in the spirit of this tulip, willing to show a different side of itself, here are three things you may not know about me:

1. i was an afs student in argentina in high school
2. i have a weakness for Pillsbury Orange Rolls
3. i was the bad influence in high school, who arranged the drunken weekend bonfire parties on the peninsula of a nearby lake until my dad broke up the party in his boxer shorts, a trenchcoat, and a bb gun.

dried white tulip

once again, an hour or more of careful arranging yielded half a dozen very neat, very stylized, very low-energy (to borrow a phrase) photos. then i spilled the turkey feathers from a height of a couple of feet, and photographed them. spilled them again, and photographed them again. and suddenly they were possessed of the randomness and fertile energy of nature.

wild turkey feathers

st. paul, minnesota

a portrait of mary jo in early 2017. i have retreated a bit into my center, where i still feel quite young and hopeful and vital. this is partly a response, based on the way i am wired, to the turbulence of my country’s current public life, and partly a positive retreat into a creative bubble where i am generally happiest. so, here i am. healthy at the core, and just a little frayed at the edges.

palm lamina

autignac, france

if a cornucupia celebrates the colorful abundance of harvest season, this wreath is intended to celebrate the muted late winter beauty of places with four seasons, when everything is dry and faded and colors flatten so as not to distract from the season’s striking shapes. soon enough, spring will paint everything lime green again. but i can wait.

wreath of dried flowers, leaves, and seeds

those droplets are the cares of a troubled time. they are the obligations that don’t give pleasure. they are the digital distractions announced by a synthetic iPhone chime. they are the 3am worries. they are the whispers of self-doubt. they are all the ways that 2017 wants to get in the way of a simple creative routine. look at them all beaded up and ready to slide off into the blackness.

mallard feather

st. paul, minnesota