Shelter

Rarely do I pay attention to weather reports though this one is hard to ignore.  Twelve inches are expected to fall before I find my way home.  Seeking refuge for my estranged heart, I know where I belong.

Watch This Space

With best intentions, I go back for more.  The sun will be shining, the days full, the towels plush.  It makes no difference.  I long for my life, in color.

Untitled, poolside

 I will answer the question.  I need to know what my work is about.

Sequestered in Florida I spent hours cutting and glue-sticking small, black and white copies of my images onto blank notebook pages.  I am creating a visual reflections notebook, an exercise I read about in “Art Without Compromise,” by Wendy Richmond.

The time seems right for me to formulate a cohesive statement.

Old and new photographs are now paired, tripled and quadrupled with one another.  When grouped this way they share similar points of view, composition, subject matter and/or feeling.  Some of the juxtapositions are random, telling unexpected stories.  I'm adding words as well as quotes, song lyrics, articles, and works by the artists I admire.  It’s daunting to view my work next to a photograph by Marc Cohen or a painting of window cakes by Wayne Thiebaud.  I included a favorite poem by ee cummings that knocks me out.  I wonder if I will ever have a photograph that can truly accompany it on a page.

I’m hopeful that as the notebook fills it will speak to me about my images with clarity and a sense of purpose.  Until that bolt of lightening strikes - even while in captivity - I see with my heart.