We are in Washington Irving country and nature surely effected this American writer. How can place not effect an artist? It may be subtle or it may be direct, but one way or another we belong to the container that holds us.

Arch in the Ravine, 2015, Archival Digital Print

Looking through the images from the other morning when I was out around seven a.m. after our first real frost here, I noted how much they reminded me of Matthew Brady’s scenes of the Civil War battlefields after the cannons and guns had stopped.   Bodies strewn, anonymous, wasted, lifeless and only the value arrangements of photography left to note what vitality had once been living on the land.

A Killing Frost, 10.24.15, 2015, Archival Digital Print

Dusk, 10.5.15, 2015, Archival Digital Print

During my time in Cleveland, I learned to see the sky and all that it gives. The relationship of sky to land was a profound shock to me in the 80s. From my beloved nephew who travels cross-country on his Harley and generously sends back photos, I realize that there is bigger sky further west.  Of course I knew it rationally, but I didn’t know it in the sense of the impression his photos made on me.  I long to experience it. But, my brief glimmer into its wonders has left an impression on its etherial power, especially for imaginative play.  There is the stage on which anything is possible.  The current observations are mostly from my backyard as the magic plays across the trees.