frozen memories

"If there were a little more silence, if we all kept quiet . . . 
maybe we could understand something." —Federico Fellini

QUIETLY  IMAGINING  the feat of nature it takes to unite billions of singularly unique and delicate ice crystals to form a fresh blanket of snow is mind-boggling if you think about it. Memories are much the same. Thoughts guide you through the atmosphere, form together, and freeze into beautiful structures with which to blanket one's life. The transitory nature of memory is the attachment to our psyche, to something larger, to something enduring and resonant at our core—our very soul (God if you like). Snowflakes embody our attachment to nature. They literally and magically form from thin air—miraculously and mysteriously remembering how to align ice crystals into rare and beautiful structures.

The singular structure of a snowflake.

SNOWFLAKES  are only one of nature's many wonders. Some are completely symmetrical, some are columns of ice crystals, and some are their own unique shape, but their structures are astounding! It's no wonder a fresh snowfall has a magical quality. Wilson Bentley, who during a snowstorm on January 15, 1885, obtained the first photomicrographs ever taken of an ice crystal. He is credited with the oft-repeated phrase "no two snowflakes are alike." But still, they distinctly reveal nature's symmetry. A hundred years later, American physicist Kenneth Libbrecht would study and photograph snowflakes anew with much more sophisticated technology and give us hundreds of images such as the one you see here. It is as humbling as looking into the stars to see these snowflake images. They are published in a number of popular books.

FOR  THIS  to be created to make the proverbial White Christmas this past year was purely magical. Overnight, the world outside would be changed into a winter wonderland. The snow kept falling through Christmas day and night. I was fortunate enough to be with friends in a cabin in the mountains of north Georgia for the holiday surrounded by acres of pristine land. Mother Nature decorated the trees this time, not me. Being in the American South, a Christmas Day snowfall is literally a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. There hasn't been a Christmas Day snowfall like this since 1882. As I write this, Atlanta has been put to test with another snow that has shut down businesses for two days, going on three. We're just not prepared for such weather. I, for one, have relished the peace and quiet of another magical "holiday" and spent most of the time indoors this time since the roads are icy and my workplace is closed. Staying put and embracing the silence has been welcome after a busy holiday season.

MEMORIES  ARE CAPTURED  when the world looks pristine and new again and a freshly-fallen snow helps transcend one to a place that seems otherworldly. Its transitory nature serves to remind us to take stock of its pristine beauty, knowing it will become a memory soon. A snow globe captures that bit of magic in miniature.

SNOW  GLOBES  first appeared in the late 1800s in France. The most famous being a commemorative snow globe at the World's Fair in Paris which contained a miniature Eiffel Tower. Miniature worlds for holiday memories and nostalgic keepsakes were captured within glass along with their own snowy weather system. With just a shake, a mesmerizing, lasting collectible was born. By the 1920s the snow globe had caught on across Europe and in the United States.

WHETHER GOING by the name 'snow globe,' 'snow dome,' or 'snow shaker,' they have enchanted people for more than a century. They create a hypnotic miniaturized world that is imbued with nostalgia and remembrance. Shaking the ball and watching it snow in the world within it captures the imagination. 

SHOWN HERE  along with my small "collection" of two tree snow globes are antique ornaments to imbue a historical perspective. My favorite "globe" has a grouping of three tall evergreens and isn't a globe at all, but a column of glass in a faux birch bark base. The other is a silver winter tree in a traditionally round globe that has larger amount of snow, creating a blizzard effect that drifts down softly. I diligently photographed them in action, just as I took hundreds of photos of the Christmas snow to try and capture the magic of it all.

IT  WON'T  BE  long before all of it is just a memory again. But memories like these are the ones worth holding onto and sharing. 

SNOW MEMORIES | (Top) My two snow globes are shown with old-fashioned notebooks, ribbon and vintage ornaments. The cylindrical "globe" is from Target a few years ago and the round globe was added to my collection this past holiday season from West Elm. 

ICY PHOTO | (Above) This snowflake is one of many amazing images captured by physicist Kenneth Libbrecht who is interestingly enough originally trained as a solar astronomer. He has published several books illustrating the variety of snowflake forms, one of which I purchased back in 2005 named "The Little Book of Snowflakes." Photo © Kenneth Libbrecht by permission.

SNOW COLLAGE | (Above) That's me in the lower right corner enjoying a rare Christmas snow in Ellijay, Georgia. It was probably the most beautiful snow I've ever seen. I took quite a few photos, some of the best ones are collected here. Photo of me by Jon Chavez. 

