New View . . . of An Old Vision

Continuing to look back at old images, even pictures of old images. Always looking and listening. The subtle messages received keep me smiling, encouraged. The path of each step, shows the way.


A picture of a picture made maybe three years ago. I was in the lengthy process of closing up house. Deciding what few things went into long term storage. I was preparing to leave Santa Fe after ten years of high desert living. I was off on the journey of a lifetime. And so it was.

As I went through things precious to me, I came across this matted print. It was a platinum/palladium contact print I had made in 1983 while studying photography at the University of Oregon in Eugene.

A still life that was part of a series of images titled, Ritual Objects. All made under the dark cloth with a 4x5 view camera. Seeing the image upside down and backwards on the ground glass was the supreme joy of the entire experience.

This series of negatives were then contact printed, using the hand mixed and coated, platinum/palladium emulsion on rag paper. A rather painstaking process popular in the first half of the 20th Century.

The image above was made with my iPhone. I placed a spiral of collected stones on the matted print and caught the moment.

And the moment recalled how this early image set me on a path. The spiral of stones brought me to this moment of recalling. It truly does not matter which camera I pick up, or stand behind. It is allowing my eye to be the camera, as my hand creates the scene.

The camera captures the image, a record of a moment in time. A moment when I showed up. A moment when I made the work asked of me. This is my path, my practice. And it has been for over forty years. My gratitude runs deep.

64 Thinking' 'bout 32

Looking at the date of the last post here, I’m only a bit shocked. It’s been a while. Quiet time watching the flow go by. The stirring of new ideas and new work.


This double self portrait says a lot about where I’ve been and what I’ve been thinking. Looking back across the vast path that trails off behind me. And I know there is treasure there. Might be in the shape of an artist’s book or two. Maybe in the form of a visual memoir.

I am grateful for the archives I’ve collected, offering a rich source of materials waiting to be woven into new stories, new dreams, a new life. Looking back and listening closely, for the whispers of tales waiting to be told.

Sketches of Spain

This ‘kokopeli’ style steel sculpture of Miles Davis, was a gift from its maker, many years ago. As soon as I set it in the light, “Sketches of Spain” came to mind.


Miles recorded “Sketches of Spain”, at Columbia Studios in late ‘59 and early 1960. This recording is a collaboration with Gil Evans. The influence was an album Spanish folk songs, recorded in the early 1950’s by Alan Lomax, in Galicia and Andalusia.

I just love how flavors and influences flow amidst creative circles, just waiting to inspire the artist who is listening closely. The one willing to pick it up and follow it, with an open heart, to reach the treasure. These treasures are always on offer, always, ever ready to become a masterpiece created by loving hands, and hearts.

Shadows and Swirls

The studio felt kind of overcast today. It was dark and shadowy, with a certain ‘loose at ends’ quality. The welcoming Spirit I normally encounter here seemed to have the day off.


As I stood patiently listening, I became aware of the swirling Cosmos around me. I was reminded of the silent dust devils that blow across the high desert here.

Leaning this swirling nest against shadowy lines, I knew I’d received what I came for. A ‘memento mori’ for today’s trip around the sun. I will remember. My gratitude runs deep.

Time Capsules

Time capsules and desert debris left in the dunes of studio light. New day greetings from the land of dust and light.


There is a timeless quality about sitting with relics of the past. Touching the patinated surfaces. Memories recalled through touch. Then a smile arrives, or perhaps even a grimace. It doesn’t matter, they are both the same in the remembering world.

It comes that there is a naturalist’s sensibility, about working in this way, with these artifacts. The discovering, examining, tactile journey through a time unknown. What did these pieces of glass and metal represent in the time before?

I will happily sit with these questions, for as long as it takes, smiling.

Glass, Metal, and Light

Exploring in the studio today, these pieces of metal and glass called out. A bit of playing with the light, and these materials, these structures began to tell their story.


This is a story of longevity and endurance. It is also a story of flowing lines and transparent joys. Exotic forms that echo ancient traditions. Similar lines and forms found in many places on the planet. The sacred geometries that tie cultures and traditions together. The doorways that whisper, “Come inside, stay as long as you like.” Living as one with the rhythms of day and night.

What I really want to do is arrange three of these glass and metal hexagonal forms, on their sides like three flower petals. In my dream they are enlarged to container size, large enough to build on this dream. This dream of light filled space. This dream of home.

Aristotle said, “A soul cannot think without a picture.” I have my picture, and my soul is dreaming.

Alternative Homes

As I walk out to the studio today, I continue to consider the concept of home. And it’s so much more than four walls.


Here’s a home with six walls. It’s good for jars and nests. And there are storm windows for winter. That’s a good thing here in the high desert.

Working in this breezy borrowed studio, is true joy all by itself. I can walk in and see what remains from yesterday’s exploration, and pausing, consider how it might evolve into today’s visual fun. Everywhere I look there are more treasures, all waving their arms trying to grab my attention. Each one saying, “Choose me! I’m perfect for today’s story.” And these three pieces were the chosen few today.

Three very different containers, all are home to one thing or another, whether it be eggs, cookies, or a lovely light-filled space with six sides. All a home in their own way, all parts of the home in my heart.

Collecting Containers

The notion of ‘homing’ has been tickling my consciousness since yesterday’s post here.


My wandering thoughts took me to considering, what creates a space for homing to take place? Containers came to mind. That a home is a container first. Home provides the stage for a wide array of containers, in every imaginable shape, size, and color.

Over this lifetime I’ve created, and lived amidst, an ongoing flow of containers. Some short lived, while others have, and always will be touchstones. Always the joy of choosing.

Today, it is the open-air walls, and translucent views that sing softly to my heart, tenderly to my soul. And I remember, my heart and my soul, are likewise containers, of my love, of my spirit.

Homing In

‘Homing In’ . . . is the beginning of a new series of images, loosely titled, Spring Studio Still Life. Looking at Home, seems a good place to begin.

Perhaps especially as I’ve been living out of two suitcases for more than two years. I am grateful for the small studio. A lovely spot to make daily work. To allow my imagination to roam free. To dance with the Spirit of this place. And make new work inspired by this land, this time, this Spirit. My heart is happy.