There is an aching poetry in the patina of time, it caries the shadow of faded beauty. Precise delicate traces on the borders of nothingness. The mystique of collapse and disintegration.
The universe deconstructs, the inclination towards nothingness is is unrelenting, nothing is more of an illusion than permanence.
The inconspicuous, the overlooked details, the notion of imperfect flaws that we only notice when the scales of perfection fall from our eyes are what makes the imperfect beautiful.
As things break down into their primordial state, they become even less perfect, more irregular, and within this limit of perfection the imperfect shines.
Seeing beauty in the obscure is an altered state of consciousness, an extraordinary moment of poetry to be coaxed out of ugliness.
I hope my photo's bring a little bit of Wabi-sabi to your day and that the scales of perfection start to slip from your eyes.
A.MUse
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