Deconstruction

I find myself this morning in a familiar place, where the urge to deconstruct is strong + forceful.

In my mind's eye, I'm swinging my sledgehammer and tearing down all that I have built, creating space for all things new + fresh + clean.

In my mind's eye, an enormous pile of rubble, chalky grey, framed above by a crystal clear blue sky. 

In my mind's eye, a jungle growing up from the debris, filling the newly cleared space with green, living + brilliant. 

It fills me with fresh air.

It fills me with terror, for how can a jungle grow up from rubble?

In my mind's eye, I take a step back to reveal my magnificent construction. Detailed + varied, some unfinished and all occupied with the presences of my loves. Pulsing with living energy. Sky peeks through everywhere it can. 

I resign, and look for the garden plots instead.

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Entropy

I went to the Met Breuer yesterday to catch the Unfinished:Thoughts Left Visible exhibit before it closed. With over 200 works on two floors, it was a full afternoon.  After the first few galleries of work left unintentionally unfinished from the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, I thought I might have overdosed and wanted to go home. But after some food I remembered the other floor and headed back in. This was more modern work that the artists purposely left undone or designed to never be finished. I was haunted by the paintings of Joseph Mallord William Taylor whose landscapes left one with the feeling of having been there without specific landmarks. I was tickled by the cheeky short film by Jorge Macchi, La Flecha de Zenón (Zeno's Arrow). I have a bit of a crush on Zeno and this was an excellent illustration of the paradox between the infinity of numbers and the finite aspect of our world. I found the Roman Opalka series OPALKA 1965/1 - ∞ to be beautiful and brilliant. 

But this one I could take home with me. Felix Gonzalez-Torres' beautiful homage to love, Untitled (Portrait of Ross in L.A.). The infinitely replenished pile of candy in multi-colored wrappers in tribute to his late partner, a metaphor for his body diminished by AIDS. Visitors are encouraged to take a candy with them, slowly depleting the pile. The museum replenishes it as it gets low, so the piece is  never finished. Unending, the way life cannot be. Wow. I'm floored and honored. 

File under:inspiration

A while back I was thinking a lot about mandalas. Cycles. Infinity. I found inspiration in Jason Hughes' work. I was thinking about imperfect mandalas and how they are such a fitting metaphor for actual living. I tried photographing some imperfect mandalas, but it wasn't working. The images were flat and missing real meaning. Then last night, I had an idea. I found my daughters kaleidoscope and started playing. Here's what I found. Hopefully this is just the beginning. I have more exploration to pursue. 

iPhone photo through a kaleidoscope  

What we pay attention to

I was once told that photography is more than shooting subjects. More importantly, it's capturing light. Since then, I've been seeking the light. Seeing where it lands. Noticing what it brings to my attention. Night shooting has always been a favorite. The light is so spare that we have no choice but to notice it. 

Peeking In

Isn't it the privilege of photographers to look where you're asked not to? 

File under: Inspiration

I've fallen in love with this instagram feed recently. Spooky and surreal. I'm only grumpy I didn't think of it first.

https://www.instagram.com/strangerselfieproject/

Attempted selfie with commuting strangers. #reflection #selfie #iphoneonly

See this Instagram photo by @strangerselfieproject * 62 likes

Sometimes I just feel like I'm not all here

When a thing changes

I can't tell you how many times I've gone past this footbridge and I'm sure I've noticed it, acknowledged that it's there. But it was only a few days ago that I found any interest in it. As I drove under it I found myself mentally marking down how to find it again, how to go onto it. It then stayed in my mind until I had the chance to photograph it.

Hamilton Avenue Footbridge, Brooklyn NY

I was not disappointed. The straight lines. The emptiness. In my study of solitude in transit, this particular place afforded me the opportunity to explore aloneness while on foot. 

What makes a thing, place or person change in our perception of it? This bridge didn't change, but my relationship to it did change. It makes me think about kindness and compassion -- how the way we act towards each other can impact our perception. I can't change a person, but I can decide how to act.

Summer Rains

Is there anything more joyous than a heavy summer rain? 

Raining in the sun on the el

Walking to remember/walking to forget

Sometimes I don't know what makes my heart ache and sometimes I do. I've been in a fog; all confusion and sadness. Everything feels grey and I've been uninspired. Empty. So I walked, for about three hours. Just walked. And eventually the inspiration came. Understanding that creativity is a process and the process is so much about living through what you're experiencing.

Walking to remember/walking to forget

Everything is grey. Embrace it. Let it be the thing that takes the stage. Not every sky needs to be aquamarine blue. I've been longing for storm clouds. In their absence, I'll make my own. 

Shooting into the sun

The more I walked and looked and thought the more energy I had. When the opportunity arose for a self portrait, the blue came through naturally. My blue sky. And me, a lot less grey.

Self portrait with straight lines and sky

Meditating on uncertainty and the beauty that comes with it throughout my walk. So appropriate that I found this near the end. I understand that I don't understand and I don't have to. That's the true beauty of letting go.

So let us not be sure of anything,

beside ourselves, and only that, so

miraculous beings come running to help.

Understanding Nothing. And that's totally okay.

Let's talk about Nothing

Nothing is, perhaps, my favorite thing to talk about. It's delicious. Simply by naming it, it exists. Nothing is all around us. When I think about nothing, I can't help but think about death. But not in a morbid way. It's sort of  . . . . exciting. The law of conservation has me imagining that our energy never leaves. We all just rejoin the energy all around us and become part of the universe. In fact, we never left, we just get harder to pin down. But now I've learned about the uncertainty principle and I'm all a flutter. The idea that the harder we try to precisely measure a bit of energy, the harder it gets to precisely measure. As if by merely trying to know it, it eludes us. And it eludes us by actually ceasing to exist, at least for a moment. Cheeky.

I guess I've always loved the unknown of nothing. There's something truly invigorating about not knowing. Because then you may get to find out something new. 

This passage is from How the Universe Got Its Spots by Janna Levin. 

Sometimes they put on such a show

Favorite things include walking outside to layers of clouds. Hazy lazy summer days start early this year.