What You Seek…

Is seeking you

Jimmy’s Tree

This tree has lived a long time. Longer than the landlords who own this land know actually .

Trees have a different sense of time than we short lived humans do. It’s sheltered many animals over the years. Squirrels, woodpeckers. Seen many people through good times and hard ones.

Provided sheltering cover during hard times.

This tree has given so much. And has in return been loved.Friends have gathered around and beneath her. Gardens have grown. Love has come and gone. Children once small are now adults flying free from the nest.A full harvest of love and loss, the full spectrum of life has danced here. And now, some say it’s time for tree to be cut down. It’s limbs are old and brittle. They could fall and cause injuries.

What if there was a different story?

The tree might be tended. Yes, she is elderly, requiring care.

But so don’t we all?

What if we made that offering?

Shared our love for the community and sheltered a little longer under here sweet branches, sang a few more songs, danced slowly into the twilight together?

Under the Duvet

This is the tail end of our cat, Minky. Every morning he has a routine. Like all of us he likes to stick to his routine.

By all of us, I mean all of us who would prefer a routine, obviously some people prefer greater randomness. And of course, that’s totally OK.

Anyway, every morning he eats his breakfast, he comes upstairs to where we’re having coffee greets us, gets a little loving and then if the sun is out he’ll lay in the sun spot but because it’s not really Spring yet, the sun spot doesn’t last very long so then he immediately goes to the bed finds an entry point, a place where there’s just enough of the duvet lifting up where he can get his head underneath and he dives underneath until all of himself is covered except for maybe just a little bit of his tail. And there he stays for many  hours.

We call him the Little Lump, a term of real affection, though it may not sound that way. But we love him very much.

And we appreciate that he does this every single day and it made me think about how as an introvert sometimes I just want to do the same thing.

Lots of you think that I’m super extroverted because I get up and go in front of people and talk, I teach, I hand outbusiness cards about my photography to people, and talk about climate change and so forth. But really what I prefer would be to be left alone in a vastly isolated and delicately beautiful place with my camera to research and contemplate and make images very quietly.

So, I understand as my cat does, the urge to crawl under a blanket and stay there.

However, I’m also quite aware of how important it is for each of us to do the work that really calls to us, the work that can help make the world a better place.

So this morning if you’re feeling like crawling under a blanket, I invite you to do that for a bit if that’s what you need. Please,  go ahead.

But then come on out! the world needs your light. The world needs your purpose, your work. All of us can take a good rest under a nice blanket afterwards.

Thanks so much for stopping by and reading. Please, feel free to join the conversation by leaving a comment or sending me a message.

I’m reminded, in closing, of something my friend and teacher Jon Blaustein said, which is roughly this: that none of us ever gets where we’re going alone.

So today as I head out to do my work, I’ll be thinking of all of you.

I hope that we can come together across the globe help hold space for each other as we do the work that needs doing. This frequently  requires bravery, risk-taking, a balance of wisdom and compassion and presents many challenges.

But we got this.

As we say in improv, got your back.

The Imperial Wizard of Intergalactic Light

Version 2

The Imperial Wizard of Intergalactic Light at the 18th St Lift Bridge, Chicago, Illinois
Mask by Chicago artist Bryan Sperry , part of Warriors of the Apocalypse work.

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New Group Show

Here is the photo selected for Woman Made Gallery’s Midwest Open running March 2-24, 2018.

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What an incredible honor to be amongst this group of 40 incredible artists chosen from 900 entries! I’m over the moon to be included. Thank you.

Opening Reception:

March 2, 2018 | 6-8pm (Friday)

The exhibition will be shown at WMG‘s new space in Chicago’s Pilsen Art District:
Woman Made Gallery
2150 S Canalport # 4A

New Photos at Second Friday

I will be showing new black and white photographs printed using Piezography, a unique process which offers tens of thousands of silver tones, greater than what can be found in even platinum or  palladium process printing. Limited edition, signed en verso.

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The Conversation
The images are slightly elegiac; an idea of movement but also stillness – the suspension of time. Long exposures distill several moments into one. Rather than a single decisive moment, it’s photographing the passage of time itself. They are connected as well to the writings of Woolf, Proust, Oliver, Dillard, Solnit and their explorations of perception and the passage of time and memory.
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Solitary Man
The work also explores the time between point of sense contact and the cognitive, physical and emotional response. “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom,” as Viktor Frankl had it.
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Garden Chairs 2

When We Don’t Know the Way Forward

The Budz Bridge In the Snow (from 18th St.)

When we don’t know the way forward, when we lack certainty, but push ahead anyway, thinking or maybe screaming, WTF! the way opens; we learn from failure, take those losses as a blessing however much we may truly hate it at the time.

The sheer force of doing something/anything propels us to discover and learn – perhaps we might even see that that place of not knowing is the best place ever.

Certainty is just another name for bullshit island. And who really wants to live there?

A History of Staring at Ceilings

For my entire life reaching as far back as I can remember, which varies at times in range, from perhaps the age of three or four and up, and occasionally even earlier, to those times before the acquisition of language, before the capacity to name.

I have distinct and specific memories of lying on the couch, or a bed for one reason or another: perhaps having been told to take a nap, or as an adult choosing to take a break, perhaps feeling depressed or sick, and other times savoring the beauty, the simple beauty of light as it fell through the window, or from a light on the ceiling, as it met the corner of the room, and sometimes the window.

These moments have always and still do contain an entire universe of possible emotions, a sense of deep connection to all that is; this deep feeling of potential, and at the same time a deep anxiety at the possibility of missed potential, missed opportunity.

I realize I still have that same exact set of feelings now.

The feelings vary; sometimes anxiety, sometimes joy, sometimes anticipation, the full range of human emotions.

My work arises from a desire to understand the ongoing stream of felt experiences along the full emotional continuum. This occurs via direct experiential processing, an ongoing , intuitive development of a visual photographic vocabulary.

This lexicon seeks to make visible the invisible: what do we see and how does it impact us and how are we in relationship to it?

It confronts the fundamental reality of suffering; our confusions about connection and disconnection.

My work seeks meet our experiences of suffering with an authentic wrestling with the right kind of problems; that is, those which ask questions, the asking of which and the attempts at answering have deep and consequential meaning that continue to generate profound meaning in our lives.

The work seeks to alleviate existential suffering by offering moments of contemplation of beauty and connection even in some of the most unusual places.

It’s seeks to help us turn and face our fears rather than run from them. The images arrive from a desire to find places of connection rather than being caught and confused by apparent separations encountered in every day reality.

Photography of Invisible Things

My work arises from a desire to understand the ongoing stream of felt experiences along the full emotional continuum. This occurs via direct experiential processing, an ongoing , intuitive development of a visual photographic vocabulary.

This lexicon seeks to make visible the invisible: what do we see and how does it impact us and how are we in relationship to it?

It confronts the fundamental reality of suffering; our confusions about connection and disconnection.

My work seeks meet our experiences of suffering with an authentic wrestling with the right kind of problems; that is, those which ask questions, the asking of which and the attempts at answering have deep and consequential meaning that continue to generate profound meaning in our lives.

The work seeks to alleviate existential suffering by offering moments of contemplation of beauty and connection even in some of the most unusual places.

It’s seeks to help us turn and face our fears rather than run from them. The images arrive from a desire to find places of connection rather than being caught and confused by apparent separations encountered in every day reality.