On Light.

Puget Sound. Seattle WA.

I had a conversation with A. about the properties of light in different geographic locations. She talked of Venice, I talked of the South. It led me to dreaming about the light out on the west coast, before I set foot on the damp earth there. Here, in Pennsylvania the daylight has a density to it that I can't describe. It is a thick daylight, heavy and long limbed.

Seattle's light was crisp and bright, defining the edges of the landscape with clarity. I was a little dumb founded when I stepped out the plane and was surrounded by the grey, sharp light of the 6 o'clock hour on the west coast. It felt like someone had focused my eyes.

Aw, Shucked.

Last of the Sweet Corn. October.

An Unintentional Beast.

The act of putting something in a jar is about preservation, is about keeping that object around as it is for a long time. I have a collection of glass containers and inside that collection are objects that have been picked up and kept out of sentiment, value, or interest.

Last year, I went to Alvira PA with my aunt and picked up a groundhog skeleton. Between then and now, my attempt at curing the bones failed and it began to grow some very neat looking mold which attached it's self to a bird's nest. The bulbs were from the backyard of my old apartment. While gross in formation, I found the results to be gorgeous.

Texture.

Pike Place Market Parking. Seattle WA.

Puget Sound Shore.

Rose Petal Filled with Rain Water, Gravel. Seattle WA.


Lately, I have been really interested in being very close to things when I photograph them, flattening the space and leaving only a few hints of depth in the images. I have spent so much time in my photographic life taking two or three steps back and to the right. I think being as close as possible to my subject creates new possibilities for images and enables me to explore both new and old places with ideas that I have yet to mull over. I force myself to look closer.

August.

Nadine's Front Porch, Drums PA.