Old film.

I've just had one of those bleached sun moments. The ones where the train turns the corner, and the sun angles into your right shoulder, flushing your eyes with screaming white light, and as you come out the world etches into focus with lines of perspective exposing through the light and briefly you see the world being born.

These moments have the sense of old 16mm movies; old home movies, soundless snapshots of family intimacy with spots and jumps in the film. This gives the world a nostalgia, a feeling of childhood about the way the fingers of the trees poke gloveless to the sky, and comes with a sense of hope and loss - something about the the way we were.

This is a sense that will mean different things to many people: my wife  and brother would say very different things about nostalgia - one rose tinted, the other black and white. To me the light both exposes and blinds, but it is those things that drift back into focus after this visual 'reset' that make the difference. These are the lines of direction, of depth, that help you navigate where to put the next foot on the path, that help you judge the distance between here and there, that let you move with purpose.

To me the lines that appear are the ones of connection, the ones that reveal people I care about and who care about me. These are the lines of composition if you will, the ones that hold the whole image together. Some are bold strokes that intersect the page, others divide the space between the lines, others are quieter lines - sketch lines that guide the force of the focal point, and others still join the scaffold together so that the vastness of the space around doesn't overwhelm.

In art - and mathematics, there is the idea of the 'golden section' or the 'golden ratio', this is the idea that beauty can be judged by its correlation to this perfection in composition. It has been statistically applied to art works - and is all over the renaissance. My family and relationships have never been that simple to describe, and this composition finds its own internal logic - a (dis)harmony of the spheres if you like. So it's maybe not golden - maybe it's wood, but the wood has been carved with the grain, and now it seems to be winking.