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The Chalkboard | Baltimore, MD | 2022

Breezy Meditations on Urban Still Life: Part II

MCHL WGGNS August 30, 2022

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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Tags Baltimore, Photography, Love, Meditation, Happiness, Melancholy, The 70s, Dee, The 80s, Nonfiction

My Record Collection (1952-1992) | Baltimore, MD | 2021

My Record Collection: (1952-1992)

MCHL WGGNS October 15, 2021

The collection can be viewed in three separate galleries:

1952-1969 (140 records)
1970-1979 (249 records)
1980-1992 (211 records)

From the flip side of Dave Van Ronk's album, Just Dave Van Ronk, 1964

Vinyl is heavy, man.

My record collection weighs approximately 369 pounds. This estimate is based on the average weight of a piece of vinyl, plus the album cover, being 9 ounces. Then you multiply that number by 600 records and add another 30 pounds for the milk crates that keep everybody upright. I've carted this assemblage from Los Angeles to New York, then to Virginia, and now Baltimore.

I decided to turn my record collection into a piece of visual art to lighten my load. With each passing year I let go of more stuff. Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting. I remember laughter, I remember heartache and I remember love. My record collection spans the years from 1952 through 1992—a time before I was born to a time nearly 30 years ago. I've carried my past across the country. I respect the journey of my ancestors and myself. But today I am lighter. And here's the truth—I didn't know I had a record by Dave Van Ronk until I started this project. Like Dave, I have no interest in telling a lie when I open up my heart. I open up my heart by meditating, which is weightless, and meditation opens my awareness. My awareness has no age.

My earliest recollection of vinyl was back in the early 70s, which is one of the reasons why 41% of my collection is from that era. The record that got the most rotation back-in-the-day was this little pumpkin:

1971 | Harry Nilsson | Nilsson Schmilsson (photo by Dean Torrance)

Everything about the album resonated with me until I was deep into my 20s, my 30s, maybe forever. So many fun times with family and friends, laughing, dancing, getting stoned. Harry's hand casually tucked in his pocket, the other hand cradling his pipe. The gentleness of it all. The cozy ass kitchen with the refrigerator calendar. If we weren't letting the good times roll in the living room, we were in the kitchen, cooking Italian, playing games, conjugating until the wee hours. Harry was a God, my role model. And so was Uncle Tom, my Mom's brother, the cool cat who introduced me to Harry Nilsson. We all just wanted to be free, to be lighter, to drink it all up.

Another reason I have a ton of records from the 70s is because of my friend, Kent. Back in the early 80s, Kent had a Monday night gig spinning records at the Whistle Stop, which was a small club in the South Park neighborhood of San Diego.

Flyer by Kent Landis, 1985

Kent and I loved to have fun together. One day he invited me to join him on Mondays to play our favorite records, drink beers, smoke weed, boogie down and eat hot dogs. It was heaven. Kent loved music from the 70s, so this naturally rubbed off on me. Even though I moved back to Los Angeles after graduating from UCSD in 1986, I always imagined we would play music again. So Kent was on my mind whenever I was at a thrift shop looking for fresh wax. I would say to myself, "Kent would dig this." We never got that opportunity to spin again, but if we did, this is the first record I would play for him:

1975 | Gloria Gaynor | Never Can Say Goodbye (photo by Bernie Block)

I always thought my records were kinda groovy. Although the collection was cumbersome, the nostalgia of it all was definitely worthwhile. Collecting records was a thing. I mean, just the cover art alone was worth the effort and mondo trippy, not to mention the crazy music. The act of holding an album in your hands, studying it, reading the liner notes, pulling out the record, cleaning the vinyl, hearing the pops and cracks as the record spun round-and-round. The whole thing was romantic and visceral. And thanks to Kent, making sure your collection had both the classics and the schmaltz. Be diverse, have fun. So that's what I did. 

