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
Last night I came back from the studio and as I walked up the back porch steps, I saw something dash away. Shining the flashlight I saw these two kids peering at me from the tree (see the enlargement to see them up in the branches) beside the plant shed. The young siblings are sharing in Nicky’s cat food. More critters for the homestead! I’m thankful for them and those adorable little faces.
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.
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.
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.
Bridge in the Mist, 2019, Archival Digital Print
The magic and miracle of photography, the camera, the eye into reality, never fails to intrigue me. It introduces all the questions about reality, position, place, and the documentation of time that Painting can only hint at.
As I frequently address, all photographs by their nature are in our history, situated absolutely in the past. Photography automatically arouses nostalgia that painting cannot do without seeming maudlin, cloying or merely illustrative. The photograph holds this unique place as no other art form can. I wonder why this feature is so rarely addressed.
Snow Drawing with Twig, 2019, Archival Digital Print
Snow Drawing with Twig, 2, 2019, Archival Digital Print
The two photographs are part of my continued interest in images which merge drawing, photography and painting into one seamless medium which emphasizes the experience of seeing over the experience of naming.