WEEK FIFTEEN.

project 52 / week 15 / a secret

15/52 / fragments of a secret

In a house sits a lamp, in a guest bedroom with a window that faces south. It used to sit in a green house on Illinois Avenue atop a bedside table in the middle bedroom. The wall across from it, shrouded in photographs of a family tree. Words were whispered back and forth in this room.

”doghouse” “firefighter” “notebook”
”I don’t get it.”
It’s a compound word.
”What’s a compound?”
A compound word is formed by combining two smaller words to create a new meaning.

And it went on and on with my questioning and her answering. Always the teacher (her not me). I can recite all the compound words we said. But doghouse was a big one. You can have a dog, and a house, and a doghouse. Who knew? I try to recall the last one-on-one talk we had. She asked about the boy I liked, about photography and art, about who I wanted to be. I wish I remember those words like I remember the “compound” lesson but I don’t. And I wish she could have seen who I became, a teacher too.

She taught me a how to tie my shoes, how to draw a cartoon in profile view, how to spell, how to make popcorn, how to put a knife under my plate so the syrup didn’t touch my pancake and — a whole lot more.

This weekend the family gathered and we played another round of “Remember When”. When I got back to my sisters, back to the guest bedroom, back to the lamp. I turned it on and went about getting ready for sleep, tidying my suitcase, plugging in devices, closing curtains and in the picture frame across from the lamp, the memory sparked again. I pulled out my camera and photographed it, not thinking I’d use it for this, or anything really but I kept seeing these little hints, small touches of her. Recalling how everyone spoke today of how they listened to a little voice, a tug of a feeling, and went where it called or didn’t, and regretted it. And even though it didn’t feel like a “photograph” I listened, followed the hunch, and took the photographs. I’m not sure, now, why I’m using it for this, but it feels like I should. So like the shadow I am, I’ll follow it.

15/52 This is what did it, it looks like the start of “Willow”.

15/52 fragments of light

WEEK FOURTEEN.

project 52 / week 14 / the “between”

14/52/2025 // carousel

14/52/2025 // carousel

I keep writing about these photographs and hitting delete like Tom Hanks in You’ve Got Mail.
I know what I want to say but I don’t know that I really want it to be known.

I had other plans this week for this prompt, the “between”. I was going to be like Henri Cartier-Bresson and capture “the decisive moment,” the moment just before the action. I focused on spring sports — baseball, duh. But then…

My thoughts send me on a carousel

And it goes around and around and around.
So with these things that don’t get said, I’ll make a photograph.
Because it seems, I’m almost, always, in the “between.”

WEEK THIRTEEN.

project 52 / week 13 / urban twilight

13/52/2025


I stopped taking the pills
Now my dreams slip
They slide in and out of my head
It’s irrelevant
It isn’t real
Sometimes, I wish it were
Like when you hold my hand
Or when we stick our arms out wide to catch the wind
It slips too — the wind, right past the skin under our arms
Across my cheeks, into my hair
I wake, wishing to return

I dreamt I cleaned grandma’s kitchen floor
There was more —
But it slipped
I woke, feeling so alone

I dreamt of a compound
Where we all lived
Someone kept stealing shoes
So I went bare foot through yellow flowers
The flowers: the key to everything
I’d walk a section line, watching everyone work
I couldn’t feel my feet, yet I walked
Through prairie grass, rocks, and dirt
I drove the car, past everyone working among the yellow
They’d reach out their hands like the dead
Patrick was at the gate
He opened and saluted
The dream slips, shifts
I stir, barely awake and dive back into it

It’s winter on the compound
Someone stole our shoes
Gas is rare
The animals need to go to the vet
The car only moves a section line at a time
Stopping to refuel every quarter mile
From gas in old beer bottles buried into the ground
I wake, unsettled, unfinished

I stopped taking the pills
And now, my dreams slip
And I always have to start over

WEEK ELEVEN.

project 52 / week 11 / memories & prized possessions


In my house, lives a box
In this box, lives:
Every terrible thing I wish I didn’t remember
Every wonderful thing I hope I don’t forget
Every broken piece in every last chapter
In this box, lives the essence of who I am.

11/52/2025

11/52/2025

a short poem for broken pieces

In my chest, lives a box
Where I keep all the things I don’t want anyone to see
I’ve buried it deep
Sometimes I, even forget it’s there
I want to take it out, but my heart has grown around it
Sealed it in —
Forever a part of me
I don’t like that
I don’t like it

What if one day, the hidden things, want out —
What if they scrape and claw —
And rage against the sides until they’re blown wide open
And all that I’ve hidden, escapes
Leaking into the rest of me
Like an unstoppable infection
Pushing, pulsing, past my heart
Riding along my veins
Within my blood
To my mind
And seeps out through all the broken pieces

WEEK TEN.

a total lunar eclipse

01:55; 14 march 2025 // blood moon

01:56; 14 march 2025 // blood moon


project 52 / week 10 / collage two photos together (not double exposure)

10/52/2025

10/52/2025

10/52/2025


WEEK NINE.

project 52 / week 9 / transitions in light


I’ve become predictable.
This prompt didn’t lend itself to well to a narrative.
But from Saturday’s moon to Sunday’s moon a lot of light transitioned.


