The Lens-Artists Photo Challenge – Fragments

Brian has kindly been hosting this week’s Lens-Artists’ challenge from his home in the Australian bush and I’ve enjoyed seeing the submissions. His topic is inspired by, in his words, the ‘fragmentation around the world, a disconnect. But we have always been made of pieces’.

I’m (largely) sharing fragments put back together in different forms, starting with a detail from a decorative drainage sump in last year’s ingenious Wilde Weelde exhibit at Floriade ’22.

I’ve met several gardeners who cover planters with shells, fragments of bark or glass, but I’m not sure if this one was home-made. It doesn’t look mass produced, does it?

You can be forgiven for thinking the above is a rug, but it’s a traditional well dressing, made from petals, seeds and other gleanings. The idea brings communities together to celebrate local sources of fresh water.

A detail from another design shows the technique. You can scroll down to see a fuller view in this post about the Chatsworth Flower Show.

It also readies our eyes for the subtle, natural colours of the next few pictures.

A wooden birdhouse might have had its day when it fell from a tree, but is saved in pieces at the base because one of its owners, Frances Doris, thought it was too nice to throw. I agree. If just two pieces don’t count as fragments, I direct you to the layer of leaf and bark fragments covering the ground.

Bark lying on the floor of our local wood seemed like treasure with its confident patterns. I wish I knew what kind of tree it was from, although reading this comforts me a little:

There isn’t a soul on the planet who can identify the species of most of the trees on earth on sight. There never has been and never will be.

– Tristan Gooley, How To Read A Tree

Faith Estes’s garden on the edge of a forest is packed with treasures that have been lovingly gathered, often gifted, and arranged, including rocks, pebbles, wood, pottery and succulents. I would not be at all surprised to learn that every piece had its own story that we can only guess at.

At the moment, I have so many posts half-written, or more accurately, not written at all but with pictures ready to share. Faith’s and Frances’s quirky gardens are the topics of two of them. It’s hard to know why, but words come more easily at some times than others. I suspect it may be a side effect of trying hard to cut down the number of images in my main photo-library, a task I truly hate.

My picture of geranium petals held up by a spider’s web survived the cull, even though it isn’t 100% clear what it is. Like the partly-broken birdhouse, things don’t have to be perfect to be, well… perfect.

I thought I had shared this colourful deterrent before, but can’t find it. Here’s a closer view:

This was in its prime. I’ve noticed the shards have almost all fallen a few years later, but it was pretty while it lasted and especially so here, with a light covering of snow.

Spray-painted fragments were left on a pallet for visitors to take at a graffiti park in Austin, Texas – a thoughtful gesture for the magpies among us.

Until next time, I’ll leave you with a refreshing splash of colour and some fragments about to take a tumble, but in no great hurry.

Thanks for hosting, Brian!