Time Fragments Continued

 Why make images? Why hope that somewhere, someplace, there will be a response of some kind.

I've been making images of one sort or another for about 56 years. Some days I think, I hit that one out of the park, and then on others it's STEE RIKE THREE. Sometimes these feelings can happen in rapid succession, leaving me either exhilarated or thrashing around in a dark hole.  But still I persist, thinking that the next image will be the one that expresses what I think, or see, or feel. Apparently, I am not there yet.  But still I persist.

The following images were created using a program I developed using MAX. Images continually morph using random chance operations built into the program. Think of it like using several slide projectors simultaneously to project images on top of one another. 

"CliffHanger"
9/2025
mono print w/ handcoloring

Cliffhanger was taken from the YouTube piece of the same name. This gives you an idea of how the images are realized.

The Catch of the Century; Marilyn Propp

I slipped a roll of film into the camera, loaded the leader onto the spool, and clicked the camera back shut. Then, I called my dog Zack to hop into the VW bus. We were going to San Francisco. I rarely went to San Francisco to photograph, but the day seemed as good as any other, so north to the city we went.

The bus rolled to a stop on an unfamiliar street in the city. Zack waited while I got out and wandered around, taking photos of kids, trees, and city detritus. I remember the sky being bright but overcast, as it often was.

 As I looked around at all the possibilities, a young woman rode by on her bike. Swoosh—she was gone in an instant. I didn’t think much of it at the time, and then returned to the bus to drive to a different area. Zack, it turned out, loved going for rides in the bus. In fact, when I left him at home for any length of time, he would howl and tear things up. 

A few blocks later, I parked and got out to explore. Once again, the same woman zipped by, her hair flying free as she flew by. No sooner had I noticed her than she disappeared around a corner. I took some images, returned to Zack and the bus, then headed to one more spot. 

This time, I was in a part of the city where the N Judah bus ran. As I was getting out of the bus, there she was again—this time off her bike and crossing the street, heading to a small shop. I shut the door of the bus, ran across the street, and nervously asked her if I could take her picture. She said sure. "Should I take off my glasses?" she asked. I didn’t mind either way.

Marilyn Propp 1973

Marilyn Propp 1973

Marilyn Propp 1973

After taking her pictures, I asked if she needed a ride anywhere. She mentioned she needed to get to work at the Good Karma Cafe. I put her bike in the bus, introduced Marilyn to Zack, and off we went.  

Of course, I asked for her phone number and mentioned that if the photos turned out, I would get copies to her. We stopped at her studio to stash her bike. It was then, I thought, an artist? I dropped her off at the Cafe and drove home. It took me several months to develop the film and make prints. 

The Journey Continues...

 

360 Degrees #1

1984 A Love Story

Revisiting 1984, by George Orwell- A book I read years ago. I had forgotten that within the pages, a love story emerges, hidden from the constant monitoring of Big Brother. There is a yearning to understand how things got that way. It is of a society splintered, constantly at war, disparate groups isolated and suspicious of one another. There is the longing for touch, intimacy, and emotion, that becomes a reminder of our shared humanity. 

There is the erasure of history one sentence at a time, one experience at a time. Even now in 2025, there are attempts to rewrite(erase)history. What are we afraid of? Is it the acknowledgment of our own brutality and inhumanity?

Until we can look at the underlying motives we will watch everything around us unravel.

What happened to caring for one another, to offering help, and to showing compassion? Today, anyone different is seen as the "other". One's lack of empathy leads to fear of anything unfamiliar, and then fear directs the response, be it hostility, or retreat. 

Slow down and listen to that still, quiet voice within.

 image- 9-27-23

Its hard to move when everything is frozen

It's below freezing, The tires feel harder than normal. 

The roadbed seems dense,

knowing of the comings and goings of humanity. 

Noticing only the reflections

 in their own windows as they

 are passed by someone

in more of a hurry than the ones passed.

Walking Man One

 

Walking Man Two

Mystery image

Found this image on my computer.  Not sure how, but it feels like  home

This blog will likely be discovered someday- perhaps when I am no longer around. It will be erased or appreciated by someone. who knows?

But it makes sense to create knowing that  I must respond to the things, moments, and narratives that matter to me. 

So where to start? 

I have heard and believe the more someone does something and puts in the time and effort. Good will come from it. But, it mustn't be the only reason.

As I was falling asleep I asked myself what the earliest memory was. 

I vaguely recall being outside, perhaps not even walking yet crawling around on my belly. the texture of dried grass and dirt- warm sun, a swing set silhouetted by the light - looking into the brightness of the metal from the frame and chain link, the empty saddles. A brother or my twin (I don't know about that.)

Could I have held onto my brother in the womb -  a loving embrace of our oneness?  could be a desire to have that memory.  because it would make sense for the rest of my life. growing up without him near- always knowing he is somewhere and not really understanding why- What about the bond?

The day Stephen's ashes were given to the sea 2017

0ct 21-2021

To be continued...

Looking Outside

Finally, it's snowing! I don't know about you, but the seasons are definitely changing. There are fires in California and other parts of the world, along with droughts and famine and boxes full of other calamities. I am called to embrace who and where I am in this  moment, aiming to be genuine in my expression. 

There's an interiority to looking outside of one's own experience. 

It's a contradiction between popular culture and what's important. 

 

I heard someone say that it is the responsibility of those with white privilege to shine a light on that privilege. But what I see, is that the state of the world revolves around the quest for greed, power, money, and influence, Fueled by an insatiable lust and hunger for more.

Finding my way back to the garden

Back Yard W/Flash 2024

Back Yard- 12-29-2024