nature versus grace

Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy? 

—Job 38: 4,7

THE MOVIE The Tree of Life opens, with this scripture from the Book of Job. It follows with many more existential questions calmly voiced-over the film's amazing sun-soaked cinematography. The characters of the family it focuses on are the voices asking these questions. The movie takes you on a journey through time and memory that is as intense as it is calm. 

THE MOTHER pronounces in the opening dialog: "There are two ways through life. The way of nature and the way of grace. You have to choose which one you will follow. Nature, we are told, is selfish and full of itself. Grace is love, and the giving of oneself to a higher calling or power." It's a broad-brushed statement of the constant struggle of patriarchy versus matriarchy—nature and grace—if you will. But the point of the movie is how we all eventually come to terms with nature and the harsh realities of life and death. Our inherent grace only stays intact in finding love throughout the journey.

THE QUIET MOMENTS of the movie are interspersed with open-ended questions about life and a particular death of a son and brother. Where were you? How did you let this happen? Was he bad? It isn't a film made from narrative, but rather thoughts and images . . . "more like an experience, than a movie," as Devin said, with whom I first saw the movie. It took us on a journey through the foundations of life itself. This journey pulls you up by your heartstrings. 

I FOUND myself quietly tearing up in moments I didn't expect. The movie tugs at your inner core and brings up emotions from deep inside. It forces you to relate to the characters because their story is told in a universal way, rather than completely delving into the ego of personalities. Its success is found in relating the vastness of our common connectedness to time and memory.

IT ESPECIALLY resonates with me since the movie's family is based in the American South—Texas in the 1950s. Since I'm also a boy from a small Southern town (in Alabama), there are many instances in the film that that moved me closely to my own memories. The movie jumps from a place in the 1950s, to modern day, back to the primordial beginnings of life on earth in a dreamlike way. I grew up in the '60s instead, but it resonated in an almost direct way, since small town life then had not quite caught up with the tumultuous sixties. Back then, we only had the evening news instead of a 24/7 barrage of information and mindless chatter on television. It was a much quieter existence with time to sit and think.

BECAUSE OF THIS, the movie is not one that most audiences will have the patience for within a blend of summer blockbusters in this age of extreme stimulation. But I am one who can enjoy something just for the visual aspect.  This movie is at-once, both visual and visceral—and I've seen it twice. The gentle revelations made are like quiet visual poetry. It only directly informs through universal thoughts and snippets of visual consciousness. It's not pretense, but a genuine and sincere impressionistic work of art.

HOW DO YOU make a tree for such a broad subject? Have you ever planted a tree to commemorate an event or a person and seen its growth years later? How do you decide what to do? Devin brought me these beautiful hand-painted white chocolate frogs from a recent visit he made to New York. His challenge was for me to do a rain forest tree with them somehow. The more I thought about it, and knowing the scale and other problems I might have with a more traditional tree incorporating the camouflage-like frogs, I decided to use a series of plates with leaves from six different trees as a simple background as an implied way to serve them since they are edible "ornaments." It's a sort of studied communion. And it could be construed as a representation of the vastness of a rainforest in the most simple terms.

IF ONE STUDIES the picture, the negative spaces between the plates form a sort of tree. I thought a certain simplicity was the most direct way to show the multiplicity of specimen leaves from trees found growing near each other, yet relay each tree's ability to remember to make its own unique leaves in the cycle of the seasons.

TREE FROGS | (Top and above) In using the hand painted chocolate frogs made by Knipschildt Chocolatier, a gift from Devin from Dean & Deluca in New York City, NY; I selected leaves from trees while out on a morning walk with his dog. The Sam&Squito by Xiahe Co. bone china plates are subtly-patterned with a curved mesh design (which is hard to discern here).

TREE OF LIFE | (Above) I was definitely inspired by the poetry of this beautiful movie, written and directed by Terrence Malick and starring Brad Bitt, Sean Penn and Jessica Chastain. Here you see the posters made for the movie. The poster (Right) is simply more arresting.

