June 23rd & 24th

6/23/10 Santa Fe Arts And Crafts

I had one of those nightmares that wake you with a start, Sitting Straight Up Gasping, like the spice girls when they had nightmares about their albert hall gig. my mom wanted to explore an abandoned building that I knew a murderer lived in. I kept telling her I didn't want to, but I didn't tell her about the killer. him running towards us is what woke me. if it were the real world I could have fought him off, but you move slower in dreams and I knew this so I woke myself up.

we had somewhat disappointing crepes at a creperie. USA beat Algeria and I've never been so excited to watch Sports before – but soccer is pretty damn exciting, and kind of stressful to watch. dad and I stood in a bar by the creperie to watch last five minutes - I found myself shouting my excitement and disappointment. uncharacteristic for me. but I expect I'll have to get used to this for the island I'm going to.

the cathedral was open. it wasn't last time I was here. in two places I saw the words “love one another constantly” - I wish more people would listen. in our lady of Peace's chapel I lit two candles. one for everyone in afghanistan: the people who are killing, the women who are property, the people who are dying. the other for Team USA in the world cup. I'm not religious anyway.

Foolishly, I forgot to empty my card last night. Foolishly, I forgot to change it out this morning. Foolishly, when I went back to the car to get the other, I followed signs leading to the “capitol complex” rather than going the direction I knew we came from – the complex is huge. we were on the other side.

after that I needed a drink. lynchburg lemonade. after that I needed some protein. street tamale, best I've ever had.

we walked a road of galleries, every one of them showing the same art that I call Craft. the Georgia O'Keeffe museum, on the other hand, made me want to cry. everything she did I believe in. after her first solo show when critics mistook her for a sexually deviant being and saw freud in her flowers, she changed what she was doing so she would be misunderstood no more – why don't more artists heed critique? when someone misunderstands you, they aren't wrong. you just need to rethink what you're doing.

some O'Keeffe quotes that really hit home for me:

“Nothing is less real than realism …. Details are confusing. It is only by selection, by elimination, by emphasis, that we get at the real meaning of things.” 1922

“I know I cannot paint a flower. I cannot paint the sun on the desert on a bright summer morning but maybe in terms of paint color I can convey to you my experience of the flower or the experience that makes the flower of significance to me at that particular time.” 1931

“If I could put down accurately the thing that I saw and enjoyed, it would not give the observer the kind of feeling it gave me. I had to create an equivalent for what I felt about what I was looking at – not copy it.” 1976

I think all of those statements can be applied to photography. that's the way I feel about it. that's the way I feel about everything.

this quote means a lot to me, too, particularly considering my current situation:

“Where I was born and where and how I have lived is unimportant. It is what I have done with where I have been that should be of interest.” 1976


next door to the Georgia O'Keeffe museum is the Andrew Smith Gallery. Cartier Bresson. Ansel Adams. Annie Liebovitz. Lee Freedlander. Gary Uselmann. no big deal. jesus christ. I almost cried again.

since I'm on a quoting spree, here's one from Adams:

“To photograph truthfully and effectively is to see beneath the surface and record the qualities of nature and humanity which live or are latent in all things. Impression is not enough. Design, style, technique, - these, too, are not enough. Art must reach further than impression or self-revelation. Art, said Alfred Stieglitz, is the affirmation of life. And life, or its eternal evidence, is everywhere.”

that reminds me. O'Keeffe and Stieglitz. through letters and looking at each other's work they fell in love. they thought the same way. where's my Stieglitz? I guess I've still got time.


now we're camping at the campsite we abandoned last night. it rained so it's kinda chilly now. I changed to long pants but I'm waiting to put the hoodie on – conditioning myself for the cold I'm sure I'll feel later. no campfires allowed. forest fires. but by god, nothing could be worse than the cold from that sangre de cristo madness in december.


tomorrow, we visit where O'Keeffe made her final home. we also visit university of new mexico so I can check out what the New York Times considers one of the Top three photography graduate programs in the country. mostly I want to see if I could live in albequerque. we'll see.




6/24/10 I Feel like the sunset, the wind and the sand. like the rocks and the scrubby trees. but not like the Sun.

due to time restraint we went straight to albuquerque. I got sunburned in the car, but not walking through that shadeless city. it is dry there. dry dusty sandy sunny scrubby albuquerque. could I live there? I'm not sure.

I read in something Henson had me read (I can't remember what/who it was) that planning is sacrificing your freedom. if you know what you are doing tomorrow then you are not free.

planning, expectations. those caused a breakdown for me once that drove me to a place I wish I never visited again. I have learned not to do those things, at least not like I used to.

tonight I tried to explain that to someone but it didn't matter. I feel guilty. I feel self-doubt. at the same time there's the lydia who feels Right and Ready. we're at a motel in Window Rock, capital of the Navajo Nation. there is shade here, and sand and rocks and Sun, and comfortable breezes and kind people. dogs run around freely, who knows if they belong to anybody. I envy them. the sunset was pink and purple and pale orangey yellow and blue with clouds stretching out across the sky like they're just an extension of the Earth. I could stay here if I didn't Have to leave.