Throw me a rope

I was sifting through my photos recently and noticed, with some bewilderment, a trend. It seems I like to take photos of rope. hiding in my archive were dozens upon dozens of rope portraits—tangles, clumps, clusters, and coils. clearly, i’ll go to great lengths to photograph this knotty little subject.

But why? On the face of it, I don’t honestly know. Maybe it’s some bizarre sort of self-administered Rorschach test (you know, the psychological test that asks subjects to say what they see when they look at symmetrical inkblots)? Perhaps it’s my way of subliminally connecting with this primitive, hard-working material that’s known and employed the world over? Could it be that I’m invisibly pulled to the random beauty and compositional power of string and strands?

Who knows.

And frankly, who cares.

Not everything in this world needs to be understood and explained. Sometimes we just need to slow down and enjoy whatever it is that our instinct ties us too.