Breezy Meditations on Urban Still Life - Part II

My work is about style and style begets something else. But before I get to the begetting, I'd like to talk about what I mean by style.

I consider my style as breezy meditations on urban still life. I use the word breezy as a way of saying laid-back or mellow. And meditations refer to simple images that you can sit with and contemplate. My compositions are urban because I live in the city of Baltimore and I take pictures while walking around the streets. And I use the words still life because my work generally focuses on a single object of interest without the distraction of people. So in general my work is informed by style, but how did this style come about? Let's get to it.

My style is the result of character, and in particular, my social personality, since all of my photography happens in a social environment; an urban city with lots of diversity. But let's break down the personality word-by-word. 

Breezy. Yes, I am a mellow dude. And when I go on a big urban walkabout I'm typically under the influence of L-O-V-E. This laid-back attitude begets my meditative state.

Meditations. I walk slowly because I’m always looking. I’m also not in any kind of hurry because I dedicate a good three to four hours on the process. I learned to meditate back when I lived in Los Angeles in the late 80s. We (Elle and I) have five meditation cushions and four yoga mats so I’m always down for a good, slow asana. Elle even wears a silver turtle on her bracelet, the charm being a little momento I bought in Tijuana back in the 70s. So yeah, we embrace slowness, and meditation is all about slowing things down. When I see something on my walk that looks cool, I contemplate all the possibilities: the subject, the framing, the light, the surroundings. No rush. This contemplation begets a mindful sense of my urban environment. 

Urban. Obviously I live in Baltimore, and the city is still fairly new to me. It’s been exactly two years. But another 40 years of my life was spent in LA and NYC. I know the streets. I also know that all my photos these days are part of my ongoing series of Baltimore exteriors so there are certain things about each picture that generally fit the theme, such as: no people, no cars and minimally banal. And there must be a sense of a fairly robust and diverse city as the urban environment is where I am most comfortable and being spatially contented begets my meditative stillness. 

Still life. I have social melancholy so I avoid crowds and noisy places which bodes well for some of the thematic elements of my series. My innate uncomfortableness guides me to the narrow alleys and the lonesome side streets. This is my natural element, the places where I can meditate on the minutia.

Breezy meditations on urban still life: a style that begets my peace and happiness.

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Life Is But a Dream

I was in a funk the other night. So I made some popcorn and crawled into bed with the iPad. I wanted to get lost in a movie. I needed some counseling of sorts, which reminded me of my friend, Doug. He was my consigliere. I wanted to talk to him. Every movie seemed ridiculous. Nah. Nah. Nope. I just kept munching on my corn and said, let the movie find you. And it did. I settled on a mini doc from 2017 called Ram Dass, Going Home. I watched it, and I paused, and I cried. This is what I learned, and transcribed, while eating popcorn:

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We are souls. As souls, we are not under time or space. We are, infinite. 

Just try following your breath. And anytime a thought arises, notice it, and then go back to the breath. Each time your awareness is drawn away from the breath, bring it back. 

No more plans. Going nowhere.

Nature is my friend.

Truth, love, consciousness. That's what God is to me. Just consciousness.

My life has been a dance between power and love. First part, power. I thought power was the end all, be all, because I was a little individual. After drugs (psychedelics) it was love, love, love, love, love. My life went from roles to soul. 

The great way is not difficult for those that have no preferences. 

Before the stroke, I had written a book that was called "How can I help?" After the stroke, I would have titled the book "How can you help me?" In this culture, dependency is a no-no. The stroke showed me dependency. And I have people that are dependable. My stroke makes it hard to play the cello. It's difficult to play golf. Those things are out there, and I'm in here (pointing to his heart). The stroke pushed me inside, even more, and it's so wonderful. I don't wish you the stroke, but I wish you the grace from the stroke. My guru told me the stroke would be grace. When I met the Maharaj-ji, it was unconditional love. It was wonderful to be loved that way. And I said, I'm home, I'm home. A guru is the doorway to God, to consciousness, to the One Love. With psychedelics, the Maharaj-ji said you can go into the room in which Christ and Buddha exist, but you only stay a few minutes, a few minutes. Everytime I would sit with Maharaj-ji, time would stop, it was like a moment expanded. He lived in eternity. 

