Into trash…

“Creativity is harnessing universality and making it flow through your eyes.” Peter Koestenbaum   The emerging of the “Trash Project”! A few months ago during our daily walks and the change in the energy of the space in which we walk due to the field being fenced in and the woods enclosed behind that fence. Oh there are ways to still get in the woods it is just that our course has changed with Muffin’s ageing, so the exercise path is more our course around the field. Those walks had always been decorated with litter, plastic bags of course, water bottles, coffee cups, beer cans, an occasional childs toy which were left after game. My inner child caused me to collect  those toys, space aliens, soldiers, movie action figures, cars and truck, a little girls barrettes. I even found a cell phone once, I call someone on the call list so they could reclaim it.

Lost Head

All this began sometime ago but the “Trash Project” came about with the boundary changes and the grooming, cutting back the hedges and trees to create the walking path. On those reclaimed area new treasures emerged buried trash. At sometime the area must have been land filled, of course people use wooded areas to dump in for years… I know this all sound awful and sad, in many ways it is. Yet nature has her way of reclaiming what is naturally hers.

The Soldier

I have photographed this area for past 6-7 years now, my portfolio and mission to photograph the beauty all around are  testament of evolutions expressions of beauty. So you all don’t think I walk around a dump, it is not that way at all.  What I hope to express with this project is what I try to express with my nature photos. That beauty can be found in the everyday, just see it. I saw a form of creativity in the litter.

McD bag

I had no clear objective I was looking for something creative something different to occupy my time during Mom’s transition. She had gone in rehab, my camera’s shutter release crapped out, iPhoto had malfunctioned, I thought I had lost months worth of work!  I was like oh my God I can’t take photographs, my creative expression, my meditation practice has been cut off!!

The Shape of things

I had just gotten my first smartphone, an iPhone 4s which I knew nothing much about yet the camera would still allow me to take photos but I wasn’t sure what that would be like. So taking photos of “trash” seemed to be a good test. Plus the filters on the camera, and instagram app allowed for more creativity that I really hadn’t worked with before.  The emergence of the “Trash Project”

the chew

The first to photographs of found objects, one on sight, the other photographed at home before the Trash Project was truly born. The next three are part the ongoing project! Taken where found, a bit of filter via instagram or iPhone ! I bet you will never look at litter/trash the same again!

Success is rarely created unless you’re having fun at it.

There may not be any quotes to lead off this blog. There may not be any photographs to enhance this blog. There may not be any coherence to this blog, it my wander aimlessly with thoughts expressed as words, “like why hell is the type so small?” Okay fixed that.

To state the obvious it has been months since writing, the reluctant bloger certainly has lived up to his name. It certainly not because he has had nothing to write about, for surely that would be an untruth. The truth of the matter is I have been waiting for the “right moment” if there ever is such a thing? I had ideas of blog I wanted to create, with photos and words, those still may materialize? The moment now happened because I could not find something else to distract myself from not doing the writing. The voice in my head kept say, “it early, there is nothing else pressing, and other distractions you are finding boring. So write, create, just like yesterday when one of the first things you did was photograph the roses from the exhibition reception, capturing their beauty two weeks later. (now here is a lead in if there ever was one)

Opportunity to share photos and to write about the Artist reception for the Photographic Society of Philadelphia’s tribute exhibition which I curated.

On March 16th 2014 after a month-long run of the exhibition the artist reception took place. It was a smashing success, a semi climax to a year and a half long process of promotion, invites, chatting, networking, for submissions of Photographs and Photography equipment and a bit of history the show open the first week of Feb 2014.

Submission began coming in January 29-30, from members of the society many of them I knew, a few were either new members or just new to me personally. The submission process was simple, three pieces each, sizes and genre varied from artist to artist. There is not theme, there is no juried submission, or competition. The mission of the PSoP is to offer the opportunity to photographer of all styles, and ability to exhibit together, to meet, to discuss work, share knowledge of equipment, and technical abilities. This allows for a much more relaxed form of exhibiting.

