Through My Left Eye.

Vertical pole and horizontal pipe — 2026
I remember the second I saw this. I was walking in a field having just stopped to take that photo with the curved pipe I posted a couple of days ago. There were lots of interesting things to look at. Lots of curved pipes. I could post those but who wants to look at a bunch of curved pipes. So I was a’walk’n along and I saw this. Just like it is here. And it took my breath away. I mean, seriously, I went “Hahhh” with that inward breath thing. So I thought, “What the hell is this? Why did this hit me so strong?” But, I never know. Then or now. So I do what I do whenever I take a picture. I close my eyes and take a deep breath and say to myself; “When I open my eyes I will see.” Then I open my eyes and it is like waking up into a dream. I see symbols and metaphors in everything. But I don’t analyze my photos like I don’t analyze my dreams. But just because I don’t doesn’t mean they have no meaning.

Curved pipe beside utility pole — 2026

When out there with my camera, there is no viewer. Zero. I’m not thinking about what someone might see, feel, understand.
The moment I do that, the picture starts to bend. It starts to explain itself. I stay away from that. The photograph has to arrive on its own, uninfluenced, and intact. Later, the viewer comes back into it, but only as a check. Not a guide. Not a compass. Just a way of seeing if the thing holds outside of me the way it holds inside of me.
That question is the only use I have from strangers: does it behave the same way without me?

Six Photos — January through April 2026
At the time I was thinking three thoughts at the same time. Why I’ve never had the least interest in other people seeing my photography. Why taking a beautiful photograph has never been in the mix. Never been important. And why I’ve taken pictures since I was practically a baby.

This fourth thought in the form of a quote rudely interjected itself into the conversation: “Two moments when a photo feels magical. The meditative moment the photo is taken and the meditative moment of looking at the photo.”

That answered my three questions.

Since my mind is painfully in constant conversation with itself, when I am standing in front of a scene with a camera and previsualizing it in black and white, I am in a complete meditative hypnotic state. Even if what I’m looking at is as innocuous as a posted road sign tilted at an odd angle. I stand there staring like a crazy guy. At that moment the world is quiet. My mind is at rest. I’m at peace. And that feels very good.

That is why I take pictures. And if I’m successful in reaching that state and capturing that scene on film, then later, when looking at the completed photograph, I can bring myself back to that quiet meditative hypnotic state. And again it feels good. And who simply doesn’t like to feel good?

I don’t take photos to create great art. Or to make some strangers or friends smile seeing something pretty. I do it because it’s my medicine. I take it because I need it.