I wanted to become comfortable being great
and not somehow
kind of get in my own way for it.
And that's actually a conversation that I have to have often with myself.
Like, “you're going to take this moment, and you're allowed to execute this moment”.
-Alicia Keys
“I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow; but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.”
Sunnyland Neighborhood, Iron & Alabama
Home is where your bones are 😆
Just a construct.
Entering Class I
This week I’m sharing a few images I find to be interesting and maybe, ever so slightly off.
From March, when my head wasn’t in this work, but the camera came anyway. Where my mood seemed to match that feeling between seasons.
April and May have come and gone. My camera hasn’t seen much in the way of creative work.
There were a few moments I did shoot. Those images went straight to my hard drive, and sat, intentionally untouched. Dramatically, I wanted no part in them. The critic in my head on repeat, “there is nothing to say, nothing interesting to share, and these images aren’t worth anyone’s time if you aren’t finding value in them.”
And, truly, I wasn’t finding any deep feeling in any art-focused image I worked on. Dud after dud, my creative arrows landing in the weeds, missing the target. (My client work however has gone super well. It’s my most productive spring, in fact. Huzzah!)
A toxic trait I have is the longing for novelty. A deep desire to find new ways of speaking to, or rather, illustrating those abstract, hard to quantify states we humans find ourselves in. If I can't do this, why bother?
This week I peeked into the folders on my hard drive. There weren’t many. However, the time produced full on edits, extreme culling, and slow roll sharing of what few things were captured. A common theme did emerge. Lots of contrast, several sunsets, vivid color, and bold black and white. It’s almost a revelation of extremes despite the goal of finding a middle.
It’s a start. I’m thankful for another.
I don’t want to go… really, I just want to look at the clouds.
And find any answers there,
and accept anything not within them as lost
and just fine in that state.
I staked your pain,
put it to good use in the yard,
throwing shade.
Someone else’s dreams,
or your own.
All that’s left is to decide.
A golden hour
On one side, promise,
on the other side, hope.
a consistently beautiful thing
from just about any angle.
what must it be like to be
a natural cherry?
University of WA puddle
If puddles were portals, where would you go?
Suzzallo and Allan Libraries at the University of Washington, Seattle.
This restless heart found quiet purchase
in the middle of millions of thoughts, words, and ideas..
Humanity published, quiet, patiently waiting.
I went looking for you, afraid I had missed your coming and going.
My head down, to the task, while you lifted to the sun, bright, able.
Raising my eyes to see the last of your small blazes. Grateful, even for just a glimpse.
Beauty,
invasive that takes over
and tricks and
isn’t what it should be.
Gorgeous but all consuming.
Let’s have none of that dishonesty.
Spring is nature’s maximalist take.
Spring allows itself to be all it needs for perpetuation.
Does every seed sprout?
Does every drop of rain make its way to exactly where it should be?
No. But the force forward is unparalleled in our world.
The urge and inevitability that creation will create,
needs must onward,
there is no other option.
If time is to pass anyway,
may it pass in such exuberance,
knowing full well that not all landings stick..
but enough landings will make it.
The dynamic air of spring, coming into itself in April.
I walk here so often, that it does run the risk of feeling ho-hum, or even, dare I say it, ordinary. When I feel this, it’s time to bring my camera. It’s time to notice.