Most of what we encounter are thoughts. I project not only the names but values, which is about judging everything. Without those projections, I can see everything. 

Life is but a dream. The incarnation is a dream. This incarnation suggests there are other incarnations. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily. People who don't seem to know that they are a soul, that their consciousness goes way farther than the incarnation. We pinch ourselves to know we are alive in this life. The soul is in the heart. The mantra is, "I am loving awareness." Identify with loving awareness and go through the veil, the consciousness veil. Going through that veil is part of spiritual practice. And the main part of dying. 

Make friends with change. There is change in the body: it's strength, memory. Death is change, just another change. If you identify with your soul, death is a snap. Your soul recognizes birth, death, birth, death. Death is another step towards home. 

Something has happened to me as a result of my meanderings through the realms of consciousness over the past 30 years that has changed my attitude towards death. A lot of the fear that death generated that led to denial has gone from me. Death does not have to be treated as an enemy for you to delight in life. Keeping death present in your consciousness, as one of the greatest mysteries and as the moment of incredible transformation, which imbues this moment with added richness and energy that is otherwise used up in denial. Death is not an error, it is not a failure, it is taking off a tight shoe. I delight and enjoy being with people when they are dying because I know I'm going to have the opportunity to be in the presence of truth. So when I sit with somebody, the first thing I have to do is open myself up to all my reactions to their predicament. All of it. All the pain of it. Grieve for the other person's loss. And when they feel heard in the grief, then we can start to meet behind the grief. And I'm faced with the paradox that I, as a human, with a human emotional heart, want to take away your suffering, but at the same moment there is another part of me that understands that suffering is grace. That suffering is the sandpaper from the spiritual point of view that is awakening people. And once you start to spiritually awaken, you reperceive your own suffering and start to work with it as a vehicle for awakening. My guru says, "God comes to the hungry in the form of food."

I said to Hanuman, what are you monkey? And Hanuman answered, "When I don't know who I am, I serve you. When I know who I am, I am you."

We've lived longer than we think. We are traveling through lives. What did you learn in this life? Considerable joy. Considerable joy.

So you love something and you become one with it. All of us, one. All of us, one. Yeah. One consciousness. One consciousness. And that's the way in which the world could right itself, starting with your peace, your love, your compassion, and go from there. And then, love everything. Everything. 

Let's all walk each other home. 

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Thank you, Ram Dass.
Thank you, Doug.

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Art in Everyday Life

"How do I do that?" said with a softness of someone who really wanted to know.

This was the question a student asked me at the end of our photography class. 

I was turning off the overhead fluorescents when the student approached. All the other photographers had left the building. The student and I were alone, standing face-to-face in front of the glowing TV screen. The moment felt sensitive and cinematic so I channeled Martha Graham and slowly lifted my willowy wrist. When my gesture reached the height of my protruded chin my palm turned upward and my fingers spread apart. I kept my gaze on the student’s eyes until absolute elegance turned my head toward the corner of the room. "Please take a seat over there."

"Over here, on the cushion?" asked the student while drifting towards a makeshift meditation dojo.

"Yes. Pick your favorite. I will sit on the other."

The student picked the purple cushion so I sat on the emerald one and slipped off my shoes. My socks were pink and the student's were skull and crossbones. "Nice," the student said while looking at my feet and sliding their backpack across the floor. 

"Thank you," I replied as I sat up straight and rested my hands on the knees of my crossed legs. 

Looking at my posture, the student mimicked my pose and easily twisted their legs into a perfect lotus. "I'm pretty limber," the student said. 

We sat silently for a moment before I asked, "Why didn't you share a photo with the class today?" 

"All my photos are black."

"Do you mean underexposed?" I was certainly curious.