VINTAGE DECORATIONS | (Above) Trying to evoke memory and history, I chose to photograph my snow globes atop a loose leaf notebook by John Derian Company, Inc. for Target filled with paper and an old book that has been repurposed into a newly spiral bound journal by Ex Libris Anonymous. These ornaments are of unknown provenance, but I'm almost sure the one made from bugle beads is Czechoslovakian. I buy vintage ornaments for their visual appeal, not just for their history.

SNOW-CAPPED HEMLOCK | (Above) This giant hemlock tree is deftly decorated by nature. The first clear day after the snow, the sun is peeking around the hemlock and turning the sky a beautiful pale gray/blue. 

CABIN FEVER | (Above) A friend's cabin is dwarfed by the surrounding trees. It was quite a nice place to spend Christmas this past year with Mother Nature turning the already pristine surroundings into a winter wonderland.

©2011 DARRYL MOLAND | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Photography, collecting and styling by Darryl Moland, 
snow by Mother Nature.

white Christmas

RARELY DOES it snow in the American South. Today it has flurried most of the day. Not much usually accumulates in Atlanta, but it still brings a magical quality to the air. It makes it feel a lot like Christmas—the fairy tale type of Christmas anyway. I remember it snowing a good bit more during my childhood, but not so much anymore. I think we get about the right amount of the white stuff in the winter months here. I know I wouldn't want to deal with the snow as my Northern neighbors do almost every day in the winter. 

IT'S STILL an event when it snows here in the South—especially in December. Maybe this year I can dream of a white Christmas. Just an hour or two after I finished this tree and photographed it yesterday, it started snowing. What a magical thing to happen! It almost seemed like I conjured it up without knowing it. I decided to eat lunch at a local diner with wrap-around windows just so I could watch the snow floating from the sky for the first time this season, while thinking of what I might write for this post. This tree and the leaf ornaments on it are wrapped in words—just what I try to do in this blog—wrap each tree I photograph in words.

IT WASN'T but a few years ago that I remember waking up on Thanksgiving day and looking out and seeing the ground blanketed with a fresh snow. But I was visiting my friend Andrew in Toronto, Canada. He, being a Canadian was used to the snow and wasn't surprised (it was their first snow of the season that year though). I remember my excitement. Who ever heard of a white Thanksgiving? (It was Thanksgiving in America, not Canada). And just learning this year from Andrew that he has advanced cancer, I'm sure he's counting his blessings. I know that a white Thanksgiving in Canada was quite a magical time for me. It was the first time I had been out of the country since the summer after high school. And I hope Andrew has more white Christmases than the doctors predict. You never know what magic can happen.
 

IRVING BERLIN wrote the song "White Christmas"  (poolside, in the summer, it is speculated) and it remains the best-selling singles of all time. Famously recorded by Bing Crosby, it first appeared in 1942 as part of an album for the film Holiday Inn. I've seen this movie several times with my friend Craig. It was a yearly event for us to get together and watch it around the holidays—maybe it's time again. The song probably became an instant hit because of its mix of melancholy— "just like the ones I used to know"—with images of home "where the treetops glisten," due to American soldiers being stationed overseas. The Armed Forces Network during World War II was flooded with requests for "White Christmas." I'm sure my father, who was in Europe during the war, heard the song and longed to be back in Alabama, whether the treetops were glistening with snow or not.

SO HERE'S DREAMING of a white Christmas this year in Georgia or wherever you might be. After all, a holiday tree like this might really conjure up some snow, or maybe just only a memory of a particularly magical moment of your life. Whatever it might be, the cool whites of snow, are a fresh way to go.

STUDY IN WHITE | (Top, middle and above) A snowy tree all dressed in white and silver to capture the magical quality that snow can create. The Twig Topiary tree is from this season's David Stark Collection at West Elm, which I've placed in a heavy antiqued aluminum vase. Faux snow from Pier One Imports simulates an icy-cold look. Hanging the ornaments with white cotton thread gives a consistency to the wintry look.

SNOWY ASSEMBLAGE | (Above) From left, a German lametta icicle ornament from my collection, a silver paper (backed with print) leaf ornament from the David Stark Collection for West Elm, a Snövita Scandinavian folded star ornament from IKEA, and milk glass pinecone sphere and finial ornaments from Z Gallerie.

STATELY CONTAINERS | (Above) The tree is placed in a gunmetal gray aluminum vase bought several seasons ago at Restoration Hardware. I dabbed strategic areas of the vase with a wet sponge to make the "snow" stick for a natural windblown look. All other ornaments, the silver foil candy container ornament and white milk glass container are from my private collection.

