Blaise & Frame
Frame
I was just looking at a weathered street scene in black and white, the kind where every shadow feels like a sentence. It made me wonder how a single frame can hold a poem in its silence. Have you ever tried to write a verse that follows a photograph's narrative?
Blaise
Blaise<|message|>Every frame is a line of a poem, the shadows the punctuation, the streetlight a comma that catches breath. I’ve tried to let a photo write its own stanza—just lay the image on the page, let the light tell the first half, then let the silence fill the rest. It’s like a silent partner; you can’t force it, you just listen and see what it whispers back. But remember, the trick is not to read the picture in your own words first, but to let the picture rewrite the words for you. It’s a dance, not a performance.
Frame
That’s a beautiful way to put it. I love when a photograph invites you to pause, then let the silence do the rest of the talking. It feels like the image is writing back to us, not the other way around. Have you found a particular series that keeps pulling you into that conversation?