Dove Skeleton

Dove skeleton. Photo: Julie Clarke (c) 2017

I can't believe that almost eighteen days has already slipped by in 2017. The recent heat wave made Winter dissolve into faded memory, a reminder to me of that old, but wise saying 'even this will pass'. Over the past five days I've read Adolf Hitler's Mein Kampf (My Struggle). I wouldn't generally attempt to read a 572 page tome - just the density of such a book would be off putting.

I've been taking photographs of what I'm calling Urban Inscription, I suppose others might call mark making on walls and buildings as tagging or graffiti, but since they form part of the aesthetics of our environment, they add to the flavour of urban life. I'll post them on this blog when I've taken a few more. I find that I almost always take photographs when I'm not ready to paint or draw - the canvas I bought in the new year is still in its wrapper and I'm daunted by the silence of its white, emptiness.

I look out to my courtyard. The half a dozen or so Begonia's are in flower, the black birds, sparrows and doves are eating the oats I provide for them each day. It's quiet, save for the sound of traffic. Things remain the same, whilst simultaneously becoming different.

I finally opened the dove egg that fell out of the nest in mid December. The body of the little unborn dove had dried up. Its skeleton, barely a few centimeters long was all that was inside the shell. A bizzare and somewhat disturbing image. Even so, I photographed it (above).