In 1990, my record collection became truly vintage. That's when my father's wife, Gloria Kersey, gifted me the record collection that belonged to her husband, Chuck, who passed away in 1984. And speaking of the 80s, my father took me to see the Steelers play the Rams at the Superbowl in Pasadena in 1980. We had great seats on the 50 yard line courtesy of our hosts, the Biltmore Hotel. I was 16 years old, the weather was perfect and everyone was drinking beer, including me. Before the opening kickoff, a friendly fella from the hotel bought a bunch of hot dogs for everyone to munch on. I was stoked and hungry. I had no idea who the guy was but he was instantly a major dude. That man was Chuck Kersey. It wasn't until I flipped through his record collection in 1990 that I realized Chuck was a full-on jazz head. His collection made my collection go from cabernet to cognac. 

One sweet piece of vinyl from the Kersey repertoire is this:

1956 | Chet Baker | Chet Baker Sings (photo by William Claxton)

I collected most of my records while I was living in Los Angeles in the late 80s and early 90s. When I moved to NYC in 1995, I pretty much turned to CDs and then mp3s. But those post college years in LA were a great time for vinyl enthusiasts and thankfully I had some decent jobs to support my jones. During this period of deep accumulation, I became a huge fan of reggae, and consequently, a regular at the Kingston 12 in Santa Monica on Thursday nights. It was a ritual for me. I would roll up in my yellow VW Rabbit, smoke some ganja, and then dance for a couple of hours with the other Rastas. Jah! In honor of these irie times, I would have to say that my favorite album cover is this piece of candy right here:

1974 | Jimmy Cliff | Struggling Man (illustration by David Dragon)

Creating an archive of my vinyl was a calling. I was in a p-funk and I needed to heal my chi, so I created a self-help project that required absolute focus, dedication and love. Operation Free My Mind.  

Each album cover was scanned four times: top-left, top-right, bottom-left and bottom-right. I merged these four sections in Photoshop and cropped the result into a perfect square. I color corrected the final images to best resemble the original artwork, but I didn’t retouch anything because I wanted to see the wear and imperfections of each cover. I created unique titles for every digitized file according to the year, the artist and the title of the album. My last step was to create a collage of all the records, in chronological order, left-to-right, top-to-bottom, which I did in Photoshop. I worked on this project every day for five weeks and I worked eight hours a day, or 280 hours in total. 

My intention was to make the record collection feel as though you were actually in my living room thumbing through the dusty stacks. Wine, weed and snacks—totally optional.

Jimmy Cliff was singing about those good old days. I guess I am too. Archiving my record collection was a blunt way for me to confront the past in order to find peace in the present. Did it work?

The best days of my life are right here, right now. 

My mind is free.


P.S. The songs on this blog were recorded by me from my actual record collection which is why you might hear some pops and cracks.  





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Tags Vinyl, Grieving, Love, NYC, Los Angeles, San Diego, Meditation, Music, The 70s, Kent, Pops, Mom, The 80s, Melancholy, Nonfiction

My Desk | Baltimore, MD | 2020

One Year in Baltimore

MCHL WGGNS August 31, 2021

A persons work space is like a tarot card or tea leaves. They reveal something. Dee and I moved to Baltimore exactly one year ago today and this is how my desk looked then. How does it look today? There are some subtle differences.

The Ableton Push has relocated to an auxiliary shelf in order to clear up some table top. Although the desk is eight feet long, it was kinda tight. So now there is space for Dee and I to spread out as we savor our dinners and look at art. It's way more social.

The curtains are another significant change. The hodgepodge fabrics are thicker these days which helps tone down the sunlight. I was getting too much reflection on the laptop and this wasn't helping my editing. I think my photography is better today than it was a year ago so the curtains were a nice adjustment. I've taken 3,550 photos since living in Baltimore and I've edited most of them while sitting at this desk. The rest were edited in motels when I took my road trip to Los Angeles.

The last notable changes are the handmade gifts I received from Dee, which are mainly bits of paper with happy illustrations on them. She also makes tiny trinkets bursting with love energy. Dee is constantly working on her witchcraft. My talismans live on top of the stereo speakers. Basically, good vibes all day for us.

