Slowly I made my way east through the town. I hadn't been this far but once this week. This journey a fitting tribute to the beautiful summer's evening, my last of the trip. This year I most frequently biked everywhere with sights rolling by faster and a focus placed more on staying upright than on taking in the beauty of the Cape. The evening's walkabout up and down little side streets and alleys inspired a commitment to find a more pleasing mix of walking and riding on any future visit. The sun had finished it's decent and was about to dip below the horizon, and the deep blue of dusk skies made easy work for this curious voyeur. That was when I found the little orange door of the cottage. Nestled in the deep greens of the manicured plot set back from the busy road sat this tiny house, another tiny house in a town full of them. Adjacent to the entrance the deep plum of the Japanese Maple welcomed any visiting guest. The lush surroundings made me want to take off my shoes, walk the green grass path to the door, raise the doorknocker and be invited in to talk about art, and books, and the goings of the town. Slowly as the light slipped further away, a small group gathered as if reading my thoughts as they too pulled their cameras from deep pockets to record this charming spot.
As I return from my morning walkabout, he explains that pulling a clump or two each day makes a garden thrive. I think to myself this is how he approaches his work, culling an artists portfolio to allow the best to flourish.
The Gallery sits on the corner of Commercial and Center. It is a remarkable location - just across the street from the commanding landmark of the Provincetown Public Library. It’s bell tower the navigational tool I will use all week to find my way. It is the perfect spot. On point. On Center. The On Center Gallery.
Riding along on my cruiser, my head pivots left and right scanning the charm of this small seaside community lush with shop windows filled with vacation trinkets that could as easily be from 1970 as today. Nostalgia sets in, and I remember my summer holidays with family…
"I believe nothing makes one appreciate the ocean like the long, languorous summer days of Texas. As our friendship matured, we learned that our love of Laguna was mirrored by their love of Ptown and so the thrill of seeing it through their eyes was palpable. To see it through his eyes. Those eyes, the ones that see my work so differently than I do myself. "
I remember with great affection a Dallas afternoon where we lined gallery walls with images - moving and placing and moving again until the flow and story crystallized. It is much like our friendship - ever evolving, flowing, changing - deepening. I devoured those moments as much for the insight as for the time spent in his company and came away from each with respect for the gift of belief. His belief in me.
Last year I traveled for the first time to Provincetown, MA. Dear friends, with whom I had shared much of my photographic journey, had relocated their life to this unknown place. The experience seems like it happened just a minute ago. I depart today for what appears to be an annual pilgrimage to this part of the world. During last year's visit, I took a workshop with David Hilliard entitled The Photograph as Language: The Art of Visual Storytelling that was a pivotal experience, so much so that I am repeating it. David's infinite patience, wisdom and sense of humor (mostly the latter) was an inspiration, and over the next few days, I will be sharing excerpts from ly's visit and project which focused on the opening of my friends Gallery, The On Center Gallery.
"It is a lovely space filled with character and charm and just the right amount of windows to fill the space with natural light and a sense of the outdoors. Standing inside, one cannot help but feel a part of things - the building belongs to the community, reimagined as it has been, in this, it’s newest calling."
It is the earliest hour. The beach is empty, resting, I believe, from the crush of this holiday week. Soon, the table will be swallowed by the swarm of pilgrims reveling in the joy of summer season. But for now, it is the triumvirate of stillness, calm and me quietly carousing drunk in the beauty of this morning seaside.
Excerpt from a piece written for the Dallas Center of Photography
I now think about my photos differently. I appreciate my catalog - mind you, not every picture is a gem. They do, however, represent my chronology in growth and purpose with each photograph a memory of moments passed, lessons learned, emotions expressed. Through them, I honor the people who have crossed my photographic path and enlightened my life. I have spent nearly a decade learning from Peter Poulides of the Dallas Center for Photography, and I can no longer flippantly disregard the importance of this achievement and my long-standing relationship with the photographs he taught me to make.
This place has been the backdrop for precious instants in the time log of my life. Amongst them, the last time we were all together in California when I road this Ferris wheel with you. That was 2012. There have been summers and visits since, but this iconic view always reminds me of that trip with the entire family. This photo, patiently crafted with subtle monochrom shadings, is a far cry from the pictures of that day. Those are bright carnie colored snapshots of Pacific Park thrills chased down in the fleeting fervor that the moment might pass. And while this is a photograph I will share amongst my community of photographers, it is the latter, all these years later, that tugs at my heart.