Blog Archives
simple offerings
People passed by these adobe ruins and left stones; maybe as a remembrance, maybe as a tribute, maybe to show that they were walking life’s path and had made it this far.
It was the most profound thing I saw all day.
Santa Rosa de Lima
near Abiquiu, New Mexico
photographed 9.19.2026
beyond my interior walls
I’d been here a while and had already taken all the photos I thought I needed. But then, I sat on the bed of the truck and had lunch, which lined me up with this arrangement. Maybe a normal person would have finished lunch first, but I don’t have any experience being normal. So I (temporarily) abandoned a nice chicken salad sandwich so I could get this shot. First things first, or whatever. The food could – and did – wait.
Santa Rosa de Lima
near Abiquiu, New Mexico
photographed 9.19.2026
inter/faith
I went to the chapel at the airport.
It’s all the way at the end of the terminal: it seems like anyone who is at the chapel found it on purpose. It didn’t strike me as a place where I could find solace or meaning or whatever I would have been seeking at a chapel.
Except, what I was actually seeking was a photograph of a liminal space at a busy and noisy facility. And I did find that.
Saint Louis Lambert International Airport
Saint Louis, Missouri
photographed 8.31.2026
god’s mustache
I thought this photo was about the pew on the bottom left of the frame, the one that’s turned away from the front of the church. I had a title – “the unbelievers’ pew” – and everything.
But then, I was looking at those two round windows at the other end of the room, and how it looked like a face. A face with a mustache made from an altar cloth. And my whole idea about the photo changed.
Fort McKavett, Texas
photographed 4.12.2026
lignum
The choir loft at the meetinghouse was nice, once I got used to the steep (very) and narrow (especially with a camera and a tripod) stairs. There was good light. The rope for the church bell was right there in case you wanted to, uh, hear the dulcet tones of the bell. There were pews for the choir members. And hymnals. And an organ that had very definitely seen better days.
And here’s one of the wood side panels of the organ, with a view of the nicely-weathered floor beyond.
At one point during our time there, I sat in one of the pews and wept. I wept for the abundance of my life that let me take such a trip, for the abundance of my friendships that made the trip so perfect, for the things I thought were wrong in my life, and for the things I know for a fact were (and are – this was only in March) wrong with the world. The space and my time in it felt like an important planetary alignment.
And now that I’ve edited this photo, I see how there’s a distinct balance/tension between the dark and the light. Sort of like real life.
South Solon Meetinghouse
Solon, Maine
photographed 3.19.2026
