Season of Change | Nov 18

This November, I find myself awash in change. It’s in the air, in the light, profoundly echoed in those who’s lives touch mine. This is my niece, and these are images from a park not far from her house. My niece was the first of her generation to really impact my life. She helped me find the uncle in me. And now she’s on her way to college, on her way. These are the never dry fields of Bear Creek Pioneers Park, for 40 years the home of the Harris County Fair. 2016 was it’s last. Hurricane Harvey made sure of that.

They are together here because they share a place and as images they offer my humble expression of hope, transformation, and a certain communion of understanding.

Lord of the Flies (2018)

They may be 11-12 years old ... they are also complex, introspective, and profound. We made these portraits to hang in the halls of MS51 as a legacy, a tribute to these brave souls and this generation of leaders who stare directly into the heart of darkness. Let future generations look into these eyes and learn from their courage and compassion.

2017, the year of the Fire Rooster.

"The Year of the Fire Rooster is the tenth year of the 12-year zodiac cycle, and the characteristics associated with it are ambition, pride and the desire to be admired." - NBC News

"The Chinese people say that this year people will be more polite and less stubborn, but they will have the tendency to complicate things." - Chinese Horoscope 2017

Hmm...

Ratto Bros. Farms, Modesto, California. 2013

Waking up, Midtown Manhattan

I leave my apartment a bit before 5AM. The streets are empty, canyons of like-colored traffic lights, tuning. The subway platform is scattered with a nervous, eyeing tension as overnighters mix with the early shifters. The weight in the air is much different than it will be in two or three hours, when the chorus overwhelms these tunnels. 

Every seat is taken on the Q. Most are off to begin their long days, traveling from their distant homes to a distant city. Most are quiet, rocked by the overheated, pulsing rhythms of the slow moving train. At each end of the car, someone sleeps under a blanket of overused shopping bags. More than one are stumbling through this quiet congregation, sinister glint in their mischievous eyes. Don't make eye contact, don't offer an introduction. They are ready to pounce.

I exit at 57th and 7th. And now I descend, following the light flow into Times Square, across 42nd Street. As the sun rises, the orchestra is done tuning. The symphony is about to begin. 

Women who have lived

My mother used to tell us all the time, "I've lived." As kids, it used to make us cringe. I had no idea what she meant. She's been gone for more than sixteen years now. Every day I have a better sense of her words. I begin this project as a tribute to my mom, Janice Faye Causey Amar, and to these spectacular women who have agreed to spend a little time with me. Together we take these moments to celebrate the lives we have lived, are living. 

Eben Bull | Craftsman | Musician | Artist

What is the measure of a person? What is the measure of how we live? 

Recently, I spent a few hours inside the handcrafted sanctuary of Eben Bull. There is not one inch of that space that isn't thought out, that doesn't have Eben's imprint. To be in that space is to know a lot about that man. It is complex, it is warm, it is quiet (though haunted by the echoing noises of those who live above and around him), and it is rich with layers and the unknown.