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The Bookshelf

Doug's bookshelf: read

AntwerpWarsaw BikiniIcelandHow the Soldier Repairs the GramophoneThe Original of LauraBrief Interviews with Hideous Men

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Time Since Reboot

  • 1177 days, 23 hours, 7 minutes, 59 seconds ago

Yet Another

We’re just going to keep going with this format for a while.  I’m contemplating what direction my “art” should take.  Missing the daily snaps… perhaps that will come back in some fashion.  In the meantime, you know what’s up:  A collection of photographs and quotations I have come across in the internet’s vast expanse.  As always, mouse over the picture for the artist’s name and click to check out their portfolios or other source/presence on the web.

  

And still I dare to love
the sound of the light in the hours of deadness
the color of time on a ruined wall.

In my eyes I’ve lost everything.
Asking is so far away. And so close, this knowledge of want.

~ Alejandra Pizarnik, from A Beggar’s Voice

 

The truth will set you free.  But not until it is finished with you.

David Foster Wallace, from Infinite Jest

regardless

the nights you fight best
are
when all the weapons are pointed
at you,
when all the voices
hurl their insults
while the dream is being
strangled.

the nights you fight best
are
when reason gets
kicked in the
gut,
when the chariots of
gloom
encircle
you.

the nights you fight best
are
when the laughter of fools
fills the
air,
when the kiss of death is
mistaken for
love.

the nights you fight best
are
when the game is
fixed,
when the crowd screams
for your
blood.

the nights you fight best
are
on a night like
this
as you chase a thousand
dark rats from
your brain,
as you rise up against the
impossible,
as you become a brother
to the tender sister
of joy and

move on

regardless.

~ Charles Bukowski

There’s no “correct path” to becoming a real artist… you’re an artist when you say you are.  And you’re a good artist when you make somebody else experience or feel something deep or unexpected.

~ Amanda Palmer, from The Art of Asking

A Third Small(ish) Collection of Beautiful Things

A collection of photographs and quotations I have come across in the internet’s vast expanse.  As always, mouse over the picture for the artist’s name and click to check out their portfolios or other source/presence on the web.

“Self Pity”

I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself.

~ D. H. Lawrence

Interviewer: “Do you ever get bored?”

No, never. The word is not even in my vocabulary. I seem to scare and astonish my wife by being capable of standing staring out the window for days at a time, even when there is nothing happening out there. I may look catatonic, but not so inside. There might be storms raging inside. I think it was Wittgenstein who talked about being inside a house and seeing a figure outside strangely flailing about. From inside you cannot see what storms are raging out there, so you find the figure funny.

 ~ Werner Herzog

The heart has its reasons that reason does not know.

~ Blaise Pascal

Wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down.

~ Toni Morrison

Any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.

~ Homer, from The Iliad

“The Window”

I’m going to build a window in the middle of the street in order to not feel lonely. I will plant a tree in the middle of the street, and it will grow to the astonishment of the passersby. I’ll raise birds that will never flit to other trees, and they will remain perched and chirping to the surrounding noise and general disinterest. I’ll grow an ocean framed within the window. But this time I won’t grow tired of its waters, and the seagulls will circle high above my head. There will be a bed and sofa beneath the trees so that the flame will have a rest from the waves.

I’m going to build a window in the middle of the street in order to not feel lonely. That way I will be able to see the sky and the people that pass by without speaking to me, just like those vultures of death that fly but are unable to rip out my heart. This window will illumine my loneliness. I might even open another window from the middle of the sea then see the horizon shimmer like a firefly with crystal wings. The world would be far away, across the sands, over there, where loneliness and memories exist. Anyway, it’s inevitable that I build a window, especially now that I no longer write or walk beneath the desert pines, even though today seems 
to be suited for the discovery of unfathomable lands.

I’m going to build a window in the middle of the street. How absurd, they’ll tell me, a window so that people pass by and stare at you as if you were a madman who wants to see both the sky and a candle flickering behind the curtains. Baudelaire was correct; the one who looks outside from an open window sees less than the one who sees a shut window. Because of this, I have shut my windows and have run out into the street, in order to not see myself illumined by the shadow.

~ Miguel-Angel Zapata

Another Small Collection of Beautiful Things

A collection of photographs and quotations I have come across in the internet’s vast expanse.  As always, mouse over the picture for the artist’s name and click to check out their portfolios or other source/presence on the web.


  


I don’t know why people are so keen to put the details of their private lives in public; they forget that invisibility is a superpower.

~ Banksy


  


A whole lot of us go through life assuming that we are basically right, basically all the time, about basically everything: about our political and intellectual convictions, our religious and moral beliefs, our assessment of other people, our memories, our grasp of facts. As absurd as it sounds when we stop to think about it, our steady state seems to be one of unconsciously assuming that we are very close to omniscient.

~ Kathryn Schulz


  


A Small Collection of Beautiful Things

A collection of photographs and quotations I have come across in the internet’s vast expanse.  As always, mouse over the picture for the artist’s name and click to check out their portfolios or other source/presence on the web.  Try not to read too much into these – I’m cleaning out my “saved for later” folders.  Cheers.

