It’s the time of the season for being attuned and focused with vision. It’s also the time for me to get back to my vision of the world. We are all in the same boat and we are all travelling to the same place. That’s a given. The thing is, to appreciate the journey and take the time along the way to make photos of what we see. With all this political garbage going on, I feel that people are lost in the mix and detached from things and each other. So, feeling things like this drives the creative energy and we need to go with it and let it steer us. It’s like a ride on a ship. Someone other then us is in control and we get to enjoy the journey.

Photography lends itself to feelings and things that distract feelings. We see the world and get to translate it into a visual language and make images. There is no truth in photography. There is no honest photograph. There is only the truth of INTENT and the realization of that INTENT.  I remember my friend Joe before he died. We were out and I was pushing him in the wheel chair. He lost vision in one eye and the other was to go soon. We stopped for a break and he looked at me with a heavy heart and said….”Don, for the first time in my life, I can see photographically.” What he meant was that with his one eye, he saw things like a photograph. No depth with one eye. I was quickly saddened because he made photos for over 40 years and for the first time, he could see photographically. What took so long, I wondered. Did he actually have to be blind in one eye to see photos. To understand the language and syntax of photos?

In the photo above, if the guy against the left side, didn’t have his eyes closed, it wouldn’t mean much. The dream state of the scene is magnified by the thought of him actually dreaming this. Just like dreams, they are personal, so are the photos we make and made. They are personal records of time past, of the time we were alive and had our camera with us. For me, it’s the magic of life. My life has been that of a Dream Catcher. When I was in Nam I met a guy named Joe. That wasn’t his real name cause he was Native American Indian. I showed him my photos many times and he called me Dream Catcher. He told me that I didn’t make pictures of the reality in front of me but of the Dream of Life inside me. I never understood that fully. I hope Joe made it home to his reservation. I hope Joe has a good life and lives the way of the Eagle. He told me he was the Eagle Spirit.

I never knew what happened to him but for me, the Eagle Spirit lives in my dreams. The Dream Catcher has a home for the Spirit,