Layers

There are times when I love a clean space. 
A counter without a thing on it. 
A table open and inviting, wide open and clear. 
A closet with a few clothes that fit well and feel comfortable for the life I lead and the body I have now. 

Flower Garden on the Shore, September 2025

Not a Cloud in the Sky, September 2025

Bring Your Own Sunshine, September 2025

And then there are times when I love the complexity of layers. 
The way that they reveal themselves slowly. 
Like adding a sprinkle of silk chili flakes, a squeeze of fresh lemon juice, or a dollop of creme fraîche to an autumn soup. 
Like draping a quilt across the foot of the bed. 
Or layering a second necklace around your neck. 
These small things add depth and make the story more compelling. 

Come Rain or Shine

Daily photo walks. And Autumn day trips.

Come rain or shine, this ritual helps me to see the changes in nature and practice noticing.

This practice is transformative as it reminds me that I am not responsible for everything. That I can care for others without carrying them.

These walks contribute to the foundation of my very own art curriculum.

Thank you to my friend Susie who introduced me to this idea: making a commonplace notebook to collect ideas, information, and quotes I love—all stored in this one place.

Is that what this notebook already is? Have I been keeping a commonplace notebook on this website all this years without having a proper name or label for the practice? I think the answer is yes.

Foraging for time this fall.

A Kernel of Truth

. . . there’s a little of me in every picture I take.

“I almost never make up anything. I just notice different things.” —Patricia Lockwood (by way of Austin Kleon’s weekly newsletter)

Wherever You Are

Chatham Manor, Sedum, September 2025

I am fortunate to have my very own personal poetry guide. I’ve followed Jan Falls and her Heart Poems for years. She faithfully delivers poetry to my Inbox on a regular basis. Each post includes her own thoughtful interpretation of the poem. Jan shares, line-by-line, how and why the poem is significant for her. How the poem makes her feel and act differently. How the poetry helps her to live in this world with authenticity. In this way, she has become a dear friend. Jan introduces me to poetry that touches my heart and helps me to see the meaning of my photographs. Here’s the poem she shared today.

 

wherever you are
 
Wherever you are, be there. Take up space. Occupy the full dimension.
Unfold the map of your body. Celebrate its topographical wonder,
its unpredictable weather. Make a pool of your movements, then swim
through the ripples, parting the room with your footsteps. Make no apology
for the squeak of your soles, how your jacket swishes at your thighs, that the dust
is making you sneeze. Consider it all a kind of orchestra, you tuning the keys,
you lifting the horn of your whole self to the air. Let the notes of you blast out,
at a register and speed that won’t leave you hungry or empty. Let anyone hear,
as they walk by with their shoulders up, pretending not to listen. Wherever you are,
remember why you are here: to sing.

—by Maya Stein