Movement

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The young man, going out of his town to meet the adventure of life, began to think but he did not think of anything very big or dramatic. Things like his mother’s death, his departure from Winesburg, the uncertainty of his future life in the city, the serious and larger aspects of his life did not come into his mind.

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He thought of little things —Turk Smollet wheeling boards through the main street of his town in the morning, a tall woman, beautifully gowned, who had once stayed overnight at  his father’s hotel, Butch Wheeler the lamp lighter of Winesburg hurrying through the streets on a summer evening and holding a torch in his hand, Helen White standing by a window in  the Winesburg post office and putting a stamp on an envelope.

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The young man’s mind was carried away by his growing passion for dreams. One looking at  him would not have thought him particularly sharp. With the recollection of little things occupying his mind he closed his eyes and leaned back in the car seat. He stayed that way for a long time and when he aroused himself and again looked out the car window the town of  Winesburg had disappeared and his life there had become but the background on which to paint the dreams of his manhood.

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— Sherwood Anderson, “Winesburg, Ohio”

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I snatched this excerpt from a blog linked to a project that one of my favorite photographers, Alec Soth, has been working on.  Having just returned from several weeks upon the road and gearing up for another adventure on the west coast, this selection seemed to resonate with me...  I feel as though it's a common notion, perhaps in naivety or simply soaked in romanticism, that travel and exploration will bring clarity to the scenery of one's 'big picture'. But I don't believe this is truly the case. We may slowly develop a better understanding of humanity, but I think that unless your journey revolves around the service of others, there is no lasting sense of lucidity... There is a deep particle of our being that remains the same, focusing on the trivial and inane, that cannot truly be altered through movement but, alternately, is only adaptable in stillness. I don't know if my feelings are even remote to what this paragraph reflects but it added fuel to thoughts I've been entertaining about a (few years away) project that will simultaneously that reflect both the culture of motion and the surrounding quietness that transitions one.

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In the meantime, I am happy to announce that next month, I will be participating in an Chicago event showcasing artists of varying mediums. I'll have more details to share soon, but keep the 23rd open.

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Blessings.

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