12 February 2008

, "The greatest gift you can give another is the purity of your attention."

The teacher Richard Moss says, "The greatest gift you can give another is the purity of your attention."

I love to visit Ron Brezney's FREEWILL ASTROLOGYjust as much as I find insight and inspiration by picking up and turning to a page randomly in The Sun Magazineto admire a beautiful black and white image or reflect on the thoughts of people who I don't know lend insight to my own feelings about life, death, living and everything in between. Sometimes the randomness of the universe resonates with my current line of thought and I get this tingling feeling inside my heart, and I feel a tenderness for the world even it's state of chaos I find it so beautiful. Todays quote reminds me of what it means to be a photographer, because photographing is giving your attention to what is before your camera, and listening,and taking in the world. As artists we are responding and translating what we feel, something that is invisible moves us to create and share.

I am back in Flagstaff,AZ less than a week. more than a foot of snow, back in America. I am looking forward to reconnecting with my extended familia most who I haven't seen in months. My botony sisters who garden Grand Canyon, my dear friend Sam whose watercolor paintings I imagine when I drive by landscapes with deep shadows, just got back from Chile with his grrlfriend, Dkish my fellow photo geek sister is in Spain being a dirt bag climber flies in a midnight. The beautiful Willow is having her birthday-she speaks to me of her hospice care, part of her training to be a nurse and tells me about how in less than a month she has come to love this little grandma whose 80+ but has such a zest for life and living it brings tears to her eyes; I feel such an a feeling of love for life, how fleeting it is ;how some people never get to know such passion; I hear stories of people who've left the planet in the past couple of weeks, mostly in car wrecks, ironically, and she speaks of the guy who will never come back to the restaurant where she works; I watch Hason in the afternoon light at the same kitchen table, as we have coffee, the light falling on his face, gesturing over hot chocolate spiced with Chipolte chile....laughing, naked branches of trees, ipod guy the local crazy guy sings out loud and sits in the sun, the sky so blue, the shadows longer,as the sun swings a bit higher on the horizon. A lot of this I don't capture with my camera, but I watch and listen; I love these people. I love this light. I sip wine, coffee and feel the life force exchange. Precious,fleeting.

Juan and Gilla Quezada call from Mexico. I still have his beautiful pot I'm waiting to send to a client, I pull it out to admire it's line, it's beautiful form. Even though I've done so many pictures with Juan this past year I don't know his pottery well enough.
I look at it, and reflect on the lines of nature and ponder the parallels, the ancient history, the inspirational spark that causes us to be in awe. I am scanning in Spencer MacCallum's slides from over thirty years ago when he first met Juan. I handle tiny pieces of film, some of it Kodachrome even, and think of how flimsy film is like memories - I see Juan and Gilla's children as children, and how the village has changed, and how adobe remains, and the ancient pieces of pottery, a piece of turquoise, dried corn give us a story that leaves much to our interpretation. Here's a link about the "Milagro of Mata Ortiz". . Juan, calls to tell me the man Pedro, who walked the streets of Casas Grandes ranting, and speaking of the local politicos was also hit by a carnear the new entrance to Casas Grandes....he knows I did Pedro's portrait in front of Casa Azul, my home away from home; Pedro with a pile of the local newspapers ,El Diario. I reimagine his face, and think about who will miss him, I feel a bit sad because I never was able to give him a portrait of himself. Now he's gone too. Maybe I'll just have to go hang some pictures of him around El Centro when I return.

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