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Available Light

Afternoon sun, on dead flowers, a leafless trees, and a window missing glass and screen.

Yellowhouse Canyon, Texas
photographed 7.28.2019

Years of Dreaming

“Years of dreaming…will be climaxed Friday night with the staging of the first event in the city’s new, luxurious auditorium.”
Lubbock Avalanche-Journal
March 25, 1956

“People of Lubbock voted by a narrow margin to ultimately have the Lubbock Municipal Auditorium and Coliseum demolished.”
Lubbock Avalanche-Journal
May 6, 2018

And, like that, on a 526-vote margin, we voted to destroy two of our most recognizable buildings – buildings that held our collective memories of basketball games, rodeos, symphonies, circuses, monster truck pulls, pancake breakfasts, concerts, graduations, and so many other events, all of which helped define our community. And ourselves.

Not one thing in any of these photos exists any more. What will happen to our memories, now that these buildings are gone? Will they get stronger? Become larger than life? Become so faint we almost doubt the circus or the symphony ever even happened?

Where did our years of dreaming go?

Arcade – photographed June 12, 2018

Let’s do this – photographed June 12, 2018

First Aid Room – photographed June 12, 2018

Entry – photographed June 12, 2018

Arcade – photographed June 21, 2018

Concrete Windows – photographed June 21, 2018

Out of Order – photographed July 11, 2018

Additional Storage – photographed July 17, 2018

Rainy Day Doors – photographed August 18, 2018

Grid with lights and curtains – photographed September 10, 2018

Mirror, mirror – photographed September 10, 2018

House lights had dimmed – photographed September 10, 2018

Racks, room 201 – photographed September 13, 2018

Cleanliness – photographed September 13, 2018

At the lowest point – photographed September 17, 2018

Pipe Shadow – photographed September 18, 2018

Crow’s Nest View – photographed September 18, 2018

Stairs – photographed September 18, 2018

Stage – photographed September 24, 2018

Two kinds of sinks – photographed September 25, 2018

Chair and music stand – photographed September 26, 2018

Velvet, worn away – photographed September 26, 2018

Above it all – photographed September 26, 2018

Front of House – photographed November 11, 2018

Never to be repeated – photographed December 8, 2018

After the last rodeo – photographed April 7, 2019

You can see it all from here – photographed April 7, 2019

Marked for death – photographed April 27, 2019

Matched my mood – photographed May 3, 2019

Dome Down – photographed May 26, 2019

Garden Helix

Here’s the last photo from my trip to the garden center the other day. It’s a short series because I didn’t really get the sorts of images I had in my head, which surely says a lot more about the contents of my head than it does of the contents of the garden center.

Lubbock, Texas
photographed 7.20.2019


This is what happens when my camera and I are left unattended at the garden center: I take lots of random pictures. I figured if any employee challenged me, I’d just say I was taking pictures to give to my landscape designer. That sounds kind of plausible, I think. No one bothered me, though; I think they were busy waiting on actual customers or something.

Lubbock, Texas
photographed 7.20.2019

Shadow Line


Sorry. I hope the warning worked and you weren’t too shocked.

Here’s the thing: I took my camera with me to the garden center because I haven’t been taking many photos lately and I sort of couldn’t come up with a better place to shoot. We were going there anyway, see, and it would give me something to do while the Patient Spouse got the [insert garden-y thing here] that he was looking for.

I think you see my point: this would have been pointless in black and white.

Thank you for your indulgence while I strayed away. I’ll be back tomorrow, all black and white, like usual.

Lubbock, Texas
photographed 7.20.2019

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