”Others have seen what is and asked why. I have seen what could be and asked why not.”
Clouds - 2013  ”Others have seen what is and asked why. I have seen what could be and asked why not.”
Clouds - 2013  ”Others have seen what is and asked why. I have seen what could be and asked why not.”
Clouds - 2013

 ”Others have seen what is and asked why. I have seen what could be and asked why not.”

Clouds - 2013

“The artist’s task is to save the soul of mankind; and anything less is a dithering while Rome burns. Because of the artists, who are self-selected, for being able to journey into the Other, if the artists cannot find the way, then the way cannot be found.”

Flesh-and-bone-and-straw-and-wood-and-glass-and-sky

Canyon Road, Santa Fe NM.
Meandering between open-air galleries and wealthy tourists, we find a quiet spot in this strange little mountain town. Like much of New Mexico it manages to be both beautiful and ugly at the same time.
I don’t photograph much here. It’s too crafted to its clientele, bursting with its own importance. Very little here is genuine, it’s all been gilded and tagged for sale.
Step off that bright path and New Mexico is still one of the most depressing places I’ve ever been. Canyon Road, Santa Fe NM.
Meandering between open-air galleries and wealthy tourists, we find a quiet spot in this strange little mountain town. Like much of New Mexico it manages to be both beautiful and ugly at the same time.
I don’t photograph much here. It’s too crafted to its clientele, bursting with its own importance. Very little here is genuine, it’s all been gilded and tagged for sale.
Step off that bright path and New Mexico is still one of the most depressing places I’ve ever been. Canyon Road, Santa Fe NM.
Meandering between open-air galleries and wealthy tourists, we find a quiet spot in this strange little mountain town. Like much of New Mexico it manages to be both beautiful and ugly at the same time.
I don’t photograph much here. It’s too crafted to its clientele, bursting with its own importance. Very little here is genuine, it’s all been gilded and tagged for sale.
Step off that bright path and New Mexico is still one of the most depressing places I’ve ever been.

Canyon Road, Santa Fe NM.

Meandering between open-air galleries and wealthy tourists, we find a quiet spot in this strange little mountain town. Like much of New Mexico it manages to be both beautiful and ugly at the same time.

I don’t photograph much here. It’s too crafted to its clientele, bursting with its own importance. Very little here is genuine, it’s all been gilded and tagged for sale.

Step off that bright path and New Mexico is still one of the most depressing places I’ve ever been.

Making my mark on the Cadillac Ranch outside of Amarillo, TX. We stopped here on our way out to California, paying homage to my birthplace and the wide open spaces I grew up in.

Going back ‘home’ is always a little strange.

More to come later, as I recount our travels out west and the adventures therein.

Stumbled upon this guy while strolling through the New Orleans Museum of Art sculpture garden. ‘The Drummer’ he was called. He seemed a little sad.

"A traveler. I love his title. A traveler is to be reverenced as such. His profession is the best symbol of our life. Going from - toward; it is the history of every one of us. It is a great art to saunter."

- Henry David Thoreau 

The past few days have been a time of reflection. The end of such bacchanalia tends to bring that on in force. I destroy, rebuild, destroy, endlessly. A cycle of discovery and rebirth. Though lately I realize there has been far more tearing down than building up. My focus was so great, breaking down the parts of my life that I found unsavory or a hindrance, that I woke up one day and realized I had emptied myself completely. I was a wasteland; scarred and smoldering after a long war.

Not a place to raise a man.

I looked at myself and saw only the emptiness reflected back, etched with the events of my life. Carvings that go too deep to rub out. No sense of self, no identity, no core. Who I am is no longer who I was. I had made sure of that. By god, did I make sure of that.

I always thought an openness of the body, mind, and spirit was the path to enlightenment. If it is, it’s merely the first step. What you build there is the real test.

Emptiness I am familiar with. Acceptance of the universe and your place within it.

Conviction…now that’s a new one.

So this is a journey of construction. I’ve torn down enough walls. I need to put up some shelter before the hard rains come.

Dan Deacon filling our eyes and minds with beats and lasers. The image of that green skull strobe burns into my retinas as I lose myself in the crush of humanity. Deafening and glorious, if a bit reserved for a Dan Deacon show.
I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who was looking forward to relay races in that cramped tent. Dan Deacon filling our eyes and minds with beats and lasers. The image of that green skull strobe burns into my retinas as I lose myself in the crush of humanity. Deafening and glorious, if a bit reserved for a Dan Deacon show.
I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who was looking forward to relay races in that cramped tent. Dan Deacon filling our eyes and minds with beats and lasers. The image of that green skull strobe burns into my retinas as I lose myself in the crush of humanity. Deafening and glorious, if a bit reserved for a Dan Deacon show.
I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who was looking forward to relay races in that cramped tent.

Dan Deacon filling our eyes and minds with beats and lasers. The image of that green skull strobe burns into my retinas as I lose myself in the crush of humanity. Deafening and glorious, if a bit reserved for a Dan Deacon show.

I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who was looking forward to relay races in that cramped tent.

"All passes, Art alone
 Enduring stays to us;
 The Bust out-lasts the throne,—
 The coin, Tiberius.”