VISUAL PROSE Fine Arts B/W Photography
  Egyptian Walking Onion
  Harris Barn: 2013-2016
  Backyard Flora Series
  Albumen Images In Progress
  Platinum and Palladium Images in Progress
  Silver Gelatin Images
845 N Eldorado Avenue
Klamath Falls Oregon 97601

VISUAL PROSE ... prose

A morning pleasure of granola, yogurt, blueberries, banana.  T.S. Elliot poetry, Costa Rica java thorough the 'press', thoughts of tomorrows shot at the barn.

Much to accomplish today, needing letters to the kids, Pat, packages for Pat and Joe Small, and of course, the Izzabelle, in need of bonding and the hand of love.

Now, the quickened time has vanished and I must for sake Elliot, the quietness of the birds and the roar of the departing jets.

The stillness of my quiet will hold until tomorrow, I am grateful to be breathing today.

Writing is the evolution of ones thoughts, a development in growth, slowly, continually I suppose, as is ones art.  A growth in art in style?  That should morph and evolve if not content, but refinement in technique.

A field trip to Great Falls NP; rock formations, whatever to fill the ground glass; to process film today in hope of what I envisioned made it onto the film surface of silver nitrate.

A period of time locally, this seasonal weather pattern of uncomfortability.  Humid is a term not used today; "lower temperature" which normally is indicative of a comfort zone -- mentally, I suppose.

The Goldfinch seem not to notice; the heat, the humidity levels, as they infiltrate the yard in their search for sustenance for winter travels, seeking seed from the cone headed flora, the feeder, they are tolerant of my presence, except the two juveniles.  They will mold soon, completely.

The process of nature has begun,

evidenced more so with the male populations, drab loss of colour, rough.

The chatter of Cardinals in the Bradford Pear, music of the Cicada; a slight musical cord from the wind chime, a Cat Birds chimes in:  A WARNING, all flight feathers take wind, they are in the safe haven of the cover... now a 'wren'...

A package from Frances, birthday remembered, handmade toffee by Joe.  Such a welcomed treat from them both, more importantly, a note scribed by hand with news if only little.

A day of maximum humidity, dew point is at saturation creation of fog; just now a cooling breeze adding comfort to what is described as miserable.  As quick to arrive and comfort, equally to cease and the return to reality.

It arrives again, giving hope of change in the weather; the lyrical notes of the Godlfinch aroused now, dancing among the cone headed, season past flora, little fodder left at the feeder, they now must fend off the remains from the summers flowers seed bounty.

T.S. Eliot now in my hand to read, to study, to understand:  "The Waste Land"

Sitting in comfort to read, to write, breakfast of granola, yogurt, coffee, text to study; the Way of Chuang Tzu; words to grasp of inner deep thoughts of self.

A 'rasp' of a Cat Bird, the vibration of the Cicada, a new mixture of clouds pocked with blue sky; rain ...? Rain? Needed, wanted.  Yes, a cooler front bringing relief from the current pattern is most desirable.

It is time now to ready myself for the lab, I must solve the mystery of a stain, 'the stain, that stain', which haunts my sleep; chemical not Karma, understandably so...

*The Kingly Man; The way of Chuang Tzn;  ['... on the threshold sat an old man, aged beyond guess of years; talk kindly he had been, but now, he was withered as an old stone". JRR Tolkin; "The Lords Of The Rings"].

EARLY morning stillness and melodic back leg musical scores of of a multitude of crickets, now interrupted with the awaking cicadas.

GOLDFINCH now feeding at the feeder, (must change and refresh seed), ever vigilant as it suspends from the mesh, while downward.  A Song Sparrow. dancing, darting, fleeting through the understory of the now dried 'echinacea', an ever slight breeze bowing long stemmed flowers into a new pattern and shape, gracefully rearranging with subtle beauty.

It is the second day of this new month that rushed with little joy and cheering.  Kids returning to school classes, the last of vacations with the holiday free day.  It remains hot and quit humid, the air has little flow of movement.

Leaves of trees now dulled awaiting for that rapturous colour and glory of fall.  Cicadas continue upon their quest of seeking a mate before decending again into the depths of earths soil, lyrical rhythms of high pitched levels, soon to be silenced with the cooler air that will decent upon the area.

First time attempt at 'Albumen' today; should be an adventure to look forward with an AHwahhh or ahhhhh; must get moving.

A new month to begin the new week, a new term of critique group, new members, new ideas, and new processes.

The harmonic syncopation and lyrical call for a mate continues from the desires of the Cicada.  The weather is their measure of time; shadows begin to lengthen with the lowering arch of the sun, today; hot, humid and dirty air quality.

Hugo sits atop the steam trunk as if an Egyptian Pharaoh had requested such a statuette.

What to bake for the staff show opening tomorrow... must act and think quickly, must be done today, not into, onto campus early today, dang!




