Monthly Archives: March 2023
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Church. It’s a church. And that’s all you need to know. Evidently.
Llano, Texas
photographed 2.19.2023
state of the nation
I don’t know why this place caught my eye. And I don’t know why, once my eye had been caught, I didn’t even stop to photograph it. But an hour later I was still thinking about those two flags and how they’d been pressed into service as curtains. So I did the only thing I knew to do.
Pecos, Texas
photographed 1.14.2023
praying to a blank wall
There are really not very many reasons to go to Mentone. It’s a treacherous drive, on 2-lane roads clogged with oil-field traffic, through sand mines and other oil-production-related ugliness, and there’s not really that much to see once you do arrive.
However. The door to the Mentone Community Church was unlocked, so you know for sure what I did. Everything was covered in a thick blanket of dust (I left footprints on the wooden floor, like I marked my territory.) The foyer held a nice array of things I didn’t understand, including that picture of Jesus, who seems to be praying to the blank wall. Perhaps he’s praying for more art? But, really, though, maybe a prayer for less dust would be more useful.
Mentone, Texas
photographed 1.13.2023
PS: Bonus Fun Fact – Mentone is the county seat of Loving County, which is the least populated county in the whole country; the 2020 census reported 64 residents in the 677 square mile area.
artificial green
This explosion of green was the sort of eye-catching contrast with the rest of the place that of course required a color photograph.
I hope this artificial-turf oasis brings solace to the Cantu family; it brought me an almost overwhelming sense of wonder.
Cementerio de la merced
Marfa, Texas
photographed 1.15.2023
shadows cast by the unseen
I had an entirely different post written for this image. But yesterday morning on the way to work (it’s a 35 minute drive, in the country, so I’ve got plenty of time to think about stuff) I decided that what I really needed to say about this is the way that shadow – cast by something unseen – falls across the rough stucco wall, and the way the shadow alters the view’s perception of the wall. And that made me think about the unseen shadows in my own life that alter my perceptions of reality, skewing them wildly toward disastrous conclusions (usually, because that’s just the way my brain tracks). And then THAT led me to think about how the main thing with shadows is that they always keep moving and that nothing’s permanently in darkness. No matter how it feels.
And by the time I had all these thoughts, I was almost to the office and had a bunch other stuff to think about, and my thoughts moved on. Kind of like shadows do.
Marathon, Texas
photographed 1.16.2023
One Day | One Image 