I'm baaaack!

It's been awhile, I know.  I apologize to those who may have been waiting for an update. To be honest, I've just not had much to say lately.  This by no means suggests I've not been living an incredible life.  No, I've just not had the proper motivation to write about it.  Lots has happened since my last post, though.  Medical stuff, family stuff, spiritual path stuff….just lots and lots of stuff!  Some of this stuff I will talk about in future posts, some just isn't worth the words.  I know you will be waiting with baited breath.  I'm sure you can handle it.
So, the big news in my life is the reincarnation of Indian Motorcycles!  Yes, once again the brand tries to gain some gasps of new life.  But, and a big but it is, this time the mark is owned by a company that can do it justice!  Polaris Industries purchased all rights to the brand several years ago and has put a lot of money into doing it proud.  They introduced a completely new engine at Daytona Bike Week last spring, so modern Indians will no longer be motivated by a reworked Harley Davidson engine.  They put much effort into studying classic examples of Indian motorcycles to develop a modern powerplant that would do the old design justice.  And from what I have seen, they have succeeded.  Cool!  So, this weekend the new bike will be shown for the first time at Sturgis.  I find this to be an historic event.  Indian was the first American motorcycle company (1902 I believe), and the first one with a V twin engine.  Fact is, Harley Davidson copied the 45 degree engine design from Indian!  For many years Indian was considered the fastest American motorcycle.  The rivalry between Indian and Harley Davidson is legendary.  And now, it returns!  This can be viewed as all good for the American motorcycle industry.  I am really excited to see this, and to see the new bikes.  Maybe I will have one some day.  It could happen!
So, no promises, but I hope to be a bit more regular with my posts in the future.  In the meantime, I have a picture that my buddy Mark "enhanced" that I will share.  This is perhaps my favorite picture from my motorcycle trip to Alaska last summer.  I can't believe it's been a year already!  I got to go back.  Soon!

my dream

It is 2:39 in the morning and I am awake.  I just had my first nightmare.  I wish I could remember all of it, but I guess it makes no difference really.  The gist of the matter was I was in this big old house with all of these rooms.  There were other people there working, mostly sitting at desks typing, busy writing their stories.  Long story short, I wanted to get out, but every door just led to another room of people doing insignificant things.  I remember realizing the "truth" of it all, and all I wanted to do was to get out of the house.  I tried to get other people to come with me, but it was like they were zombies.  I guess I was making too many waves, because this woman told me I would have to stop being such a "problem".  Then this really big guy who was seemingly totally insane came along preparing to set fire to everything.  After a while he took notice of me and started chasing me, all the while just laughing hysterically.  He would just keep walking after me, and I would run into another room to attempt my escape.  Finally the building was engulfed in flames.  I realized after many attempts to kill this "being" who was chasing me that it was all quite futile.  There was no escape to out of the house, there was only the escape to more inner depths.  I remember running through rooms fully engulfed in flames, seeing these people calmly seated at their desks, flames all around them; their flesh was melting in the heat, but they were oblivious.
  My interpretation is that the house was me, the many rooms were my attempts to find the meaning of my life through "passions" within myself through hobbies and such, and without through relationships with others.  The inner stuff was my attempt to know me, the outer stuff was my attempt to get answers from other sources outside of me.  The woman telling me to stop causing a fuss was probably the common belief system, society.  The big dude nonchalantly chasing me, coaxing me to run from room to room, was my own ego.  In the end, it was my ego that drove me inward to the real meaning, the real answers.  And what were those answers?  No idea!  But I believe the meaning of it all was that I can try and get answers to who I am, why I am here, or how it works, or whatever, but in the end, these are meaningless pastimes.  The real answer is further into the house, further into my self.  My ego in it's attempt to keep me occupied with the mundane ended up forcing me deeper into my "self", into my soul.  The peace I seek is in the foundation of my house, it is my intimate connection with my Creator, the source of all true meaning.  The paths of seeking outside will lead to nothing but more seeking, while the attempts to express "me" through my hobbies and interests are just ways to pass time.  But I remember in my dream the recognition of the peace within as I progressed deeper into the depths of the house, farther and farther from the grasping hands of ego.  Ironically, the only way out of the house was to go deeper into the house.

For the love of fear

I met with a dear friend of mine today.  Wonderful experience!  We talked and drank excellent tea, and talked some more.  All in all, lots of talk.  Her comments during all this talk began to coalesce into a mass of fear, a deep all persuasive fear.  I was amazed to realize that I truly did not understand this.  Now granted, I am what many would consider to be an old man, even though my feelings are far different; and my friend is in her youth.  Fact is, I guess I could technically be her grandfather!  Hard to believe!  Sort of snuck up on me, I guess.  Anyway, I believe I do not fear anything (except heights, which doesn't really count because I have every reason to fear this).  I'm not sure when this turn of events happened.  I remember I knew fear when I was in my youth.  I remember waking up in the wee hours of the morning and laying awake in fear until I heard my Father rise and go downstairs to make his morning coffee.  I would feel a wave of security sweep over me, snuggle up in my covers and go back to a calm sleep.  I used to fear pain as well.  I would try to avoid a fight because I did not want the pain associated with the aftermath of the flailing.  Somewhere along the line, I seem to have lost my fear.  Today I was amazed to realize how my friend cast limits on her life based upon fear.  To be fair, she has achieved wonders in working through much of this.  So much of the problems we face seem to be based in fear.  But fear is a future event of no substance.  It has reality only in our ego.  Maybe that is the answer.  Maybe I am actually beginning to live from the heart instead of the mind.  The ego can't go here, it's off limits to such silliness.  Maybe I'm finally beginning to see results from my years of seeking my Spirit.  Shame it took me so long.  I hope my friend makes the journey far quicker.  Maybe my words in some small way helped.  I hope so, I really do.

