Tuesday, October 26, 2010
This photo is from Monterey Bay, California. Like all my photos it is presented as is, unmodified, unretouched or photo shopped - this is how the photo looked when I snapped it. This creature was incredibly fluid and hypnotic to observe. Its colors against the blue water took my breath away. What struck me further was the trail of whispy white material cascading out of its center; it reminded me of a trail of smoke. This life form, so foreign to my terrestrial world, could just as well have been an alien from another planet; and made me wonder how I would have felt had this creature been reported on the news as the first evidence of alien life ever discovered on another planet. Is any life ever really alien?
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
This woman from Southern India is spinning coconut hull fibers into twine. She sits in an open air stall, simple machinery, and simple materials. Imagine a stock broker in Manhatten sitting in a cubicle on the 40 something floor, no sunlight, hunched over a glowing computer screen. Hmmmm. Where have we come from? And where are we going?
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Just look at this man. What do you suppose his story is? What would he say or do if you walked over and said "hello" to him? Can you imagine him playing as a child in a playground? What kind of President of the United States would this man make? So many assumptions we can make from outside looking on him. That hat, that beard, that coat, that fur draped around his neck blending in with his beard. What does his heart feel at this moment? Does he want anyone to know? When I see images like this man that I saw in Southern New Mexico, I can't help but feel the sense of strange distance and barrier that can seem to exist between me and my fellow brothers on this planet. I worked enough with some hard men in prison to know there is always a heart underneath.....always. It doesn't always mean that a given man will choose to abide there in his own heart....enough for me to know that at least it is there inside. And in that measure we are the same.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
This photo was taken in southern India. This man was transporting brick and sand in this wooden boat. That he had about one inch worth of purchase left on his boat before he hit the waterline is no photo-shopped illusion. I simply could not believe this guy felt so calm and confident as he glided on down the river with his veritable ton of bricks. I imagined how quickly this little wood boat would sink if it were to rock in even the slightest fashion and quickly take on water. Well, evidently he must have done this before because he made his way on past as far as I could see. Talk about maintaining your balance, this guy gave himself near zero tolerance and pulled it off. Wow.
Everybody takes in a sunset in their own way. The two couples in the background quietly take in a Pacific Coast sunset in the traditional bench on the cliffs manner, while the man in the foreground bows to something only he knows about. I thought the moment had interesting dimension. This robed man never once looked at the sun as it set. He seemed absorbed with his movements and forms as he went through different positions. It seemed odd to me to not stop and take in the beautiful show nature was providing off on the horizon. The setting sun, which was gently bringing a close to the day seemed to bring most people to a stand-still as they gazed out at it. But this man was all internal and oblivious to the visual spectacle. I wondered why he was even here and not in some private studio. Maybe I found him to be a distraction. Maybe I wanted him to pull his head out of his personal robed ceremony and be still for a moment with the rest of us. Maybe I felt we all owed it to the day to just stop at the end of it and put aside the frenetic affairs of men while the sun said good night; but that's just my stuff talking. Like I said up front, everybody takes in a sunset in their own way.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
This photo was taken in southern India. I have no idea if a Police Complaint Box is for complaining "to the police" or "about the police", but in any case it was obvious by the rust on the pad lock and hasp that it had not been checked in quite some time by any authority responsible for such oversight. In fact I never saw a single police official anywhere the whole week I was in this village. Oddly enough the writing was in English and I imagined it was somehow designed to give tourists comfort that there was law and order in this area. I got a good chuckle out of it.
I saw these guys at the Taos Solar Music Festival one year. The lead singer embodied a very potent Native American spirit, and the black man on blues guitar was amazing. As a white man observing I felt the juxtaposition of these two beautiful men making soulful music together in this land, where their ancestry had suffered so much at the hands of the European settlers. I felt mesmerized by their unique relationship, and compelled to absorb their music. It made me feel that being American was a rather complex cultural experience, a tapestry which was all at once woven together with tremendous suffering and exquisite beauty.