“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.”
a search for the middle
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.
decide
Someone else’s dreams,
or your own.
All that’s left is to decide.
Golden Hour
A golden hour
On one side, promise,
on the other side, hope.
a natural cherry
a consistently beautiful thing
from just about any angle.
what must it be like to be
a natural cherry?
🐦
“Effie…I will not be pigeon-holed.”
Sometimes I like to imagine birds having conversations.
Especially pigeons. These were far off, but body language still talks.
Coming forth
Maybe now, let us celebrate the mess.
It comes into itself,
Wild, free, full of light,
Able to accept the chaos
that some times exists on the path to purpose.
at 7am
Small things seen at sunrise, are so easy to miss in the morning midweek rush.
to beg
Finding myself
who normally rejoices
in the darkness of winter,
never one to need anything to come alive
on my behalf,
begging for Spring
the hope of Seasons.
3 Variants
I recognize I am air in varied states of holding and letting go. At times, too much is contained which forces the release. Other times I am light and free, invisible, having let go of the weight. Often, as is today, I am holding things, unable to rest, unable to release, a mist seen but not felt. The idea is there, but it is both too much and too little to transcend.
the good juice
the good juice is realizing it’s ok to be a part of a thing, and not the entire thing.
a single entire thing, is a lonely thing. but a thing made up of millions of parts
that’s where the magic lies.
—streams of consciousness while editing photos, listening to Coltrane 😆
G.O.A.T. #1
Privacy Please.
A less than a week old goat hides from unwanted visitors in Prospect, TN, November 2024.
inscrutable
the Galvanized woman
who sees it all, spread before her,
the necessary intuition,
the overwhelm that comes from being
unable to compartmentalize.
Galvanized woman
who moves to find her heart beat in anything,
in ultrasound focus.
oh the inconsistencies, oh the insecurities.
Inscrutable nothing.
Inscrutable everything.
a point of view
Perspective from the lens of a tourist in British Columbia.
a living
The heart needs another outlet,
but it can’t pour everything out to every thing.
Necessary is space for the business of this existence,
one wants a life, but needs a living.
a snow day
Making the most of a modest amount of accumulation, our youngest still maintains the can-do spirit around the cold, excited for even the lighter of dustings. Plus, she didn’t have school today. Nothing to be mad about here.
I’m trying to be better about catching family moments, instead of just creating artful representations around our goings on.
My, how the turn tables… years ago my goal was to see things differently, share things differently. The big hope was to create art, less personal to our family, but more universal, around nature, life, and belonging. This goal has been firmly accomplished and solidified.. I’m proud of the work, happy to convey the mystical around this world of ours. BUT.. in a striving for balance, I do hope I can also photograph moments for what they are this year.
And, so, this is our almost nine year old, on the cusp of adolescence, seen from the porch, working the hill with a vintage Radio Flyer. She’s loving every minute of it, despite the lack of detail and monochrome edit.
reflections in the lake, in Bellingham, WA.
CYH No.4
…Fallen pines to shape the skyline
Take me there
Beneath the barren colored moonQuit all that looking back
I quit all of that..- Gregory Alan Isakov, Berth
Trees at Lake Padden, Bellingham WA
CYH No. 3
It was as if I beheld Queens,
in robes of dappled sunlight
through the January clouds.
Lake Padden, Washington, via iPhone 15
CYH No. 1
The blue heron makes a sound like the world is ending.
Ripping like doomsday through the air.
a regal beak, a torrential sound.
I thought life might be over, if you’d heard it too, you’d know.
Winter Morning
Softly, softly.