WEEK FIFTEEN.

April 20, 2025

project 52 / week 15 / 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”.

WEEK FOURTEEN.

April 13, 2025

project 52 / week 14 / the “between”

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.

April 6, 2025

project 52 / week 13 / urban twilight

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 TWELVE.

March 30, 2025

project 52 / week 12 / a quiet photo

WEEK ELEVEN.

March 23, 2025

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.

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.

March 16, 2025

a total lunar eclipse

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

WEEK NINE.

March 9, 2025

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.

March 2, 2025

project 52 / week 8 / on repeat

…
I mean, obviously, this is on repeat.

I’ll see you next week.

WEEK SEVEN.

February 23, 2025

project 52 / week 7 / book

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

I’ll see you next week.

WEEK SIX.

February 15, 2025

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.

I’ll see you next week.

WEEK FIVE.

February 8, 2025

project 52 / week 5 / sideways

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

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.

February 2, 2025

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.

project 52 / week 3 / monsters under the bed

I’ll see you next week.

WEEK TWO.

January 18, 2025

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.

WEEK ONE.

January 11, 2025

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*

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.