Stranded: October 2007

something calls

Inside what appears to be empty a shadow cast seeks to fill the imbalance of incongruous lines

The blue discoloration is very strange. This reminds me of Pacman.

Here I am, see me defined within a vortex of vision, free from human intervention, a conduit for the expression of flow without an ego.

From inside the dark side spirits rise to balance out the purity of the bright side

Segmented by lines in the cut of the chain saw burning shadows into each slice of destruction yet hope abides in a seed that randomly found a way to get inside the ravages of time.

the anonymous

eye exploration
turns simplicity of shape
to integration
when river and stone welcome
a face with ten thousand names

from another angle

They are few and far between these days. I like the altered colours.

The colour of the wall seemed perfect for this yellow.

Left to itself, the forest will overcome.

This is the spot, the place where they go to hang, the corner of the mall parking lot, and is it any wonder, what with the scenery and all.

Repetition of a pattern would seem to indicate an exit stage right.

Sunday, no cars, except I liked this angle better today for some reason.

If you note the shape around the right eye, it seemed like eyelashes when the wind moved and brought the rock to life.

the capture

arranged by random
without preconceived notion
stepping stones align
lead to self discovery
only found in reflection

fall has been faked

Ah yes the full moon again except this time I took the shot in the morning on the other side of the house and the moon face is the same but the angle is different than last month.

I come to this spot almost every day and it sits like a wise friend in whatever mood the weather may cast it in and I begin to see the levels of blue are merely reflections of me.

Along the fine line between real and imaginary comes the secondary where neither is meaningful and the fall has been faked.

Behind the facade of crisp reflection meant to divert attention lurks the guardian of obsessive thought.

the certainty

set firmly in stone
solid manifestation
the recurring sound
like an echo to remind
we are never without om

naked and unseen

And so the same tree from two days ago and suddenly it's almost naked.

As you head down the hill toward town and cut behind the church there is one place where a break in the trees affords a grand view of the glacier. It's the only spot, after that the road goes down the hill and you can't see as much of it anymore. There 's no way to avoid the lines I guess is what I'm saying.

It doesn't seem all that strange to me because I've been here a while and I know this corner but after looking one has to wonder, where do those stairs go. I'm intrigued enough by this one that i am going to come back on a Sunday or something and try it with less cars.

Again from the other side of the street, to keep perspective in line.

I saw the long black limo parked along the hill and longed to be inside then stretching back in passing by caught a glimpse of me inside and afterward realized it was raining.

I guess this will have to do as her birthday photo. And when she's fifty she can look back and remember how her dad made her go out in the cold to that exact spot and crouch down in the weeds and pretend to be happy about the whole thing, ah memories.

the unseen

truly magical
only the camera eye
sees this light dancing
along the water line where
reflection is refraction

metaphoric states

Some things were only meant to see one season of the sun and those that cling to age like a number show signs in mottled skin.

Perhaps in the removal of anything pretty or unique we might find intimations to the metaphoric states of only our own mind.

Integrated as purely design without reference to a tangible source one may find action in the collision of line.

the distribution

under watchful eye
landscape manifests as shapes
gravity scattered
intrinsically woven
into a patterned design

with kansas in mind

Trees are exhibitionists, they like to be photographed, especially right before winter when they shed all their leaves and get naked. Or words to that effect were the inspiration for this tree which seemed to say "Desiree would like to see me".

Inside the landscape meant to designate 'autumny colors' for somewhere very flat the rising mountains of mind loom as the brilliance of an idea bursts in the precise place.

My dear daughter who I hardly photograph any more it seems, the little heart was a bonus as well the light.

Some symbols speak for themselves.

When I saw the dog, looking so old and well, dog-like, it seemed he was the ever watchful guard dog demanding a fare before granting passage to the crossing.

the painter

sunlight designates
appears inside a shadow
stone like a sundial
perfectly placed in the stream
shows artistic stroke of time

Donut Tree

They call it the 'Donut Tree' for, well, obvious reasons. At one point last year, the city was going to cut it down completely, but the neighborhood protested and they were able to save it.

It was nice to kill two stones with one bird, so to speak, note the 'Donut Tree' across the 'bridge'.

And another version of the same 'bridge' though this one looks a little shaky.

As patterns of design from many and varied vantage points, always the crossing is implied.

I came up the hill making a lot of crashing as I went and the curious cat sat at the top and watched to see what made such sound, reminds me of Halloween the pumpkin cat.

It was the purple but with the yellow behind that struck a chord somewhere in a coloured mind.

Perhaps as a reminder the universe smiles when you least expect it.

It's quite a huge wall, where Cedar Street comes straight down the hill and meets Baker Street.

Exploration of imagination, when you dive into the surreal does it feel warm.

the direction

watching a stone dry
at precisely the moment
when random arrives
creates the perfect design
pathway engineered by time

objects abound

Before venturing toward the light, you might want to have a seat first, chairs in weird places or weird places with chairs.

In a room full of many voices chattering we must assimilate them all to hear even one storyline and so in identifying the varied objects arranged as if by random design we will find a way to hear everybody's voice above the roar of silence.