yes, and
almost there,
and losing ground
leaning in,
and falling down
woven light,
and shadows show us the way
all of a piece,
and piecing it all together
prayers of grass, and bodies too
reaching, and finding rest
it’s a long arc,
and we feel it in our bones
shining a light,
and looking in the mirror
coming home,
and come undone
breathe in,
and breathe out
rising up,
and the sun at our feet
all together broken,
and altogether whole
we can’t go this alone, and where do we go from here
towards what end, and there is an opening
aching with relief,
and longing
part,
and parcel
piercing the veil,
and beyond the pale
arising,
and falling away
beholden,
and held
the way isn’t clear, and here we are
About this series
The images in this body of work were all made in Oregon. Many are from a former landfill across the street from where I live; acres that are being tended and mended back into a sanctuary for plant and animal life. Each photograph in this series is bound to another with a thin golden line as if by kintsugi, the Japanese art of mending broken pottery with gold. The resulting diptychs become vessels that allow us to practice holding multiple and even conflicting truths in our awareness at the same time. By doing so, we get to practice wholeness. In a world increasingly divided and fragmented, this practice becomes an act of resistance and source of resilience.
This series was begun in 2022.
We’re told to lean in, only to find ourselves leaning down to pick up the pieces.
Losing ground, falling down. The days are a cycling blur of need and numb, numb and need.
Paved paths lead to swift dead ends
We cannot justify our way out of this.
It’s time for an abolition of the means and the end
of meanness.
___________________________________
Yes, and healing is happening.
We’re here, we fear, and we won’t keep getting used to it.
We fall in, call in,
reach out and sometimes shout
with joy.
We mend the cracks with the gold that we have, and that we are,
so that we can carry water
and each other.