During the submission process along with Pauline Jonas as was my Mom,  I was unable to leave her at home, plus it gave her a chance to socialize a bit, which is something she was sadly in need of. Her wandering was a bit distracting but also entertaining to watch while she view photographs and met people who chatted with her, kept her company while Pauline and I received the art.

During the course of the exhibition I went to the gallery several times, to view hanging, to take in other works that were still coming after submission dates. The extra visits allowed me to “really” view the photography, admire the work of the members, to readjust the positions of some of the work for better viewing advantage. I used my networking to promote the exhibit with the Philadelphia Inquire, the story even made the Sunday edition!  Next was another visit with Don Brewer for his blog DoN ArTs NeWs interview and photographing the exhibition.  During both these interviews members of the township were interviewed about the gallery in the municipal building. Which created more excitement about this collection.

Culminating in a successful  Artist reception of March 16th 2-4: a fairly nice day weather wise, since we had had so much snow and freezing weather, the opportunity to go to a gallery, enjoy art, meet the artist, have a nosh, even view a film on Ansel Adams to round out the afternoon. A pleasure to me of greeting 40-50 people, fellow exhibition photographers, all but two attended. Family, friend, people who had either read the article/blog or followed post on Facebook.

Mom was unable to attend for she had had a fall twice in less than a week, on the second hospital stay Drs. recommended 20 day rehab which she had just begun two days before the reception. She was missed by many, her spirit was there with us.

The Exhibit comes down next week April 2-3 ! This journey has been an amazing opportunity to be involved in the creative world of art in new form, in active creative participation, one that will expand they way I view art/photography and its world!

 

This is a work in progress…

This is a work in progress, a process of uncovering our natural openness, uncovering our natural intelligence and warmth. I have discovered, just as my teachers always told me, that we already have what we need. The wisdom, the strength, the confidence, the awakened heart and mind are always accessible, here, now, always. We are just uncovering them. We are rediscovering them. We’re not inventing them or importing them from somewhere else. They’re here. That’s why when we feel caught in darkness, suddenly the clouds can part. Out of nowhere we cheer up or relax or experience the vastness of our minds. No one else gives this to you. People will support you and help you with teachings and practices, as they have supported and helped me, but you yourself experience your unlimited potential.

From Taking the Leap: Freeing Ourselves from Old Habits and Fears, page 51.

Pema Chodron

Low visual

Groggy from allergy medication and then headache experience beginning New Years Eve afternoon, continuing into New Years day after which forced me back to bed. Early morning wake ups because Riley seems to dislike being alone at anytime of the day, continues to cry throughout the night. A dying pet and a Mother with Alzheimer’s is a fact of daily living… it seems I have reduce mom to tears several times in the last few days as well. She going off to her room as early as 6 pm. It is mostly due to trying to understand what she is either doing or wanting to say, listening, explaining, listening, and explaining. For she cannot follow through with task she either wants to do or ask to do, and she is always asking if she can help. Which to me is easier to do myself. The thing is we have both been very independent people, we are much a like, and it begins to rub the wrong way. My task this year is to get her into day care, and/or companion care. I can no longer continue to do this on a regular basis. I had 24 hours free yet being so exhausted and stress filled that sinus and headache were my companions. Plus fear the few hours that I could spend elsewhere would be only a moment of sunlight, appreciated, too soon gone.

A different perspective

I have been consciously aware that I don’t take the camera with me as often as I use too. Part of the fact it has been too darn cold to be out longer than our walks. And the fact that the community recently had fence’s placed around the field we walk through and around, closing in or off part of the wood that we would walk. It is still accessible from a different direction yet so-called civilization has encroached as well as affected the line of sight. I am very “sensitive” to nature being altered by humankind. Some of that alteration is for progress, some just what seems to be forced enclosures!  So yesterday knowing that I was not going to get to Philly to photograph the Mummer’s Parade. I made a point of documenting the first day of the year, in black and white, nature and to make use of the fence as an object of art, which in some ways represents my situation in life at the moment. I had recently thought of doing my black and white photography for a number of reasons. One it is a different challenge, to see in another way, the shadow and light play, winter causes much of nature to be dull and seemingly lifeless. So if I am “forced” to photograph the same thing everyday find a new way to approach it is creative venture. I recall a photographer who lived in the burbs of NYC, who photographed out his window every day for years, the street below him, the light, the season. So why not make what I am doing a more conscious act. Season to season, year by year, different times of the day, weather etc.

