on any given sunday

a long walk for miles and miles with dear friends where we talk and talk and the steps fly by.

a shared meal.

a visit to my mother on memory lane with a happy coincidence where my sister is there, too – and we style mom’s hair like two little girls again, playing “beauty salon.”

an afternoon spent processing photographs from yesterday’s Sophia Street Pottery Throwdown

delighted I got a few pictures of the local artist, Dan Finnegan, who makes pottery that fills our home with wonder and gives heart to our meals.  


reading the first pages of The Soul of the Camera by David duChemin.

savoring these words that pick my heart up off the ground.

I want to make art. I want to experience it. I want to live artfully. I don’t want to argue about it. I have never asked, “Is it art?” Instead, I ask, “Does it have soul?” Is it alive? Do I see something of the artist within? Does it move me? Does it make me think? Does it challenge me? Does it enrich my human experience? That is enough for me. There’s good art, bad art, modern art, fine art. Again, stacked against the things that make my life fuller, these don’t make the cut, nor do they make my photographs more compelling. –David duChemin

making a step in a new direction. no longer on the borderline, but fully in. no turning back now.

celebrating humanity and soul with these images.

and this is my favorite photograph, the one that is about something . . . powerful in the way it explores the relationship between the potter and his clay, and perhaps something larger about the way we shape our lives or permit them to be shaped by external forces.