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.

Colors of Tuscany

Years ago, I was traveling in Italy on my way to Tunisia and picked up a postcard of a watercolor scene from Siena. It was of a beautiful passage into the Via S. Agata, and the image has been a romanticized vision in my head ever since. I was so excited on my recent trip with my mom to spend some time in Siena, wandering the old, tuscan colored streets and finally appreciating (and photographing) the famous archway I had collected on a postcard some 28 years ago.

My mom, excited about the colors, talked about the raw umbers and burnt sienas from her first set of paints as a young artist. They are antique colors, full of warmth and softer than I imagined in the fading, cool light of late Fall.

This photograph hangs next to my watercolor postcard in my mind, as a celebration of coming full circle; from past to present and from paint to pixels.

Horsepower

No Midlife Crisis here. He invested in horsepower.

I'm always drawn to photograph unusual doors and windows. They are like portals into worlds I know nothing about. I had a visceral response to this door while wandering around what looked like a warehouse district in Tacoma. Someone had spray-painted the word "NO" on it in neon yellow. I liked it's abrubt quality; the way it commanded the space on that cracked and peeling door.

Taken in the setting of this retro-urban environment, I appreciated its spontaneous "counter-culture" message; a universal response to all of the bull-shit that ever was and ever will be.

And aesthetically, at least for me, a door with a neon "NO" is more interesting than just a door.

Urban Shangri-La

I think of the domed fountain at the Seattle Center as an urban Shangri-La. On a hot summer day it becomes a giant fire-hydrant, the center of the earth for throngs of happy children. I grew up around Seattle and the scene depicted in this image is so familiar to me that I can practically hear the loud music from the PA system and feel the spray in my face. But I like the way it has a universal feel to it, like it could be anywhere, because children everywhere behave the same way around water on a hot day.