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.
to be
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
living
“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.”
Home Sweet Ham #5
Sunnyland Neighborhood, Iron & Alabama
Home Sweet Ham #4
Home is where your bones are 😆
Home Sweet Ham #3
Just a construct.
Home Sweet Ham #2
Entering Class I
Home Sweet Ham #1
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.
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.
Stratocumulus
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.