Fifteen years ago, my brother in law Rod Cook (one of the true artists I know ) took my wife and my daughter out on his back porch and made this picture:
Of all the photos I love, this is one of my favorites. It is a picture of my daughter … yes … but manages to exist in the sweet spot; the place where it is a memory and transcendent simultaneously. This photograph, a platinum print, resides on the mantle in our living room. I have four kids. We do not create altars to one or the other. The fact that it is there is about the art, not the memory.
I don’t know or care where inspiration lives . To me, it is important and inevitable; but it takes it’s time getting here. Experience has taught me not to rush it: but to believe it will arrive. There is lots to do in the meantime … like life.
A few years ago I took these pictures …
Three months ago I figured out what to do with them. I like them a lot. I was trying to find the place where specific and subjective becomes metaphor. Recently i noticed the obvious parallel to the aforementioned photo of Margaret. What comes from where is a mystery to me … everything matters, nothing is wasted. When I am inspired, I do the work. When I am done, I let other people wonder about it.