I should mention that the two paintings on the wall above the desk were painted by my brother and I when we were in elementary school back in the 70s in Los Angeles. I've always been fascinated by our aesthetic choices. It’s no wonder I painted outside the lines and used a ton of adolescence to murder the daisy. Coincidentally, Dee painted a portrait of us about a year ago to commemorate seven years of being together and her water color is hanging just above my brothers painting. Dee's portrait includes a bit of fancy numerology having to do with the date of our anniversary (10-6-2013) and how it magically and mathematically involves the number four. It's deep. Something about 10+6+2+1+3 = 22 and 2+2 = 4. And on the fourth day, God created the sun, the moon and the stars. And speaking of, here is one of the first photos I took of Dee in Baltimore.

Dee at the Inner Harbor | Baltimore, MD | 2020

So what does all this tell you about me? Fuck knows. But I'm hella organized. I believe change happens gradually. And, I guess I have less artistic rage.   

I wouldn't hurt a daisy anymore.





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Tags Baltimore, Love, Road Trip, Los Angeles, Photography, Music, Art, Dee, The 70s, Brother, Nonfiction
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  • 2025
    • May 31, 2025 Sun Salutation May 31, 2025
    • Mar 20, 2025 In Memory Mar 20, 2025
    • Jan 31, 2025 Pop the Hood Jan 31, 2025
  • 2024
    • Nov 30, 2024 Speed Dating Nov 30, 2024
    • Jul 14, 2024 The Debut Jul 14, 2024
    • May 17, 2024 The Collaboration May 17, 2024
    • Apr 18, 2024 The Ballad of Sun and Moon Apr 18, 2024
    • Mar 25, 2024 Traveling Light Mar 25, 2024
    • Feb 21, 2024 Dawn Patrol Feb 21, 2024
    • Jan 12, 2024 Awakened by a Dream Jan 12, 2024
  • 2023
    • Nov 16, 2023 Benefit Exhibition at Maryland Art Place Nov 16, 2023
    • Oct 31, 2023 Preach Oct 31, 2023
    • Sep 29, 2023 Thanks for Inviting Me Sep 29, 2023
    • Aug 31, 2023 Teenage Musical Theory Aug 31, 2023
    • Jul 27, 2023 The Process Jul 27, 2023
    • Jun 15, 2023 The House Jun 15, 2023
    • May 31, 2023 Church May 31, 2023
    • Apr 27, 2023 The Ponies Apr 27, 2023
    • Mar 25, 2023 Said No One Ever Mar 25, 2023
    • Feb 19, 2023 Patterns Feb 19, 2023
    • Jan 22, 2023 Red Bows and BBQ Jan 22, 2023
  • 2022
    • Dec 7, 2022 Holiday Exhibition at Maryland Art Place Dec 7, 2022
    • Nov 30, 2022 Mash-Up: The Dance of Two Nov 30, 2022
    • Oct 9, 2022 Don't Think Oct 9, 2022
    • Sep 28, 2022 Partially Based on a True Story Sep 28, 2022
    • Aug 30, 2022 Breezy Meditations on Urban Still Life: Part II Aug 30, 2022
    • Jul 31, 2022 Breezy Meditations on Urban Still Life Jul 31, 2022
    • Jun 27, 2022 A New Frame of Mind Jun 27, 2022
    • Feb 27, 2022 Life Is But a Dream Feb 27, 2022
  • 2021
    • Dec 31, 2021 The Year in Rearview Dec 31, 2021
    • Oct 15, 2021 My Record Collection: (1952-1992) Oct 15, 2021
    • Sep 25, 2021 Embers of the Spirit Sep 25, 2021
    • Aug 31, 2021 One Year in Baltimore Aug 31, 2021
    • Jul 29, 2021 A Portrait of Anthony, Fear and Compassion Jul 29, 2021
