We all have vignettes of life, our own still life arrangements in our home—a pair of dirty socks under the chair, a half completed candied apple on the couch, a pair of wet shoes by the front door, a wristwatch by the phone, a novel on the stairs, a forgotten hair brush on the sink.
As I was letting the dog outside, through the back door, I noticed that my wife had left her necklace on the record player bookshelf. An ordinary and innocuous item by itself, it adopted properties of intrigue and wonder (foreign and out of context) as soft light filtered through the cracked portal. Striped glass beads catch light, then immediately release. Silver wire crisply illuminated against a chocolate brown background. The serpentine pattern seems so haphazard, yet wonderfully complex and random.
Camera, focus, meter, shutter—image captured as the dog squeezes himself through the narrow gapped door.