THE WAY OF THE BROTHER | In the many reviews I've read about this movie, the following one by S. Brent Plate may be my favorite in making sense of the movie's complex themes. It also repeats a voice-over quote from the brother Jack from late in the movie that I think helps one understand there is no triumph of one over the other in the unresolved "versus" of nature and grace: “Father, Mother, always you wrestle inside me. Always you will.” Link to the review/essay here.

LEAFSNAP APP | (Left) Leafsnap is a free mobile application for your smart phone or iPad. It is the first in a series of electronic field guides being developed by researchers from Columbia University, the University of Maryland, and the Smithsonian Institution, using visual recognition software to help identify tree species from photographs of their leaves on a white background. The app still has some kinks to work out (for instance, it works best only if you "snap it" through the app, rather than uploading a photo you've already made to it, but the more people use it, the better it will become.

©2011 DARRYL MOLAND | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

photography and styling by Darryl Moland

circles of life

THE  THREE  MATRIARCHS of my life were my mother Lois Virginia (Moland), my aunt Laura Ann (Sadler) and my aunt Wilma Elizabeth (Sherrill). Three sisters, three forces-of-nature, three strong-willed women. Three big-loving, free-thinking and infinitely-wise women. Three completions of the circle of life.

WITH  THE  PASSING of my Aunt Wilma last month, all three have now left this plane of existence. My mother led the way on July 10, 2005, my aunt Laura followed on February 16, 2007, and aunt Wilma on August 10, 2010. I'm sure wherever they are, they're still conducting their three-ring circus of life . . . the show must go on. They were sisters, but each led independent lives in concert with one another, from which our whole family learned and grew.

THIS  TREE  of life is dedicated to them. The tree is teeming with representatives of life. There's a tarnished glass glitter butterfly topping it all off: beaded flowers, pressed metal fish, leaves in skeleton form or wrapped around an orb, three dragonflies—distinctly different, a frog chasing a fly, and a snail ornament enliven this tree. Fitting as an ode to summer, the greens and yellows of the ornaments represent the warmness of the light that brings sustenance to all life (accented here by a wire surrounded sunface ornament). The three della Robbia-style wreath ornaments tied together with one ribbon represent the sisters and their connection to each other (as well as the riches gained by knowing them). The peculiar cadence brought to all that they encountered will live in every heartbeat, until we too complete the circle made from life, death and rebirth.

MY  MOTHER  left me with an unending sense of awe and wonder, that even finds a way to peek through in the lowest of moods. Somehow she is there, telling me yes (her last word to me), one more time. Yes, Darryl, it is worth it, yes, you will be OK, and yes! (leave me alone). I am a part of her, still living and breathing. I am carrying her wishes and dreams for me. Her memory is sometimes all that keeps me tracing circles in the sand, knowing full-well that the waves from the great womb of the ocean will rush ashore and erase them. So I will have to remember how they looked, how they were drawn and how they live after brushed from sight, much like a sand mandala is swept away after it is completed. It's the meditation that counts in bringing its energy into the world. And it is released once it is finished, holding no attachment to the material world, amplifying in its absence, life's transitory nature.

MY  AUNT  LAURA  helped bring me through a certain catharsis after my mother's death in a somber, but adventurous trip. She had come to visit my mother when she was in her last days and I encouraged her to stay so she could attend her funeral, after which I would drive her back to her home. A highlight of our trip back to Virginia (need I say more about the irony of that since my mother was named Virginia?) was a tour of the Biltmore House and Gardens in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Asheville, North Carolina. Once we arrived at Laura's farm in the heart of the Appalachian Mountains in Virginia, she showed me albums of old photographs, giving me a few of my mother and other family members. She told me stories relating her beliefs and gave me bits of her wisdom. She's the only person I've ever known that grew rhubarb in her garden, from which she made wonderful strawberry/rhubarb preserves every year. She was an avid gardener and loved to grow new things. She was a woman of the land.