New World Order:  Went to purchase coffee yesterday, parking in public paid parking, walk to cafe bar, retail shop and people are a variety, they are mixed, they are multinational, multicultural, they are multi-diverse.  The new world in America always present and we have people demanding a fence against a force that is upon this country, a tide we cannot control.  The WASP has lost yet there anger is strong.  We as a collective, eclectic nation must move fore-ward, embrace and let the reality embrace our spirits.

I need an eraser, looking in my bag I discovered I have not; I know where downstairs I've plenty but in and upon initial search through my bag, I discovered I had two squeeze bottles of eye drips.  I've two eyes, it made sense except I could but deliver drops to one eye at a time; I put one bottle away.

Going to fetch the eraser took but ten minutes, many discoveries and adventures abound when you allow...  Found the pressed Lavender flora stem, meed that for physic comfort.

Found an xacto knife that needed to be put away; found water colour dyes to paint a sculpture birds used to close curtains at night and to repaint the sunflower decorative object in the bathroom.  I've been meaning to repaint for a few ongoing years.  Of course, had to cut the eraser which took me to another room with a chore to accomplish, completed, I sit for my morning meal, cafe, reading and watching the clouds change form, shape as they pass overhead.

First sights and sounds of fall:

Dampness of the morning grasses

Flashing of school bus lights, bright red

The school bell ring

The sigh of the teacher

The sigh of the student

The coolness of the morning air

The slowness of the dawn sun

The browning of the flora

The browning of the garden

The dryness of the soil

The arrival of the fall apple crop

The smell wafing from the oven

The dryness of tree leaves

And the look about people ... wanting yet not wanting the end of summer.

Summer at its best excluding hurricanes and tornados.  Air saturation is virtually at maximum; dew point at 74 degrees which has lowered since awaking.

The 'thrill' from a Carolina Wren as it sat atop the Jacobs staff holding a seed feeder, calling for another (wren), a possible response from a neighbors yard some meters distant away.

A possible crescendo Ka-Booom  clash of the sky Titan's today through tonight; do not wish to miss that show!

Rain beating against the windows, the exterior wall, pelting with fury, not angry, with what Earth Mother gave as a gift of a watering blessing and nourishment for the flora abounding our yard.

Given the current heat and humidity levels, a possible, epic, KA-Booom clash resulting from a cold front poised to settle into the Piedmont region of the Mid Atlantic region tomorrow.  Heavy, grey clouds displacing the sky blue of last week.  Sullen, oppressive heaviness, retards the wanted desire to move about, need however to do as my laziness has an added dimension surrounding my waste line.  I can ill afford the external midriff  placed upon my body, I need to exercise!

Goals for the day established, moderate and hopefully shall be able to accomplish.  Need yet read, begin one note to Walt & Rosemary.  Have exercised mental aspects of life ... Luminosity, hope to exercise physical; goal, nine more pounds to leave behind ... sigh ...

         Onto more mental, READ!

           'polis'; "...the coming to be and flourishing of the Greek city state.  Citizenship and body of citizens.

It is a blue cloudless day, a good dry breeze flowing through the leaves, the melodic music fill the airwaves from the wind chime, a male Gold Finch at the feeder.

    Tranquil readiness to finish sink clean up of the darkroom ... I carry too much 'stuff' to school!

To develop style, One must learn from others perhaps, one must develop and understand their style even if it is no style what so ever

A rain through the night time hours, those whom love humidity at the (un)comfortable level would be envious of the DC metro area currently

As is normal for this weather pattern, we may possibly enjoy a brilliant flashing about the sky with thunderious applause

Shift of thought:  In developing a style, reading of others is elementry I am told.  Thus to read Hessa - Sadartha as well, the Illiad, daily, poems from many unknown by myself.  I will have to build on this later

My wanted need to write is not the creation of a journal, to me that is a diary

I could jot daily events, sounding more of bitching then a positive attitude of gratitude that I am given this right to do, choose to do

I need to develop and artist statement; the reason, not a banal context of blathered words that equates a line of BS, that few pay attention to

Need to photograph the backyard.

I should write more, more a pity, I should write

I am on the porch for breakfast, cinnamon banana nut (homemade by me), blueberry pancakes with no butter, syrup, maybe I'll try a jam;

       Orange Lime and Ginger Marmalade

Field glasses at the left, ready, focused:  Izzabelle is in the lower bunk, Hugo now at upper.

Placement of glider, trunk and bunk beds moved about since last evening; Hugo in question sniffs and smells as if the world environment is new

Gold finch, American, flitter on the feeder, tops of the flora heads, in the air, dashing through the yard guarded against that object (me), in that space ... (porch)

Morning Glories abound, a female Cardinal on the back fence gone since I wrote of her presence

I want to photograph the 'glories'; 8x10 with TXP

Overcast a the current outside sky, forecast for scattered T-storms, muggy, mummer in the Mid Atlantic; DC

We, I should take an hour to read, to write, to observe the backyard, to breakfast, to scratch my foot, left actually, poetry, meditation, watching the world and that specific, the flora and fauna of the backyard

Extinguish the noise and create my own quiet, listen to my thoughts, watch the graphite spread and form words

I should take a writing class, I should take a general chemistry course, I should learn to  teach, I should learn when to speak and when to keep quiet.

