Bunny Love

Little rabbit
Lives in the dirt
Little rabbit
Has no shirt….or
Is named Bert or Gert
Appears quite pert
Loves to eat vert?

Yeah
All those rhymes

A facebook friend asked if I make photos of rabbits (she loves bunnies). Mostly I don’t. So I made her this manipulation.

Here’s what it feels like to walk the woods:

Is Too Far A Waste of Time?

Perhaps I have ADHD, ADD, WXYZ, or something, I don’t know. We know that when we endeavor into an artistic genre, we will aim at “traditional.” Once that is known (fully or otherwise) sometimes we ask ourselves, “what can I do with this? It’s nice, but how do I make it my own?” Our thinking drifts in and out of ideas. So how do we work it out?
For me, the first step is to take it too far. Sometime that works, sometimes not. When I first started using intentional camera movements in my work, I was elated! My assistant reviewed some of my work and honestly stated, ” it hurts my eyes.” With that, I came to understand that something new and exhilarating to me is meaningless if it does not convey a meaningful message to the viewer.
It was not failure, it was learning and with learning comes maturity.
So here we are again. The decision to gear up for bird photography in February has brought me here. Processing a color image, save, process a B&W rendering, save, process a B&W image and remove the colors that make the water go to black. Stack that black image over the color and reveal the color through masking.
Kitsch? Perhaps. But I will embrace kitsch if it leads me to new knowledge. Anyway, it makes for an interesting desktop background.
During this process of editing and video creation I have come to remember why I love photography so much. A few hours spent outside of myself. No cares of the world bearing down on me. Looking for beauty and story. What a lovely privilege. Watching and appreciating nature is a treasure to the heart.
In all of that discovery, I see the direction to go. To explore and work. To fail and succeed. To live.

Finding the Light

It is the telling
That wears us out
So we run to places
Where semblances
Of light
Still reside

The gold of morning
Gives us hope.
There is no talking here
Only instinct
And the basic will
To survive.

A place for flight
And grace
Strength and weakness.
It waits for no one
And moves through us all.

An unending story
Waiting to unfold
Waiting
To be told.



Orange Vanilla

It tastes like heat
Waking you up
In the uncomfortable closeness
Of summer

Patched knees on my pants
Smell of sweaty boyhood
Hands dirty and cut
Breaking bottles in the alley

We learned about fighting
When to run
And other times
There were no places to run

But that treat
So cold
Orange chemical sweetness outside
Sugary vanilla explosion inside

It was worth the walk
Four blocks to the market
A few pennies
For a few minutes

This photo reminds me of the 50/50 ice cream bars of my youth.