MY  AUNT  WILMA  was a deeply religious woman. The man who gave her eulogy told those of us there, that above all, Wilma wasn't afraid to shine her light. He was talking in particular about the light of her Christianity, but I know it as her light—pure and simple, unencumbered by the judgment and rules of her faith—just as she was. She saw the inherent good in people and accepted them just as they are. She was faithful, and she knew that love is unconditional. She did not feel she had to manage anyone's life but her own and those who saw that, learned by her example. That's a big sacrifice for some in the realm of the devout these days, but it is one that warrants a respect I give to those that lead by quiet example. It's not the easiest path to take, but it is ultimately the most effective. Modern society could do well with more of an acceptance of the things that cannot be changed. The Serenity Prayer was in full effect for my aunt Wilma's life:  

God, grant me the serenity 

To accept the things I cannot change; 

Courage to change the things I can; 

And wisdom to know the difference.

WHILE  STOPPED  with a front-row seat at a train crossing on the way to aunt Wilma's funeral, I had a sudden urge to begin taking photos of the graffiti painted on the train cars passing in front of me. This Christmas tree popped up like a beacon (look to the car at the far right and click on the photo once or twice to enlarge). In the midst of subdued graffiti chaos, topped by a star, it was a clear symbol that the three of them were conspiring again and sending me a message to keep on doing what I'm doing. They brought a decorated tree to me in the most unexpected of places and in the most unexpected form. I had to smile. So it is . . . the beginning of a new season of challenge and reward in finding my passion for this blog and wherever it might lead me. The track has been set.

NEVER  TO  BE  predicted, these three matriarchs run circles around anyone else that has influenced my life. They showed me the importance of being true to yourself and believing in your place in the world. Just as I ordered actual old-fashioned wreaths of flowers for my mother and my aunt Laura for their funerals, and bought a new wreath for my Aunt Wilma a few years ago and put on her door for Christmas, the three wreaths combined on this tree represent their lives. Three sisters have shown me an unending circle of grace. And again, together, are sure to lay the track toward a future I won't be able to imagine. But as long as I have my eyes wide open, I'll be privy to what they want me to see, and know the direction to take.

TREE OF LIFE | (Above, top) This tree is teaming with life symbols from my collection of ornaments—from a butterfly to a frog chasing a fly. The della Robbia-style wreath ornaments, which I've connected by a single ribbon are from the 2008 Martha Stewart Collection at Macy's. Most of the varied, green and yellow ornaments are courtesy The Whitehurst Company. 

TWO SISTERS | (Above, right) This photo was taken of my mother and my Aunt Laura (probably in their early twenties) by an unknown photographer. I just recently discovered this photo through Laura's daughter Martha.

AUNT WILMA | (Above, left) Wilma stands stoic beside her husband holding their first born, Janice. I think her smile in this photo has the same timeless mystery as the much-dissected Mona Lisa smile. Nevertheless, she could look at you and smile back at you with pure love and understanding.

DESTINY TRAIN | (Above, bottom) I took this photo en route to my Aunt Wilma's funeral this past August. Imagine my surprise when I was photographing the different graffiti-covered train cars when a spray-painted tree appeared. Who knew I'd be presented with a Christmas tree in such an odd place? I take it as a definite sign from Virginia, Laura and Wilma that I'm on the right track with this decorated tree project, whatever form it may take and wherever it may lead.

SHINING LIGHT | (Above) This wire surrounded sun face ornament has been a part of my collection for many years. It amplifies the golden light from the large yellow ornament positioned behind it— courtesy of The Whitehurst Company.

SHADOW DWELLERS | (Above) The snail and frog ornaments are from the 2009 West Elm holiday ornament collection. West Elm has had a whimsical collection of nature-inspired ornaments in store during the holiday season for several years. The antiqued French cache pot made from wood is the perfect holder for this late summer tree.

