When I look outside myself I see what is inside.
Orvieto encourages a glance to live as something seen. The confluence of geometry and light as it collides within the discipline of the frame. The precise moment the time–space continuum is interrupted creates an indelible image that speaks to all languages, sings to all choirs and whispers to all who do not want to hear and those willing to listen.
The most profound moments, captured or not, bring us time and again to the windows of our worlds. What is outside becomes known to the inside. The dark edges of our souls caress the light we see. And the miracle of seeing is not the act of letting light in. It is the decision to jailbreak the darkness. To rid ourselves of the cultural carbohydrates that weigh us down with the hope of keeping us in our lanes. God can steer a parked car. Chances are He won’t.
There are these most wonderful alleys in Orvieto that always lead you to who you should be.
Sun from behind the clouds became the stage light for an old woman sitting at a tilted table a few feet across from water-colored paintings she had clothes-lined to the ancient wall facing her.
I was right there. Right in front of her. She, studying her hands that put things on paper that might or might not have ever existed, and me looking into a mirror.
I offer you, “Woman In The Alley, Orvieto.”
