I’m learning something about the trees in January,
So quiet, yet so alive.
a million tiny movements, imperceptible but important.
Acceptance in all stages,
Purpose, no matter how small.
partner, confidant, friend
We act in our own best interests when we…let them guide us, because in the eyes of those reflective, open hearted creatures, we can never be too joyful, too beautiful, too free.
-Linda Kohanov
Sessions like this are at the heart of why I love photography. Connection, nature, camaraderie, and golden light. All of it good for the soul of both the photographer and the subject, no matter what either is going through. Beyond grateful to have spent this evening with these two.
quest
Yellow & Blue
and misty days till 2…
Is there a living in art?
together
what is forward? who knows! there is only forward, and together
Putting It Out There
I don’t know why it feels so scary sometimes,
to have an opinion, creation, thought,
shared.
Not knowing what will happen
to that opinion, creation, thought,
once it leaves your body.
Who will use it and how,
or will it even be given the most precious thing,
external attention.
Self awareness is awareness of the finite,
a call to opinion, creation, and thought.
And maybe that awareness calls for acceptance and courage,
if any opinion, creation, or thought
is to become something more than fears and reasons to stay hidden and finite.
🖤
Completely distracted today by the news coming out of LA, with so many acres burning around the city. Be safe friends, hearts are going out to you.
illusionary
Feels like you’ve been here before,
illusionary doors,
unsettled stagnant scores.
the gateway
the feeling that you might end up somewhere else entirely,
depending on where you step,
to veer off trail is to find yourself losing yourself,
which, depending on who you ask,
can be lovely
or alarming.
soft belonging
a farewell to warmth
Prologue to Winter
Fall Fire
a november felt
superfluous facts
Weight
Monuments
Near/Far
Rhythms
resolve
There are some very large letting goes to do:
people, places, honeyed and battered phases of life
there are some even larger letting goes to do:
anger, tears, parts of yourself that leave with no return.
have a past.
Everything that’s happened cannot be held today- Cleo Wade
the muse
I’ve lost count of the times I’ve photographed this dying tree. In some ways, it’s become my muse. On misty mornings, while faster things work to be settled, the birds, the air, the traffic from the highway, this tree is resolute. How is it weathering this? What changes has it made? Is it somehow thriving towards the end, despite the sharpness of the natural spire, that grows thiner and less dense each year? My gaze hits it often in mornings I feel frantic, needing to know it hasn’t fallen in the night. That, despite the decay, it’s still standing, doing its thing.