I was made to be wide-eyed all the days of my life.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Oh and quite possibly the best wedding party ever:

I've been dreadfully behind in blogging weddings from this summer, slow catching up under a mountain of school and work and a lot of Monday-Tuesday-Wednesdays. However, please enjoy this image. Quite possibly the best wedding part picture ever. Ciao.


That moment when you realized your life was about to change forever:

Tuesday, November 29, 2011


                                               A shadow's opposite 1/125 @ f/2.8


Tuesday, November 22, 2011


‎"The worship service is not a concert hall but a banquet hall..."

Bifrost Arts from josh franer on Vimeo.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

upon seeing the water

All men dream:
 but not equally. 
Those who dream by night
in the dusty recesses of their minds
 wake in the day 
to find that it was vanity:
 but the dreamers of the day 
are dangerous men, 
for they may act their dream with open eyes, 
to make it possible.

 T.E. Lawrence

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Portrait of a November Self

Photoshoots and winterboots. 
Learning to cook and hardcover books,
of Lewis and Langston Hughes.

A soft song rising, an Autumn sun shining.
Preparing for winter, out side

Perpetual cold may hit the globe
but my Fire still burns, alive. 

Friday, November 4, 2011



I've never shot Summer in the Autumn before.
It's the Season that we love and a girl with eyes like jewels.
Summer. It was a beautiful day.



I've got 3,762 photographs in a folder from this summer alone. Moments captured and then thought about then forgot about, ideas and accidentals and 'what...was I' pictures. And because of a small sojourner's sabbatical -a trip to the eye Doctor to get new vision- they lie in my harddrive in neat, categorized order until I can properly articulate up close, the message that I saw far off. It's both a comfort and a jar to know that I'll always have images to fall back on.

I've finally come up for air, it feels. And pleasantly so. 
I'm taking deep breaths of inspiration, feeding the cells of my imagination with the oxygen of Real things. Things that are in one sense just the same as the old things, yet at the same time they are now somehow different. Deeper, richer, truer. Lewis describes this sense of seeing things in a way that is "deeper, more wonderful, more like places in a story: in a story you have never heard but very much want to know."  

  My unlined journal is all filled up in black ink with theory's and charts and stats on the source of this story, but my heart is all filled up with the steady secret that this Story is a True one- this grand tale of Real things, A Real Man, Real Words, Real Love- it is not written about me, but I get to partake in the mystery of its unfolding. I stand, reading, singing, speaking, weeping at the beauty of the Truth.
 A business/empire/marketing-driven, self-expressionist yuppie art endeavor will not hold up underneath the weight of this glory.  Mine didn't. I stand comforted by the fact that I don't have what it takes to make a name for myself. Only One man ever did, and he yielded his right to it. He was Real. He's making me Real. 


Speaking of Real things. I went to Madison, WI this past weekend to experience the sensation of listening to REAL music: Opera. Puccini's LaBoheme was ripe and in season.
The sublime voices, wooshing out of well trained lungs could have just blown the watercolored leaves from their fragile clasps,
 even the old oaks. 
The rustling leaves kicked up by pedestrians,
synonymously sounding with the rustling ideas
clasping onto smiling conversations, 
even the old jokes.

It was lovely. 

A smattering of images from the weekend follows: 

Thursday, November 3, 2011

If I've ever loved anything truly

If I've ever loved anything truly,
it is light.

It does not cease to captivate me
to silence me the truest feat
to bring every part of me quiet
to a gentle and steady hum.

Nor does it cease
to surprise me with its beauty, its facets
its ever changing visage
and thus, the words I bring forth
to recall it to you
neither match my feelings or its truth.

(I am not alone in my affection,
the clouds too hold its fleeting rosy tones,
this last bit of day as long as allowed)

The end of each day the most bittersweet
the long night laid out ahead,
just I and the dark.

Yet it dawns just the same every morning,
unless one does not wake,
and in its paleness filtered through the clouds
or in its brilliant cleansing scorch,
hot enough to burn away
all the bitterness built up in the dark,
I am burnt clean.

-Elizabeth Ashton

For with You is the fountain of life;
         In Your light we see light.  And the Life was the Light of men. 

If I've ever love anything truly, let it be the True Light, which enlightens the world.
If I've ever love anyone truly, let him be the Lamb.

A Tennyson

Break, Break, Break

Break, break, break,
         On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
         The thoughts that arise in me.

A new month, a million new words wake, crest, wain. November has always been my favorite month, for just that reason.