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I’m living in a very old structure atop the Haut de Fee – or Hill of Faeries – it’s possible to learn more by looking into the Celtic fairy mounds, which were places of great enchantment and creative power. Prior to the Celts, these faery mounds were typically burial mounds. Like KRYZIU KALNAS in...
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I went to sleep last night watching the stars over the North Atlantic, as the jet barreled through the skies towards Paris. Tonight, Paris is a saxophone dampened by a red velvet fog, where I watched the moon rise from atop the Eiffel Tour. Tomorrow it’s an early sojourn to Gare de l’Est to sort...
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I have trouble with Wyoming. Sure, its natural beauty is beyond comprehension. But the incessant gunfire places scenic vistas a little lower down on my list of preoccupying priorities. The Black Forest was lovely too, I’m sure, as all the witches burned. My trouble with Wyoming surrounds the prevailing attitude towards what I’ll call...
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The first secret I remember keeping was this woman my grandmother telling me she had bought me my grave.  A grave of my own, tucked under an English Oak tree in a small cemetery in a small town in Virginia.  The plot was small, and there wasn’t room for everybody, but back then there...
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An afternoon spent in the village of Appomattox Courthouse, where a hundred years of household stories were eclipsed by the surrender of General Lee to General Grant.  It made me wonder what had been their most historic event, before the war ended on their doorsteps? I thought of a woman in one of the...
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Today was a rough, tough and unwieldy day artistically – jagged and ragged in the core of it, a creative state that has been building for a few days as I have felt slightly at odds, syncopated, outside the inside of my work. It’s okay to be uncomfortable with the process. It’s absolutely all...
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It seems as though upon landing in Sheridan, I was given a dog’s eyes – all charcoals and chalks, and vistas driven by canine dream: infinite grey fields of languid deer and elk and pheasant, wild turkey and golden eagles and raccoon. I have arrived at Ucross – a snow-swept Braque landscape of brutal,...
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Spent the day taking photographs at the – wait, no, I am forbidden to invoke the site without prior notification of, permission from, and authorization by “Richmond.” So here goes: Dear Richmond - I am poised upon the precipice of incipient exploration of my own personal thoughts and reflections as they emerge within the...
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The autumn equinox has already radically changed the shape of the light here at the Cemetery, and the drying of the leaves reveals more limb of tree – and that loss of leaf in turn brings out new stones, revealed from the shadows. A lot of the graves at the Old City Cemetery were...
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