wilderness

sketch of life, 4 (the meadow)

Most mornings, for hours, now, I spend running or walking our new dog. No headphones. Clean air. Purity of moments. I suppose 2015 goals should be coming along in my head....have a few for life, training, creativity, and work. For now, each day, I look forward to finding this light and hearing the wind, as it always has an answer for something.

pup_run_winter

Morning run in the winter light: the landscape became a black and white version of itself. As a devotee of studying and admiring documentary photography greats--Frank, Friendlander, Mark, Winogrand, Brandt, Bresson, Sander, Salgado, Evans, White--it's a rarity now when the color drains from the world and I get to see again in light/dark tones...I forget to "look" like this as I did so many years ago, when I shot film. It's an Instagram world now...can't stop progress, but I can get nostalgic about film days when I run and see light like this....

new project

There's something in the works....and it begins with two stanzas from a William Stafford poem (which will  be revealed later). Little did I know his words would set the tone for what was to come....

Here I am reading William Stafford's poetry collection with a delicious chai tea latte (with lots of cinnamon). Crack of dawn, perched from my kitchen's barstool. Taking notes, plotting moves, looking through rough cuts and stills....and writing words. Overall, a great way to start a day.....

Here I am reading William Stafford's poetry collection with a delicious chai tea latte (with lots of cinnamon). Crack of dawn, perched from my kitchen's barstool. Taking notes, plotting moves, looking through rough cuts and stills....and writing words. Overall, a great way to start a day.....


flashback: a banter on temperature

He builds a fire. We're in the high wilderness. Haven't seen anybody. Sun is almost down.
"It's going to get cold tonight, uh?" I say.
"Yip."
We're at 10,000 feet.
"Aren't you cold?" I ask him.
Him: wearing cargo shorts and a t-shirt standing on one side of the fire.
Me: wearing layers, hands deep in my pockets, and standing on the other side of the fire.
"I'm tired of you being cold," he says.
"I'm tired of you being hot," I say.
We both look in silence at each other. Smile.

To my surprise: he heated up this rock + stuck it into my mummy bag for a good night's sleep of warmth. Awesome hot rock therapy!