Tuesday, April 29, 2008


Looking at someone again and again to soak in some ineffable change in countenance.

Reading a book that's like paddling on swells in the lake.

Listening to a coworker laugh over something so stupidly ridiculous that most people would be frustrated, until tears nearly ran down his face.

Sitting comfortably in my drafty 60-degree house (apartment) because of four beautiful and comfortable garments, a good pair of socks, and my trusty slippers.

Flipping into a magazine, finding a print ad, a photo that I want to live in, that I had seen before and forgotten.

It's not that I've had nothing to share lately. I don't know that anybody reads; of those that read, that any understand. Heck, I can't describe what any of that is like; I spent most of a 45-minute train ride sitting with one of those experiences, (or the sense of it or my memory of it, but to say I sat with the experience itself is yet somehow closer to the truth) - with a few sentences in "The Waves" interspersed here and there; after all, I meant to spend the time reading - still couldn't get more than a stumbling phrase around it, a perfect phrase, that nobody may understand except me. What do I say? "You feel great" is the closest I can get to a thought on something, and it's so accurate yet so imprecise that the only time it'll be understood is in the moment before the brain grabs onto a percieved misuse of language - and are most people even capable of dwelling in that moment for long enough to register it?

I percieve thusly. How does anyone else percieve me? The people that see me frequently, and what of those whose only window into my world is the one I draw? How does it seem?

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

I-74, Peoria, IL: Julie rocks the camera.

The day I shot this highway ranks among the most fun work days I've had.

Eye level with the roadway.

Green grass, blue sky, bridge.

Wide angle on an underpass.

A bit of everything: retaining wall kicked in, two kinds of form liners, light bollard, railing, and a nice composition.

Juxtaposition: articulated sound wall, roadway, ramp.

Juxtaposition, again: light bollard, stepped fence, high-mast lights, bridge.

Under the big bridge.

Light bollard, leading lines.

Juxtaposition 2.

Wishbone bridge.

High mast lights.

Articulated sound wall, residential side.

Equipment: Fuji DSLR with Nikon lenses; 12-24mm, 28-70mm, and 70-200mm. There's something very satisfying about the sound of a shutter.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Three Paragraphs

I have much, perhaps, to communicate. But, despite a facility with words, few seem to understand what they mean. Words mustn't always be read with the mind; there are other ways of knowing and reading.

When asked about my artwork, I'm often at a loss for words. Pick something I've made. It's an object. There are concepts integrated into that object that interest me. But this isn't meant to be an intellectual exercise. Most often it's about the experience of creating, the experience of interacting, how the concepts that interest me play into the final object. The object is something that can be appreciated and discovered long after it's acquired.

Today I recieved a somewhat frantic phone call from the GC with a poorly concieved question. After considering the situation, it seemed best to talk to the roofer after explaining the situation to my PM. When my PM returned, he'd already spoken to the roofer and worked everything out. What interests me was that my PM said simply, "I trust the guy."