his dead eyes saw everything
There’s a lot going on here. For example, the way that red reflected light looks like a corsage. Or his cold dead eyes. Or the way his eyebrows look like he’s had feathers tattooed on where his brows used to be. Or the way that one false eyelash is hanging half way off. Or the haughty angle of his head
Thank you for attending my seminar “Why I Photograph Mannequins.” (Upcoming seminars, including “Really? You Think is a Photo?,” “I Meant For It To Look That Way,” and “This Photo Wanted To Be In Color,” will be scheduled soon.)
Lubbock, Texas
photographed 3.4.2026
the unfriendly playground
I suppose using leftover rebar and expanded metal and pipes is a cost-effective way to make playground equipment. And this is beside a small church, which was no doubt working on a budget that only had room for donated materials and volunteer labor.
There are a few safety concerns, though, with such unforgiving materials.
But, naturally, the main thing I thought about was how “Suffer the little children”* was taking on a whole new meaning.
Levelland, Texas
photographed 2.28.2026
*Matthew (19:14), Mark (10:14), and Luke (18:16) all reported it. John was silent on the matter.
just one saint at a time
Not to reveal too much about how much language amuses me (because honestly, it’s sort of embarrassing), but I did entertain myself saying “saint rest” in various ways.
Like a command to a wayward and wrongly-named dog: SAINT! Rest.
Like a mild way to say “fuck on off.”
Like an end to a prayer, in place of “Amen.”
Or the name of a particularly lackadaisical cleric – Saint Rest.
And so on.
But what really amuses me the most about this sign is the implication that, while they are willing to accept saints, there is a one-saint limit. Presumably for safety reasons.
Tahoka, Texas
photographed 2.28.2026
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