ABUNDANT WREATH | (Above) A detail of one of the three della Robbia-style wreath ornaments, which are from the 2008 Martha Stewart Collection at Macy's.

BEADED DRAGONFLY| (Above) A delicately-detailed handmade  dragonfly was found at a shop in East Atlanta Village a number of years ago. It is made of beads both old and new.

BEADED FLOWER | (Above) A beaded flower ornament from my collection is made from wire-strung glass beads wrapped on a wire frame—a vibrant green homage to summer.

©2010 DARRYL MOLAND | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

photography, collecting and styling by Darryl Moland;
antique photos of my mother and aunts are from the Weeks family collection, 
photographers unknown.

the secret life of leaves

Deciduous \De*cid"u*ous\
Falling off, or subject to fall or be shed, at a certain season,
or a certain stage or interval of growth, as leaves
(except of evergreens) . . . [1913 Webster]

THERE  IS  A   "reason for the season" as they say. You can look at it a number of ways. The holiday season's visual focal point is the decorated evergreen tree, around which everything else revolves in most cases—even in households that don't celebrate Christmas per se. It is also a reverent celebration of birth and a hope for rebirth of man's spirit. In any case, I prefer to meld the disparate (or are they?) belief systems into one. All are symbolic of new life and rebirth in a profound way—and pay homage to their roots, no matter how popular custom has been morphed to fit one belief system or another. Its obvious to me that the resonance of the first beliefs and rituals involving decorating a tree of any sort is at the core of our central belief in nature and who we are as part of the natural world.

THE  INCREASING  prevalence of all sorts of leaf ornaments has been unmistakable in the past few years. It's no doubt because of the focus on the environment with concerns of global warming (or climate change, as it inexplicably became termed). Broadly, it is reconciliation between man and nature—an atonement for an unbridled growth (due to greed) of man's command over nature. The human race is realizing the awesome power of forces beyond our control and being put in our place—as a working part of the natural world, not the controller of it. Global crisis involves more than the obvious weather shifts and such. We have to educate ourselves with how our food is produced. Meat farming and food crops have already been seized by large corporations and industrialized and genetically modified, producing disease and making farmers into indentured servants. A lot of farmers are forced to not even save their seeds! They have to buy the new line of genetically modified ones for next season or face bankruptcy. And the very essence of life—water is being traded as a commodity as I write. To quote a line from a well-remembered 70's TV commercial, "It's not nice to fool Mother Nature." The product it advertised was doing just that. I'll side with Mother Nature and have real butter from grass-fed and hormone-free cow's milk, thank you very much.

DECORATING  an evergreen tree with deciduous leaves (or representatives of such), is a meld of the processes of life and death (which is deciduous) with the hope of everlasting life (which is evergreen). When ideas come together like that, we come to the realization that everything is connected in nature and that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

I  WISH  LIFE, in general, could be more like that. We all get caught up with the end result instead of recognizing that the journey is the most important part. In my view, being open to a myriad of ideas and taking the time to absorb and learn from them are what makes life exciting—no matter how scary or messy it might get. And that's definitely something to think about—something that carries your spirit back home—to being a humble and reverent part of something bigger than yourself—Mother Earth.

LEAF COLLECTION | (Above, clockwise from bottom left): A golden maple leaf with a tiny jingle bell attached from the Martha Stewart Everyday/Golden Traditions line at Kmart, a mercury glass maple leaf, a bronze leaf with a tiny acorn attached from the Martha Stewart/Golden Traditions line at Kmart, a glass ivy leaf, and a large silver leaf from Pottery Barn—all atop a 100% recycled fiber paper/soy ink book-bound journal from greenroom eco / clementine paper, inc. at Target.

©2009 DARRYL MOLAND | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
collecting, photography and styling by Darryl Moland