This image leaves me strangely quiet and contemplative. I felt thoughtful and calm during the trip.. A beautiful bliss of nothing but ocean, sand, birds, sun.
Bursts
It is September and I feel my color coming back..
space
a change of scenery,
a treadmill of chores,
a myriad of tasks that fill faster than can be accomplished.
I am tired, and at times I don’t know how to not be.
Magic is in the maintenance, but I’m in need of a major tune up.
I need the list to lessen a bit, and the space to expand.
lost on me..
There is a desire to avoid the superficiality of novelty. Still, I cannot deny the gravity of novelty. An attraction to it, where resisting feels like going against the laws of nature.
-thoughts on a long drive
curious
Curiosity, wonder, play.
The example set from a child is a gift to us, and a reminder to cultivate these traits, rather than snuff them out with adult conformity. We can be responsible, kind, knowledgable, on time, and mature, while still maintaining participation in this life and its experiences. Basically, we don't have to numb our inner kiddo to be thriving adults. I think maybe it’s just the opposite.
Edges
the edges of it all at Kalaloch Beach
Beach Thoughts
More isn’t always better.
Quality trumps quantity.
Before you pull at those threads in search of something bigger
make sure you aren’t disassembling a work of art.
the long short
This has been both the longest and shortest summer I’ve yet to experience. We packed our calendar with so much to do, made some good type 2 fun memories, accomplished quite a bit, but also, have had slow, frustrating moments. It’s been the most paradoxical time.
Yesterday we got a huge rain. A rain that doesn’t usually happen in August. The grass has been crunchy underfoot, the garden soaking up everything. The area around our house has been brown and to the eye, dead. But this morning, bursting from all corners of the yard is a rich green. An overnight transformation. Full disclosure, these poppies didn’t ‘pop’ that quickly. They’ve been there since early summer, but man were they thirsty.
From one state to the next, just like that. It’s how you define this summer. Moments that are forever, no sense of change, then one variable shifts and here we are, another place. Our kids have less than a month before embarking on new journeys at new schools. I hope the time has been well spent, while also recognizing we’ve still got it.
And the recognition starts with just noticing. Noticing the crunch, noticing the wet. Choosing to leave the headphones inside or at home. Listening. To the hwy, to the hawk that’s establishing territory on our land (we have too many rabbits so I’m all for this), to the wind. To at times, the sound of my kids fighting in the house when the windows are open, but also to the belly laugher that echos across the yard originating from the same place. Both/and.
It’s all woo woo. Or is it? Is it what life is about? I think yes.
H2OOOH!
I’m a water nerd. I drink it every morning, and I will never say no to a chance to go to the ocean. My kids are always being told to drink water, they’re both strong swimmers, and we have a huge, irrigated garden. We make whatever time we can to go to the lake or walk by the bay. The first image you see on my home page is a portrait of someone by the water. Heck, my star sign even has “aqua” in it.
Water is a literal big deal in our life.. in everyone’s life. Water is life, and duality, and a lesson in the power of adaptability. And humans have such a connectedness to it. How could we not, given it formed us?
Water has so many lessons: the idea of intentional use of oneself, one’s strength, patience, and power. The idea that we can be a force or even just a trickle, depending on what life calls us to be. Adaptability- truth in what you are, what you can be, how you can sustain life, and how you can flow.
See? I love it. I love that long ago two hydrogens and an oxygen became bffs. That this connection has sustained so much beauty and insane dynamism for millennia. Amazing.
Picnic
Moss, Party of 4?
None of my art lenses are wide enough to catch the scope of this specimen. Thus, the iPhone at .5.
Big Cedar
Somewhere on the edge of the Olympic Peninsula several of these trees tower together in thick growth. Quiet, strong, and when we found them, devoid of humans, despite the summer crowds, signs, and well worn trails.
Yes, the Olympic beaches were beautiful and I have more to share on that front. The ocean has it’s own gravitational pull, I think. But, these trees felt otherworldly.. or maybe so much of the natural world that they felt foreign. They didn’t seem to attract as much attention, but the subtle dynamic nature of these organisms is incredible. There’s an energy to a place like this. Something you can actually feel when you touch the bark or stand in on of the hollows. I love trees so much.
Beach access from Kalaloch Campground in Olympic National Park
a moment of your time
Sometimes.. Oh. Who am I kidding? OFTEN, when I sit down to write, I’m overcome with the sheer amount of information available online. I’m bogged down when I consider the millions of people who also sit down to write, save, and publish their own post, article, essay. All the noise, all the value, all the wastes of time, and priceless gorgeous words. (Don’t even get me started on the tangible books worth reading, outside of all digital consumption.) Then I think, am I contributing to the noise? Is this just another article, post, or essay, that an empowered person deservedly purges from their life?
AND THEN I think, “Manda, you better create value. You better write something worth saying that hits deep. Or makes people laugh. Or at the very least, keeps them from hitting that unsubscribe button. It better matter to someone.” And I hold my images to this very same standard.
Since starting a casual newsletter at the beginning of the year, self imposed pressure has been real. I’ve lost a few subscribers, and haven’t gained anyone in a while. I’m not internalizing this exactly. Promotion and value retention are both big deals in the modern age. It’s the name of the game. But the whole process continues to make me feel icky, to the point that if I’m going to promote something, it better damn well be worth making noise about. It better transcend.
