Sunday, August 24, 2014

Field Of Dreams

“Every day brings us a chance to start over. We all have those stand down moments when we need to clear the way for truth and transformation. Sometimes those are painful moments. Though it’s hard to imagine, when you lose what you thought was a valued relationship, when the job that defined you for twenty years is gone, when the people you counted on turn their backs on you; you may actually be taking a step forward on the path to your truest desires and ultimately to your destiny. 

Saturday, August 16, 2014

"Come over the hills and far with me
And be my love in the rain." 
— Robert Frost

There is a certain melancholic sleepiness I'm drawn to within the scenes of the American countryside. Laced eloquently with small man-made structures amid rolling green pastures , majestic mountain ranges dwarfed by the brooding heavens. Where the frailties of man mingle with the exquisite beauty of nature.

Robert Frost's "Road less traveled" seen in the foreground

Friday, August 15, 2014

“Some beautiful paths can't be discovered without getting lost.” 
― Erol Ozan

The Scenic Roads
Indian Route 60, Arizona 

Thursday, August 14, 2014

Life's A Journal

 Amidst the sterility of the surgical environment, the antiseptic trays, cold mayo stand set ups and the endless gloving and de-gloving sometimes the human element is over-shadowed by volume and simply referred to as a case. 
In my particular niche of surgery (I work as a surgical technician)  the case if often referred to as a body part.  The nose in 5, or the eyelid in 6.  I drive in dark morning hours, greeted by security in a high-rise setting deep in the city. Many times while setting up a case I have stared out the window to view the downtown city lights twinkling as the concrete jungle prepares for a new day. I think of where I want to explore next and how I'd rather have my tripod in my hand and my hiking shoes on.  I count myself as very fortunate to have been gainfully employed in a medical specially that funds my gear, explorations and gives me the room and time to roam the American Southwest. 

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

The Petrified Forest National Park 

Saturday, August 09, 2014

Fields of Gold

"You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in fields of gold

So she took her love for to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold"


Tuesday, August 05, 2014

Before All Else: Love

" But before all else, a work of art is the creation of love. Love for the subject first and for the medium second.... Love is the general criterion by which the rare photograph is judged. It must contain it to be not less than the best of which the photographer is capable" 
Eliot Porter 

If there is ever a place that fully delights all my sensibilities, the hiker, the painter and the photographer and more, it is
 The Painted Desert.

It conjures up memories of those narrated Walt Disney nature movies, that little rock collection my mother bought for me at the Grand Canyon which held a little vial of layered and colored sand. It delights every bit of the artist within when I see pastel layers now brought into full chromic saturation by the summer rain. The colors seem to run as they do on a sheet of pre-moistened warm Arches, down slopes, into crevices creating patterns and mingling with the next hue in fine outstretched fingers. Sweeping lines and soft muted domes like a field of sweet ice-cream cones rolling on forever. In my compositional thought processes I make no distinction between photos or paintings, paint or pixels. 

It's all art to me. 

Sunday, August 03, 2014

Saturday, August 02, 2014

Around me were the echoing dunes, 
beyond me and through me
This is where I feel you close
where I remember you most
The cold and ever moving creek nestled in 
among the supai sandstone in muted echoes 
We two will pass through death as ages lengthen
Before you hear that sound again with me

Friday, August 01, 2014


It all started with a co-worker's sick dog. We'd chat in wee dark morning hours over a cup of coffee before surgery about the prognosis and progress of her long time best friend who eventually passed. Then we'd avoid such tender conversations before long days and sterile environments but it lingered and drifted into my own world and thoughts of my own best friend. 

Around that time, I started to feel bad for my pal who often spent most of her days without any company and had come to rely of me to make the most of what hours of day were left by the time I got home.  Many times, I walked past her,  putting myself first. I would change and head to the gym or jump on the computer but then all that changed. 

I came home one day and we just stared at each other.  I couldn't pretend to not understand.  I couldn't put myself first anymore. Where was I going anyway?  I'd come home in a hurry, rush here, rush there. I had important emails to write and people to contact and get back with.  An interview to complete and people to meet and calls to make. Then one day, I just didn't care anymore. One day, I cared more about a sad dog, grabbed a leash and headed to the park. 

"I've learned more about myself wandering around in nature alone than I ever did from the good opinions of those 
who wanted to tell me,
who I am." 
-Valerie Millett