scattering
May. 20. 2011
the laws of physics at play….live from my “chair in the sky!”
dispersion
May. 20. 2011
i still can’t believe we can fly in the sky
fluid mechanics
May. 20. 2011
leaving storm clouds behind, flying west at dusk…like flying through a series of the wildest brushstrokes-
add the bonus of bonding with 26D and 26E, and you have one helluva trip-
thanks matt and seth for stellar in-flight shenanigans!
roadshine
May. 12. 2011
the rain came down last night to kiss the parched ground…its beauty so persuasive, it made the asphalt glow golden
ahem…that, and Oak Cliff really needs some road makeovers!
[Shot true color by the way: no sepia-ing in photoshop- the evening did it for me]
rainshine
May. 12. 2011
The most gorgeous dusk followed summer rain yesterday- it pulled me out of my house and brought me alive
song for the earth
April. 22. 2011
Happy Earth Day! Rain it is you, my soil that I crave even here around the bends of this faceted world where edges seem sharper than some I have known, I listen to rain seep through your furrows my ears to your parched skin and my breathing with it in unison I cannot, but love you for your breath was my beginnings
Like this:
abandon
March. 27. 2011
faces become irrelevant sometimes
the fag
March. 27. 2011
Fag, as in cigarette, you pervs!
Salute to the smoker- woman to woman.
This probably isn’t a stellar shot, but I enjoy the moment in it- the position she chose to indulge in this particular cigarette. There had to be some affinity there- SXSW weekend in Austin…somewhere around dirty sixth.
before becoming
March. 7. 2011
from the same morning enroute Delhi to Agra…in search of an ancestry as good as dead.
before becoming
remember, love? the
taste
of a young winter morning
before becoming [remembering]
sifting through strangeness
of gold weighted air
through
cotton webs of memory-
crisscrossing through power lines
my
long walks to the convent, I
carved
forgotten trails through foothills
little feet swayed by giant imaginings
mist on my tongue
it, seeps through my
hungry pores and, now
cleanses
not broken
February. 23. 2011
I swallowed my awe and curled my toes in the cold sand, gazing at the flats and the darkness beyond, reflected at dawn…
had the story begun thus, would you ever have guessed what this photo really is? A crystalline landsape on a Monday morning windshield…sometimes, the trick is to relish the beauty buried in the mundane. I could write a whole story rooted in that one imaginary encounter here.
A most unusual, yet fitting way to understand happiness surfaced today:
“When we give in the world what we want the most,
we heal the broken part inside each of us.”
-Eve Ensler (of the Vagina Monologues)
something beautiful always exists, you see: broken, or not broken.
punctuation
February. 21. 2011
She didn’t remind me of them then, and I quite relished this languid moment of her abandon in the shadow of afternoon..
But revisiting this picture today, I flashed back to the nuns in St. Theresa’s Convent tucked away into the foothills of the Himalayas, guiding me through my sunshine years. L.K.G., U.K.G., Nursery…I was never really frazzled by any of it, but I seem to have preserved snapshots of their misguided frustrations somewhere in my woolen cotton memory- the hitting our three year old hands (knuckles side up) with age-hardened canes over the trivialities of punctuation. No mercy in their wooden eyes.
Goddamn nuns. May their souls find some solace at last…
look here
February. 15. 2011
I love how the sculptural lines twirl around, breaking up the frame…ahh the beauty of a sunlit facade and its collision with art!
If I was the DMA I would make postcards out of this one.
blood black roses
February. 14. 2011
sometimes I think everything that ever needs saying was said by Neruda.{ Happy Valentine's Day }
not a bernini
February. 13. 2011
I thought it was only right that this picture followed its predecessor! I personally LOVE this European quirk- if you can’t see the real deal, there’s a print of it filling the void for you…some tourists of course, beg to differ.
bernini
February. 9. 2011
restfulness in bernini shade…
Rupinder, I remember making me repeat in studio, “Columns are beautiful things.”
snow grey and black
February. 1. 2011
I hear snow’s on its way…
bar & grill
January. 30. 2011
silver beach
January. 15. 2011
Might be because I’m a sailor’s daughter, but I don’t care how many beaches I’ve seen, standing at the foot of the sky with an endless expanse of water is always elating.
Beaches have always been summer things for me, until I saw the snow come in close to the water, and turn the sand silver. It helps the sand soak in the clouds and the whole thing gleams…
I will always remember making this picture: my sister waiting far behind, hiding from the sub zero wind-chill around lake Michigan, my fingers numb, and my stuffed hoodie getting in my eyes as i struggled to find the shutter and wheels with those frozen fingers.
A picture, is so much more than a picture.
“We are all creatures of our memory” said Frank Welch on a sunnier afternoon to me, and I know that pictures to me are the language of my memory; thought, feeling and emotion swim in me together.
Therein probably lie the origin of my love affair with photography- browsing through fat piles of family albums and remembering through the years, feeling my ways back in time, constructing, dreaming…
down the road Ak, this one will surface too…winter beaches, sunlight, my sister’s shadow and I- set up for good pictures right there- below or above zero.
blue red and white
January. 13. 2011
handsome red barn on a frigid snow day…
it isn’t strange that wandering brings restfulness to the restless.
needle in the hay
January. 12. 2011
he’s been stuck in my head since Sunday snow…
a string of days can swirl into months sometimes, and caught between seasons you seek solidarity in some obscure resonant soul-
give some, take some, and march on
