Poem to a book no more
Photography for me is an expression of visual art combined with a non-traditional form of poetry . In French it is referred to as “vers libre”. My poem is to be imagined and experienced side by side with the photographs.
“Poem to a book no more”
White on ice and icy white again
To sustain you they engraved Life on your spine
Curled up in the icy comforts of a thin glaze
You make bubbles of silence underneath all sound
Embracing the chaos and wonder of a slow transformation
They no longer allow your words to sing through the night
The necklace of letters beautifully strung no more
Your trunk my ancestor now letting go
Decay between all my torments of identity
A leaf is smiling on my heavy eyelids
Grow, grow dear moss and keep me warm
In your furrows sleep the vestiges of winter
Look, do you see time taking me by the hand?
Ah, a promise of renaissance is near
What’s become of you, you beautiful book?
After years of wisdom you speak no more
A last icy kiss in the earthy garden cradle
Finding peace and hope in the circle of life
© Karin Hillmer 2025
Photography for me is an expression of visual art combined with a non-traditional form of poetry . In French it is referred to as “vers libre”. My poem is to be imagined and experienced side by side with the photographs.
The Book in this series of photographs is more than just one metaphor. It stands there for its own process of decline combined with an unfolding of a major transformation in my own life. The story of books weaves through my art as does the concept of time. When the first book jumped off the printing press of Johannes Gutenberg in Mainz, Germany in 1450, mankind had no idea how it would revolutionize the world. Growing up with books provided not only visual inspiration but the beloved encyclopedia was an endless source of fascinating food for thought. Today the future of the book may be uncertain. For us who remember the smell of freshly printed books, it’s tactile properties, the comfort of a shelf filled with good friends, we might mourn its decline but hope that somehow there is a place for it in the future,
The book I photographed spent several seasons outdoors. I documented its process of disintegration which occurred alongside my own inner process of letting go of friends, a good career, a house, a garden. It was a decision of choice but nevertheless it was a painful transformation. It was a preparation of a step into a void, of not really knowing what would await on the other side. A dying to the old and being open to an unknown future. In those moments fear and elation live very close together.
The book is buried in the garden and its remains integrated among the trees to complete the cycle of life.