I’ll see you next week.

WEEK EIGHT.

project 52 / week 8 / on repeat


I mean, obviously, this is on repeat.

8/52/2025 // on repeat

8/52/2025 // on repeat

8/52/2025 // on repeat


I’ll see you next week.

WEEK SEVEN.

project 52 / week 7 / book


I really don’t like it again but I need to move on with the day.

7/52/2025 // worlds inside


I’ll see you next week.

WEEK SIX.

project 52 / week 6 / metaphor

This, is not that. It is only chance, the similarities of a metaphor.
Two things happened at the same time and I don’t know what to do about it...
So, I’m just going to leave it be.

6/52/2025 // in the overlap


I’ll see you next week.

WEEK FIVE.

project 52 / week 5 / sideways

When you think you’re all out of stories. Turn it sideways.

5/52/2025 // oh, sweet nuthin’

5/52/2025 // she ain’t got nuthin’ at all

I really don’t care what you think about it. Not in a mean way, I just don’t.
It’s exactly what I want it to be.


song: oh! sweet nuthin’ - the velvet underground


I’ll see you next week.

WEEK THREE. WEEK FOUR.

project 52 / week 4 / vintage

I got down with the sickness. So I had other plans for week four of fifty-two. Perhaps one of these fifty-two will say “A Do-Over” and I’ll get a second chance. Project 52 is unique in that it never ends up being what I think it will be. Even with all my scheming. Harder than 365 in a way. I’m not sure if I got the narrative this week or not but it’s vintage enough for me. I even threw it back to week two with a little noise.

4/52/2025 //

4/52/2025 //

4/52/2025 //

4/52/2025 //


project 52 / week 3 / monsters under the bed

3/52/2025 // late night 911 calls

3/52/2025 // metaphorical monsters


I’ll see you next week.

WEEK TWO.

project 52 / week 2 / grain or noise

2/52/2025 // there’s something in the static

2/52/2025 // there’s something in the static, I think I've been having revelations


I don’t hate it. I just don’t like it at all,

and it’s terrible.


song: not strong enough by boygenius

I’ll see you next week.

CHASING THE SKY

I thought I missed it.

1.14.2025 // a whirlwind, a voice

1.14.2025 // moon as my witness

1.13.2025 // stay a while

I thought I chose wrong.

1.16.2025

1.16.2025

1.16.2025

It’s a brand new chapter.

1.16.2025

1.16.2025

A new chapter of breathing in fire.

WEEK ONE.

project 52 / week 1 / capture what photography means to you

1/52/2025 // & every day i wake, i tell myself a little harmless lie: the whole wide world is mine

1/52/2025 // & every day i wake, i tell myself a little harmless lie: the whole wide world is mine

1/52/2025 // & every day i wake, i tell myself a little harmless lie: the whole wide world is mine


So here we go again. Project 52. 52 weeks, 52 prompts, 52 photographs. But I can’t seem to just take one. If you’ve been around, you know I love AVA. That I love space, stars, planets, the moon, etc. etc. When I got this prompt, I immediately did the shoulder sag, head down, ljf stance of doom and dread: “that’s like the hardest one.” I got the prompt from a former student and she knew exactly what she was setting me up for. I did not know. At the time she told me, I didn’t know what I would create. So I let it marinate. I had a lot of time to think. Secret #83: My favorite thinking place is the car.

I had many drives from the end of the 2024/366 challenge to think about project 52 and prompt number one. What does photography mean to me? It’s hard to put into words because it’s a feeling. It’s a living breathing thing as we found out last year. It’s a safety net, it’s a shield, it’s a voice, it is magic, it is mystery, it is truth and lies, it’s past, present, future. It’s pretty much everything.

What does photography mean to me? Yeah, let’s go with that: it’s pretty much everything.
It’s the reason I’m in this state. It’s the reason I have the job I do. It’s the reason I document. It’s the reason I have the people I have in my life. It’s the reason I met you. It’s the reason you look up. It’s the way we speak.

It’s the thing that gave me courage. It’s the thing that helped me say what I wanted to and then what I needed to. It gave me strength and actual power. It’s the reason he looks up. It’s why you opened your eyes. It held me up. It brought me back down to earth. It saved my life. It keeps us connected. It’s the thing I can’t let go. It’s the thing I can’t set down. It’s the thing I need.

