Morning Magic, 2019, Archival Digital Print
What a strange experience to watch the Democratic Debates tonight and the flashy production of the set, more Jeopardy or a World Wide Wrestling match than the serious process of a debate for the highest office in our democracy. We have become so accustomed to visual overload that few may have noticed. It’s all part of our pinball-light-up-and-win world.
Here, though, I can bring a slow eye to what I see. This photo, another fortuitous find, was shot in the hours of early light.
Saturday Flowers, 2019, Archival Digital Print
No words necessary
The pleasure of seeing
An odd shape a shadow makes
Dark against light
Love against hate
The dance goes on
Night Blossoms, 2019, Archival Digital Print
A terrific studio visit yesterday. Thank you, George T., for your sensitive eyes and insight. When an artist admits a trusted viewer into the studio it is the opportunity, by the presence of an enlightened observer, to see with new eyes. Yesterday I saw connections I had forgotten about that reached back in time. There is a thread of inquiry that continues to be wired and live. There’s so much to do.
Morning, 2019, Archival Digital Print
The temps have dropped.
The heat is a memory.
Brooklyn had it bad last night.
Place determines everything.
The pin on the map is destiny.
Tree in Overcast Light, 2019, Archival Digital Print
What makes this current hot spell strange, is not the heat, but the oppressive air. It feels as if all the Oxygen has been removed. The Eastern Catalpa on my front lawn dropped many of its leaves yesterday. They cover the lawn, brown and spent. The march to fascism comes closer suffocating our values. The evil that Trump has loosed and nurtured continues its malignancy and our politicians are pretty much silent so eager to be re-elected they will sacrifice nothing. This is how it happens.
Nasturtium, 2019, Archival Digital Print
The eternal dynamic between The Light and The Darkness gives us photography in its original form. What plays out in black and white is supple and ingenious given its limits. It is the metaphor for being. The life force, the death force. One is either a cynic or has faith. The cynic sees the darkness growing; those of faith celebrate the light of a single candle. I have known many who only believe that the darkness will win. They carry it in their very beings. They find evidence of it everywhere and of course attract those experiences to them. Those of faith, and here I don’t mean religious faith but faith in the good, the beautiful, the positive, see it differently. How we choose to make our own reality is the story of our lives.