perry street. nyc.

i write this from bed, fevered and under (again). i’m powering through and laying down in equal measure, while simultaneously defending myself against the voices, within and without, that tell me to hustle–to do more, show more, rally up the brand and business side of things. maybe madison avenue got under my skin. thing is, i am lousy at the hustle. it makes me nervous, bumbly, weird. and the other thing is, i am my brand. the images of things i see, the sentence fragments and metaphors, the truth telling and transparency–that is my offering. that is what i have to “sell.”

i want abundance and ease, for myself and for my children. i want only for stability and integrity when it comes to work flow and finances. i want to be clear (my word for the year) and clean in my relationships, transactions, and agreements. and i even want for there to be love mixed into all of it (call me crazy). i know there is some boot-strapping and hard work that is being asked for. i’m not afraid of that. what i am uncomfortable with is the lure to sell in a way that feels forced. and to connect for the sake of promotion feels cheap to me. so far, this path of photography and writing, and the doorways project, has unfolded pretty organically. opportunities have come easily, honest alliances made, work produced that i am proud of and paid well for. it has felt like reassurance from the universe that maybe i don’t have to bleed to feel provided for. it has felt like freedom. and freedom, the kind inside, is what i’m after.

this weekend will find me studying with a photography hero, phil borges, at the julia dean workshops in los angeles. mid-october i will head to amsterdam, where i am honored to be photographing the european summit for global transformation. both of these events offer great potential influence for future projects and collaborations–more breadcrumbs on the path forward. i ask only to do what it is i am best at and for the opportunity to produce work that brings more beauty and connection in the world. i want to do this without hustle; with ease, grace, and an untangled gut.

on another note: i have a guest post about the doorways project up at gypsy girls guide today. please go look!

also: it was brought to my attention last week that my contact form was not working since the launch of this site. the problem has been remedied, but, unfortunately all communication through the form from july through early september was not received and cannot be retrieved. i am sad to think of anyone out there thinking i blew them off…please, if you tried before, try again. i will respond!

i am crazy ripped paper grafitti advertisement.

beautiful painted worn torn dismissed noticed soft hot missing.

i am glossy simple messages behind glass. color, fragments, reflection.

i am glancing quiet whirring hum. solo, connected, unexpected.

i am void and manifesto. wholly unfinished. biography and story-less. narrator and character. polarity and center.

and that’s all i’ve got today.

photos: nyc. under my skin.

we drove here from new hampshire, passing through massachusetts and connecticut along the way. djay sus commanding the ipod as it shuffled the perfect soundtrack, sometimes dancy, sometimes lyrical, and always chillingly perfect. it seemed the most normal thing to steer the wheel right into this city, into honking horns and yellow cabs, into buzz and hip and history. it wasn’t until i actually saw madison avenue that i realized that i had been watching mad men obsessively these past few weeks in unconscious preparation. i’m still looking for don draper and joan harris. i know they’re here. i can see already that it is hard not to feel tragically uncool, or inversely too affectedly cool, in this city. how a place with this much energy and creative influence at once breaks you down and builds you up. and how those trees situated right smack in the middle of it all are like the buddha and jesus and allah rooted steady to take the chatter back to real.

today i step out a little softer. a bleeding heart in a big apple. impossible to be anything other than i am–broken open and spongy. observant and willing. hurting and hungry. sad and happy. desperately seeking and surrendered.

it’s all there. it’s all here. me, with a trusted ally, in the middle of manhattan. the empire state framed a block away outside my window, the doorways stories that i will tell in my future being lived, and remembered, right now.