After the Walk

Unfocused #3

36 weeks 4 days

Self-portrait with belly #9

Thirty six weeks

Unfocused #2

Unfocused #1

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I am a hazard to myself and those around me. Clumsy, trippy, forgetful, exhausted. Loopy, bungling, ungraceful. Scattered, oblivious, dreamy.

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Someone said to me today that a pregnant woman's cognitive brain shrinks by four percent. She assures me this is temporary.

The all-transcending mystery of the cosmic process is the only possible direction of the thrust of life, and hence of the possibility of freedom - whatever it may ultimately mean. Again, we are reminded of Augustine's idea that unless people looked in this direction, they were hopelessly curvatas, somehow less than fully human, fetishized and bent upon narrow and ignoble things. This was the difference between cupidditas and caritas, of love for things and love for God. And what is "love" for any living creature,except the sentiment that the universe is alive and significant - alive and significant according to the creature's own living energies.

~ Ernest Becker, Beyond Alienation

Underpass #3

Underpass #2

Underpass #1

After the Rain #3

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In the midst of this dreamless spell, full of nocturnal awakenings (for what purpose, I ask, for what purpose?), a vivid dream-image of snails: fat, moist and abundant, emerging from between lush foliage and wet, freshly upturned soil.

Slow, deliberating, cautious.

Exquisitely delicate outside their protective shell, they retreat at the slightest tap of the finger into their dark, singing chamber.

After the Rain #2

After the Rain #1: Triptych

Conversation with O

"The Holocaust of Humanity" #2

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After centuries of waiting, what remains is the silent aloneness. The noisy orgy of the human world has become unbearable. Existence has fallen ever more deeply into lower time where all perspective is lost, and where experience, if you want to call it that, collapses into a cramped prison cell. Is there yet a mortal who can rise to great time, loosen the bars of his shut-upness, see with dis-interest, with not-in-difference the unfolding infinity of the Visage?

You have not let me in for ages, have kept life's essence sealed. Can you not see that you cannot keep it? It is only a loan, good only for the duration of your short life, good only as substance between us.

"The Holocaust of Humanity" #1

Bay Area Overpass #2

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My effort consists in showing that knowledge is in reality an immanence, and that there is no rupture of the isolation of being in knowledge; and on the other hand, that in communication of knowledge one is found beside the Other, not confronted with him, not in the rectitude of the in-front-of-him. But being in direct relation with the Other is not to thematize the Other and consider him in the same manner as one considers a known object, nor to communicate a knowledge to him. In reality, the fact of being is what is most private; existence is the sole thing I cannot communicate; I can tell about it, but I cannot share my existence. Solitude thus appears as the isolation which marks the very event of being. The social is beyond ontology...


...I am responsible for the Other without waiting for reciprocity, were I to die for it. Reciprocity is his affair. It is precisely insofar as the relation between the Other and me is not reciprocal that I am subjection to the Other; and I am "subject" essentially in this sense. It is I who support all...The I always has one responsibility more than all the others.


~ Emmanuel Levinas