color//colour red

in the name of the color red, I:

found it in the folds of a quilt.
found it in the details of a gas station.
found it underneath the chipped paint of a coffee shop floor.
looked for it on the shelves of book stores and libraries.
drove around downtown in the cold, cold rain in search of it.
purchased the reddest thing I could find at the thrift store (which was a bowl, a teeny tiny bowl).
purchased fifteen pieces of the reddest candy for exactly one dollar (not including tax).
wore two different shades of it on my toes.
ate maraschino cherries straight out of the jar.

(more of my reds here, more about color//colour lovers here, lovely co-collaborator xanthe's reds here and both of our colors live quite happily here)

and now: yellow.

the sixty second photograph

(music by my friend dan smith aka listener)

here is a little piece of my life. a little piece of what january looks like around here, a piece of a bigger project that, quite frankly, scares me.

the sixty second photograph is a year long project-- eight still photographers committed to learning how to make pictures move. one tiny film each month, 60-120 seconds in length, for the next twelve months. we are all of us brand new to this thing, feeling our way around the metaphorical dark, jugulars completely exposed. what I mean to say is, it's hard to say yes to projects like this. to processes that are not safe or familiar, that involve fumbling around, asking for help. it's also hard to put the work out there when you know it could be one hundred times better, when you know (you just know) you might look back and cringe.

but it's also intoxicating. and essential to profound creative growth, which is why I said yes. I wanted to say no (I really, really wanted to say no) but it had to be yes. yes, I will learn something new. yes, I will make all the mistakes. yes, I will maybe want to pull my hair out. yes, I will make myself vulnerable. yes, I will wander around the metaphorical dark til I find the metaphorical light switch, all the metaphorical light switches, yes, I will do this. yes, yes, yes.

and I'm glad I said yes. I'm still scared. but I'll ride that happy glad feeling all the way til the end of the project in december, collecting small victories as I go. it's the only way.

(more moving pictures by talented photographers I am completely honored to be working//learning alongside over at the sixty second photograph)

(and thank you, leah, for giving me just the push I needed)

color//colour forever

red, yellow, pink, green, orange, blue, all the old favorites, all my old pals.

big fat go go go for color//colour lovers, year three, round four! I don't know where the time goes. but here we are.

six weeks of color-hunting with my pal xanthe, already in the fullest of swishes. reds this week, chickadees. reds. my eyes are peeled open for the reds. should you want to play along and peel your eyes too:

week one//january 18: RED

week two//january 25: YELLOW

week three//february 1: PINK

week four//february 8: GREEN

week five//february 15: ORANGE

week six//february 22: BLUE

follow along, play along, we will gladly drink up all your color. for your weekly fix, I'll be both here and there. xanthe too. as for your daily fix well. I'll pretty much be you know where.

light, love

I like to keep a little chalk handy. because, you never know.

may we be the light that drives out darkness in this world, may we be lovers that drive out hate. not just today, on the day we honor the life and work and powerful words of our beloved dr. martin luther king, jr., but every day. every single day.

things for liking

neon seesaws.

croatian sea organs.

ice cream-filled potholes.

ferris wheel hotel rooms.

frosted cakes in subway trains.

grandmothers in rainbow weavings.

disposable cameras in the hands of the homeless.

found photographs turned fictionalized landscapes.

home invasions involving white balloons.

(things for liking, things that instill wonder)

last and first

on the last day of the old year, we stood on the jackson street bridge, watched the sun go down on the city one last time. 2015, going, going, gone.

and on the first day of the new year, we stood at the base of toccoa falls, just before sunset and we wondered. about this year 2016, this new year everyone is talking about, this new kid in town. we opened our arms to her, we did. because what else could we do? is there any other way?