I struggled all week to get a handle on what wabi sabi meant to me. It’s still slippery but it finally came to me that it could be an obeject that is still loved though it was no longer perfect. This silly concrete rabbit is it for me. He used to belong to my mom and has been broken for as long as I can remember. When she moved him to Texas with her I thought she was crazy but darned if I don’t love the silly thing now that he’s in my backyard.
I multiplied, blurred and desaturated because otherwise he looked a little creepy.
becky goldsmithcritique photowabisabi