Moss and Memory
A note about why I keep photographing moss.
Some thoughts here about the small, overlooked things. Moss grows in the cracks of sidewalks, on the north sides of trees, in the spaces nobody bothers to look at.
There’s something compelling about photographing it — maybe it’s the way it holds water after rain, or the impossibly detailed fractals of its tiny leaves.
This connects to my other thoughts on texture-studies, even though I haven’t written that note yet. (That link is intentionally broken — a placeholder for a future note.)
Why moss?
Moss is slow. It doesn’t compete. It just persists. In a world optimized for speed, there’s something radical about that.
“The quieter you become, the more you can hear.” — Ram Dass
Sometimes I think the digital garden metaphor is wrong. We aren’t gardeners — we’re more like the moss. We attach ourselves to ideas and slowly, slowly grow.