From the mouths of babes

When you are a photographer, for whatever reason, you are often thinking about the next image you want to take. Even if you have no idea what that will be, it hovers there, in some kind of tantalizing fashion. It's as though the yet to be created will be that much better realized than any thing you have ever photographed before. One of my daughters, eyeing the binders of negatives, the flat files of prints, and the albums of photo c.d.'s suggested that I probably didn't need to take any more photos- I might have generated enough photographs to occupy me for the rest of my life. It was a kind of unsettling comment, because most of my life I have been paid to create images for others- to create what does not exist but is needed in some tangible visible form. So, in the spirit of entertaining her insight, I've been looking backwards some instead of hurtling myself onward with a camera in hand. My present, past and future are woven in some kind of simultaneous cross section of existence, mapping a different kind of exploration.

Every Object tells a Story

With my eldest off on her adventure, the house is a lot quieter and my ability to concentrate returns.
Something about the kids, the pets, the coming and going that makes it hard for me to buckle down.
I've got a few resolutions of my own these days, including simplifying our world and selling 100 objects on Ebay. In the course of getting my odd collectibles listed, I get to research each item before I write its description. This cocktail pitcher, while unmarked, bears the design hallmarks (especially her spout and handle style) of Dorothy Thorpe, a designer who worked in the 1930's-1950's and is very popular with those who love mid-century. What's unique about this piece is the bamboo style ribbing in the glass that makes it so contemporary and retro at the same time. When I was a child, I thought that everything, animate and inanimate had feelings. I used to apologize to the clothes that I didn't wear, as I believed they felt neglected. Looking back, I see that my sensitivity to "the thingness of things" was a useful attribute when it came to creating images and imbuing ordinary moments and objects with emotional traits. Keeps life interesting for sure.

Stopping to enjoy what is

I'm sharpening my focus and working my to-do list. There is always much left undone, ways I could work harder (at least in my imagination) or better (at least in my aspirations.) The importance of seeing the beauty in the day to day is an effort working making, considering our three children, rapidly becoming young adults who are stealthily taking copious notes on the whys and wherefores of us, their parents, in all our moments good and bad. So, there's nothing like pausing a moment to enjoy the sunset with my daughter Sarah on the way home from the store and having something lovely to share.

Keeping it Simple

I wish I was spending the weekend in pursuit of solving profound scientific questions, or hammering away at a compromise in Washington regarding the budget cuts, but instead I am seeking the satisfaction of creating order, meditating on where life is leading us, and leaning on my son to finish his project due in English class tomorrow. There isn't a lot of excitement to be had around here as I write, and I'm trying to see that as a good thing.

The W Question

Lately I'm wondering why I blog, feeling awkward in my own skin, and ambivalent in seeking to share myself with others in this way. So many people creating so much content- it feels like the ultimate egotism to keep crafting blog posts, especially when the focus isn't the next greatest place to eat dinner, the next important cause that we all must support, or a dire event (condition, location) that no one knows about and should. I don't live an especially extraordinary life (although I am reasonably skilled with a camera). I am for all intents and purposes devoted to my family and do what I can for the world at large. Like many, I could do more and aspire to do more, do better which seems to be the essence of our common humanity. So why blog? I'm working on that one. Forgive my bout of self reflection. Must come with the territory of the introvert craving an extroverted guise.