(linville, nc)

once undetectable, caverns extend into the flesh of humpback mountain; floored with water that rarely varies in temperature. along the wall runs a rock shelf: one prone table that indicates the water level that the room boasted millions of years ago. upon this table sits a small amount of stagnant water reflecting the living rock above it. 

it is unnatural to see this at all, and the seven civil war deserters that hid in the absolute darkness for eight months- cobbling shoes- would scarce have noticed it as they swam by with their oil lamp.

I see it clearly, until the guide locks the door to the caverns and turns off the light until the next business day.

(glenville, nc)

walking through the woods as the light departs, some snow blows here and there as it leaves the creaking branches; creaking under a wind that rushes through a million small spaces, building into a chorus of so many voices and rushing past you with a statement of "cold".

this wind gathers its agregates into a writhing, invisible mass and, rushing away from me and across the lake, pitches the snow clouds across the last of the falling sunlight. 

(glenville, nc)

the first anthotype (prints made from sunlight on plant dye, without the use of a camera) experiment.

pine needles sat here, sat in sun, sat in the dark back of the house. and as they died, they left a mark of their existence, whereupon one idea and image serve as document to the fact that they were here (and that they did, in fact, die). like a scar on the loose skin of your thumb, it's little more than an infrequent thought, and is surrounded by a dampening and frightening realm of those things that are forgotten when departed.

plant memory impacted onto plant memory.

(warrensville, nc)

While we were examining the knot in the limbs, the sun had been out with dazzling brightness. Suddenly, it was obscured by high drifting clouds, and in the resulting contrast we beheld shadow profiles cast against the pure snow in the form of the further boughs.

The lines were not clearly defined, and beginnings and endings were difficult to place.

This was the region of the timberline which the bear had passed and died within, and black cliffs later surrounded us as we brewed strong coffee on the blaze.

(the bluff, ashe county, nc)

while living on the bluff's fen, Perkins looked into its waters to find reflections that frightened him down from the mountain. promising to tell what he had seen if he lived seven days, he passed during the sixth night.

"and frost would land where he stepped, and Perkins knew from the ice on the bluff that the devil was come."

check in a few days, and there will be new projects up, new journal posts, and a general sense of new. competition season is upon me, and there will be updates.

it has been a long time.

lately I've done some work with anthotypes (contact prints made from plant dyes and sunlight), and hope to be trying some collodion exposures soon, with an old view camera and glass. this is in an effort to imprint the process of photography on my work more, something that seems tragically lacking in most digital photography. if it's going to be called art, where are the brushstrokes? where is the lip coaxed out by the potter's hand?

I'm beginning to feel that perfect, sharp images with no recollection of their creation are lacking.

at this point, I can post some of the anthotype prints that I've painted to be exposed. in this process, anything opaque can be laid across the paper (which has been painted with crushed leaves/berries/flowers), and put in direct sunlight for hours or weeks. they are exposing, and I will show you that in time. now, they are minimalist paintings, organic in the literal sense:

made with pokeberry:

with goldenrod:

with a mixture of layers of pokeberry and goldenrod:

(lake glenville, nc)

every night brings new opportunities. to make the last of the day seem like night already.

(marion, nc)

this is an older photo.

I've been photographing things devoid of people lately, and it's hard for me sometimes to wrap my head around our place in those photos, and how we could emerge from or disappear into them, in order to find our place in the front of later photos.

it seems appropriate that I investigate someone entering an element, the effect that we have on it.

(creston, nc)

it must take a very long time to become so graceful; the light pulls you left, then right, and back again at equal intervals. a constant dance, until other powers-that-be pull you off axis, laying you gently, or not so gently, onto the ground, leaving you with your curves but with no more need to respond to that same light that made you. lifeless, and full of life.