March
Day Forty Six
Sketch, March 1st, 2017
A look into my mind. A dreamscape of memories, ideas, creatures, and oddities. Buildings over encroaching on one another. Leaning sharply into each neighbor. A hidden creature surviving inside a shell of another time. I may have gone too far into the poetry deep end, but I will accept it.
Day Forty Seven
Hidden, March 2nd, 2017
"If you fall.
I will catch you.
No matter how far you are.
Acid burns.
On your cotton candy dreams that fall.
Through the cracks in the palm of your hand.
You fell so hard that your heart shattered.
Into a million splinters.
That I just can't pull out Pretty Words.
Like soft cotton sheets.
The kind that keep you warm at night."
-Poem. Halina Heron
Day Forty Eight
Pillar, March 3rd, 2017
I like how the warm light illuminates the trees. Only slightly. Creating a softness. while the stone wall is stagnant the trees have a slight blur of movement.
Day Forty Nine
Untitled, March 4th, 2017
"I let the sun and the moon rebirth me
And woke up in a forest
Naked and alone
Walking,
through the pillars of trees holding up the star speckled ceiling,
I knew
It was gone
It was all gone."
On The Forest Floor by Ironatmosphere
Day Fifty
Untitled, March 5th, 2017
"But I'll tell you what hermits realize. If you go off into a far, far forest and get very quiet, you'll come to understand that you're connected with everything."
Alan Watts
Day Fifty One
Red, March 6th, 2017
Old wood burning from a couple of years ago. After I took this photograph I had the realization that I need to darken the background. The image is too flat, and needs some depth.
Day Fifty Two
Drifter, March 7th, 2017
I like something ever moving and constant. Like waves crashing against pilings and wind gliding through homes. There is nothing that can easily stop it. If it had a life it would be immortal.
Day Fifty Three
Structure, March 8th, 2017
I am in no way religious. I want to preface that. I would consider myself spiritual. I believe in spirits/ ghosts, aura, astrology, tarot, and numerology. Regarding the photograph. I find some tall steeples of churches and cathedral beautiful. Especially in New England. Where most are built with wood and stone and in some places the oldest building in town. Hundreds of years old. I think it is notably beautiful.
Day Fifty Four
Peaceful, March 9th, 2017
I love filming in beautiful locations. To just sit and relax in between scenes. Today, I filmed my first movie in two years. It was a full day of shooting. Chasing the sun from 9 am till sunset. It is nice to tell a story from behind the camera. There is a refreshing amount of control with some looseness. I haven't been able to edit the movie yet. But I hope to soon.
Day Fifty Five
Sheet, March 10th, 2017
"When I met you in the Winter, I thought you would have stayed at least until the Summer."
D. Antigua
Day Fifty Six
Sleep, March 11th, 2017
Somedays I am very exhausted. When the weeks catch up to me. Today if one of days. My only respite is knowing tomorrow is a different day. With different outcomes and a few setbacks. I need to rest my mind. Before I collapse.
Day Fifty Seven
Gross, March 12th, 2017
I feel gross. Like I am catching an illness. My throat is irritated and phlegmy. I feel woozy and my body aches. It doesn't help that I am low on propane/ heat and it is currently in the teens. I am just a dumpster fire today.
Day Fifty Eight
Lichen, March 13th, 2017
I really love two things which are involved in this photograph. I love the stone fences seen all across New England. Bordering old farm lands and the such. And Lichen. I love Lichen. It is a beautiful bacterial growth. When I picture fairy tale lands, I see Lichen covered pathways and homes. Covered with overgrowth and moss.
I am debating for my garden this coming season, to have at least some Lichen and Ferns. To bring in the deep forest feel to my Hideaway.
Day Fifty Nine
Creaking, March 14th, 2017
The air is crisp as clouds speed past the glowing moon. Branches creak and moan. Partially frozen. Some Weak branches snap in a sudden whistling gust. The aging trees stand slightly injured and cold but still stand.
Day Sixty
Cross- Section, March 15th, 2017
I am in my head today. Everything else matters more than what I needed to do. It is tough to concentrate on anything and everything. My neck is stiff with stress and exhaustion. I want to draw something. I can't sit still long enough.
I need to figure this shit out. Maybe there is nothing to figure out.
Day Sixty One
James E. Birch, March 16th, 2017
I think this gravestone is incredibly beautiful. Smooth marble spotted with Lichen. A few stray cracks from years of temperature fluctuations and storms. In September of 1857, the S.S. Central America struck by a category 2 hurricane off of the Carolinas. Causing the vessel to sink. Two nearby ships were able to save 206 passengers, primarily women, and children. 425 people lost their lives. Including James E. Birch. I wish you and your family the best. As well as my condolences. I hope you can now rest.
Day Sixty Two
Strain, March 17th, 2017
After a long day at work, I was driving around aimless knowing I needed to still take a photograph. I had taken photos of the rug factory in Bristol before, so I knew it was a great location. The plan was simple, long exposure as I dangled from the fire escape. I just hung there looking up toward the top of the fire escape. Wondering if I could get a better grip and lift myself up. So I could ascend the building.
