Eight The Great

Today, my little not-so-little guy is eight.  He is strong when I am weak.  Tender when I am difficult.  How lucky I am to receive his boundless affection.  He easily picks me up in a swimming pool and beats me in a race to the bottom.  With one hug he can knock me off my feet.  He is literally from the Specifc Ocean, breaking down big ideas to essentials.  And just last night I found him curled up in my bed watching...  wait for it...  Blue's Clues.

Recurring Theme

We saw things differently, like we have so many times before.  One of us went to a dark place.  I became invisible.  As history does, it will recur.

While I do believe that the only constant in the universe is change, some things never will.

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.