You have to find your thing. You have to find the thing that fills the spot in your chest. It will feel like everything. I can’t explain it. You just have to feel it. Find the thing, let it consume you. Let it drive your life. But if you want to listen to a song that feels close to what it should feel like… Try this one — rite of spring by angels & airwaves.


”If I had a chance for another try, I wouldn’t change a thing, it’s made me all who I am inside. And if could thank god that I am here and that I am alive. And every day I wake, I tell myself a little harmless lie: the whole wide world is mine.”

I’ll see you next week.

TWELVE OF TWENTY FOUR

What’s that voiceover on social media? And with that, the 2024 season comes to an end. Goodnight.

1 Jan 2025 — As I tried to fall asleep, I jolted up: I didn’t post a photo! And then my brain turned on and it was rather unsettling but I laid back down, slight unease fluttering in and out of my limbs. Somehow, I slept despite the strange feeling of missing a day. I did not care for the feeling but I know I’ll burn out if I push too far.

For the 2025 season, I’ll be doing a photo a week. It’s called Project 52. I started a spreadsheet, because — hello — and I’m really hopeful I counted right but let’s not pretend I’m good at math all of sudden… Que sera, sera.

Project 52. Online, you’ll find tons of groups, forums, collectives posting the prompt for the week. I always check them out to see if there’s any new ideas that I could turn into a lesson or what-have-you but I’m always left unenthused. And I like being “thused”.

So I’m making my own, with the help of a few people and their suggestions. The goal is to go a bit deeper than surface level. I definitely went deeper in 366/2024 but not always, some days I just photographed what I saw — a bird, a cloud, the moon. Don’t get me wrong, I love these photographs too but I want to work on narratives in photography. So my overarching goal is to create a narrative that evokes emotion and encourages viewers to engage with the story. But I want to zero in on one area, surrealism: a style of photography that uses creative techniques to create dreamlike images that represent unconscious ideas, emotions, and dreams.

Are you surprised? You shouldn’t be. When I was younger I thought goals were so foolish. I didn’t see the merit. But now I really like them, I like working toward something.

Before we embark on this new journey (Week 1: 6 Jan 2025), I wanted to pick my favorite from each month of 2024.

J A N U A R Y

24/366/2024
This one was untitled. January was full of creative ideas and I was proud of what I accomplished like 23/366 and the liquified eye in the clouds or the gold sweater/flower/eye liquify of 25/366 but when I posted 24/366, my chest did the flutter. I call it the “chest tinglies” and I tell art students to be on look out for it. When you get that feeling like you’re a bit scared to show the world who you are… [Cue Iris by Goo Goo Dolls — the live performance in the rain. And I don’t want the world to see me cause I don’t think that they’d understand.] That’s it. That’s the art you’re supposed to be making. It’s a bit out of your comfort zone and it’s true. The face on the left, that’s what did it. It’s how I felt, what I felt. And it was unfiltered.

F E B R U A R Y

33/366/2024 // placeholder
This may have been the month where I was the most adventurous. I was feeling brave. I found my love of “the portrait of a house” and 38/366 - the old green house at sunrise almost made it as my pick. I loved photographing the moon and I’m still attached to 60/366 although it is a rather ordinary photo. But this photo, was something I had always wanted to do. Adding text to a photograph in a way that fit, that was seamless. This song is the other reason it has to be the one for February. Sharing it feels like letting you read my journal and that’s pretty close to chest tinglies.

M A R C H

87/366/2024
Another untitled. I was really proud of how sharp I got the moon with a 300mm lens. I realized I would make it on this day. I knew some of the photos wouldn’t be up to my standard but I set expectations far too high for everything. But it was this day that I knew I would get to 366.

A P R I L

111/366/2024
I mean, just go read the post. I made this artwork based of Lifeline by Angels & Airwaves and again, it was so true.

111/366/2024
It was everything I wanted it to be. The six photos were exactly right.

M A Y

134/366/2024 // here comes the promise of summer
May was kinda rough. When I look back at the photos, each day holds a specific mood, memory and most of them are rough. This one felt a little like hope and another thing I dreamt up that came out just right.

J U N E

156/366/2024 // there is no way out
June was a rollercoaster, up, down and back. Both creatively and emotionally. But I think this is the one. I went deep into the world of collage and I love157/366 and 165/366. And the visit from Willow on 167/366.

J U L Y

206/366/2024 // sometimes it looks just like a movie
This is slightly misleading. It’s definitely number two on the favorites of July but… It’s not number one. Sometimes I love a photo so much that I keep it just for myself. And I’m going to keep the number one spot just for myself. This photo 206 — I fell in love with it the moment I framed it. It looks just like a movie set to me. It has poetry and it’s the end or the start of something or both and I just love it.

