Leaving the density and diversity of built environment of the city and its close-in older suburbs one comes to the newer residential communities kept pure and protected from commercial development. Activated and pastoral by day, their experience can be very different at night.
Warm wishes to you and and yours from Savannah!
To view our recently completed project combining poems and photographs click the link below
Thinking of Grandmom. She’s responsible for many small moments of joy in my life.
I haven’t spent much time lately on photography. I plan to make some time for my hobby soon and return to a project my sister in-law and I started last summer. Here is one of the diptychs we completed before the natural frenzy of our lives distracted us. More to come soon!
Two hearts,
of the same kinds
come together
become entwined.
Their beauty
complementing
each other’s grace.
Their limbs overlap.
Their differences fade.
Two hearts drumming
the perfect beat.
Two lives imperfect
now complete.
Two hearts
of the same kind.
Beautifully together.
Forever entwined.
I stand in awe of the covered bridge. Such complexity and craftsmanship employed with one simple material. Dozens of small precise connections all in service to one important connection.
This resting place is along Bayshore Blvd. Tampa’s equivalent to Philadelphia’s East River Drive, the winding road features the nation’s longest, uninterrupted sidewalk. Originally built in the 1930s, this concrete baluster has become an icon for the city.
Recently the city pressure washed and concrete stained the railing and its details refreshing them for the next 70 years. Sadly, shortly after that they began painting everything bright white. In the harsh salt environment the painted masonry will last only a few years, at best. A proud feature of the city that has endured in its natural state for almost a century, will now forever be in a state of needing to be painted. Stupid Tampa.
As I post this, Cathy and I are headed to a small park along the shore line in the far distance to enjoy a New Year’s Day picnic, far from their progress on the painting.
This 102 year old stair leads to the lowest level in my Grandmother’s home. Gently worn in the center, it is a stair for one person. Closing the door behind you, shutting out the bright and often frenetic kitchen you stand alone, quiet, still. The windows that illuminate this level provide no view from the landing, only a soft light that beckons.
This is one of my earliest memories of the power of architectural space. We are shaped by so many experiences.
This detail comes from one of the covered bridges along Forbidden Drive in Fairmount Park. On our recent trip to PA I indulged in a morning walk through the park. Its easy to relax in this peaceful setting rich with beauty.
Spending time with old souls.
This detail features the window of an abandoned chapel on the grounds of Mt. Enon church in Plant City, Florida. Reflected in the glass and transposed on the back of an original wooden pew is the cemetery dating back almost 100 years.
This vignette can be found in the alley behind our apartment. The unclaimed zone, its landscape is a collage of the backs of fences and walls. Left to develop unplanned, among the chaos wonderful moments exist if you venture to take a slow walk.
I’m collaborating with my sister-in-law Cheryl Rosowski on a new project. We are pairing her poems and my photos. This is one of our early couplets.
Sprouting out on our own,
out to find our way.
The time has come to escape
your safe secure embrace.
For our fresh innocence
the dark world awaits.
We’ll bravely branch out.
Ignore the shadows
cast upon our face.
With freedom we will flourish,
but to our humble hearth
our roots forever cling.
Following our epic winter this tree at the edge of our balcony seems not to have made it. Now in the morning light of summer it contributes something different to the landscape.
jonathanbykowski 