January 6th, 2010
Loreena McKennitt traveling from Canada to N. Africa following the roots of her muse – the Celts.
Her music is wistful, wanting, in a quiet learned sorrowful way, with the soft underbelly of longing. I am pulled in immediately then sent on an introspective solo journey to my center.
Seek the dias in the midst of the cacophony, sit quiet and listen, soon the distractions will recede and you can spend time with the flow of you, alone. I so miss that.
This year has not started well.
A good friend is shocked to be told “Get your things in order.”
Truth talk on the mesa above the strait that shakes the foundation of a life lived, though of late without the enthusiasm that used to sustain.
The ugly face of life’s economics stares at me. I must give fight.
In all this I am thankful to the woman who still chooses to remain my companion in our trek. Her perseverance, generosity of spirit and love sustain me, give me hope and a lovely reason to wake in the morning. I seem to need less of the rest, for better or worse.
Posted in Musing
October 26th, 2009
This is a photograph of the end of a deserted hallway in a concrete ski lodge. It is very still. The block of elevators are at rest. The overlarge wall mirror echoes an empty corridor of worn grey carpet stretching down the hall. Harsh artificial lighting illuminates the absence, making deep dark hollows daylight will fill in tomorrow. It’s three in the morning and everyone is in their rooms. I took this while on vacation. I do my best work on vacation, because I do not expect familiar and I am open to the possible.
In this absence I take photographs of ghosts. As in this photograph my parents are not there, very persistently not there. My mother, in a long slim dark blue dress with a fake mink brown fur collar, stands stiff with indignation staring straight ahead, stubbornly waiting for the elevator. My father, who looks so sharp and certain in his tailored suit, ignorant in his drunken willingness to please, shifts near her, trying to understand again. The way they argue, like annoying mosquitoes, trying to make their words invisible. She speaks to the elevators, he to his feet.
Posted in Fiction, Story
October 23rd, 2009
We had a five foot square porch off the back of our second story flat on Hill Street in the Mission which had an exceptional open view to the sky and a very passable view of a section of the city. The incident to be related occurred about eight years into living at this flat.
Now over this time our ever frugal landlady had refrained from any non-emergency maintenance because of her dread fear of being taken advantage of unscrupulous handymen, for instance the ones who had painted the house prior to our move in. None the less the house still stood solid, a testimony to the craftsmanship of 1879.
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Posted in Personal, Story
October 13th, 2009
And so it rains all day. Steady drumming and dripping. Gray, often unable to see across the Strait. Just all day.
Posted in Musing
August 9th, 2009
Had a great talk with my friend Victoria Legg (victorialegg.com) about transition and the time is takes to recover, and discover, what you’ve lost and what still remains. She herself after a protracted transition is pushing through the fog, doing a great deal of work, assessing what is produced and letting go to the muse. It seems we will never be fully aware, completely understanding our situation enough to actually be in the ‘driver’s seat’ through the maze of days, but that letting go or getting out of the way of ourselves can deliver something surprising – a surprise of suddenly feeling fulfilled. A enlightenment that reveals how the path is still there, we are just further along now. One of those momentary openings into the timeless flow.
Posted in Musing
July 31st, 2009
Caught in work and the need for cash flow severly impacted the Back to Basics or truly just brought me dead center to the Basics. Anywhos my August show at City Art Gallery will be a group of images of the city at night.
Still so many rolls to develop. It is like a treasure, a surprise (hopefully a pleasant one) waiting to happen. And waiting, and waiting…
I recall reading often about photographers having a quantity of rolls left undeveloped at their death. For posterity and procrastination I uphold the tradition. I suppose the near future will have scores of memory cards laying about never uploaded or printed. Tomayto – Tomaato.
Posted in Musing
May 9th, 2009
Eric Black back in town suggested we have a photo outing. When camera choice was mentioned I realized how unconnected I was due to the digital point and shoot I had been using of recent. I decided to return to the setup that had inspired me many moons ago, my medium format square image Bronica SQA shooting B&W film. My intent is to shoot my new digs for my upcoming August show at City Art. Just straight images to begin with, back to basics.
I have been struggling with my photographic path for the past 10 years or so. Wondering of recent why I had so little connection, even to the point of abandoning the medium. But for what? Even larger abyss, or possibility.
So for now I will return to letting my eye dictate the action and let the mind play elsewhere. We’ll see.
Posted in Musing
April 24th, 2009
And so begins the Musings.
I am curious where this platform of Musings will lead. My initial interest was to catalogue and discuss the art work we have in our abode. A place for me to stimulate the art sensibilities that for the most part have been rather dormant for longer than I’d care to consider. Yet consider I have and hence created an outlet to rekindle the flow.
Good luck to me.
Posted in Musing
