Planet of the Fox and the Valley of Fire

My boyfriend and I usually go away for Thanksgiving and bring with us that year's Halloween costumes to shoot.  This year we went to Las Vegas.  I usually like to get away for a day while we're there and explore some new place - the holiday crowds make communing with nature at Zion, Hoover Dam, and Grand Canyon a little like making dinner in a litter box, so I found a small park an hour north of the strip, the Valley of Fire State Park.  Assessment: Holy shit.  It's breathtaking.  It's otherworldly.  It's ancient.  It's a mere $10 to get in, which will get you half a shot of Jack at Aria.

Other stops along the way were the neon rocks at Seven Magic Mountains (where tourists begged for pictures with the Fox and insisted we must have a hashtag), and the blight of Baker, California, where a new Marvel superhero was born. 

what's left behind

the dapper dude, i remember him well.  the man from the dark, in shadow and dreams.  the indefatigable reach of his slithy arms.  desperation within and desolation without.

wandering womb, or animal within an animal

greek physicians believed the uterus moved around the body like an animal, behaving erratically and advancing on things that smelled nice.  hippocrates called this the wandering womb, an animal within an animal.

for better or worse, we transcend reality so that we can cope with unmanageable emotional excesses.  our salvation is wilson from cast away or it's unmitigated paranoia, belief in god or faith in nothing.  either way, there is a mind within the mind, snow-blind and impulsive, leading us by the wrist.  freud's unconscious mind, issuing orders.

hawk & deer

some images for hawk & deer, makers of fine leather and feather masks.

leaving vermont finding home

i've posted many pictures of my visits home to vermont on this blog.  i've talked about the people, the food, the family, the culture.  i've shown images of boats, farms, civil war re-enactors, and very old gravestones.

my return to los angeles was especially difficult this time around.  maybe because it's summertime and LA is packed with sweaty drivers, filled to the brim with brown air, and slathered in a thick layer of filth that only a week-long rainstorm could wash away.

we had perfect weather in vermont.  my mother complained of the haze on a hike up to sunset ledge, but one might as well take issue with their creme brulee being too hard to break into.  we hiked, we sailed, we swam, we ate.  we buried my mother's mother on a sunny day atop a hill, overlooking wide skies, tall trees, and distant mountains.  appropriately, she was an artist and had a gift for making things beautiful.

and maybe it was hard to leave because i'm afraid i won't be able to continually uncover the beauty of my home in what zappa called "the cesspools of excitement".  that, and there are no maple creemees here.