In the earth

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Hiroshi wrote on his blog today that persimmon seeds are sprouting all over the place. The pictures are inspiring. Wonderful. I'm staring at my terracotta pot on the window sill and keeping my fingers crossed. Not green yet. Moist. Dark. Earth. Too moist?

There are many ways to be an artist. As we wrap up the year, prepping for the exhibit and career day, framing and printing and sequencing, with acid stress so deep that you want to scream or cry or kick something...I hope there's time for a breath, someplace, a pause. You don't have to have it figured out right now. You are a work in progress. We all are.

I'm writing this as much to myself as I am to you.

What can it mean to be a photographer today? An artist? A journalist? A writer? A teacher?

Let's try it this way: we're all photographers now. It's something we do. It's a way of knowing the world. Of knowing ourselves. Maybe, if we emphasize the conversation, we can understand both the “pictures” and the “tools” as parts of a larger social activity we call “photography.”

Hiroshi's tree project is teaching me a new way to participate. I have no idea where it goes from here. I hope to see green sprouts someday.

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