Perspective is determined by existing in the world. And someone once told me that perspective (point-of-view) is the only decision that a photographer truly makes.

I've taken a small step away from color photography. It's not an intellectual or existential step, it's not a step toward growth, perhaps not even a horizontal step either. I'm doing it no justice with my description of it as a step, an action made with the body that delineates one place from another.

I'm also wrong to mention the idea of place. As Michel de Certeau writes, place 'excludes the possibility of two things being in the same location.' So perhaps I want to describe a transition from one space to another, an internal and direction-less lunge. (A lunge in my body? That has pressure and velocity but no movement? I'm getting closer, maybe...)

If instead of changing place I am changing space (thank you again, Certeau), where it's me (and you in relation to me) that is defining the parameters about me. Something like: place tells me where I am located; I tell space where it is located. 

(Rambling here in mass amounts! Levity with ideas too big for me!)

You (by reading this, sending me inspirations, taking walks with me, forcing me to pick up my camera though it's dreary outdoors and my new house feels like an anchor instead of a diving board) remind me that I can constantly define the (very mobile, flexible) space in which I exist. But when I stop defining my own Space (by losing my awareness of it), I begin to be situated in Place -- a rigid environment that has scientific longitude and latitude... and a flapping, bratty mouth.

So I'm suddenly (today, I kid you not) finally a teensy bit aware in the shift of space that I've created by shooting almost no color film. While searching for a group of varied photographs (potential images for the cover of a lovely literary journal I will tell you about soon), I brought to my desktop a handful of images that had lost their temporary space and were falling asleep at the bottom of a box full of unimpressive conversations with memories. I brought them to my personal daylight and will perhaps dust them off for you soon.

Until then, I'm struggling (nah, struggling without the discomfort) with how I share here and elsewhere.

I want to make grand gestures and explore ideas too lofty for me to argue. 

And then I simply want to scan images and fling them upon you with casual unawareness.

I find this stage (questioning before questioning) the best part of making work.

*

As I typed that last sentence I looked out my front window and saw my neighbor running with her small broom-ish dog.

She wore this red shirt that flapped at the tails, and I could almost hear the force of her heeled sandals with my windows shut.

So I opened my windows.