A U G U S T

220/366/2024 // i wish i could slow down time but not enough to slow you down
Another song I love dearly set to a visual. I did two different focus points — the grass, the tractor. I overlaid both photos and I was dumbfounded because why haven’t I always been doing this? It was like a knowledge quest was unlocked in this game. Something clicked into place.

S E P T E M B E R

249/366/2024
Another untitled, another moon, ‘nough said.

O C T O B E R

282/366/2024 // and you never really know where it goes up until it starts
I would never be caught alive in a hot air balloon. Absolutely not, no, nope. But man, I love to photograph them. I can’t believe it when I catch one. This one, over the corn field, sunrise. I mean — magic.

N O V E M B E R

315/366/2024 // staring at a dead end now, looking for another way out
November was another hard month. I have many I love but I think it’s this one. It feels like what’s on the inside.

D E C E M B E R

347/366/2024 // is that enough tension for you?
December was hard too. On this day, I did something I NEVER DO. I broke the rules of tension and triangles. All because a little birdy squared my shoulders and said, “I have an idea for you.” Thanks little bird. I really love this photo. And it’s so simple but I just wouldn’t have taken it. I would have framed it the way I always do. But I stepped out of the box and that’s pretty close to chest tinglies. Immediately after this, I went to Best Buy to pick up my new “moon” lens: NIKKOR Z 100-400mm f/4.5-5.6. And there are very close seconds that showcase the moon in all her glory but this one broke the camels back so to speak.

T H E E N D.

366/2024. completed

366.

Day 1 of 365 text in Italics.

They won’t all be winners. They definitely were not all winners.
I might not make it every day. I did!!!

I may not even make it to the end of the project… I’ve only ever made it to day 18 in the three times I’ve attempted this before. I can’t even guarantee the photos will be taken on the day they’re posted… They were all taken the day they were posted, although some of the collages just used a small aspect like a bird or a cloud. But they’ll exist for as long as I can keep it going. I kept it going.

Project 365. 366. I don’t know who first started this. I did some googling but wasn’t confident in the answers I found. Some crazy photographer who wanted a challenge…I’m sure. That’s usually how these things begin and then people follow along for the ride, then join in, and then it becomes this massive living thing. It absolutely did become this massive living breathing thing. It was, in short, awesome. I highly recommend, but first, fail it a few times when you start and then wait until life is fun again to do it for real. I could probably make a whole post about what I learned but I’m not ready to share that yet. I just know it was so worth it and it feels like it’s something I’ve always done.

However this ends up, I wanted a photo that would work as a bookend to the first. I dreamt up this idea in the car listening to all the greatest crappy punk songs I hold so dearly. I still listen to the same songs. Many of them made into a photograph and many more will.

And then I thought, maybe this is the year, 2024, 365, a photo a day. So whether I make it or not…on 12/31/2024 I’ll take the sister to this photo and invert the opposite side. Whether you stick around or join in, I’ll see you on the other side. Welcome to the other side.

1/365 // 2024 beginning

I’m mostly the same, but a little different. One thing is for sure: I don’t want to stop. Seriously, tomorrow, I just don’t take a photo? Doesn’t seem authentic to who I am now. The camera has really become a part of my language, an extension of myself, it feels unfair, unnatural to stop it.

Here’s the sister photo for 366/366. (I really should have just changed the number when I realized it was a leap year, but if I had — then I wouldn’t be me.)

Also — now my nose no longer perfectly aligns with my mouth so that’s fun.

366/366 // 2024 finished

Thanks for taking the journey. Maybe I’ll see ya tomorrow. ;)

TO THE CITY

Every time I go to the city, it pretty much chews me up and spits me out.
Take me to an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere and I’m so solid.
Take me to a forest, river, lake, open field, ocean, even, I’m so good.
Take me to the city…I just can’t figure it out. Take the girl out of the prairie, can’t take the prairie out of the girl I guess. So when I woke up to the… what 5th straight day of fog… I said, “Ok, fine, Universe — you win.” And so I went… Twice.

Round 1.

365/366

365/366

365/366

365/366

365/366

Round 2.

365/366

365/366

365/366

365/366

365/366

365/366

THINK I'LL GO TO BOSTON

T-minus three and we all start over… [i don’t like the beginning of things, too much pressure]
Over but just begun — 364. 365. 366. Leap year, go figure… [i’ll pobby just continue]
Still need to go to Boston [where no one knows my name]

364/365 // you don’t know me

364/365 // and, you don’t wear my chains

ORANGE SKY.

song: “orange sky” by alexi murdoch

360/365

360/365

360/365

360/365

360/365

360/365

360/365