Time goes by

The first winter snow came in last night. Moaning like a cat in heat through the crack in the window. My good friend "The Sailer" came home on Monday and I cornered him for first coffee in the morning, and then beer in the afternoon. The catching up of a year an'some. We told about girls, love lost or found and his kind eyes contrasted with his ugly mouth. We like to pretend we are tuff. Ben walks across the field ducking through old barbed wire fencing, hat cocked to one side. "I woke up with a pack-rat sitting on my pillow last night" he spits for exclamatory impact "I jumped out of bed and grabbed a bayonet. The little guy scurried into the corner and I pinned it there, then I yelled to Sarah "Sarrrrrahhhhh, bring meeeeee my longsword" she said "what?" My longsword I tell her and she pulls it down from were it lays on those elk horns above the table, ya know? She hands it to me and I stabbed the thing with it!" He spits again and we laugh. Ben wants to drag the old-pickup, a gift from the sailor's adopted mother, up to his place after it wouldn't start. I tell the sailor we should drag him into town, we laugh red faced thinking about it. "Ya! He couldn't get out could he?" "Nope!!!" I say smiling so my face hurt. We only drag him five miles down the road until he puts on the e-brake and we watch the tires smoke. We had forgotten about the e-brake. "You like that you sons-a-bitches?!!!" he yells as he jumps out in smoke and dust. We start laughing again. "It is good to be home!" the sailor gulps. I walk to the bank of the road to watch the larch trees turn a glowing green.

I have been painting dirty walls white and piling boxes with long forgotten things I don't remember. I hang my lights from the rafters and look at the pools they make, pools of electric glow waiting for me to wade into. I can't go there yet, I have to go through all the boxes and decide, what is worth hanging on to; such a grueling dusty business. "Hellow Sneeze, good to see ya again!" Am I an old man? Why do I have so many things that look old? Did I forget years inside the years and collected all these? They are other lives, from other places and not this earth I swear!!! Right now is the truth of the new paintings floating in the back of my mind. They are ghosts of the future and they haunt me now. Just as these boxes haunt me with the past.

This damn eternal now, I am lost in this and that; white walls, dust and dreams all of these prepare me for the Everest in my mind to climb or concur with the ghosts paintings in floating futures.

Safe from vertigo

A flash and it is gone; memory and captured moments are all that are left.  A story is being made, it is all we really are in the end.  The faded photos of my relatives that sit in the basement, pitched in with haphazard care, haunt me.  I can't look for to long.  I close the plastic lid and escape for the present sun light, away from the ghosts.......

My wonderful friend Garith Curtis, sculpture and philosopher told me something that finally made sense of art.  "People buy paintings, sculptures, and photos to hang on their wall to remind them of what is really important in life. It is a grounding point for most people."  I think he is right and I think that that reason makes better sense than all the rest of the jibbery about the importance of art.  We need a "grounding" for this modern world has up ended cultural gravity and has swept us into the atmosphere.  

Christina and Jesse Hafen are my friends and kindred spirits on the road of stories and myth.  I didn't know this until they hired me to photography their wedding last week end.  There are times when I feel I stare into the vortex of the past as I look at the future.  I see my photos in the eyes of my subject's grandchildren or grate grandchildren and I shiver knowing that what I am doing is a precious thing. It is sacred in the eyes of the future. My friends are beautiful. They shine in the light of loves combining power as a day spins around them, as only wedding days do.  It is painted in golds and grays as it rains out side and glows with in the doors under tungsten lights.  I feel everything in fast forward and I hold the images in my mind to keep me safe from vertigo.  They walk hand and hand through the spinning globe and I fallow, saving each step to remind the future "that this life really an't so bad!!!!" 

One Flesh........

"There is nothing that enters a man from outside which can defile him; but the things which come out of him, those are the things that defile a man."

                                                                                                        Mark 7:15

"Dispite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage."

                                                                                           Billy Corgan 

  "In First Corinthians Paul tells wives to submit to their husbands" my friend says as he speaks over my other friends who are getting married, "but it's not what you think, it doesn't stop there!  The next verse down tells husbands to love their wives as Christ loved the church.  And you know how much Christ loved the church?  He died for her and that is what husbands are called to do for their wives............"  He grinned and stumbled as he spoke on about husbands duties to their wives, the submission of the wife was the crux and he seemed to pick up momentum and confidence as he consulted his notes after getting over the controversial topic of "submitting wives."  My mind wondered to Jesus, the subject I guess of the hole talk, and I thought about his death.  This is what a man was called to do for his wife?  It seems there was always so much talk about Jesus' death but his life seems to gather only passing glances from his followers, didn't Jesus also live for the church (his metaphoric bride?).  How did he live for her?  We all know how he died for her but how did he live?  Later my friend who conducted the ceremony got up and gave a toast to the bride and her new husband.  He told the bride how much he loved her but he was really glad that she would never live with them again and that he was happy that her husband was taking over what ever responsibilities he himself felt for her.  But that he also loved her.  My brother told him he was full of shit when he walked off the stage.  He hardly responded to the challenge and I felt sorry for him.  Helplessness was written there, the look of "what else could I do?"  The question was in his eyes as he looked at me and then looked away.  I saw him, in that moment, dying every day for his wife and his helpless rage at not being able to live for her.  All the retaliation that was given him now was a passive aggressive speech.  There is nothing to live for any more, only things to die for and I felt that crown of thorns pressing down.  

