The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow - or Maybe the Day After That

Dark days are upon us.  The conspiracies are thick. The truth is foggy. The anger is heavy. The blame is suffocating. 

As my community is reeling from the Ghost Ship fire, as the nation is reeling in the intensity of American politics and lack of inspirational leadership, institutionalized hatred, as the Native people of America stand up, as the shit hits the fan, I thought that I might share some images to perhaps spark a sense of perspective, or perhaps just a break in the darkness.  

I have no answers, just vision.

As dark as days can be, the darkness is temporary.  The sun will come out - who knows when - but it will come out again.  Faith is necessary here. Maybe you don't see it, you're too trapped in the muck. That's okay.  Try again tomorrow. 

We don't need to talk about it.  You don't have to have anything important to say.  It's okay to say nothing at all.

There's a shit ton of work we need to do as humans in America.  Yes, so much to do.  Way too much to do.  It's overwhelming.  It's scary.

And there's a shit ton of work that artists need to do to help us all see.  So much art that needs creating, so much perspective that needs to be better understood. It's overwhelming. It's scary.

And for right now, right here, we are just going to share the sun, our sun.  Just for one moment. Together. 

I hope that, together, we can enjoy these images from my series '50 Suns' (2009). We can enjoy a moment in the light.    

The Path Not Paved

The Wednesday before Thanksgiving, I picked up the collection of film taken along The Middle Road.  The bag weighed as much as my toddler.  I haven't yet calculated how many rolls of film I shot on the 7660 mile/ 23 day / 23 state trip, though I know for sure it was an intense education for my photographic eye, the film as evidence. And my savings account can prove it, too.  (Yes, I shoot almost exclusively with film.  Yes it still exists. Yes, there's a whole industry around it. Yes it's expensive - feel free to donate your hard earned dollars to help me continue my photographic work here.)

As I review the images from the journey this year, I dream of a book to share. I've reached out to various photographic avenues and galleries, done my fair share of social media marketing, submitted to photo contests, visited portfolio reviews, and have so far come to the conclusion - nobody really cares. Yet. 

Sure, nobody gives a shit so far, but at some point, when the political dust settles, (oy!, that might be a long while from now) as my grandchildren sit on my lap asking for stories of my life, I can show them what the United States looked through my eyes - the eyes of a middle-aged, working class artist with two other jobs to attempt to pay the bills.  Through the eyes of a woman with two kids, and a home in one of the most expensive and stressful housing markets of all time, a woman with an ivy league education who wouldn't be able to afford to live as a single person even if she wanted to, and who routinely is turned down for decent waged jobs - for over 16 years has been looking for a decent job with growth potential that didn't suck the life out of me.  Life is conundrum, says I to my future grandchildren. There is no rhyme or reason. Just do what makes you happy, I say. And anyone can become President, no matter who tells you differently. Yes, even you.  

And I say, I want a book. A real book.  I'm not talking about a Blurb book, I'm talking about a fully edited, fully vetted, hard covered, essay-filled photography book.  Yeah, yeah, it's a long journey to make that happen, and yes, I want it.  So let's get it on. 

Not just for my grandchildren, but for yours too - and maybe even you need to see some more images of America through the eyes of someone not associated with the press. Not in a movie, not on Facebook, not in the New York Times, but in your living room when you are on the couch on a rainy day - able to stare at scenes in Wyoming or Mississippi, places that even if you were driving through maybe you wouldn't stop because it was unfamiliar, but this book gives you freedom to stop and stare for as long as you'd like, and revisit. You're transported, momentarily, to a beauty that existed around the election of 2016 that, even at that point in time, even now, you thought the beauty of America had been erased.  Or maybe you'd like to forget 2016 altogether. That's valid.

With these images, I want to show that even in the height of political mayhem, the land of the United States is beneath one brilliant sun along one grand horizon, one remarkable history that is seen in the landscape, and even when NPR is blasting unimaginable realities, the evidence of the reality of American politics in 2016 is impossible to see unless we go out there and really take a look. We can't see what's going on unless we pay attention.  We can't see what's going on in America unless we are actually looking first, observing, not analyzing, not making up stories. Looking, listening.  

And this is what I've been doing.  Observing.  I'm not an expert. I hope to never be one.  There are too many people that claim to be experts.  I know those people get book deals, lots of them, and it's frustrating.  But I can't sell expertise.  Observation is my sale.  And I think that's much more valuable a commodity these days. Call it a path not paved. Not yet.

So ping me if you know of a guy/gal. Galleries and editors and publishers galore, I'd love to share these images some more.

Check out Part II of some of the images I'm sorting through now

I Surrender

I am raising the white flag. I give up. I surrender. I see you've done the same.  

"Enough politics," says you. "Time to move on."

The old Me would say that, too.  

But this is not the same old story that you've seen before. This is not politics as usual. You know this. I know you know this. 

I'm not sure what to say to you, though.  

My entire world view has been turned on it's head.  Some might say that kind of thing after traveling 23 states over the course of three weeks - it's a pretty remarkable voyage.  I could say that my view of America is fresh and new, now seeing 10 states I've never visited before on top of the 13 other beauties, and being away from the daily grind for three weeks.  One thing was for sure, everyone is so nice!  

I have never gone so long without negative human interaction.  Honestly - the only negative interactions with humans I had in the course of the entire 7660 drive was when I turned on the radio.  Taking photographs of your house, while people of all sorts stared at me, approaching random strangers on the road, in shops, in restaurants, trespassing on private property on the occasion that I needed to get the right angle, in 23 separate states I never had a single negative interaction - not one. It is shocking.  

My entire world view has been turned on it's head since my journey: I can't fathom that the places I've been and the people I met support the appointments and actions of the people that have begun to roll into the new White House.  We've been duped.  I think they've been duped- all the people I met along the way who intended to vote for Trump. I think they don't know they've been duped.  I know they don't know it. And that, my dear 10 readers, is my problem. 

I build a house of cards on faith that hard work and integrity wins in the end, and that strong leaders were enviable role models.  And it angers me that you don't want to at least acknowledge that you know that the world as we have known is over and good things are not coming to the hard-working. I'd rather not bring it up. I don't want to anger you.  But know, my friend, that I am angry.  

This week it's back to work, back to waking when the baby wakes, back to staying up late to the glow of the computer, brewing my own coffee, cooking meals for the family, morning drop-off at school, dishes, spreadsheets, phone calls.  I'm not behind a lens seeking interpretation or meaning.  I'm editing, marketing, fundraising, networking, shuttling, cooking - all that and more.

I'm looking through the images captured in the weeks leading up to the 2016 election.  I'm going back to my roots of integrity and insight.  I'm going back to my humanity.  I am surrendering to the faith and kindness of Americans whom, perhaps, just need a good lesson to make it all right again, to make us more united than ever.  Oh, how I hope.  I surrender.  For now.