The great artists of the past taught me to see form and beauty everywhere. My friends laugh indulgently when I stop to gaze at somethig that seems to them quite ordinary. This dead frond, victim of a strong wind, revealed such grace of shape and subtle lusciousness of color against the green-and-gray geomtery that I had to capture and share it.
I suppose that's what art is. seeing things that others may have just passed by. I like the life of the palm frond as it bows down - or is it about to stand up and walk away?