Day Sixty Three
Cobweb, March 18th, 2017
Somedays when I cannot think of anything to write I like to look at poetry for inspiration. I just read this poem. I find it quite beautiful and visual.
"A few minutes ago, I stepped onto the deck of
the house. From there I could see and hear the water,
and everything that's happened to me all these years.
It was hot and still. The tide was out.
No birds sang. As I leaned against the railing a
cobweb touched my forehead.
It caught in my hair. No one can blame me that I turned and
went inside. There was no wind. The sea was
dead calm. I hung the cobweb from the lampshade.
Where I watch it shudder now and then when my breath touches
it. A fine thread. Intricate.
Before long, before anyone realizes,
I'll be gone from here."
The Cobweb- Anonymous submission
Day Sixty Four
Friends, March 19th, 2017
Today I was happy to spend my day with my friends Bob, Evie, Dave, and Matt at Bob's local St Patricks Day parade and family party. The location is Abington, Massachusetts. When I was younger I would never have thought I would be standing in the back of a pickup truck with friends and strangers. Driving through the rear of a parade. As my friends pitch pieces of candy to wanting children I was taking photo after photo of strangers waving in celebration. Happy in their joy of fun and life. This was a wonderful experience.
I took shy of nine hundred photographs from the back of the truck. But this one stuck out. The three front kids draw me in. I imagine a story where whatever the outcome this moment is where/when everything changes for these three. That when they become my age and look back at their childhood, the three will look back at this day. The day that changed everything. Do you see it?
Day Sixty Five
Untitled, March 20th, 2017
I want to crawl in there. I imagine myself sitting inside on the floor. Above me, I can see the splintered beams and waterlogged timber leaning towards the dirt from years of force. A warm breeze drifts through the ruins. Slightly whistling through cracked glass. A beam of light cuts through dust as it dances with the breeze. Sounds peaceful.
Day Sixty Six
The Square Peg, March 21st, 2017
I struggle so much with what I am going to write. I took this photo after work at the restaurant I work at. I was enjoying a shift beer after my long shift. So far I am really enjoying this job. Looking back I realize that this is the first job I have had that is this casual, professional, and fun. It is a restaurant I would love to eat at as a guest. My grandfather used to say that waiters and bartenders have it the best. They can travel anywhere and find work.
Day Sixty Seven
Fast Girls, Fast Boats, March 22nd, 2017
I love old travel posters. They are in respects an art form of their own. Art prints. This travel poster is for Montauk, NY. Painted on wood.
Day Sixty Eight
Bread Maker, March 23rd, 2017
Stuff and things. And things and stuff. Can't forget things and things, and stuff and stuff.
Day Sixty Nine
Barb, March 24th, 2017
I've been finding it hard to get the photographs out each day. This photo along with the last three have all been uploaded today. Today being March 25th. I haven't taken the photograph for today yet. But a quick thing about this photograph. I love this view. Fields and farms rolling across the hills towards the shore of the Sakonnet river.
Day Seventy
False, March 25th, 2017
"I woke up it was 7
I waited 'til 11
To figure out that no one would call
I think I got a lot of friends
But I don't hear from them
What's another night all alone
When you're spending every day on your own
And here it goes"
I'm Just A Kid- Simple Plan
Day Seventy One
Decay, March 26th, 2017
"Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away; Lengthen night and shorten day; Every leaf speaks bliss to me. Fluttering from the autumn tree. I shall smile when wreaths of snow. Blossom where the rose should grow; I shall sing when night’s decay. Ushers in a drearier day."
Fall, leaves, fall by Emily Brontë
My second favorite season just began. I love the decay and growth of nature through autumn and spring. I found this ear of corn in a mulched farm. It had been picked fairly clean by crows and weather. It made me think immediately about autumn. And my love of the season.
Day Seventy Two
Rainy Day, March 27th, 2017
The rain fell on the roof of the car with a pitter patter. A rhythmic beat. The trees were quiet. Sometimes swaying with a breeze. But mostly still. Fog dissipated as the rain fell. Clearing the view as I watched the rain fall.
Day Seventy Three
Buttons, March 28th, 2017
Buttons. Delicate. Fragile. Plastic. Grips. Clothing. Shirts. Pants. Secure. Age.
Day Seventy Four
Music, March 29th, 2017
I sit here strumming my guitar. I wish I knew how to play. I can make a tone. Noises. But I struggle to keep a rhythm. To be able to repeat each note. I want to play. To get any emotions which I am holding in, out.
Day Seventy Five
Ripple, March 30th, 2017
I am leaning over a small stone bridge. The water is hypnotizing. The tide is flushing out of this lagoon into the harbor. I am lost in the movement. I don't want to leave. Can I just stay here for a bit?
Day Seventy Six
False Moon, March 31st, 2017
Rain pelts my window as it falls. Outside branches sway. Chattering amongst themselves. Past the conversations is the glow of a distant street light. The only illumination in the darkness.