I'm in my website today uploading a small handful of new images, the first new images in several months. How could that be? I'm supposed to be burning with this unquenchable desire to make images, to record moments in time, to inscribe a life moment in silver particles or binary code. Not only has several months passed but an entire year. A lot has happened and much of it good. But somehow, it is not enough, and it is not good enough.
We survived and thrived. Some false starts but some early successes too. I managed to write some proposals for photography classes with the local community college, taught two of them and met some wonderful new friends. We call ourselves, 'The Photogers', a small group of dedicated artists pursuing our passion. My soul mate in this life found her dream of being a teacher with little children after multiple rejections back home, our old home, our original home.
A new art organization had formed in Flagstaff, Art35North, and I was able to become a member and show my work in two wonderful exhibits this summer. I created three new proposals for photography workshops at the Petrified Forest National Park. Didn't teach a single one of them. It's the centennial year for the U.S. National Park Service, but other than the daily visitors to the park, there was little interest in the excellent array of workshops both scientific and art themed. Starting over with your life is still living life. You win some and you lose a few.
Our family is back there out west. Offspring, grand-offspring, missing them. This distance seems artificial, imposed by some impersonal unfeeling power. Yet, here we are, living life again and pursuing beauty and meaning. Plenty of distractions, cares and deep concerns and yet, that burning desire to capture that one moment is still there. There are so many directions to explore up here in order to find that one singular moment. Where will the day take me?
Get up early, stay out till dark. Screw it. You get there when you get there. There are too many clouds. Damn! Not enough clouds. What is it you seek? There is something about that place, that high country. I've climbed the Sierra Nevada and driven through the Rockies, yet this is different. The feeling is different here and many people feel it. I can see it too, a vast alpine park fashioned millions of years ago. Random? No. Deliberate? Meant to be found, seen, and sensed. Time will tell.
I see something. No. I feel something. I raise the camera up to my eye. I adjust the focal length, check the exposure, focus. There it is. I can see it and I can sense it. I press the shutter and feel its mechanism move to capture image and emotion. Now it's gone. The search continues.
Looking forward now . . . to the coming year.