Still life and still death

Illustrating old dead roots into the sand – young still flesh; branches and leaves – oddly lightened

[Dedicated to the bewitching memory of my sister, who was fond of T. S. Eliot -and entirely inspired by her physical absence nowadays]

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow

Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,

You cannot say, or guess, for you know only

A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,

And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,

And the dry stone no sound of water. Only

There is shadow under this red rock,

(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),

And I will show you something different from either

Your shadow at morning striding behind you

Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;

I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

T. S. Eliot – The Waste Land, 1922 (I, 19-30)

The shadow long past evening:

Still life and old dead roots – 2c

and beyond:

Still life and old dead roots – 2b

The shadow at morning, one bygone day:

Still life and old dead roots – 1b


Photography and Artwork by Ari & Li Fontrodona 2011-2017

No unauthorised copying or redistribution. All Rights Reserved. Registered & Protected  49DI-EM0U-WACZ-TA99



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