My photography is
an extension of some of my beliefs about life, such as the importance of
constant searching. I've always been a seeker, and I always will be a seeker.
What am I seeking? Answers to nagging questions on the meaning of life? Am I
trying to collect heavy, provocative data so that I can form some kind of
philosophical treaty in my mind about the workings of the world around me?
Partially I suppose.
In fact, when I am out searching, I never have a set idea of what it is I'm
looking for. I simply seek, occasionally finding exactly what it is I WASN'T
seeking. For me, that's the time I learn something new about life: When I
discover a new path, a new way of seeing, a new reason for continuing my search.
Certain things excite me: patterns and compositions which somehow come together
to form a statement so complete and startling that they must be recognized; A
knowledge that these patterns and compositions are ALWAYS present, everywhere;
The hot sun, the barren desert, caffeine, loud music, wind blowing through my
jeep as I drive very quickly, sometimes so quickly that I forget about my
search. The Search? Maybe I don't feel like searching just now, I think I'd
rather kick back and relax a little. Maybe I don't want to be reminded about my search, the pressure of it, I think I'll just drive and see where this road
takes me. This wind, this heat, this music is taking me to a place where
finally, I can stop thinking. I can literally become one with whatever it
is I'm supposed to become one with, not worry about life, just look at the
shapes, those simple shapes, the shadows, the brightness, the blowing dust, the
loudness of the smell and taste of everything around me. I think I'll just
let the 4Dness of this sensational overflow of emotion move me along or I'll
move into everything and shut my brain down for a while. Now, finally, I will be
able to see.
I see a dry lakebed over there. Can I get to it somehow? Why would I want to,
there's nothing over there. Just a flat surface, what could possibly be worth
looking at over there? And getting over there is going to be a hassle, no roads
to lead me into it. Well, there is a small dirt road, but it's full of rocks and
brush. I can't even be sure it leads to the lakebed, probably instead to some abandoned
and completely uninteresting old house set up by a person crazy enough to have
wanted
to live in such an uninteresting spot on the earth.
But I take the road because it is the only road that leads to the area that I,
for whatever reason, feel the need to explore. The road is rough, like life is
rough, and I feel it, finally.
The feeling I have as I drive along is great, one I love, one I experience only
when I drive along here, in this type of terrain, or maybe when I try to imagine
what it's like to be here. I'm empty of emotion, yet quite satisfied. Maybe
"empty of emotion" is not the best way to describe the feeling. "Empty" is the
word, but not empty in the sense of feeling nothing. I feel so much now, as I
drive along. I guess empty in this case means I'm finally devoid of all the
unnecessary thought patterns I normally have on a given day. Usually, those
thoughts I have which clog my arteries are present, but now they are absent. Or
I'm absent of them. Or I've pushed them away. Or the scenery has pushed them
away. It is a time of extreme freedom.
I flow. That's a good way to describe it. Sure, the scenery flows by. My Jeep
flows down the road. I flow past fences and rocks and bushes. So yeah, I flow
along. But no, what I mean is *I* flow. ME. I flow through life as I move along,
like I'm moving through it at an accelerated rate, without obstacles. Like I'm
moving through a different world. A new planet. A new solar system. A different
galaxy. No, it's more than that. This is not just a new world. This is a totally
different life. Not mine, a totally new state of being. A new existence. A place
I hope to be, a place I'm glad I've found. That's where I am now, in the desert.
So, what is it about this place? The absence of complexity, I think. Yeah,
that's what I mean. See, the desert is nothing but geography. Elevation with a
thin skin. Nothing to obscure what's real. Nothing to hide. "Nothing worth
hiding", I suppose some would say. Topography, something to navigate. A challenge
of sorts, "can you make it through this harsh, barren wasteland", to be cliché.
No peach fuzz. Naked, neked, nonfat. Nothing to hide behind, nothing to lean
against, no place to go to ask for advice. No fluff, no exaggerations, no
timelines. Fractalization. Oh yeah, that's a big one. Lots of Fractalization.
Fractalization. What the hell is that? That's the biggest word on this page so
far. Fun to say, too. Makes me sound important. I say it as I move along through
paradise, "Fractalization!". Paradise plus intellect equals ultimate high. Like
I think I know what I'm talking about. Like I think I actually have the ability
to express my ecstasy in large, fun-to-say words.
Ecstasy and intellect come in many forms. I really need to stop and take a pee.
It's adding up, the coffee. I'm on my 2nd "cup", the 2nd of those large 16 OZers. The first one I got from home, the second, I picked up along the way. "I
gotta pee me, I gotta pee me." I pull over. I get out. I'm nowhere, so I need
not worry about being seen. I pull'er out, let'er rip. My mind veers towards
intellectual domains. The more relieved I become, the deeper my thoughts enter
into a new world. The sound of a good pee is music. Even the slight splattering
on my bare legs is a signal of accomplishment. Basically, I feel real good. And
to think I thought I felt real good before.
Back in my Jeep, I'm moving along, the caffeine pumping, and the road is rougher now than it was before. I need to slow down, which I do, but only the
minimal amount necessary to keep from getting one of those flat tires. I've
heard those can be bad; can ruin your whole day. I don't want anything to
ruin any part of my day, and I'm sure nothing will, I'm an artist after all, and
art has its way of breaking through in spite of the barriers which try to break it
down.
The road up ahead is still rocky and I feel the rockiness pass under me and there are THOUSANDS of them and they fly by and I would count them if I thought I had a chance of keeping up with them and isn't it odd how with so much moving past me in such commanding quantity the lakebed has not changed at all in shape or size. Looking back I cannot see the paved road I came from, and I'm sure I've traveled at least a few miles on this rocky road, which means, judging from the not-so-changing shape and size of the lakebed, I will need to drive over a deeply humbling number of rocks before I reach final flatness. And eventually I will have to drive back on this same road in the opposite direction, my tires meeting the opposite sides of all these rocks which are slowly communicating to me a desperate need to be elsewhere, somewhere familiar, with a cold beer. I do have a spare, but it's a spare after all and there's only one.
But I have the sound which I love of the wind and the dirt which is filling my ears and calming me down. I belong here, the sound PROVES that. It's a rough sound, like this road, and it is welcome and I feel like I'm accomplishing everything I've ever set out to accomplish here and now and the beauty of this place is all that matters and the new sound, the hissing sound, is there now too and I'm aware of it but not yet letting it into my conscious mind because I don't want anything destroying the perfection around me and there's the wind and the heat and then the hissing sound is there more than it was before, not taking over the rough sound, not at all, but rather entering into my flow of thoughts so that I can no longer deny its presence and the road is rougher than before and there's all the beauty around me and I no longer travel in a straight line but in short little arcs and I feel and hear a rhythmic pulse coming from behind and yet I feel like I'm floating and the light is bright and the shadows are long and black and the hissing, now VERY loud and I know, finally I know as I feel the heat and a huge rush of adrenaline that I can no longer deny that I have to stop...
...which, reluctantly, I do...
...and I turn off the engine and it dies...
...and there is only silence. Except for the wind which is still blowing and when it dies there's only the hiss and I really love the sound of the wind and I wish that it would never die.
So that's me, I was moving towards flatness and now I'm flat. I have a spare but no water. And I ask myself why I love to go out searching in the desert on extremely hot days. Alone. And yes, I get the spare on, and it does the job it was created for, and I make it back home, and life goes on, and even though I took not one single photo on this trip since I was too busy enjoying life and not in the mood to search for anything, I found something I suppose, though I won't know what it is until I get further down my timeline, so I'm not going to worry about it now. I'm just going to look forward to my next desert trip and there's really not much more I can tell you.