 

  

 

Be patient and tough; some day this pain will be useful to you.

~ OvidAmores III, XIa

 

 

 

I write to make peace with the things I cannot control. I write to create red in a world that often appears black and white. I write to discover. I write to uncover. I write to meet my ghosts. I write to begin a dialogue. I write to imagine things differently and in imagining things differently perhaps the world will change. I write to honor beauty. I write to correspond with my friends. I write as a daily act of improvisation. I write because it creates my composure. I write against power and for democracy. I write myself out of my nightmares and into my dreams. I write in a solitude born out of community. I write to the questions that shatter my sleep. I write to the answers that keep me complacent. I write to remember. I write to forget.

I write because I believe in words. I write because I do not believe in words. I write because it is a dance with paradox. I write because you can play on the page like a child left alone in sand. I write because it belongs to the force of the moon: high tide, low tide. I write because it is the way I take long walks. I write as a bow to wilderness. I write because I believe it can create a path in darkness.

I write as ritual. I write because I am not employable. I write out of my inconsistencies. I write because then I do not have to speak. I write with the colors of memory. I write as a witness to what I have seen. I write as a witness to what I imagine.

I write because it is dangerous, a bloody risk, like love, to form the words, to say the words, to touch the source, to be touched, to reveal how vulnerable we are, how transient we are. I write as though I am whispering in the ear of the one I love.

~ Terry Tempest WilliamsRed: Passion and Patience in the Desert

 

  

 

In the old days, my thoughts like tiny sparks would flare up in the almost dark of consciousness and I would transcribe them, and page after page shone with a light that I called my own. I would sit at my desk amazed by what had just happened. And even as I watched the lights fade and my thoughts become small, meaningless memorials in the afterglow of so much promise, I was still amazed. And when they disappeared, as they inevitably did, I was ready to begin again, ready to sit in the dark for hours and wait for even a single spark, though I knew it would shed almost no light at all. What I had not realized then, but now know only too well, is that sparks carry within them the wish to be relieved of the burden of brightness.

~ Mark StrandAlmost Invisible: Poems

Untitled

Greetings, friends –

You may have noticed a lull in posting activity both here and at the photography sites. That is likely to continue for a bit. I’m taking a break from most online tomfoolery to focus on more important things in life: the main emphasis being my relationship with my courageous, smart, beautiful wife – my childhood sweetheart, adventure partner, life’s love and very best friend.

I love and am thankful for you all. And I’ll be back.

Doug

Every Field is a Battlefield (Quotations)

Maybe our favorite quotations say more about us than about the stories and people we’re quoting.

~ John Green

I finally managed to try to do away with myself, as neatly and concisely as possible…

~ Francesca Woodman

The best thing about a picture is that it never changes, even when the people in it do.

~ Andy Warhol

I am going to try speaking some reckless words, and I want you to listen to them recklessly. How will that be?

~ Chuang Tzu

Reality demands
that we also mention this:
Life goes on.
It continues at Cannae and Borodino,
at Kosovo Polje and Guernica.

There’s a gas station
on a little square in Jericho,
and wet paint
on park benches in Bila Hora.
Letters fly back and forth
between Pearl Harbor and Hastings,
a moving van passes
beneath the eye of the lion at Chaeronea,
and the blooming orchards near Verdun
cannot escape
the approaching atmospheric front.

There is so much Everything
that Nothing is hidden quite nicely.
Music pours
from the yachts moored at Actium
and couples dance on the sunlit decks.

So much is always going on,
that it must be going on all over.
Where not a stone still stands,
you see the Ice Cream Man
besieged by children.
Where Hiroshima had been
Hiroshima is again,
producing many products
for everyday use.
This terrifying world is not devoid of charms,
of the mornings
that make waking up worthwhile.

The grass is green
on Maciejowice’s fields,
and it is studded with dew,
as is normal grass.

Perhaps all fields are battlefields,
those we remember
and those that are forgotten:
the birch forests and the cedar forests,
the snow and the sand, the iridescent swamps
and the canyons of black defeat,
where now, when the need strikes, you don’t cower
under a bush but squat behind it.

What moral flows from this? Probably none.
Only that blood flows, drying quickly,
and, as always, a few rivers, a few clouds.

On tragic mountain passes
the wind rips hats from unwitting heads
and we can’t help
laughing at that.

Wisława Szymborska

I’m lonely so I do lonely things.

~ Warsan Shire

Jump off cliffs and build your wings on the way down.

~ Ray Bradbury

I believe that it is bracing and vital to live in a world in which we do not know all the answers. I believe that we are inspired and goaded on by what we don’t understand. And I hope that there will always be an edge between the known and the unknown, beyond which lies strangeness and unpredictability and life.

~ Alan Lightman

When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence.

~ Ansel Adams

I never wanted to be well-rounded, and I do not admire well-rounded people nor their work. So far as I can see, nothing good in the world has ever been done by well-rounded people. The good work is done by people with jagged, broken edges, because those edges cut things and leave an imprint, a design.

~ Harry Crews