©2010 DARRYL MOLAND | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Photography, collecting and styling by Darryl Moland

tree of dreams

THE HOLIDAYS are a time for family, no matter what form that concept may take—friends, partners, spouses, pets, siblings, sons, daughters, nieces, nephews, grandchildren . . . or some combination of all of the above. But it's our mother that brings us the most profound connection to nature by her very essence as bearer of new life. We are all a part of them as much as they are part of us. My mother richly infused my memories of the holiday by encouraging me each year to use my creativity in decorating our family tree. Since there were ten years between my next oldest brother Mal and I, there was enough room for me to do so. My brothers were both jocks and not really interested in such things anyway. And my sister had already found her own life. We all had a hand in it when I was younger, but after a point, it became my own canvas—to sometimes dismal effect (like the tree limited to an all-white color scheme with homemade paper doily fans, which looked quite funereal). My mother provided all the room she could have to let me experiment by allowing me to buy ornament kits and letting me use my imagination in configuring the tree with the ornaments we had and the new ones I created. I always took this challenge with great glee and was successful more times than not.

THIS TREE of silver and pink was inspired by a dream I had of her. Shortly after her death, I dreamt about her finding a Christmas present from me­—a pink and silver rhinestone brooch. Though she never received it physically, this tree is an offering to her spirit. It was as if, in order to celebrate her life, I was now charged to keep the flame of creativity she helped spark in me. Her mischievous exuberance is captured by the varied animals (a giraffe, birds, a Christmas spider, and even a mouse) combined with sparkly baubles, flowers, leaves and stars; all evoking the brilliance of the brooch gift I had for her in the dream. Friends tell me that this photograph looks like an altar, and it is, of sorts. Every tree should garner such a response. There should be a light within it, even if it isn't illuminated with actual lights. My coworker Dan told me the tree I put up at work this year didn't need lights because it had a sparkle all-it's-own.The light and magic of a well-decorated tree is evocative of the historical and natural context of our collective memories and should speak to that sense of wonder, whether directly personal or a homage to generational history.

MY PARENTS instilled in me this sense of wonder during the holiday. I carry this with me and am sharing it here—creating a testament to their spirit. Plenty of holiday trees I see each year have become overwrought with elements that have little meaning or relevance to the time-honored traditions of the decorated tree, but my intent is to bring it all back in focus, by giving historical context as to why certain decorations and themes are more richly relevant than others. It really all depends on what is important to you and your family of choice—the spirit of Christmas is ultimately for the kid in all of us—and it's easy to find a pure sense of self when you're decorating with something in mind to honor—not unlike an altar to your memories of the people with which you share or have shared your life.

INSPIRATION  for a tree can take many forms. I probably take that more seriously than most people do because I've continued to grow and nurture the seeds my mother planted in me years ago. All the trees I've created in my lifetime hold memories of places I've been, people I've known and people I cherish with associations I've made in my collecting wherever I go. And nature is the base source of this inspiration. You can find incredible color schemes within one seashell or the pinks and grays of a winter sky after a freshly-fallen snow. There's nothing more magical than towering evergreens covered in snow—the sparkle and texture found in such a scene is awe-inspiring in its unadorned simplicity—sweet dreams are made of this. Embellishing those dreams and making them into reality are the stuff of wonder and surprise. 

PRETTY IN PINK | My mother's "signature" color was pink, so this tree (above, right) serves her memory well (as well as my dream of my gift to her of a pink-and-silver brooch). The seemingly random mix of ornaments are tied together only by color and my interpretation of my mother's creative spirit. They all represent some aspect of her exuberant, sometimes loud, always unique and endearing personality. The ornaments are from my own private collection of antique ornaments and newer baubles—from sources far-and-wide: Target once had an incredible line of ornaments designed by Thomas O'Brien (the tree topper and silvery-blue ornaments), the pink and silver tinsel tree and mouse ornament are from the now defunct Martha by Mail catalog. This "altar" to her memory is flanked by two mercury glass candlesticks with flames softly framed by vintage-style bottle brush wreaths. 

MOTHER'S CHILDREN | That's me on the far left (above, left) looking off into the trees even then, at only three years old.The photo was taken on a 1964 summer vacation by my father: My brother Ronald stands ever-stoically in the background, my sister Donna pensively holds me safe, and my brother Mal stands smiling to the left of my mother—the best mother anyone could have—in her boldly-striped dress. Here we are a few years ago (left) in the same configuration sans our mother (made not long after both parents died in 2005). 

NATURAL MAGIC | This sepia-toned grouping of evergreen trees (above, right) covered in snow form an iconic and magical silhouette against a wintry sky—a sight rarely seen in the American South where I was reared. I haven't lived farther north than Atlanta, where I now reside. A significant snow is a rare occurrence in the winters here.

©2009 DARRYL MOLAND | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED,

collecting and styling by Darryl Moland, 

photography (Top—Pretty in Pink) Claudia Lopez, 

(Above—Natural Magic) iStock Photo.com