Most of you know I was excited about being accepted into the September edition of CRAVE, hosted by Photopol.us at Nova, held in conjunction with Go Oak Cliff‘s street festival, Blues, Bandits, and Barbecue yesterday. However, most of you do not know which pieces I decided to show, even though I was asked repeatedly. :-D There were 15 artists in total, limited to three pieces each. No one sold anything at this show, which isn’t particularly surprising. I did meet lots of interesting people and had lots of interesting conversations that will lead to future shows. (Which is all I really wanted from this.) Anyway, since you’ve probably seen these before, I’ve decided to expound on them a bit and share the stories behind them.

This first image was taken during the couple of days I was stranded in Salt Lake City with transmission woes. I dropped off my car at the dealership on South State Street and proceeded to walk the 3+ miles back to my motel room, stopping along the way for a cup of coffee in a local shop, and taking random pictures of whatever random things suited my fancy. This image, though, I saw from across the 6 lane street and doubled back more than an entire block to get. That may not sound like much, but when you consider how much walking I’d been doing and how much stuff I was hauling around, it was a trek. I had to shoot this barber shop. Also worthy of note, just a few minute after taking this image, I was approached by a young, attractive man driving a white pick-up. He had a map sprawled out across his steering wheel and asked me if I knew how to get to Such And Such Street. I told him that I didn’t, but my iPhone did. Now I don’t generally stop for random men on the street, but considering it was broad daylight, there were plenty of people around, and I was several feet away—out of arm’s reach—I figured it was fine. My iPhone did indeed find the street in mere seconds. He thanked me and asked if he could give me a ride somewhere. Naturally, I declined. With almost no hesitation he asked, “Would you like to make some cash?” Awkward pause. “You could just flash me or something.” Seriously?! WTF is wrong with you, Utah?! I’ve been walking down Harry Hines and never been solicited! Sheesh. I simply responded, “Cute,” and moved on with my solo hike through Salt Lake… albeit slightly more cautious of the passersby. So was this shot worth the harassment? Absolutely. There’s so much to see. And this piece did sell once before based solely on the WTF factor. Note the creepy Madonna with child, the Star of David, the gunshot through the window, the Ankh…

The following abstract light piece is one of my favorites. I’ve been experimenting with timed exposures and swirling lights virtually since I picked up my first SLR. I used roll after roll of film just playing with streaking light. I feel movement and life in it. I’m a city girl through and through and the city lights resonate within me. Back in May, I spent an entire day wandering the streets of downtown Austin attempting to try my hand at street photography. Unsuccessfully. Woefully so. Sometime around 6 p.m. I took a break and stepped inside Katz’s Deli to find nourishment and rest tired feet. It was a Sunday and virtually empty, so I sat at the bar. The bartender and I chit chatted a bit. She’s just delightful—beautiful, sweet, interesting, and full of her own unique perspectives. Sitting there with camera in hand, it struck me that I should document this moment and asked permission to shoot while she worked. She said she’d be honored, knowing I’d been shooting all day and drawing blanks in the inspiration department. I did take a few traditional-ish images of her behind the counter, mixing drinks and placing orders. And then I played with the light. They had this fantastic array of multicolored lights highlighting the liquor bottles. I believe the great allure of tinkering with long exposures and movement is that it’s truly an experimental technique. Even after ten years of working on it, even in the instant era of digital, I never know precisely what the result will be. Out of all the different styles of imagery I’ve devoted myself to creating, my heart is most in these impressionistic light paintings. And this is one of the most fascinating results I’ve ever achieved. If you study this image, you can see the shape of her face and the outline of her eye in the top left. The rest is just a beautiful mess of colored lights and liquor bottles.

This last image was taken exploring the gorgeous, untamed South Yuba River in northern California, with my dear friend, Heather. In March, I spent a little time staying with her family near Yuba City, about an hour north of Sacramento. The last afternoon I had with her, she took me on a winding drive through the hills to this beautiful little corner of the world. I felt like I was given an intimate glimpse into her life, being brought to this river that she’d visited since girlhood, this wild space she’d explored and sought refuge in, this place that was a part of her and helped shape the woman she’d become. We wandered for an hour or so, talking while I took photographs. She led us, scrambling over rocks and trees, leaping over a narrow branch of water, until we reached a small, cascading waterfall. I watched her remove her shoes, roll up her jeans, and step into the edges of the river. I wasn’t brave enough. The water was cold and brisk, bursting with fresh mountain runoff. I think we could have spent forever there. Unfortunately, we needed to rejoin reality and started winding our way back just as the dusk threatened to keep us bound anyway, unable to find our way in the darkness. Right before we reached the bridge that would take us back to her car, we stopped, picking up stones—large stones, the biggest and heaviest we could readily find and lift—and hurtling them down the rock face into the rapids below. We watched as they smashed and splintered against the boulders, breaking into dozens of pieces and rolling in as many directions into the churning current. I don’t recall who or why or how this started, but it quickly became a sort of cathartic ritual—each cumbersome hunk of earth representing a lump of pain, anger, bitterness, remorse, anguish, fear, anything haunting, anything that was a hindrance or a burden. Violently catapulting these tangible embodiments of our inner struggles down the rocks and watching them vanish in the rushing water brought a palpable release. After twenty or more minutes of this exercise, we left with spirits deliriously unfettered. This river and this image will forever symbolize a sort of rebirth: leaving the past behind and moving forward. Titled after the bridge, Edward’s Crossing, it’s the first shot I took that afternoon—the first image I took on our last adventure together. Until the next…