unpredictable and ever changing...this is life. 

my show, the leaving, is opening on sunday and i am so thrilled. the work was born out of upheaval, loss and transition. it is deep, soul work. it is work that reflects the healing and the tenacity of the human spirit through grief and pain. the universe has an amazing sense of irony. on monday, tim's workplace burned to the ground. luckily no one was hurt. the sheer devastation of this loss has been surreal. i bear witness as he and his colleagues pick up the pieces with grace and guts, determined to rebuild once again. art and life perfectly mirrored.

as i look into the eyes of my beautiful grandson, i am reminded that nothing stays the same. the only thing constant is change. we are told that grief comes in stages. they are not stages, they are feelings and we feel them as we work towards resolution. there are no right or wrongs, there are only choices. and when we least expect it, the intensity of grief will make itself known again and again, of this you can be sure. it is at that time that we do not dare to shame ourselves for “not getting over it” but realize that as life moves us, we move with it. because our worldview changes over time, grief will quietly demand us to revisit it and to glean different lessons. and it is in that way that we press forward…..feeling, learning, creating and kicking some ass.

A big, huge thank you to Amanda and Kevin at A.Smith Gallery for making this image, What Remains Behind, the Director's Choice Award for the show "the imperfect lens" which runs through July 9th in Johnson City, Texas.

Many thanks to Susan Burnstine and A.Smith Gallery for the opportunity to show these two images in the show, "the imperfect lens" which will be on view May 12-July 9th in Johnson City, Texas.

So often when there is an amazing sunset, my first instinct is to turn directly towards it with my camera, trying hard to capture its beauty. The colors are so intense that I just want to hold onto them forever. But I have never been successful in capturing that. if I turn away from the sunset and look at the other parts of the sky, the energy that is present elsewhere is what I am looking for. The sky in its entirety reflects all the beauty of the mood.

I was very happy to meet the lovely Michael Pannier, Director of the Southeast Center for Photography in Greenville, SC and to see my print Tangled, hanging in the Beyond the Selfie exhibit. The exhibit will be on display through the end of March.

wake up, mother. feel the energy of the changing light. look at the newborn colors of the trees and bushes. stirrings abound. spring.

there are days when i think i want more same because same is safe and knowable. there are times when the same is all i can do and that's enough. the days of same are important in their structure and they hold space for me so that when i am able to feel that i can embrace the different and face the possibly unsafe or unknowable, i will remember them as days that deepen me differently and i will be willing to take that risk for differentness again when i am ready. 

One of the many qualities that I love about my husband Tim is the way that he observes the world around him. Most days, he will bring me a treasure that he has discovered during his day...whether it's seed pods, rocks or dead birds dragonflies and butterflies, he will tenderly bring me amazing things that have captivated him knowing they will captivate me as well. Recently, we were in Chicago for a week. He had to work, but I got to play. Fortunately at night, we got to play together. While we were out walking in the thick fog one night in the heart of the city, Tim said "look at those wings". A bird had met its demise and all that remained was its wings laying in the gutter. I guess I would expect to see something like that in the rural area that we live in, but seeing the rawness of nature on the busy city streets really awakened me. Set against the city buzz, everything seemed to align once more and I was reminded of the connection we all have to one another and every living thing...even in the midst of the fast pace of city living and these impossibly disconnected times. It gave me hope.

when i was very young, my mother told me that a dragonfly would stitch my mouth shut if it landed on me. for many years afterward, i was terrified of dragonflies and would scream if they came near me. i was sure their long tail was as sharp as a needle...that they would hurt me as they stitched my mouth closed. my mother never knew how her words had effected me. what seemed harmless to her was deeply traumatizing to me. it was that way with most of her words. what i came to understand many years later, was that dragonflies were not the ones who could hurt me, it was my mother.

Dear Jerry Uelsmann,

I had the opportunity to hear you speak yesterday. The words you spoke were so moving and impactful, but it was the things that you didn't say that moved me the most. 

Thank you for your soul bearing emotions that made their tender and wrenching way through your words.

Thank you for showing your raw, vulnerable grief and struggle to resolve it through your imagery.

Thank you for embracing all photography in its various forms.

Thank you for reminding us that we are first and foremost humans and that it is the camera...a mere tool,  that is at our mercy. 

Sincerely yours,

Dawn

“And every year there is a brief, startling moment 

When we pause in the middle of a long walk home and 

Suddenly feel something invisible and weightless 

Touching our shoulders, sweeping down from the air: 

It is the autumn wind pressing against our bodies; 

It is the changing light of fall falling on us.” 

― Edward Hirsch, Wild Gratitude

the strange and haunting time of early fall.

i have always felt that september has a distinct sadness to it....  the time of  year when all my past losses and memories come flooding back  to remind me that they are a part of me... asking me humbly to honor them once again.

this..... i remember

driving down a country road at sunset,

a gravel driveway on the right side of the car leading up a hill to a modest, white house.

a woman sits on the stoop staring vacantly into space with a lit cigarette in her hand. 

at the base of the driveway, a small sign is staked into the grass. the sign simply consists of an arrow pointing up the driveway and just a single word... 

funeral.

in those times of anxiety and fear, i start to look everywhere for signs that let me know i am on the path of highest and best good...my true path. and always with great tenderness and sometimes humor, the universe reminds me that the answer lies within. 

very honored to have two images invited into PhotoPlace Gallery's exhibit, "flight". many thanks to Laura Moya and congratulations to all my fellow exhibitors. this show is fabulous and i am very thrilled to be a part of it. the show will run june 8, 2016- july 1, 2016 and you can see the entire show here: http://photoplacegallery.com/flight/

my girl is having a baby.

it’s a time of great expansion for her and for me as her mom. my heart feels so big and full of love that i can’t even believe that it can fit inside my body at times.

there is not a single day that goes by when i don’t learn something new about being her mom. even now as a young adult, her presence and energy in my life brings new depth to my own.

everyone told me how much my world would change when i was carrying her…i listened to them all. 

i just didn’t hear them. 

how could i? how could i possibly know that birthing her would bring such a profound depth of love and blessings throughout my entire life?

even now, that fact surprises me and delights me and humbles me.

i never tire of its teachings…

the mysteries and rhythms of life,

wrapped in love.

eyes wide open

the other day, tim and i were driving down a two lane country road. the car in front of us was driving much too slow for the likes of him and he was growing impatient waiting for the opportunity to pass.

when the road finally opened up, he looked over at me with a grin and asked;

“are you ready?”

“yep”, i replied.

“okay…here we go”

and off we went…full on.

and i didn’t close my eyes,

or brace for the worse.

i didn’t caution him to be careful.

i just smiled and leaned right into the moment….it was exhilarating. 

and in that instant, i realized it was the perfect metaphor for my life with him. in the few short years we have been together he has always been the one to ask;

“are you ready? (because here we go and i want you to go with me and i want you to be brave and i want you to trust me, yourself and this moment)”

that trust road…

it has been a hard road to travel down…a road fraught with double solid lines and blind curves and windshield wipers that didn’t always work. while i've traveled far, i know it continues to be a road i still travel, ever grateful for its ability to teach me.

i reach across and squeeze tim’s hand.

“let’s do this thing”

Very honored to have three pieces juried into the "childhood" show at A. Smith Gallery in Johnson City, Texas. Thank you to Tom Chambers and Amanda Smith for this honor and congratulations to all of the outstanding participating artists. 

Wish I could see it in person.