Sunday, April 10, 2022


  Wide brush survey of works from various portfolios.  Still life and Landscape are polar I'm not two people.  Just switch up the way I work.  Controls all set at the opposite.  In Landscape, god does all the subject matter, lighting, arranging props.  In the studio for still're have good ideas.

Moonset, Shiprock, NM, 1999

Triple Magnolias, 2019

Fledgling American Crow, 1993
                                                                 From Blackfork Bestiary.
                                    Still available as card from Borealis Press, Blue Hill Maine.

Puzzlenado, 2017
    From Ten Texas Tornadoes.  Classic Kinetic still life.  8X10 film.  No photoshop.  Cyanotype.

Flowered Fingers
                                                        The Hand of Sabazuis portfolio. 

Dogwood Pages, 2019
Magic & Logic portfolio.

Fallen Stacked Dogwood leaves, 2018
                                                                      Magic & Logic.

The Dot, Shiprock, NM

as a silver print.

Snail Hand, 1994
From Blackfork Bestiary.

South Dike, 2010

57 Moonado.
                                                                   Ten Texas Tornadoes.

Bullfrog in Beaker.
Blackfork Bestiary.

Illustrated Manuscript.
Hand of Sabazuis.

Light in the desert.
I've quit photographing subject and started watching light play.

Owl Feather Twister
Ten Texas Tornadoes.

Feather Box.
Magic & Logic.

Morning Shadow, Shiprock, NM.

Saturday, April 9, 2022


The fabulous Bryn Larson and Geoffrey Koslov represent me at Fotorelevance in Houston.   There's a flat file full of photographs that will heal the lame, let the blind see and make the poor rich.  Everybody should have a few.  

  I'm in most of the good museum collections in the region, and some of the bad ones.  I was at the height to my powers...then this happened.  Now people will probably bring babies to me to be named.

  Scroll down far enough and there are cyanotypes, Guatemalan Sunflowers, Penumbra, Shiprock, et.

Guggenheim dark side...

  I fully acknowledge that I am intended to use my newly bestowed powers for GOOD and not EVIL...

  But last night, out dancing, with the Blue Gypsy, I remembered  a jam-out-darkroom-film-processing-session and realizing that a song I liked...was a PERFECT double-step.  

  Perfect.  I'm not guessing.

  The place we were in isn't a hard honky tonk.  It's about 1/2 Tonk on the English Honky-Tonk scale.  Maybe 3/5ths Tonk on the Metric.  Nice joint.

  So I stick a post-it with request on a dollar bill and stroll over to the DJ booth.  I just happen to know that the DJ has an art degree.  

  I hit him with the request.  His eyes go a bit wide as he reads and the first words he blurts out are "I don't think I can play that."

  This is a song by an American artist.  I'm in America.  It's Friday night in Texas, by god.  I want Nelly.  "Ride Wit Me."  I give him a poker face like I can see the Matrix inside him.

  "Do you know what a Guggenheim Fellowship is?"  He does.  "Well, grasshopper, I'm a Guggenheim Fellow.  Just announced.  And I want this song R...F...N.  I've requested and I've tipped.  And do I need to mention the Guggenheim Fellowship again?"

  Poor guy just crumbled.  Face fell apart.  Like watching a vampire burn away in daylight.  San Angelo State.

  Three songs later, in the middle of a country string, he plays the classic rap song.  The Blue Gypsy and I cut the rug UP.  It IS the perfect double-two.

  I know I should be ashamed.  I know this was wrong.  But God help the first curator I want something from.....

It must be the mon-ey.


Thursday, April 7, 2022


 Ok.  They DIDN'T sober up.  I was on my local college campus helping out in the Art Club Art Auction. The phone rang and it was Anne Tucker, congratulating me.  I'm standing in the hall with nobody to hug.

  I'd gotten the email a month or so ago, informing me, but then it started dragging.  Like Christmas in the first grade....and your parents keep moving it.  We'll do it Thursday.  No, Saturday better.  Monday for sure. Did we say Monday?  Some things came up.  How about Wednesday?  Oopps.  Conflict.  Middle of next week suit everyone?  

  Still.  I know about what suffering is and isn't.  What to ignore and what to monitor.  Quit worrying.  You live to serve this ship.  Enjoy this perfect life and row well.

  Meanwhile...chopping wood and hauling water.  Light show across the street subsides as the Sun works North.  White trees come and go.  Dogwoods spring open.  Lots of dancing and film flow by.

  Fighting Knives with Flowers.  Leaning out over Blackford Creek with a pair of scissors counting
Dogwood bracts.  3:30AM Pyrocatting some HP5/8X10 while having a darkroom country dance jam.  Loving working in the silence of the night while the planets creak overhead and Lucy snoozes under the bed.                                                                                                                                                         .

 Many fingerprints on this.  So many folks reminding me, encouraging me.  ( Or telling me NO.)  Plus me.  I tend to gnaw away at things decade after decade.  I will name them later, but they know who they are. Gotta love those human beings. Charles Sowders who taught as he learned.  John Beck at Sam Houston and his unbending discipline to the process.   The Good Doctor Sneed.  Len Kowitz.  Geoffrey and Bryn at Fotorelevance.  The sharp-eyed Cindy Willis sitting beside me at Fotofest, watching reviewers..judging them.  Mark Baldwin at Borealis Press.  My Soulmates Rita Lombardi and Katie Leanne Wintters.  Anne Tucker.  Ron Gleason.  Roy Flukinger.  Chris Johnson.  Ted Orland.  Ansel.  Patrick Kelly.  Caleb Bell.  Chris Leahy.  Ken and Kim Tomio.  Mom.  Mac Miller.  Judy Tedford Deaton.  Arif Khan.  Phyliss Kennedy.  Students by the row and calamities who arrived with gifts in their claws.  Every dance partner who went around the line of dance with me while I worked things out.  Iris Davis.  It's a great privilege and responsibility.  Hope I remember to stand up straight and act right.

  Many thanks to the Guggenheim folks who have made this possible generation after generation.  We're the excited new kids on the back of the line, jostling and fidgeting around..but far to the front, we can see Ansel and Weston.

What a life.