Minimalism masks extraordinary complexity.
How many billions of calciferous sea creatures died, how many rocks ground down to sand, how many molecules of H2O tumbled through the water cycle, so that this shell resting on this beach would be awash with bubbles of seawater, one early spring morning?
How many failed experiments and eureka moments lead to the invention of the camera phone with which I took the picture? Who mined the rare and not so rare metals for its construction? How did the miners live and die? What hands pieced it together? What were the hopes and dreams of the worker on the production line?
And then there’s me. All 37 trillion cells of me, times trillions more atoms in each cell; my mitochondrial DNA handed down mother to daughter for millennia. The interest in photography was much more recently instilled in the family line, and it’s only when I acquired smart phone two years ago that it manifested in me.
So … countless stories and infinite paths leading to the apparent simplicity of one minimalist image.