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.

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.