in our lifetime

hell feeezes over only to find many waters cannot quench love

This photo of Val and Tony taken shortly before their wedding, was on the camera's memory card when I downloaded the first of the geese pictures, so I claim it as mine! I intended to transfer a very small image and have it floating under the ice when I did an early "black and white" ice assignment, but got this close-up composition. Being at a loss for words, I quickly typed in two cliches, only to discover they contained the requisite 17 syllables for the Ginsberg Sentence part of the assignment. (Some things just go together!)

On this last day of 2006, I would like to celebrate the blessings of all couples who found love that endured to the end of this year. The miracle of love actually is a miracle of life, as I have been very aware this holiday season, experiencing the empty spaces of lost love in my life. Enjoy what you have, treasure it, the durability is as important as the magic!
And may the blessings of love capture us anew in 2007!

the shining moment

transparently clinging, I extend this moment of freedom to shine

As the sun warmed and melted the ice, leaves and rocks were freed from their temporary prisons, yet this leaf appeared to hold on. Preferring it's moment in the sun, to the free-fall into waiting water and rocks.

This second Ginsberg sentence took me a week to figure out. The photo was simple with the rich textures and colors of water ice and stone, but how to share that feeling of clinging to the shining moment? Especially in the face of the cold wet (at best) future. Fortunately we rarely see our futures as clearly. Still would we be wise to pause and reflect the light that comes our way?

frozen in memory

strangely this lifeless husk shines anew in shattered crystal memory

My personal coach and artistic critic, Val, suggests that I use the Ginsberg Sentence to sharpen my writing. I combine this 17 syllable sentence with another (failed) attempt at a black and white photo.

Memory is a fact of nature. Correction: "selective memory" is a fact of nature. Fossils tease us with exciting bits of memory, obscuring more than they reveal. This leaf, encased in ice, shining again in winter, as it shone in the fall sun, showcases the best of the past season. Yet most of the leaves have not been saved, they are crumbled, buried, on their way to compost, as this leaf will be when the ice gives up it's hold.

Still we treasure the beauty, save up the golden moments, until we, too, give up our hold.

the fires of the fall

as the ice layers form, they think to put out the fires of the fall

I tried to do my assignment. Went back to the ice image and started working in black and white. Then I just had to see what happend if I layered the ice image on top of this wonderful photo of shore fires created by taking a long exposure of Frank Starr Park during an electrical storm the night Jennifer and Charlie got married.

I could be anywhere. I choose this place, these companions

Flocks of geese seem to me the epitome of freedom, loudly declaring their independence as they fly into open spaces. So...why are they here? Storm Lake in December? Is it because they were born here? Because their leader settled here? Are they stuck? Are they actually here by any choice at all? It that what all the chatter is about?

Why am I here? How long will I stay?

THE SONG OF THE GEESE

their song was glorious

Today I went hunting for geese to shoot with the "good" camera. I walked purposefully west along the lakeshore where a small gaggle had been yesterday. No luck. Returning home, I dropped off the camera, grabbed another scarf against the wind and walked east along the lake. A mile later I saw the first 100. But I carried on, around the curve, and there they were, singing to the sky at least 300 of them.

As you may remind me, "Silly goose, don't you know they always show up when you leave the camera at home?"

Race back home, return this time in the car... to the park and... the song of the geese....so loud it holds one in place, with no thought to the work at hand.

This one's for you, Mr. H. The same lake background layer as the image two posts below, with the geese isolated and superimposed.

ice dreams

ice dreams in the winter sun with no fear of melting

The ice series started one cold Sunday in December with three photos along the shore of Storm Lake. The cold and wind had created large ice blocks and thrust them up out of the water, in a jumble along the edge of the lake. This image uses layers to show the transparencies of color, and the brightness and darkness of the ice shining in the sun.

Does ice not understand the danger of melting in the sun? Or does it choose to spend itself on the warmth and beauty?

and so it begins

When the sky lights my day...hope colors my dreams


How long do we contemplate simple changes? I contemplate for years, I guess. Then make bold sweeping changes in an instant, it seems, but the contemplation makes the change possible.

This blog is to share my artwork. I need to hear from you, dear reader, if you have comments or suggestions. Any response is helpful, but I'm really hoping for feedback to take what I consider to be my "sappy" artwork and try for something meaningful.