Tunisia

Here is a snapshot of a neighbor who lived across the street from me in Tunis. He gave me rides on his moped. I spent four months there in 1983 as an intern for the government owned transportation department.

I knew before going I was in for culture shock but my first day in Tunisia went beyond that.. I had just come across the Mediterranean on what I would describe as steerage, or transit for livestock. The university student who collected me at the port of Tunis spoke French very fast, with a thick Arabic accent. I barely even recognized the language I had studied for four years.

For those first few weeks I felt my equilibrium was lost. Ramadan was just getting underway as I arrived and I stupidly pledged to my host family that I would be fasting for the whole month. I regained my balance, over time, as I got use to the language, climate and logistics of living there. I made friends with some students from the University of Tunis who engaged me in lively political discussions on the beach. Being the only American in the group I did more listening than talking. If you have traveled before to such places, as an American in the 80's, you know what I mean.

The conflict in Tunisia today is as inevitable as the struggle for independence from France was back in the 50's. Every struggle is a step toward reconciling faith and tradition with the forces of globalization, which are seen by many Tunisians as just another form of oppression. From what I observed from talks with people and the overall social climate, Tunisia has tried to preserve its Islamic roots while reaching for economic growth and gaining respect from the international community. But progress is precarious with Islam so misunderstood in the West. The distortions of Islam portrayed in non-Muslim countries are manipulative and often driven by political motives. To those who perpetuate these stereotypes, or perpetrate violence as a solution, the students I met in Tunis would likely respond with a quote from the Quaran; "The pen of the scholar is more sacred than the blood of a martyr."

Red Tent

Our family recently camped and surfed at La Push, a Quileute owned and operated resort on the Washington coast. This place was little known before the Twilight tourist trade, but it has always been a great destination. It's charm comes from the wild and rugged beaches where intrepid surfers go year round (imagine) and anyone can camp on the beach for free.

Here is a Haiku dedicated to Jake, who tried to teach me to surf before I wimped out after 5 minutes because I was barefoot. It's a list poem of 7 essential things.. True, I've left out marshmallows and chocolate but I didn't have enough syllables for true Haiku (5-7-5):

Red tent, solitude,

beach, sand, surfboard, neoprene

and wood for the fire.

Evolve

Wandering around with my camera, I am often struck by the eloquence of graffiti. With just a word or two, much can be said. There is a dynamic play of color and graphics in language painted onto a canvas of concrete. A power and wealth driven society has produced a counter-culture that defies boundaries and rules. A spray-painted word on a wall or a door has impact and is much more compelling than if you used the word in conversation.

I saw the word, "evolve", spray painted on a wall in Pismo Beach. I stopped in my tracks and aimed my camera. It was reflexive. Visual art forms, film and still-photography are powerful that way. They have a unique ability to bypass the intellect and reach right into our gut.

Graffiti is interesting because it's raw and territorial. In an urban environment it's so common that it blends into the surroundings. I love Graffiti as an artform but it can be aggressive; an unwelcome visual assault when brought into natural settings or places of solitude or reverence.

Tumacacori Mission

The missions south of Tucson were the focus of my recent travels to the Southwest.

Pictured here are the physical remains of the convent near the mission church, San Jose de Tumacacori. Nearby, there is a walled cemetery surrounded by old trees where the graves are marked with stones and dark wooden crosses. As I wandered, seeing things "rectangularly" as usual, I snapped away, picking up impressions of clashing cultures emanating from the walls of the church and the hills beyond.

I imagined voices of First Nation peoples going about their business... The old mission church bells were adding their music too, and in my mind, the sonorous tones were accompanied by the chambered echo of chanting Franciscan Monks. 

Water Locked

I found this urban "white on white" image in the Fremont District, one of Seattle's more interesting neighborhoods. I was drawn to the strong shapes and shadows and gave it the title "Water Locked"

Ascending

This is a photograph of a staircase in a Mexican border town. The framed mirror on the landing wasn't reflecting enough light so I dropped in a photo of my mom on one of her early morning walks in Tucson.

I like the juxtaposition of the dark stairs in the photo leading down to a photo of her going up a hill, ascending toward the sunrise.

Red Amaryllis

Here is an amaryllis that, from the package, I expected to be white (my intention and desire was to grow a white amaryllis) but turned out red. As it grew, at every stage I wondered, "Is this the right time, the auspicious moment to photograph this?" Yesterday I looked and everything told me, "Yes, this is it."

I set it under a spotlight and made this photograph. Within an hour of shooting, the two blossom heads began to separate and this progressed through the morning until there were two distinct flower buds.

From the perspective of duality, reality is the world of opposites; it has to be either/or, up/down, time/non-time, but unity is always there. It's like the sun hiding behind the clouds. In choosing that moment to photograph my amaryllis I was aware of the precarious balance between here and there; through my lens I witnessed the play between these two worlds of duality and unity consciousness, two very real worlds that live both as one and side by side. There is always an edge of truth between unity and duality, a fleeting, transient edge of truth. It's a calm place.