried deep in the ground and echoed along the surface. Tombstones are placed deliberately so that they do not overlap. The names on the headstones always remain visible regardless of which direction you look towards them from the road and pathways. These white headstones ripple like waves cresting over the hills so you feel lost at sea among the dead.
I couldn't glorify it or try to recapture its sacred sorrow in pictures like a place that needed to be checked off a tourist's list and take my designated smiling selfie. I couldn't find it in me to frame the sorrow-scape in photographs, but I do feel compelled to record the visit in words.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)