"all that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream"
A palette of crumbling cracked concrete, ashen marble slabs littered haphazardly in a ghostly blueprint, and dull olivine grassy groundcoverings surely presents itself as a seemingly desolate destination, void of any aesthetic appeal. Complimented by the light shuffling of palms blowing in the beach-soaked wind, the afternoon rose-quartz glow of a dying sun and the occasional buzzing of lonely crows nestled in branches above, the air is heavy. Heavy with time, heavy with memory, heavy with history.
The attraction to such a place can seem quirkily contradictory for some -- but for me, it's only fitting. Is there such a heaviness? With feet sinking into the sand, perhaps yes…but with each gust of breeze washing through the rows of stone, the energy is in a way, cleared. These souls are gone, of course, and only structural markings remain.
Metallic tones of chrome, antique gold, bright copper and deep bronze can indeed offer a lightness -- bringing in a contemporary set of texture, color and shine to an otherwise rustic landscape. When these elements are paired with a sophisticated wardrobe of dark bohemian pieces (embroidered fringe ponchos, a 20's-inspired emerald minidress and a crisp lace-up tunic) an entirely new mood emanates about. Who is this girl? The late afternoon sun so deftly dances off each sewn sequin, each crystal charm, each strand of chain, mimicking the way she flows through each sitting grave. She leaves an almost tangible trail, aside from her light footsteps imprinted in grey sand below. There is a certain aura about. Is it….hope? Is it….strength? Nothing intentional as she passes through for just a few minutes, but the effect is lasting. The grave markers stand almost as a sleepy audience, silently observing her path. Just as fast as she appeared, she continues on her way out, in tandem with the sun as it begins to creep behind trees and below the horizon. A slight air of wonder is left about, and any tension lifted. One crow feather gently skims across the concrete trail, out of sight.
Model: Emily Geer
All photos copyright Allison Beth Cooling
Because I take all photos for my blog, the images within this post are all copyright Allison Beth Cooling for Quiet Lion Creations. If you'd like permission to use a photo, email me at firstname.lastname@example.org