Garbage Cans Wait for Pickup in the Moonlight, 2022, Archival Digital Print
Even the plastic garbage cans look monumental in the November moonlight.
The heat of the day continued into the night and now
A strange November evening was aided by Mother Moon
Smiling on us,
Indifferent to our frettings,
Just happy to be a reflection of the Sun.
Tree, 2022, Archival Digital Print
The Fourth of July weekend and it feels like we have less to celebrate as the Supreme Court turns women into chattel, objects with no power over their own bodies. The tree stands tall and elegant, far more sane than the humans who are trying to destroy themselves and the planet.
Burdock, 2022, Archival Digital Print
Young Burdock, now isolated from his parents because his father will not accept a competing male, lives among the chickens and yearns for a wife.
Night Critter, 2021, Archival Digital Print
How harried and anxious this period has made us. Health worries, ourselves, our planet’s it all seems in a state of collapse. How does a person move through this with grace and continued contribution? The beauty of this night critter is a certainty. I hold onto these certainties about beauty and form as my salvation.
It’s a jungle out there, 2021, Archival Digital Print
I continue to comment on the weather. It rules everything now. Our rains continue day after day and we have rarely had a clear sunny day since early June. Looking out the other morning, it was so lush and so hot and humid I expected to see apes swinging from trees and toucans hopping from branch to branch, a Hudson Valley Rousseau.
Waiting for the Rain to Stop, 2021, Archival Digital Print
I spent more time in the car waiting than I did caring for the flock. The rain was in deluge mode for most of the day. Like many artists I search for the unified field theory of what I see and feel as I work. Why this not that? Why here not there? Why transmute it in this way and not that way? An artist does nothing if not make thousands of decisions as she works.
The Studio and The Moon, 2020, Archival Digital Print
We are deep now in the pandemic, many of us straddling two domains. There’s the world of our isolated lives and the world of the media. Our personal lives can be anything depending on circumstances, ingenuity, curiosity and the ability to reflect and learn, whereas our media life is filled with death and suffering and the continual sideshow. Hope now must be self generated. Learning about the people we’ve elected is sobering. I have concluded that many in Congress are marginal and ignorant. Perhaps this explains why they don’t understand the basic tenets of science and stand instead as beacons of ignorance. This governor of Florida looks like he would have been incapable of success in any other business he tried. Poor fellow, politics was probably the only home he could find that paid his bills. As to Trump, lugging a long record of failure behind him, only politics was available to him. At least he has been consistent.
One of the gifts this time has given us is the chance to remember and reflect. We have gotten in touch with people we forgot about or had a spat with and the reconnecting feels good and mends. This reminder of last chances and wanting to have a settled heart has been a benefit of this scourge.
The land is ever filled with beauty and solace. The moon shines down on my studio. The coyotes howl. The deep winter is on the doorstep. And, at least for today, I am safe.
I hope you, Dear Reader, are too.
Siblings, 2020, Archival Digital Print
Siblings [enlarged], 2020, Archival Digital Print
Nightmare, 2020, Archival Digital Print
Life is surreal now, I live in what is my Eden, a magical piece of land which is so beautiful and so serene that I think I’m in a dream and against that the news I follow which is the upside down, and so mean and brutal with this living Evil in the Oval Office, that it is hard to know what or where is The Real.
February Fog, 2020, Archival Digital Print
It’s been a good week of work and a nodding to the power of place.
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