    • Jun 23, 2021 Different Color Socks Jun 23, 2021
    • May 29, 2021 The Oui in We May 29, 2021
    • Apr 27, 2021 I Was Baptized in a Jacuzzi Apr 27, 2021
    • Mar 19, 2021 Ten Marches Since My Last Confession Mar 19, 2021
    • Feb 26, 2021 The Early Beginnings of the Vibe Rater Feb 26, 2021
    • Jan 25, 2021 The Poet Dunbar, or, Something About Sanctity Jan 25, 2021
  • 2020
    • Dec 29, 2020 The Year in Haiku Dec 29, 2020
    • Nov 24, 2020 Art in Everyday Life Nov 24, 2020
    • Oct 29, 2020 Total and Absolute Love Oct 29, 2020
    • Sep 29, 2020 The Notion of a Tree Sep 29, 2020
    • Aug 31, 2020 The New Situation Aug 31, 2020
    • Jul 30, 2020 The Day I Broke Joe's Heart Jul 30, 2020
    • Jun 30, 2020 I Relax My Toes, I Relax My Toes, My Toes Are Relaxed Jun 30, 2020
    • May 28, 2020 Constantly Camping, or, Tending to Sophia May 28, 2020
    • Apr 29, 2020 The Healing Dance Apr 29, 2020
    • Mar 27, 2020 Nothing but Good Feelings Mar 27, 2020
    • Feb 9, 2020 Whose Legs Are These? Feb 9, 2020
  • 2019
    • Dec 23, 2019 The Patina of Memory Dec 23, 2019
    • Nov 27, 2019 The Light of Your Faith Nov 27, 2019
    • Nov 22, 2019 A Million Smiley Faces Nov 22, 2019
    • Oct 26, 2019 Mama Always Said I Would Be a Student for Life Oct 26, 2019
    • Aug 23, 2019 Welcome to Opening Night of My Virtual Photography Exhibition Aug 23, 2019
    • Jul 19, 2019 Awkward Ironic Pleasurable Pressure Jul 19, 2019
    • Jun 22, 2019 What is Art? Jun 22, 2019
    • Jun 9, 2019 Being Content : A Practical Guide to Awareness Jun 9, 2019
    • May 27, 2019 Meditation, Mindfulness and Detachment May 27, 2019
    • May 16, 2019 A Bit of Writing from the 80s May 16, 2019
    • May 2, 2019 Professor Wiggins: Higher Education May 2, 2019
    • Jan 28, 2019 Snap Out of It Jan 28, 2019
    • Jan 14, 2019 Values, Objectives and Results Jan 14, 2019
  • 2018
    • Dec 31, 2018 The Year in Review Dec 31, 2018
    • Dec 20, 2018 Fast Food Meditation Dec 20, 2018
    • Oct 13, 2018 New Canvas Oct 13, 2018
    • Sep 28, 2018 A Matter of Time Sep 28, 2018
    • Sep 20, 2018 Perpetual Tea, or, Preparing Our Minds for Anything Sep 20, 2018
    • Sep 14, 2018 Sisterhood Sep 14, 2018
    • Sep 12, 2018 This is Poetry Sep 12, 2018
    • Aug 30, 2018 The Composition of Stasis Aug 30, 2018
    • Aug 27, 2018 The Power of the Soul Aug 27, 2018
    • Aug 18, 2018 Bandit's Silver Angel Aug 18, 2018
    • Aug 17, 2018 Introspection Aug 17, 2018
    • Aug 5, 2018 An Offering Aug 5, 2018
    • Jul 19, 2018 Beginner's Mind Jul 19, 2018
    • Jul 17, 2018 Aromatherapy Jul 17, 2018
    • Jul 14, 2018 Proper Relaxation Jul 14, 2018
    • Jun 21, 2018 All Roads Lead to Love Jun 21, 2018
    • Apr 26, 2018 Ways of Seeing Apr 26, 2018
    • Apr 15, 2018 The Track and the Choo Choo Apr 15, 2018
    • Mar 16, 2018 The Fragile Nature of Fate Mar 16, 2018
    • Feb 27, 2018 The Art of Feeling Feb 27, 2018
    • Jan 13, 2018 I Am Wide Awake Jan 13, 2018
  • 2017
    • Dec 24, 2017 Our Earthly Bodies Dec 24, 2017
    • Dec 10, 2017 Polaroid Swinger Dec 10, 2017
    • Dec 4, 2017 Happiness Dec 4, 2017
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MCHL WGGNS