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Month: July, 2011

A day at home

These are test tubes I’m using as bud vases! They’re hung by some white thread on T-pins. They’re as darling in real life as they are in this image.


The last gasp of solitude

Five images that go together

A quick thought about comfort zones

Well, don’t people spend so much time getting out of comfort zones. Pushing themselves, forcing themselves to try new things. Stepping outside your comfort zone isn’t exactly a new idea, is it? Running away from your comfort zone, from that fear of a rut, and into the arms of something completely new and uncharted.

But what, exactly, is so horribly terrible about comfort zones? I know that they can cause a rut, and a routine, and no new material, the list goes on and on. But what about an artist who pushes their limits and stays in their comfort zone? Is such a thing possible? Or the hardships of a comfort zone… the documentation of such rut and frustration.

That’s an idea that interests me.

A stolen weekend

A weekend filled with the ridiculousness of sitting in a backseat with two other people, knees up to your chest and thighs pressed to thighs. Filled with laughter, and light, and the balancing line between being by yourself and being with others.


July 4, 2011

I am sitting in a car, my hair being touched by the sun and blown around by the wind. My pen tracing the shapes of these letters, that means something to me.

I think that the purest form of joy is to simply be. To feel a full and complete emotion. Something which touches.

And light. Light is a pure joy.

From my typewriter: July 14, 2011

Dear Harry,

Tonight I will go and watch the final piece of your story. It is really already over, but after tonight there is no more pretending.

I feel as if this is a dividing line through my life. For however much had changed in my own life these past 10 years, you have been a common thread. Something that tied me together. The same girl who read you story today also read it during the summer of 2007, and for this I have always been able to connect these two people who in other ways are very far away from each other.

Now what will happen? From tomorrow onward there is one thing that will be in my past, and that is you: Harry Potter. This scares me somehow, as if by leaving you, you will cease to exist.

I could not honestly say what you have given me. It’s too close to home for that, I can’t see it objectively. Perhaps it is something about knowing your place in the world. Knowing who you are and what you have to do. Accepting death and dealing with loss and grief and sadness. And still being able to love.

So tonight I will go and watch this film. But I will also be going to a funeral, and it will also be a new start, a life across this new dividing line. I will be in mourning, I will be filled with joy and love.

I will be carrying a little fictional world inside of me. And that world is yours.



Something from my journal: August 29, 2010

Shooting color film is like time travel. I shoot these images into this metal box and they are stuck there, little particles of time. then when I choose to get them developed, I wait for an hour, and I am handed an envelope and I open it up and I am in the past. I am staring at my hand but it is my hand from yesterday or I am looking at a sunrise in Utah which is stuck in my past but now here I am holding it in my hands, a little 4×6 print of the past. I know that digital is the same, but it’s so different. There’s no time gap with digital, no time for me to forget. But with film I forget all these little moments. I forget what the light looked like or if there were any shadows or I even forget what I am photographing entirely.

35mm IV

In Perfect Light

July 3, 2011

The water here is so clear, not like in Colorado. The deeper parts of the river turn a lovely shade of green. The camera can’t capture it. There are big mossy rocks under the water, and then there’s this deep well where the water turns green/blue. It’s so beautiful. This is a place where you don’t even need to talk. Daniel, Ruby, and I all have books and it feels so peaceful to just sit here in the sun. I fee so lucky to be abe to be in a place like this.

To be free.

Clover field

The smell of wet grass. The feeling of being supported by a diagonal hill. The shock of tiny wet pinpricks all over my body when a small summer rain comes by. Slipping and sliding on my way to the patch of clovers that is in focus. Clover leaves stuck in between my toes. A wide expanse of skin, which looks pale in this particular light.

And the sky.