repeating patterns

A lot of this work is already done. For I have photographed the same area for the past several years, some of that you can see by viewing the photography here on the blog, redbubble, and Facebook pages. Even though I consciously did not submit the same views at different seasons they do naturally show up.

Listen to the heart!

“The Heart loves service, humility, hard work, dedication, self-approval and self-trust, listening to Divine Guidance from The Uni-verse which Whispers to us, taking action even though we don’t feel like it, getting up and trying again, not blaming but taking responsibility for the outcome of our lives, empathy, and having the willingness to dig in and get our hands dirty instead of leaving our dreams up to someone else.” Mastin Kipp: The Daily Love Blog

For three days I was hoping to write something less dark, more joyful than what has preceded on these pages. Yet my dance with shadow, my ego is the dance partner who seems to lead. Selfishness is the word or action that poked me this morning. My reaction to Mom’s disease, Alzheimer’s is distressing, and abusive to both of us. I realized the resentment I have about the situation taking up my time, my peace of mind, for I don’t know how or I certainly forget when I am forced to try to explain something a half a dozen times.

My heart may love service but not services that is forced, not service that has no seemingly end. There are moments when I feel boxed in trapped in our prison of “service”.  When I am angry and resentment takes voice I blame others, family, social services, mostly family for not showing up, not really being involved in this life/death situation with their own Mother! It is not about them, or is it? It is about my ego, my selfishness… plus being totally unprepared for any of this.

I don’t feel like doing any of it, I want out, I want to run away. What we need is help, social contact for both of us, people willing to spend time at activities with Mom. Social interaction with support group as well as friends.

As I continue to write I keep hearing a voice say, you can’t publish this, not this crap again, not all this “pain” this darkness. I am writing what is. I am writing my emotional reactive experience.  Mastin Kipp in the blog this morning also writes this, ” Basically, our dreams need us to get over ourselves. Our dreams need us to take responsibility for them. Our dreams need us to SHOW UP even when we don’t feel like it. They are fragile and need tender Loving care. Dreams take time and are often tests of Faith. Let’s meet the test!”

Dreams may not be the correct word here yet the path to my dreams is to journey through this process, finding the joy, finding the magic.  That magic is in my photography, that magic is that walking with my camera I am much more conscious of my surroundings, much more aware of the magnificent beauty in a drying frozen leaf/plant, the way the soil pushes up at times, the bright blue sky against the bare tree tops, that birds still sing and flit from place to place. The scurrying squirrels leaping and chasing each other in search of a meal. The universe is alive, the universe offers each creature the gifts to live each day.

That there is a balance to life even when the balance seems to be way off.  “Dreams take time and are often tests of Faith. Let’s meet the test!”  One of the principle of the artist’s way Morning pages is to “Show up at the page, (show up for life) Use the page to rest, to dream, to try.”  That certainly is a powerful way to be present for life, being awake, aware of all actions, good, bad or indifferent. Show up! Showing up is sometimes the hardest part.

I didn’t write yesterday because I didn’t want to feel, I distracted myself, i was too emotional, feeling shame or guilt for my angry, my madness. These are all part who I am. I could not even respond to the comments made my friends on the last blog until this morning because I was too moved by the compassion and support that was radiating there. I am most grateful for each and everyone for  your words. I bow in humbleness. I feel unworthy.

Namaste!

Photos: 

{ This blog was written early this morning, I still doubted whether I should publish it. I listened to my heart}

Comes the light…

“The black moment is the moment when the real message of transformation is going to come. At the darkest moment comes the light.” – Joseph Campbell

into the forest

For about three days now I have been waking up at 4 am. The night is dark, silence except for the mechanical hum of appliances, the snore of one dog and thump of the head of another as they adjust in their sleeps.  The lamp light the illuminates the edge of the table so writing is possible while darkness surrounds.