Sometime after falling......

"Some days I'm bursting at the seams 

  With all my half remembered dreams

  And then it shoots me down again.

  I feel the dampness as it creeps 

  I hear you coughing in your sleep

  Beneath a broken window pane.

  Tomorrow, girl, I'll by you chips

  A lolly-pop to stain your lips

  And it will all be right as rain.

   -This an't no love thats guiding me-"

                                                            -David Grey

  I get caught up in being caught up, nothing new about that is there? "But knowledge does not vanquish mystery, or obscure it's distant lights." Annie Dillard writes in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek.  Just a soft reminder, tickle at the base of my spine to step back and breath again.  My friend Scott says that if you aren't sleeping well it is a good indication that something isn't right in your life, the balance if off.  Well.......... It could be a bomby hot house, noises in the night, or restless dogs wondering around hacking up hair balls too, but I think generally Mr. Marksberry is correct in his analyses.  I have a knot in the base of my neck which tells me I have some stress and that stress starts with a mind that is filling up and over flowing with burdens not mine to carry.  Yet "knowledge does not vanquish mystery" and I wonder why I didn't see it coming and check my self.  All the warning lights were flashing weeks ago, the neon lights flashing through my brain cells "step back, step back"! Jesus lead a great example when he would slip away, tell no one, and disappear from his friends to find solitude, prayer, and silence. Are we that much greater to not need this as well?  I go sleepless nights of crazed drifting, morning hazes, reactionary actions, and unthought of conversations until I become so dissatisfied with my present state of mind that I collapse in frayed exhaustion. Then I look up. Where does hope come from? I have some urge for quantity and immediacy that is always at war with spirit and soul.  I become a wild eyed friend and a manic companion to any new acquaintance that happens to cross my path.  I want to sell the shop and not the trinket, squeeze the balloon before watching it rise.  I ask my self how many times must I be the "Prodigal Son" returning home, yet it doesn't matter really and I don't know.  It is just nice to get home again............ 

Gravity

"Is this what it's like, I thought then, and think now: a little blood here, a chomp there, and still we live, trampling the grass? Must everything whole be nibbled?"

                                                                                                                       -Annie Dillard

  On account of life and deeds, color and texture, sexuality and religion I am a tumble weed of both desire and constraint.  As one writer wrote about his life (and I paraphrase): "There I was, successful, famous, and rich only to find my self the next day raving mad!"  When desire takes her hand and holds me too close the scales shift to that side of life and off I go!  And when they shift to guilt and worry, sliding to far to constrain, I choke on a noose of my own making "Their freedom has now become their bondage." Brett said this week end.  I just finished two days with the delightful Mr. and Mrs. Townson.  I awoke in their "off the grid" house in the West Kootenia late last Saturday morning to wander up stairs with my guitar. "Dodging bullets in the sun, I hope that was the last one" Brett howls to a riff I start playing.  A new song is born as we pull secrets from the air about a man caught in something too big to handle.  The morning turns into afternoon and we hunt the scrap yard near the shop for a surface to paint on.  House paint gets dribbled and thrown, flexed and suspended before contact, a collaboration of wills and friendships. Brett and I paint together just for the hell of it, just to see if we can bend like reeds in the same wind.  These images are from those days. Just a grab at a time and a glance of a memory.  We talked exhausted into the night about our feelings on religion, that oh so delicate balance between relativity and cramped security: what parts of life are gravity and what parts are atoms and beyond!  Our basic conclusion, in case you are just dying to know and believe that at least one of us must be ingenious enough to figure it all out, is simply this: "somethings are basic truths, such as gravity, yet moral law can't be applied to life like say "gravity" is, it comes down to love and hate, "to hate evil and love good" yet we are easily fools for evil that is good and good that is evil.  This means it is a day to day walk in grace, mercy, love, and repentance but most of all love. Some how things are better that way.  And we are all crazed artist's with our hair flying, our desire flinging and our constraint held in the tensions of gravity.

I had the great honor to be apart of photographing 

two very dear friends of mine this last Friday evening.

Leslie and Todd have always been two people that 

I have loved deeply and have admired greatly.

Their loving personalities have reached out to all

who have come in contact with them and have given

me more smiles and laughs than I can count!  They

are engaged to be married this August and asked my 

friend Scott and I to photograph their engagement as

well as their wedding.  It saddened me greatly to 

leave the wedding photography to my good friend

Scott but I was lucky enough to be able to be apart of

their engagement photos.

Here is the art work I was able to do, just a try, just

a catch of the fire that surrounds their love for each

other.  I have to say that their commitment, one for the other,                                                     

goes beyond words and I believe it goes beyond

time, it has made my life better, and I believe it has 

and will continue to make this world we live in shine

deeper with the glory of God.

Thank you Todd and Leslie, thank you for being my 

friends, thank you for the love you share and 

thank you for being who you are.

The Cheshire Cat

"For some reason it has not yet trickled down to the man on the street that some physicists now are a bunch of wild-eyed, raving mystics.  For they have perfected their instruments and methods just enough to whisk away the crucial veil, and what stands revealed is the Cheshire cat's grin."

                   -Annie Dillard

--Here is to Ben......