If I write or speak I should learn to edit and only send along completed, thought out ... thoughts, not words of blather or should that read blathered word pig latin speak

Time for poetry reading, bath, ready myself for the lab, dishes, task of clean up

Hugo is soundly sleeping.  Iaazbelle is cat napping but vigilant to noise and sudden movement, to vibration, the breeze, she is aware.

      Incredible humility, amazing but of late.

Carolina Wren flitting about, Justin posted (text) an image of Ayla and himslef at Grandma Ferns from last spring.  I want to cry, she looks like Lorien.

   Two pumpkins in the patch; I need to write letters and post along, Izzabelle demanding and needing attention; I must cycle today, need the exercise to clear some thoughts and leave them along the bike trail for they are burdensome, unnecessary thoughts I've little control over.  No school for me this week, to meet with Travis tomorrow and begin the teaching, learning process.

I need to read today; I need to process film today; I need to eat correctly today; I need to get to a dentist ... soon!  I need to tighten bolts of the new planter; I need to level the new planter; I need to relax and allow life to happen as it should; I need not to dream of what I want to do, I need to do what I dream.  I cannot wait for the list of "I need to do's", I need do them!  I need to write an artist statement; I need to load the 8x10 film holders; I need to photograph the Morning Glories before they are gone and summer has ended; I need to brush Izzabelle; I need to do yard work ...

     Some trees look good yet.  The XX? Pear (forgot the name), leaves are glassed sun shine with reflected morning light, glistening of late spring (Bradford Pear).

A Dragon Fly overhead, dancing for a meal, hopefully mosquito breakfast, dinner and supper.  It should enter into the yard closer, plenty in the greenery.

The River Birch has appearance of late summer distress, dull, flat, no value of radiance, the look of nearness of the summers end.

I need to vacuum; I need to make the bed; I need to put dirty dish in the water; sixty five before I even lived in a house with an auto dishwasher, I have learnt to use it, for meal plates, pans, pots, wood knives by hand always.

I need to find my riding shorts; I need to drink this cup of coffee; I need to begin my day ... sigh

The Goldfinch are now dancing from the feeder to the yard flowers, sit atop the flower head cones (echinacea), plucking seed to nurish their gram weight bodies.  The brightness of the canary yellow of the male with the starkness of indigo black wings.  A golden beak and the brightness of white tail, cloaked over the top of black, redness of the legs that grip the seed cage, suspended at times upside down.  Fatten up, your journey is far yet not reached.

A breeze now banging the wind chime gong.  Gong ... Gong ... Gong ... Gong it rings.

Clouds of white pulled and stretched thin, their drift of slowness allows to view.  The Cicadas in the lyrical pattern to impress, the slow roll build, echoed and met by others courting.  Their songs of summer for 29 years, wouldn't be if there were sounds of silence.  Trills of a pair of wrens, overheard by the Cardinal.  The House Sparrow now in the fray of robust chirps and the melody called others down into the undergrowth for the discovery of easy food of insects.  A young fledge, "...feed me a worm, a caterpillar, a beetle, a seed, more, ...".

What is need of others, ... people

Why do I dislike such at times; ... now

Why Can I I listen and not hear

Voice yes, words no, just talk, mute

Displeasure of others when in my way, my time

I am at a pivot

What is that pivot ? ... point ... ?

Our Humboldt County fog and mist

Has turned to a Humboldt County Rain

To the grey of the San Francisco Bay

That slate on the waters

Forever and ongoing

Continues, ebbs and than moves again

The droplet upon the still clutching branches

The colours not as bold nor beautiful as when

Why is it so hot however

This is the end of November

Why is it so hot

Today is a'drip ... of Humboldt County Grey

Not a'wash ,,, of a cascade showers warmth

Not to be mistaken ... of an unwanted cloud

A blessed wonderful ... ness of memories 

Times past now but for thoughts past

The site will become public soon enough.  I am amazed I am even doing this.

Working with a computer is not my idea of photography; another tool granted but photography as I have been pursuing for forty plus years... NOT.

Not meaning to be a purist, digital is not my forte; I have done digital, just wasn't was I enjoyed, the magic of a print in development is not for me to put into words, it happens from the negatives I produce in the darkroom, it happens from the chemistry I mix, it happens from the paper I prepare, it happens when it is exposing to the light, it happen and it does so with my joyful exuberance when I am emotionally attached to the beauty of what I imagined and then created.

Hoping to hear from others whom view... 

My images are simple in form, not meant to create a deeper form of psychological questioning nor meaning.

They are straight from the vision I have.

They are created in a method of permanence, one I' have fallen in love with, simple in doing, simple with only slight complexity.

My images have form, they have texture, they have meaning … but do not require mental anguish to understand.

They have depth when viewed close, looked into.

They have value … to my memories of my vision.

They are my gift to whomever finds them worth of their time, to immerse themselves into my life and world.