"No, I mean black as in …" the student searched for the perfect word, "sadness." 

"Oh, cool." I might have said that a bit too cheerfully, but I was a huge fan of the tender heart. "Can you show me one of your photos?" 

The student straightened both of their legs and leaned way back. With a moan and a bit of tug, the student proudly revealed a beat-up digital camera that was wedged deep inside the pocket of their jeans. "Here we go." The student turned the camera on and said, "Ok, here's a photo I took yesterday," and then effortlessly settled back into a lotus. 

I studied the black screen for a minute. "Tell me what you see?"

We looked at each other and adjusted our poses. We straightened our backs and aligned our chakras. Without rushing the student eventually spoke. 

"Well, I was chilling at home thinking about the assignment. You asked us to capture a still-life of something that made us happy. I had just poured a tall pint of hot tea hoping it would open up my—you know—creativity. I wanted this photo to be great. I thought the light coming through the drape was perfectly soft and kinda trippy. I rested the camera in my lap and really studied the composition. I was mesmerized by the colors and the textures and the simplicity of it all. The tableau was incredibly soothing. My body felt so relaxed. I connected with all the goodness in the world. Was it my spirit? The primordial love of being? This was existence without thought. There were no words. I lowered my gaze in honor of this profundity. Then I remember my head started to bob and I think my finger triggered the shutter because when I woke up it was totally dark and the camera was still in my lap and the chamomile was cold and this is what happened."

"I love it.” We sat in stillness and continued our meditation of slow inhales and exhales. "Your photo is very Malevichian."

"Oh I think he's a wonderful actor. But how so?"

"Not Malkovich. Malevich."

"Say what?" 

"Kazimir Malevich created a painting in 1915 called, Black Square, which was an experiment of his Suprematist principles of art. Malevich stated that Suprematism is abstract art based upon the supremacy of pure artistic feeling rather than on the visual depiction of objects."

"Pure feeling," the student muttered. 

"Malevich was a rebel of sorts. Brave. His concepts challenged the Russian politics of the time which attempted to limit artistic freedom. He was like, nah."

"I can dig it."

"So how did your photo make you feel?"

"Happy I suppose. Content. But kinda sad too. I want to have better control of my feelings. I don't want to sleep on happiness—that would be lame."

"You are doing just fine. You have the miksang! That's Tibetan for good eye." 

The student laughed, "Thanks." 

"In regards to your question, why don't you set up that chamomile scene again and do exactly what you did the last time. Relax your body, connect with your spirit, and tame your inner dialogue. Perhaps you can lift your gaze just a tad? This helps me from falling asleep." 

As the student grabbed their backpack and slow-rolled towards the exit, they remembered their camera was still on the meditation cushion. "I almost forgot." 

In reverence I said, "You are the sad photographer." 

The student picked up their camera and with a stunning pirouette of grace and precision exited the classroom and whispered, 

"And that makes me brave."

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A Million Smiley Faces

I wanted to create an image of peace.
I wanted to create an image of love.
I wanted to create an image of happiness.
I wanted to create an image of you.

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Being Content - A Practical Guide to Awareness

Let's just clarify that I am writing these words while listening to soft piano music, sipping on an Italian roast with bits of dark chocolate stirred in and looking out my window while a cool breeze reminds me a rain is coming. I can see the water of the James River. I am wearing flannel and writing on a late 2013 MacBook Pro. My toilet flushes and the refrigerator stows away pickled jalapeños and frozen blueberries. In essence, I am rather fortunate. Is this white male privilege? Probably. But either way, this is my current state of physical being. It feels lavish to me so I will honor the luxury while it lasts. I promise to write about contentment when I am homeless and my body withers away from cancer. Just for comparison. To see if my current perspective holds water when the view changes.

