October 31, 2010

Boy, Injected














He was unfazed.  My heart raced.  We wont know if he is receiving the drug or the placebo until the study ends.  He didn't want to regret not trying.  Now we spend time in Clinical Research.  This boy dreams of baseball and is driven by hope.  I wonder how he does not feel like a pincushion.

October 22, 2010

Happy Potatoes














Happy potatoes.
I'm chasing optimism
on a greasy pan.


A special shout out to editrix and poet extraordinaire, Bonnie Emanuel. http://www.bonniejillemanuel.blogspot.com/

October 15, 2010

Making Process

I have had some unplanned downtime to think about the meaning of my photographs.  I wonder if being process oriented keeps me from knowing what my work is about.  My images speak to me but often in disparate ways without a common thread.  The connection they share is they are mine and I make them happen.  They are fragments of my small world.  This much I know.

My process as an artist is intentionally haphazard.  I believe that randomness keeps my image-making fresh.  I do not take my camera everywhere I go but pick it up when compelled.  When I was worked as a newspaper photographer I sought stories to tell.  But now, working for myself and creating images for their own sake is more complicated - -  especially when asked what it is that I photograph.  My response is "anything and everything."  Ambiguous.  Yet I can't find a better answer.

I stumble upon inspiration, finding it tangled in a thick hedge.  A "Whoozit" catches my eye as I walk through my neighborhood.  How did it land there and had anyone noticed it astray?  My guess is that it was swiftly replaced with a new, cleaner version.  The child who lost it probably never knew it disappeared.

There is something about this process that grabs, holds and propels me forward.  The photographs become markers and I drift in between them.  While I continue to ponder the larger meaning of my work one thing is beyond question, uncertainty is key.

October 4, 2010

Frame of Mine














One week ago I was strong, confident.  Since then I have been mostly housebound, struggling through a relentless back pain.  I'm humbled by my fragile body.

My son breaks into this frame of mine, stealing my self-pitying thunder.  I soften.  Things may not be as bad as they appear.