To my love with the golden eyes

Opus Gloriae

The Metaphysical Photography of MFF

with John Fletcher


This book's germination, like all germinations, can be viewed in at least one of two ways: randomly coincidental or mysteriously providential. But within it, the photographs and inscriptions relating to their metaphysical nature are neither random nor coincidental. To some, they are providential; to others, mysterious. But it is difficult to believe that there could be even one person of rational mind who would view them as unintentional. Each photograph and literary idea was purposefully offered as a gift to surprise, confuse, challenge and heal.

Dr. Melnikoff, known as MFF, is a paradoxical materialist. He insists he is an atheist but his heart has an intense passion and affection for "Mother Earth" and "Father Universe" that border on the spiritual. As MFF, he pursues this metaphysical within the physical. Like a skillful stealthy hunter, MFF seeks and shoots his "prey" with a custom one billion pixel camera. Mother Earth is not saddened or offended in the least by MFF, for he never takes anything from her earth. Instead, he gives back a kind of respect that some might call worship. He offers her all he has to offer: his gratitude. And she reciprocates by giving him her beauty. And the stars in the universe beyond earth's mother do the same. MFF is as in love with the heavens and their magnificent glory as he is what is here. MFF is a doctor of biochemistry, studying the body of his parents. He pursues their mysteries, especially his mother's. He is a scientist who follows an impersonal process- a scientific method. It is a good method, and he goes where it takes him. The earth's mother and the universe's father are especially pleased as they watch MFF pursuing their not just their structures and functions, but the deeper realities: the manifestation of their love- the beauty and awe that they exude. They are in the Opus Gloriae of it all.

Art of Sergey Melnikoff


Like Alice, in Lewis
Carroll's Wonderland,
we venture into
confusing rabbit holes.
Every where's wonder;
always new.
Children, like Alice,
we wonder about
surprised, awed.
Aren't we loved?
Then why should we fear?
Even though we left the garden,
it remains in our heats,
unending surprise,
Opus Gloriae, our destiny.