Beginning to blog again has been the light that shines on my soul/spirit. Winter Solstice begins today, the solstice started for me a few days ago. It began here on these pages, breaking the ice of numbness, breaking the winter silence of a voiceless heart.

I am struggling here this morning:  I missed writing yesterday, I allowed myself to get distracted by distractions, useful ones, and the not so much.

is there light

I looked for images of  Winter Solstice, along with symbols and meanings  to refresh my mind of what Winter Solstice represents. All Solstice rituals are the foundations of most of our major Holidays especially Christmas and Easter. Creatures of the wild, trees, light and shadow, birth and death… As I looked through images nothing really resonated. I was trying, the search was not natural, it wasn’t coming from my heart/soul. As I walked Muffin just a little while ago, I felt a heaviness in my Solar Plexus and Heart Chakra, I was trying to control the situation, I was not “feeling” the moment.  Walking on the damp ground, moving toward the moon’s light which brightens as we enter the flat field. Standing there in admiration, recalling going up to the meadow each morning a greeting the day, the four directions brought tears to my eyes. I have lost that practice here. I miss those moments, the intention of each part of the day and season.

I know no one can give me that back, and no one can take it away but myself!  It is all up to me, to create the practice, to be part of the process. Is this it?  Is this the way through?

“The winter solstice is a celebration of our spirit being reborn and transformed from inner darkness into light. Spiritually, it is symbolic of allowing the darker shadow side of our personality to come out, to be acknowledged and to be transformed as it heals”. Patty Kikos

a path

The Key is to…

“And what’s funny is that if we take small steps each day, each moment, when we look back, we can be amazed at how far we’ve come. The key is to not let the chaos and the pain stop you, but to realize that they are also an important and vital part of life.”  Mastin Kipp: The Daily Love Blog 

twist of chaos

The whole purpose to write, to journal is to take those small steps each day. After I wrote yesterday the censor came to visit, saying ” Yo! People don’t want to read this stuff everyday.” I know that and these pages are not for people, they are for me, my personal journey through everyday stuff.  If others receive insight, wisdom, clarity, or guidance good for them!

Through the fog of one of my recurring headaches I stumble on to these pages. The day always begins with attention to the dogs. Riley now infirm, doesn’t move around much, so cleanup is a necessary step. Make the coffee, walk Muffin in the freezing weather. She is such a joy, she reminds me to laugh. If I let her out before I get all my warm clothes on she will just basically stand there waiting. As soon as I walk outside, she falls to the ground and rolls over, rolling about. Seemingly saying “here I am dad play with me. Rub my belly. ” Because we are not going anywhere very fast until I do just that.

Cheeky Muffin

The shadows of the Moon greeted us this morning at 5:45 am. Grateful for no wind, the trees created beautiful shadows, and picture perfect moments of clouds, moon lit paths… I thought I should have my camera, than about photos already taken I could use here. Breathing the fresh frozen air seem to cool the headache a bit as we walked in the almost silent silvery  moment.

Digging out “the Artist’s Way” from under pile other books which cover many spaces of shelves, desks, and surface,  because I had the sense that  I may need to explain what morning pages are, or maybe just remind myself of their purpose! Distracted by trying to discover the proper use of they’re, there, and their. Oy!

 

Finding and opening “the Artist’s Way” is like reconnecting to an old friend. There is warm and encouragement in the words, in the process of taking action to unravel or understand the chaos of daily life. The daily life of just doing. Going about from one thing to another without much thought just to get a chore done or a meal made, or a medication given. The sameness of it all is dull, boring, and blocking of much of my creative juice.  Oh god this is difficult, the headache just wants to push everything else out-of-the-way.