I’ve attempted to take this picture of rocks on the shore since the first time I set foot on the west coast. Finally, light, settings, and editing have aligned and THIS is the image I’ve been trying to get for over a decade. See? Standards aren’t always a bad thing.
The harder part to this is it isn’t exactly bad. We should have standards with the work we put out. But the perfectionist spiral keeps us in an internal whirlpool and doesn’t serve anyone. You get to the point of out “art”ing yourself. Something is so “art”ed, layered in “art,” steeped in “art,” with a side of “art” that nothing looks good anymore, nothing feels good any more. The honest plot you started with is a muddled fuddled “art”y mess.
This summer, the work I’ve made, what little there is, feels like noise. It doesn’t seem like the right thing to spent time on, when other things are begging for the resource. I’ve made huge investments in our home, with our kids, our 5 acres, doing the invisible things that are hard to quantify, but noticed when missed. I’ve used my creativity to resolve conflicts, solve issues within a too small house, navigate coordinating life (which we all do). These are blessings, truly, to be able to do and put serious time into. But, what are you willing to give time to, and how much time can you afford to give? My partner said something that hit me pretty hard a couple weeks, ago:
“If I gave everything the time it wanted from me, I would have no time at all.”
Dang. And also, if you’ve unsubscribed from anything that’s robbing you today, good for you!
This week I’ve shot a few images, just for giggles. AND, I’m finally editing some trip images I’ve been too creatively burned out to look at.
I don’t know if any of it “matters” but if I’m going to do this, if it’s going to be important to me, the work should be fought for. Struggle through the creative doldrums, do the hard work of being honest. Often, the easy path is, in fact, to beat ourselves up and let the current take us. Familiarity in self sabotage feels safe.
So, in what’s left of summer I’m making a tiny internal promise to pick up the camera more for art, wade through the noise with purpose, and seek out honesty in my creative actions. I need to stop avoiding and start back to doing. Thanks for reading, thanks for being willing to hang with the inconsistency of this creative gal’s output, the change in scope of words, images, concepts.
Happy Summer!
a surrender
Photos in print are special. Work an artist pours themselves into, that starts as an idea and becomes something to hold gets me pumped. Fruition is such a beautiful thing.
I don’t need to rattle on about the digital age and how it has robbed us of tangible art, and I’m not going to. Fact is, without the digital age, I would have never been exposed to many talented, kind creatives. So, today I’m sharing a special book from photographer and friend, Markus.
Markus Naarttijärvi is a master in quiet storytelling. The sense of places, the moments of life that hit just on the periphery, human touch which lingers in a space void of life... Think of a hard to quantify idea around existence, one that struggles to be illustrated or named. You can just about guarantee Markus has found a way to put the concept to image. His work is visceral, and his book is very tactile. Sunken text on the front, a soft matte cover, gently textured paper, and a spine exposed. The book itself is meant to be felt.
Thankfully, the work within matches this intention. When I first flipped through this book, I experienced a multitude of emotions. The sheer dopamine hit of a new book, because, obviously. Then, the feeling of visual story, each image like a chapter you don’t want to end. Sad at the emptiness, enraptured by the space. Chilled by the darkness, and drawn further into the northern light. A seemingly science-fiction landscape, brought back to earth by stills of a frozen Swedish forest. The collection feels stark, and yet so warm and personal. His images are ones you sit with. Each page, narrative evidence.
The images seem to say, “This is where we lived, this is how we felt, this is what we did. We made choices. We did our best, and at times, our worst. We got through. Then, we died. And in all of it, we had hope.”
This book is such a joy to own. I’ve intentionally not shared too many visuals and hope you grab a copy.
for the week
My thoughts and prayers for this week:
To have the gift of quietly returning to oneself.
And not by solitary means, but by the movement, engagement, and love of others.
An emergence of what matters, and the decision to make it matter
are both privileges that shouldn’t be thrown away,
They are so unlike that Twix bar wrapper,
which housed enjoyment and now sits as a vacant shell.
Understand that nothing lasts,
but there are things which are eternally important.
See them this week, and discard the rest.
security
And you all know, security Is mortals' chiefest enemy. ― William Shakespeare
deco line
Curiosity peaked, via a slight foray into art deco, and an eye catching brick texture.
April 2025, Bellingham WA
thriving in all forms
Maybe you understand this,
A longing for the lack of an apology.
The need for nothing to be anything
But unapologetically itself.
The idea that color doesn’t need muting
That monochrome can rest easy in bold contrast.
Pastels are allowed to be vanilla and soft.
Thriving in all forms
and not at the expense of anyone else, accepted.
You are accepted.
Adagio
The grace to go at our own pace, with our own timing,
The ability to understand this means we have to push, to be uncomfortable,
but also to rest and pace and acknowledge the adagio, when it comes.
Life feels like measure of limits, but
Self awareness needs a harness like constraint.
Welcome the buffers, move them if needed, but don’t throw them away. Understand the ledger lines.
Life must have this structure to know what you can play.
Better Together
We all need a little external propping up from time to time.
to love a cloud
Skies and mysteries made real,
sweet secrets so stark
you might be able to reach up and touch them.