Hello, Darlings.

I keep saying, I will write here, so very often.  I do, and then I do not.  I think I should address why I am not here every single day (or even once a month, or quarterly).  Without excuse but by way of explanation, sweethearts, it is simply because I defeat myself.  Those of you who actually know me, personally, know that I am a huge advocate, a giant voice for those who suffer from mental illness, depression, anxiety, fear.  As a social worker and therapist I spent many years of my life shining a light on the hurts and horrors of kids and families with whom I worked.  I spent a lot of time with those kids.  I heard so many gritty details, so many hurts.  I loved, I worked, I lost.  There is a place still, in my heart, for all of those kids and families.  I miss them.

The great unknown, and unsaid, is that I experience some of this very hard to understand STUFF.  I never knew I had a diagnosis until I needed insurance and I had to contact a therapist I'd seen, after brain surgery, to see if there was something "wrong" with me.  I felt strongly, there was not.  What a shock when I received a letter informing me that I did have "Major Depressive Disorder".  That threw me for a loop, sent me flying, shocked the hell out of me.  I called said therapist , we talked a bit.  It turns out, he was not just trying to get me insurance coverage. As life goes. we are shocked, now and then.  This was the greatest shock of my life.  After all, I was a therapist!  How did I not see this... I don't know.  I will never know.

The beautiful thing is, it does not matter.  Every bit of everything  is going to be just fine.  What i have learned is that embracing the sadness, naming it, working through it, brings one to such joy, such contentment. There is so much peace in letting go of the things we think we want/need to control.  Letting go is such peace.

I took this photograph a few years ago, at Glensheen mansion.  I have been so enamored and fascinated with history in many ways; this incredible home is something which takes one back, it is a place which always amazes me.  This photograph was taken in the closet of one of the Congdon sons, who chose his love, photography.  He built a dark room and spent his days and nights locked up in this tiny space, working his art. The other sons did some amazing things; hunting, taxidermy, politics..  This son, though, chose art in the form of photography.  There is simply nothing about this son, that I do not love.

There is a lot, unshared.  I appreciate, though, that those of you who follow, follow.  Thank you so much.  This photograph has kept me taking photos, grabbing snaps, enticing little kids to smile their very best smiles.  Every smiling child, brings tears to my eyes.  I suppose, such is art.

much love.
J

November 10/11, 2015


I took this photograph several years ago and it remains one of my favorites.  I love about it, that is is cows.  If you know me, you know, that I love cows and desire to have them around me every minute.   These cows, though, are fashioned after old toys. Antiques. I love the cracked finish and the little platforms with wheels.  I like the simplicity of these cows and I am drawn to these sorts of objects and images often.  If you know me, you also know that I am drawn to repetition and patterns.  I found this in one of my favorite places to go to shop, if I must shop.  It is called "The Depot" and there is only one place like it.  Part winery, part grocery, part home decor, part just really cool looking stuff.  They have seasonal things and a wall of antique clocks.  It is a great place to go when the weather is bad, or I'm feeling adrift, or I need to find a unique gift for someone I care about. It happens that I bought one of my favorite pots there.  It is a Paula Deen steaming pot and I still love it, even though it isn't cool to like her any more.

The cracked finish on these cows has always reminded me of maps. Maps to where, I do not know. But certainly maps to somewhere.  I have always loved maps, as they take you away and also bring you home. Where family fails to give you an anchoring place, maps succeed.  One of my favorite books of all time is the United States Atlas.  State by state, county by county, this glorious book can take you anywhere if you just start driving.

It's difficult to resolve a need for roots, and cows and dogs and horses and fences and fireplaces against a need to break out the atlas and travel, on a full time basis, forever.  Every minute, feelings change. This image, simple as it is, has always spoken to me in a way others have not.  As life goes on, so to speak, and things change, priorities change, still, this image speaks to me.  The simplicity is important; life certainly is not simple.  I grieve the loss of people through death; I grieve loss through misunderstanding and conflict.  I feel sad about the loss of mentors in my life who have deemed my work, "contrived" yet taken on other students with great joy and praised very similar work. I've returned to old work (my beginnings)  and appreciate it on my own.  This photograph is one I found, that I love in a hundred ways.

There is something else, what I love about cows: they are sweet, and honest.  Sometimes they are really assholes, they do stupid things.  And we have to round them up and herd them and so on. But basically cows are made of love and instinct.  Once you understand that, you can communicate.  When I was a kid, we had a white cow on the farm.  My Grandpa would let me sit on her back during milking, with a piece of binder twine around her neck as my 'bridle".  She was my "horse" before I had one.  Poor old girl never even had a name, except "the old white cow". I loved her with a depth and innocence only a four year old can muster.  I suppose this photo makes me think of her, too.

Cheers.