Morning pages are to be “three pages” stream of consciousness writing, everyday, for no one else but ourselves. They are to shine light in the dull boring places of blockage, to awaken us to our creativity. There are no right or wrong ways to write your pages.  They are not a story or essay, there are more or less ramblelings of a mad man… it is about recovery of creativity, getting out of our own way.  From there everything else may flow. Or not?

The censor/ego even began to assert itself when there was only one comment to the blog, and then two more when I re-posted on my FB “Nature Spirit Photography page. Which is  underused ! As stated above censor almost caused me not to write this morning, suggesting that no one wants to read this stuff every day. I don’t care.  do I ?

Shadow play

A thought came to me on the walk back to the house, something about is not bravery facing the fear, is not bravery being present amongst the chaos of everyday challenges. The dragon I have to tame is myself, the dragon is part of me but is not me in completion. Dragon is the roaring defense of loss, confusion. The protector as.  Are loss/pain and chaos not the keys to letting go, to moving on, to getting over or through the block?

To view and or purchase photos go here

 

 

Questions for the questions…

“When you welcome your emotions as teachers, every emotion brings good news, even the ones that are painful.” – Gary Zukav

Is lack of sanity an emotion? Have I gone insane? Have I created a Groundhog day event of the life? If so why? What has become so frightening about my life that I refuse to live it. Live it fully once again… These and many other questions may or may not be answered in the what follows today or any-day soon.

I have heard the voice to write like a woodpecker hitting a tree trunk, knock, knock, knock, knock, hammering away the stubborn layers of bark, and hard word to get to the meat of thing.  I mentioned to a few friends that I have been hearing that voice to write, to begin to blog, do morning pages again. Morning pages were responsible for the beginning of this blog. After writing the morning pages for the length of time required/suggested in the book The Artist Way, 12 weeks, Julia Cameron suggest to continue writing morning pages to keep the flow going.

So are these blogs going to be morning pages? It is a place to start, a beginning.  And we can only begin where we are.  So here I am ready to stand before myself and everyone naked through my words. Even trying  write this, flinging off the darkness, the cover of silence, feels vulnerable. So be it.

It is the Holiday Season, and… in the past few weeks I have been journeying down memory lane. First it was joining the Magnolia NJ Facebook page which I thought may be a good way to connect with local goings on. I didn’t and still don’t have a lot of connection with the community I live in.  Even as a child, I seem to have lived or created a different reality to the one outside. Did I have imaginary friends, no not really. I had religion, I was on the search even than.  Well being in this local group opened up closets that have long been closed. Do I even want to go there now?

The first snow of the season opened the doors. Someone was recalling sledding down hills, streets, etc. The one hill I recall was behind my girlfriend’s house, we were teenagers, which went down into the major road. The girlfriend would become my wife in a few years and then my x-wife a few years after that. Well x-wife messages me that her Mother has passed, and she and Mike her husband, and my best friend from our Air Force days, along with daughter are here to attend the viewing, did I wish to join them for lunch? I did. I attended the viewing as well.

Earlier in the week a member of the Magnolia group posted our grade school graduation photo, we were the first graduating class from St Gregory’s, 1967!  Oy! Even had to locate myself, people I have had no contact with in years. Some I even went to high school, some my first crushes…  Just to meet a two of them a few days later at the Senior Christmas Lunch.

Class of 1967

These are all unfolding stories, unraveling memories, there was a mention of a young man who had died in a car accident who lived across the street from us, how I remember that young man, the pain of that loss…

What is the purpose of all of these dusty memories? And none of these “stories” have anything to do with my sanity or insanity, or do they?

Each of those memories have expanded stories of course, those stories may get to see the light of day for the may shine on some of the shadows of my earlier life.

For now Mom’s Alzheimer’s is holding steady, I see some patterns which make dealing situations a little more responsive rather than reactive. I don’t think I am very good company for her, and in some way, I think it is becoming abusive. Abusive emotionally and spiritually for both of us.  The day to day routine of going about our day is rather unproductive, meals, chores, a few walks for her if the weather is cooperating. She cleans those house, more or less. Fusses with the dogs. Makes strange combinations of food items, if I am not there to pay attention. Always asking if there is something she can do, when I am doing my own chores, or making meals or baking. I would be nice to have help but help is more like supervising, so it is easier most times to do it myself.  We found some old coloring books, she has begun doing some those pages. Her attention span is not long, even shorter if I am doing something within seeing or hearing distance, she wants to “help”.