I speak of contentment and the efforts to both recognize and monitor this feeling during all my waking hours. This is a practical guide to awareness. Contentment is available all the time. It's just a vibe. Thought waves. I've recognized these vibes while creating a spreadsheet full of numbers. I've also felt the ease of contentment while sipping drinks on a beach. Whether my head is full of practicalities or dreamy with dance I glue it all together with the same thought. The mantra is basic. I am grateful for this experience, this breath, this ability to not measure myself against others. This is the gateway to contentment which is the gateway to happiness which is the gateway to love. When I first moved to NYC I joined a gym. I felt the need to be fit. And there was a Crunch within walking distance on the corner of Christopher and Greenwich. Their motto was no judgements. Still is. I can truly get behind this hashtag. But I would like to believe that Crunch was inspired by a simple Taoist concept that the true measure of life is to not measure at all.

The human species is constantly evolving. Faster, stronger, smarter. But no matter how much we change there seems to be a universal joy for contentment. To be comfortable in your body and your head. The first step to being comfortable is listening to how much we judge. Let go of judgement and you will be rewarded with contentment. But letting go of judgement in order to love is a mental thing. And stuff involving headspace is really hard to grasp. So let's introduce a practical tool to make the act of letting go easier. Unclenching. Unclench your butt, unclench your jaw, unclench your shoulders, unclench all that shit. Now you can get busy with loving.  

I'll conclude these thoughts with a photo of Dee W Squeeze. I met her while living in NYC. I wasn't going to Crunch anymore when we became friends. I had a yoga mat instead. Dee and I recently went on a road trip. We slept at a funky motel in Arlington, VA. It's her most favorite motel in the world. So this is Dee being happy. Her happiness is my happiness because we are like a pajama onesie.  

Find your happiness. If you are struggling, please let me know and perhaps we can collaborate on an art project that champions love, awareness, no judgements and contentment. Art project? Sure. It's all art really. But we'll talk more about this in the next blog.

Stay fit.

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Professor Wiggins - Higher Education

You read that right, but we'll get to the dirty deets later. Whoa, the last three months just whizzed by. Long of the short, all is chill in Wiggyland. Yay. I've been trying on some new clothes, taking off some used. I'm still living in Lynchburg, VA with the always inspiring Dee W Loizou. We've perfected our spicy fish-sauce sauce. Yes, I'm still vegetarian but this Thai dish we love requires the Red Boat, so we tread lightly and nom, nom, nom the bejesus outta that dish. I took photos for a wedding. My god, that was hard. Probably won't do that again. Thankfully the bride and groom are the best people on the planet. I took on a bookkeeping job for my dear friends at Riverviews...what! Yes, I hear you screaming. It's just temporary, people. No, I'm not moving back to NYC just yet. But I miss it. Dearly. Took photos for a fundraising event. Umm, super hard. But I did it all in character, with a British accent, in striped tights. For the challenge. Oh, I would do that again. For sure. Makes picture taking wildly mysterious. And fun. I did a few promo videos, bought a battery powered light kit, started using my flash a bit more for stills, and yeah, I taught an Introduction to Digital Photography class and an Advanced Digital Filmmaking class at the local liberal arts joint just up the street. It's called Randolph College. Used to be all women. Then that changed in 2006. I had 19 students and 16 were women. So who knows. I began teaching in February. Unfortunately I missed the first 11 classes of the semester because I came in as a pinch-hitter. Probably won't do that again. So hard. But I would do it all again if given a full semester. I taught four classes a week for a total of nine hours. 4.5 hours on Monday and 4.5 hours on Thursday. But you know what, that shizzle was a full-time job. Seriously. Best paying gig I've had in Lynchburg, but damn, brother barely had time to rest. But I kinda loved it? I know it's trite, but mad respect to all the teachers out there. Bring it in for a group hug! Yesterday was my last day. Graded all the students, sent each a personal note of gratitude, and then I noticed I hadn't written a blog post in three months. Whizzed by. The picture up top was taken at a show ring in Big Island, VA. I imagine myself sitting on those aluminum bleachers just taking it all in. Beautiful scenery, nice and quiet, just me and the cool breeze. What a spectacle. What a show. What a gift.

Might as well be happy.

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