poetry.

I've been researching poetry lately. Basically this means that I read poems when I can, and study the what, the who, the why. I've been paying attention to the words in a way I never have before because of my interest in combining my words with my images. This morning as I sat down to read from an anthology I was struck by just how beautiful a small glimpse into a person's life can be--even the most mundane moments. There is something to be said for the slow down. This seems to be a reoccurring phrase in my life. In a world of a million miles per hour, a million frames per second, giving someone an opportunity to stop and appreciate one detailed moment is more then important, it is imperative. Is it possible that our memories will fade more rapidly because we are constantly inundated with more, faster? Maybe. Who can say? I suppose it makes me that much more compelled to create a space for these moments.

the tangled strand of images.

I have a bit of a back log of blog entries. My constant awareness of my inability to spell makes me write all entries in word first. Depending on my energy level—okay sheer laziness makes it difficult sometimes to highlight my words, copy and paste them into the blog. My Las Vegas entry however was written when I was conserving money since the hotel charged 15.00 for Internet access. That town is just unbelievable. Today instead of joining Will for a crusty day of snowboarding I decided to stay at home and get some work done. House work, work on my books, thank you notes, processing images, etc. I started to work in Pikto, on my 2008 book, and as I was waiting for downloads I decided to work on untangling my photo garland I made for Christmas. As I took it off the tree the thin, delicate, thread that held the images together inevitably tangled. Its been sitting on my guest room bed now for weeks waiting for a little attention. The multi-tasker that I am decided that this was a perfect mid-download task to take on. The first few tangles were relatively loose and easy to figure out but as I reached the end the knots became smaller, tighter and more complicated. I physically changed my positions around this mess several times in hopes that the new angle would help. Still a mess. It suddenly struck me that this mess of images was quite a tangible metaphor for my whole approach to my art. I made the strand of images in a burst of creativity. I printed and strung them all together at once in a fit of determination and focus. As it hung on my Christmas tree I had plans for this strand. Life after Christmas was going to be just as eventful for this linear collage. Then as Christmas passed, I cleaned up, took down the garland and piled it in a heap. Historically, this is where many of my ideas and art stay, a semi-forgotten mess on an unused bed. This is why I am particularly struck by my determination to resurrect this little mess. There has clearly been a shift in my attitude towards my art. The voice that previously told me to leave it, forget it, it’s not worth spending the time, has been over powered by a new voice. This voice confirms the importance of my work, if only to myself. It has to start somewhere. It’s amazing that I’ve spent so many years in a state of self-doubt, side lining my talents because I couldn’t believe in them. It’s still easy to say but hard to believe sometimes. One day at a time. One step at a time. One thought at a time. Resurrecting one little mess--no, one work of art at a time.

nerd report.

My life straddles two worlds: The technical and the artistic. The first consists of hard facts and numbers, a constant puzzle of information that seems to lead me to the second world. The more artistic world is where I want to be…it is where I want to live but I’m coming to realize that that I need that puzzle of information to allow me to exist there. This is an interesting relationship, I’ve really only discovered the connection recently—perhaps only just today. The two have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. When we got our first VCR, I set it up. I was seven. I’d never really used a VCR. It just made sense; I found it to be an intuitive invention. In fourth grade I realized how powerful my words could be when I wrote an essay for a Veterans Day contest and won. Of course it took many more years, heart ache and loss of innocence to really understand my love of words. These events made me look back and recognize where it all began. I was so innocent. These things happened in my life and rather than knowing or understanding what they said about, how they shaped me, it simply was and I continued with the day to day.

Today was the day I realized the connection between the two the technical and artistic. My focus has moved between them fluidly, but as if they were strangers on a sidewalk each going the opposite direction. Only at one moment are they side by side. They are on parallel paths but seemingly run opposite directions. For the past six months I have gained a deeper appreciation for art in my life. I’ve entered a conversation with my art and I’ve really enjoyed it. I’ve enjoyed the process more then ever before. I’ve recognized the importance.

Today as I stood in the convention hall of the consumer electronics show talking about the technical aspects of cameras and photography with each curious passerby, I realized that I need one to support the other. My love of the technical isn't running in the opposite direction of my art. In fact the two are arm-in-arm. In my mind there was an epic struggle between the two and they would never be able to co exist. Really, the struggle was just another road block to stop my own creativity. Ahhh, the old you are your own worst enemy factor.