As for art/photography: I realized I have not been taking as many photos in the past few weeks, could be the weather, could be not motivated which scares me. I view photographs everyday, belonging to several photography groups keeps them passing across my screen. Events have been difficult to attend, I do have one small photo in The Plastic Club’s Exhibition of “Weather”.  Gearing up to curate a Photographic Society Exhibition in Feb. which could be the project that gets me through the winter.

 

Welcoming the teachings of emotions has got me to these pages. Is there good new here? Yes the writing, and the exposing. The painful emotions of confusion, anger, loss that come from memories of the past, or even desire for the future while I seek to live in the moment are the lessons of evolving, even though it feels like going backward. It is in the “welcoming” hello emotions set down and chat or come along while I take some photographs or make meals or do everyday chores. What do you have to say to me?

It seems life if full of questions, even questions for the questions.  They seem to be strange traveling companions these “questions”. These too will reveal themselves…

We Live our lives…

“We live our lives of human passions,

cruelties, dreams, concepts,

crimes and the exercise of virtue

in and beside a world devoid

of our preoccupations, free

from apprehension—though affected,

certainly, by our actions. A world

parallel to our own though overlapping.

We call it “Nature”; only reluctantly

admitting ourselves to be “Nature” too.

Whenever we lose track of our own obsessions,

our self-concerns, because we drift for a minute,

an hour even, of pure (almost pure)

response to that insouciant life:

cloud, bird, fox, the flow of light, the dancing

pilgrimage of water, vast stillness

of spellbound ephemerae on a lit windowpane,

animal voices, mineral hum, wind

conversing with rain, ocean with rock, stuttering

of fire to coal—then something tethered

in us, hobbled like a donkey on its patch

of gnawed grass and thistles, breaks free.

No one discovers

just where we’ve been, when we’re caught up again

into our own sphere (where we must

return, indeed, to evolve our destinies)

—but we have changed, a little.”

— Denise Levertov, “Sojourns in the Parallel World” (via litverve)

(via christinasanantonio)

After the photography exhibition reception on Sunday September 29, 2013 , there was and still is a sense of unfinishedness. I am not sure why? When I think about the experience even while present there seems to have been a disconnect, the energy did not blend, if that makes sense?

 A few days before I was feeling apprehensive or had a sense of expectation of this exhibition. How or why does make sense to me at this moment, yet the how or why I believe is causing the feeling for closure. How that comes about I am not sure either? That is why I am here now, to shine light on the “feeling” .

It all maybe the need for contact with other people, like-minded people. The ego may just be playing with me dancing in and out of the shadows so as not to have to really explain itself. I was an artist among artist, my photography is not the best in the exhibit nor the worst. They are not new prints but prints that have been exhibited in several different places in the past year or so. Yet I feel they are some of my best, simple, elegant, creative. I think when you have a room full of artist all seeking some type of praise for their work it maybe difficult to see your own light.  There, there it is! Ego dancing, taunting. “Over here, over here! See me, see my beautiful photos, see me!”  Sharing an exhibition with 21 other photographers, each having at least 4 pieces exhibited scattered about two floors of gallery is an awesome experience. No one shines above another, there are no solo performances here.  Some where exhibiting for the first time, some had exhibited for years.

I am grateful each and every time I have the opportunity to exhibit, to share these photos with the world me. That is the purpose of photography for me, it was and is the call I answers. So I have to move out of my own way. Allow the pictures to speak for themselves, allow the gift of photography to share natures beauty that I have been honored to witness on a regular basis.