TRUST

What is trust?  What gives it meaning?  I ponder things like this at times.  It seems to me that trust is the foundation of my relationships, yet I have never taken the time to define it.  Do I just assume it to be there?  When young, I trust my parents.  I depend on them to provide for my needs so I may live.  So, is this trust, or mere dependence?  Does trust require a choice, a condition of "non-trust" as an option?  If this is the case, my example of my parents would not be considered trust, I would think.  As I grow into adulthood, I realize trust plays more of a role in my relationships.  Maybe trust is directly proportional to my openness to another?  A casual meeting requires little trust.  But when I drive my car, I must trust the other driver to follow the same rules of the road as myself.  Is this the same trust as in an intimate relationship?  Maybe there are different forms of trust, such as different types of snow?  Maybe the problem with trust is that there is no one definition.  Maybe trust is an expression of one's personality.  Does the trust of an introvert differ from that of an extrovert?  I believe myself to be an extrovert.  I believe I assume trust in a relationship, then am surprised when my "trust" is shattered by behavior I deem unacceptable.  Is this putting undue burden on those I befriend?  How can "lines of trust" be delineated at the onset of a relationship so all involved agree what is acceptable versus non acceptable behavior?  Or does behavior have nothing to do with trust?  Maybe I place too great a burden on the other in my relationships.  Maybe I must limit my trust to myself.  What am I prepared to express with no concern for repercussion?  I trust the answer will come to me.  I trust my relationships in the future will not crumble because my definition of trust is not in sync with those I care to share myself with.  Or, maybe I am over-thinking the issue?

For my love of women

Apparently I hate women.  I was told of this recently.  Apparently, because I get pleasure in photographing women, this is an indication that I hate them.  Odd, really.  I can take pretty much whatever is said about my person, but when one trashes my art, I have a problem.  Now, I did not feel any animosity or anger when I became aware of this assessment of my motivation.  I guess my response can best be summed up by inquisitiveness.  I'm sure the person stating this had their reasons, and I would not argue that there probably is some deeper layer of hostility towards women somewhere in my psyche.  I cannot help but feel that I am far from alone in this.  How many of us feel we have been snubbed by a member of the opposite sex?  Or for that matter, from anyone else, period?  How many of us have been deeply hurt by others in our life?  I choose to believe that I am beyond the vindictive mentality.  But, it is what it is. Having said that, I wish to try and explain my art, my motivation, and my conscious attitude towards women.

I love the human body.  I find it to be miraculous, the best evidence I know for the existence of my Creator.  I see in my physical form the beauty and creativity of my Father.  In my photography, I love most capturing the human form in the natural environment. I would welcome models of both sexes.  However, I find I do have a bias towards women.  For me, there is a tension of a very special nature between myself as artist and the model I am attempting to express in my art.  I believe this tension is of a sexual nature.  Without getting side tracked too much, let me say I believe the greatest gift from my Creator to me in this physical form is the sexual communication between two people who share a special bond or chemistry.  In my mind, there are few closer relationships then what is possible between an artist and his or her model.  This may be instantaneous, or may take time to develop, but the potential is always there.  This sharing of my innermost self with that of another is perhaps my main reason for my efforts.  Then there is what I believe to be a service I attempt to provide.  Up until now, I truly believed I loved women.  Little did I know of the hatred lurking in the shadows (being facetious).  In reality, I have spent a good part of my life assisting women downtrodden in a male dominated culture.  I have taught auto mechanics in the University Women's Center and volunteered at a local telephone drug hot line, as well as assisting to teach self defense classes to women.  (I was the guy in the padded suit everyone got to beat up on!)  Far too often did I see women expressing a low self esteem because of the false impressions imposed by our society.  "I'm not pretty", "I'm too fat", "my body is not as good as hers"….. The list goes on and on.  I have always been amazed at the difference in how a woman may appear in my eyes as opposed to her own.  The vast majority of my photographs of my models are in black and white, printed on a gel silver medium with archival processing.  Why?  This is far more work and of much greater expense then digital, but I think it is worth it.  Digital images may last 60-70 years at best, but my prints will remain in their "as new" condition for hundreds of years.  I tell my models that the prints are as much for their great great grandchildren as they are for themselves.  To me, they are worth the extra effort and expense.  If I ever were to doubt this, the look on my model's face when she sees how I see her is worth it all! 

Lastly, I'd like to make clear to those who may wonder; the clothing, or lack thereof, draping my model is totally her decision.  I am there to express her as I see her, in the form she wishes to be seen.  Of the hundreds, perhaps thousands of photos I have had the  honor of taking over my forty-some years of photography, perhaps 10% at most have been nude.

There, now I feel better.