stopping with eyes wide openthe Weather Report

BESIDE THE LAKE

Three lensless images taken back in 2015 on the south shore of Lake Pend Oreille at Camp N-SID-SEN.

“I am molten matter returned from the core of earth to tell you interior things—”

Anne Carson, from “XVIII. She,” Autobiography of Red: A Novel in Verse






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IS THE BELOVED GREEDY ?

The 2018 toMake™ Calendar, I know it’s already February, is available. You can download the PDFile and print it out yourself, or I can send you a print [13x19in. Epson K3, PostPaid N.Am. $25] just ask. Better yet, why not visit toMake™ studio, share a cup of coffee or tea with me, and avoid the tube+postage costs. If you are so inclined and enjoy the calendar, consider making a donation by check or through my PayPal Account. The poem is from Gregory Orr’s Concerning the Book That Is the Body of the Beloved. The image is a lensless image taken using a 1.5in. focal length cigar box pinhole camera on film; Strawberry Creek, UCal campus in Berkeley California.


2018_Calendar_WM

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THE MORNING PIECES

Selections from the morning pieces are now online. You can view 800 images from my practice of making a response on a blank sheet of 19 by 24 in. Strathmore Cream paper, more or less on a daily basis. These are not for sale, nor are they finished pieces. I have been doing this since 1995, in the morning before the days’ agenda, while life is still. These images are from 2013


Morning Pieces Book

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on the planet the winds are blowing

Beside, stop’d and listening . . . the river Flathead, waters sourced in the crown of the continent. June 17th traveling west. Using the Real-So-Subtle 6x6 120 format pinhole f/135 with RVP 100 film.

June 17 2017 West

“What else is going on right this minute while ground water creeps under my feet? The galaxy is careening in a slow, muffled widening. If a million solar systems are born every hour, then surely hundreds burst into being as I shift my weight to the other elbow. The sun’s surface is now exploding; other stars implode and vanish, heavy and black, out of sight. Meteorites are arcing to earth invisibly all day long. On the planet the winds are blowing: the polar easterlies, the westerlies, the northeast and southeast trades. Somewhere, someone under full sail is becalmed, in the horse latitudes, in the doldrums; in the northland, a trapper is maddened, crazed, by the eerie scent of the chinook, the sweater, a wind that can melt two feet of snow in a day. The pampero blows, and the tramontane, and the Boro, sirocco, levanter, mistral. Lick a finger: feel the now.”

Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

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My Astonishment

Stop’d while traveling east along Mont. highway 200 beside the river Flathead, watershed of the Columbia. Intentional stop to see, and observe and to experience my own astonishment; #34. Leonardo pinhole camera and weather gauge, RVP 4x5 in. iso100 film exposed 2 seconds f/250 up and down stream.

Flathead Stop
Flathead Pinhole

“You were made and set here to give voice to this, your own astonishment. “The most demanding part of living a lifetime as an artist is the strict discipline of forcing oneself to work steadfastly along the nerve of one’s own most intimate sensitivity.” Anne Truitt, the sculptor, said this. Thoreau said it another way: know your own bone. “Pursue, keep up with, circle round and round your life… Know your own bone: gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw at it still.” Write as if you were dying. At the same time, assume you write for an audience consisting solely of terminal patients. That is, after all, the case.”

Annie Dillard, The Writing Life

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stopping; again

Driving west on the blue highway 200, Missoula to Chewelah for Ash Wednesday services, I stop’d, again, along the Flathead River nearby the Perma bridge to Hot Springs. The snow was wet walking down to the point and a strong, fierce wind was blowing upstream. I could hear the waters’ living surface dancing and leaping. I had just one slide of 5by7 in. film in the bag. I took 5 second exposures, one upstream and one down with the #65 camera. Back in Chewelah I read off the max/min temperatures for the past couple of weeks; low 6℉ - high 52℉ … spring is here. Still reading Thomas Merton.

"My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone." Thomas Merton from Thoughts in Solitude

Flathead River


camera bag

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seeking interstellar space

As Lent approaches this week I’ve been considering what to give up and what to take on. I’ve often given up all sugars but since I’ve already done this what now …. I’m seeking the interstellar space behind the skin YA). So I’m putting together a practice that I might experience such without LSD. When you get to the base of the trail ascending Siyeh Pass in the Preston Park Valley of Glacier-Waterton International Peace Parks there are some lakes just off-trail. Only a few people venture here, most are en-route up or down the pass. I like to stop here; STOPing. The grizzles like this place. We call these the “O My God” lakes. It’s the absolute end of the valley. A steep glacier cut of newly exposed rock rises before you and this is life beginning, starting right from this rock, water, dirt, sun, snow, sky … the great JOY, and I’ll say that glorious skin that veils ’interstellar space’. The image is a lensless one taken nearby the upper lake looking down Preston Park towards the Going-to-the-Sun access at Siyeh Bend.


“Scrape the surface of language, and you will behold interstellar space and the skin that encloses it.”
Velimir Khlebnikov

O My God Lakes

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atheists and lies

“Half the people in the world think that the metaphors of their religious traditions, for example, are facts. And the other half contends that they are not facts at all. As a result we have people who consider themselves believers because they accept metaphors as facts, and we have others who classify themselves as atheists because they think religious metaphors are lies.” Joseph Campbell


Dance Anywhere BAM

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