It is those moments as the prose above speaks;Whenever we lose track of our own obsessions,our self-concerns, because we drift for a minute,

an hour even, of pure (almost pure)

response to that insouciant life:

cloud, bird, fox, the flow of light, the dancing

pilgrimage of water, vast stillness

of spellbound ephemerae on a lit windowpane,

It is in that time of presence that natures speaks, the beauty is shared and expressed. It is the humanness that ask why, or how, that feels the disconnect. Let nature speak, let beauty be.

All photography can be found here: http://www.redbubble.com/people/jeffstroud

Queen Anne’s Lace

Queen-Anne’s Lace

By William Carlos Williams

 

Her body is not so white as

anemony petals nor so smooth—nor

so remote a thing.

It is a field

of the wild carrot taking

the field by force;  the grass

does not raise above it.

Here is no question of whiteness,

white as can be, with a purple mole

at the center of each flower.

Each flower is a hand’s span

of her whiteness. Wherever

his hand has lain there is

a tiny purple blemish.

 

Each part

is a blossom under his touch

to which the fibres of her being

stem one by one, each to its end,

until the whole field is a

white desire, empty,

a single stem,

a cluster, flower by flower,

a pious wish to whiteness gone over—

or nothing.

unconscious truth!

The unconscious wants truth. It ceases to speak to those who want something more than truth. Adrienne Rich

Twisted strength

There seems to be such an anger within me these past 24 hours. It has been shadow dancing with me. Claiming my spirit, and my self-will. I stay away from people, places and things and the little monster still shows up, out of the blue, seeming to make the simple things difficult, difficult things a source of fire I don’t even desire to go near.

Yet according to the stars and planets it is my time to shine, as a Leo, it is anyway. But instead I am hiding out. What is it about all those everyday adventure that I wrote about yesterday has been gripped in fear of getting them done?

I need to find the light in all of this, I am going to cast my light on this shadow and find out what it wants, why it is still there. It seems like the joy and enchantment I was feeling and experience last week has caused an opposite to present itself. Ego screaming you are not allowed to be enchanted, you are not supposed to find joy in everyday experiences. I say Boo to you ego, Boo! You need to get in step here, I have love to share, joy to spread, art to create and your dancing on my toes! We need some new choreography. This does not have to be painful or difficult, it can be fun, creative, joyous… Trust me!

Beauty in the drought

In chapter 10 of The Artist’s Way Julia Cameron writes; “In a creative life droughts are a necessity. The time in the desert brings us clarity and charity. When you are in a drought know that it has a purpose. And keeping writing your morning pages. To write is to right things. Sooner or later – always later than we like – our pages will bring things right. A path will emerge. An insight will be a landmark that shows the way out of the wilderness”

The biggest thing on my mind this morning was to write, no matter the anger and or frustration I was feeling, the concern over the computer, once again I was and am having difficulties with my pass word working. I worked on it this morning a bit, I hope I have gotten things cleared up.

 

This has not necessarily been a creative drought or block it has been an emotional spiritual dry spot. I may not have photographed a much yet I have been inthralled with Bystander: A History of Street Photography,it has been a source of history, creative input, lessons about photographers, to cameras.

Viewing or pursuing

How the photographers where influenced by either their art training or the style of art of the day. It seems many early photographers took up the camera to make pictures of the area in which they wished to paint. Gave them a moment stopped in time, the light and shadows aren’t changing. Some photographers used different cameras to get a different feel for a shot. Other photographers where working for the city or state to capture moments in history of areas of city streets and buildings that were about to be demolished and rebuilt.

At the Fair

What I have learned through this process is how to look at a photograph, what am I seeing, am I seeing the whole picture? It has also caused me to think about why I am attracted to street/candid photography as a way of photographing as well as a form of art, how do I make this more conscious in my my creating?

I am sure I have cycled through these places before, and will again. The drought doesn’t last, and even while there there is beauty in it dust. For there is light in the darkness or darkness within the light!

A quote from Meister Eckhart, “Truly, it is in the darkness that one finds the light, so when we are in sorrow, then this light is nearest of all to us.”

Growth question: When in your darkness can you see the light? I the light can you dance with the shadows?