Right on the cusp of summer,
as if nature knows what follows, and comes out veins blazing.
a note on the sky
Pressure is a privilege- Billie Jean King
Cinema
That wanderlust..
creeping in like cinema.
Give me something different.
Unreal
Idaho’s answer to the Bliss of Windows XP.
Obstinate
Hold me to some sort of formulaic space
A fluidity contained and moving, but not evaporated.
I don’t like the air. I won’t go.
Woods
Wooden memories in the mist, until I find myself there again.
zen moment
Seeking a quiet frame to get lost in.
Fear of Spiders
I didn’t understand, and because of that I couldn’t see you.
All I knew was the current of fear, a choice to be swept up in this lack of rationality.
Missing the complexity, my large body terrified of your small one,
your entire existence gone in one decisive moment.
How powerful I was. How afraid.
Clouds & Cream
Unbeknownst to him, my internet friend named this photo “Clouds & Cream”. Thank you Om! An excellent photographer and artist, who I continue to be inspired by.
Emergent Agency
Wild emerges with no permission.. this recklessness makes the season. I can’t help but be in awe.
She
There are some conservationists who are opposed to fishing and hunting, but I’m sorry, they are not thinking it through. In order to transpose mere interest into passionate love requires proactive behavior. The road is an uphill one because today’s youth of the digital world are raised with offers of passive, instant gratification. Can a person raised in that environment ever fish all day without a bite? Maybe it should be mandatory for schools to provide environmental study from grade one in which there is no computer involved, or any other electronic visual aide, only calm, analytical conversation mixed in with visits to if not wild places at least rural ones.
― Yvon Chouinard
Food for thought, from the quietly-provoking Chouinard.
Wanderlust # 5- 1 Palm 1 Year
A palm tree in Florida, on our 1 year wedding anniversary.
Ending with this one because I see glimpses of my current photography style just making their debut. At the time, I didn’t feel super creative, but we all have to learn where to tell our inner critics to go, don’t we?
Hope you’ve enjoyed the visual archive this week, thanks for traveling with me🫶🏻
Somewhere in North Carolina, 2011
Wanderlust #4- A Single Serving of Mountain
Appalachia.
Will there be bugs?
Will there be humidity?
Will there be gorgeous views, lines, curves predating us humans?
You betcha.
Wanderlust #3- New Year, New York
Dear Reader,
There’s nothing quite like NYC at New Years. Add staying at a friend’s empty apartment in the East Village, your partner gifting you Phantom of the Opera tickets, listening, nay, feeling, music at the Vanguard, plus a sprinkling of interesting subway rides, and you’ve got yourself a great way to ring in 2012. This post is practically oozing with nostalgia for me..
the sounds,
the smells (maybe not),
the protests!
Yours truly,
Insufferable in 4:6 😉
Was it even New York, did you even go, if you didn’t take this picture?
Wanderlust #1- SF in Squares
San Francisco, 2010. I walked the streets of Mission, watched a man dangle mid air in front of the ferry building, attempted a vegetarian diet, and met many a dapper French bulldog.
She’s out of focus, but I love her.
Hoping I get back this decade…
Pardon
Washington State has tulips on the brain this month. I know, I know. "Florals? For Spring? Groundbreaking." BUT to keep things interesting, I’ll also leave you with a snippet of Emerson’s Hamatraya. One particular line is pulled out of context and printed on many a mass-produced garden sign, while the rest of the poem is, in fact, quite dark. I recommend you read the entire thing!
“..Where are these men? Asleep beneath their grounds:
And strangers, fond as they, their furrows plough.
Earth laughs in flowers, to see her boastful boys
Earth-proud, proud of the earth which is not theirs;
Who steer the plough, but cannot steer their feet
Clear of the grave..”
What is meant by an iron will?
Maybe a thing forged anew each morning
Broken by sundown?
Pieces scattered waiting
Till light and warmth readies them for another breaking.
🌬️
“..to slip again over my faculties the viewless fetters of an uniform and too still existence..”
-Charlotte Brontë
Mornings
One of those gloriously messy weekday mornings where we managed to get out the door early, good attitudes still in tact. I also had the wherewithal to grab my camera, given the conditions seemed conducive to drama over the lake. It’s a beautiful thing when plans work, and we get a nice little break from perpetual adaptation.
Coming On but Slowly
Things taking time
to be what they will,
Ideas forming along
state change lines.
Does this death feel more illusionary
Since feeling and love and promise
spring forth from what’s left of it?