March 9, 2011

As confusing and frustrating as intertwining 19th and 21st century photographic processes can be, kallitypes have currently become my photographic medium of choice. The struggles of making a “perfect” print tends to dissolve with the notions of alternative processing. Imperfections are visible from every corner of the  brush stroked, unbounded frame. Some days I spend 7 to 8 hours working on 1 or 2 prints that ultimately end in failure. The slightest overdose in an eye droplet of ferric ammonium oxalate or silver nitrate can transform the tonal range within seconds. All of a sudden your eyes slip away from the clock and 1 extra minute in the UV light box overexposes an entire print. If the water used for development has a high percentage of iron, the white areas of a print result in a yellow-brownish tint. The variables are endless. Perhaps, I have chosen this medium because I enjoy the curiosity of not knowing how a print is going to turn out. This process allows me to reconsider my objective and let go of [some of my] expectations.

Venetian Memories, Venice


Dashboard Dalai Lama and Ganesha, Dharamsala


Khan Market, New Delhi


Pants for Sai Baba, New Delhi

Thinking in haiku

January 12, 2011



Nimbly murmuring
melodic scintillations
a humming bird’s om


We are here in light
tomorrow, though, we are there
shadows speak through dust

The Notions of Self

December 31, 2010

Self 1


Self 2


Self 3


Self 4


Self 5

re-awakening the blogger

November 10, 2010

Tonight, after a few moments of recalling my user name and password, I logged on to wordpress.com. I then scuffled through the blog user page to decipher how to post a new blog. Yes, it has been awhile – since August that I last uploaded the stories and photographs of my days. This evening I found some images from my photographic work in progress, related to the meanings of personal and public sacred space. My intention is to ask, what do tangible altars, objects and/or sacred spaces reveal about the cultures of the human condition?

Teijo with Quan Yin. Marshall, NC 2010

Publically Stashed Mementos. Asheville, NC 2010

Leaving Dharamsala…

August 11, 2010

Another monsoon morning
causes flight cancellation
1:44 PM, July 22, 2010
journey to New Delhi begins.
The rivers are flooding
chocolate milk

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale
toxic bus fumes enter nostrils
while jolting forward
as car panics to swerve around
head-on passing truck
I wonder,
how many hands it took to build this road.

Boy pushes bicycle over hill
catching up with family
moving children beneath tarps
protecting them from the rain

Monkeys sipping curbside cups of raindrops
a swift wind brushes against my cheek
black crow perched atop
tree bowing to river rocks below
orange henna-haired umbrella man
is herding goats eating leaves,
and waiting for the rain to cease.

Man-made forest read sign
beneath glimpse of sunlight
I stopped for toilet
in sink-hole mud field,
my toes now covered in earthen piss.

We play ‘chicken’ with the goods carriers
while a cow and a goose
enjoy a prairie for dinner
and a woman balances on treetop limb
to shake down fruit for man waiting below

Passing through Chandigargh
where remains of flooding
from the days before
have transformed the land
into fields of natural disaster swimming pools.

Dashboard Dalai Lama is smiling
across from gold chrome Ganesha
defeating our obstacles to come.

Only 2 Rupees, July 2010

Mischievous Little Creatures, July 2010

A Gloomy Day at Chamunda Devi Temple, July 2010

Shiva, July 2010

Binta and her daughter, Aasta, July 2010

Walking Home, July 2010

Reeta, July 2010

Human Authenticity?

July 20, 2010

July 17, 2010 ~ On the subject of authenticity, how do you know who is authentic anymore? Are we ever genuinely existing with one another? Or do we continually seek our own selfish needs by exploiting other peoples lives?

At 9:30 am I walked into the Tibetan Women’s Association prepared for my interview with Dhardon, an executive of TWA. When I entered the office I overheard a women crying and talking to someone on the phone. As I waited, I learned the story of her tears. This morning she was sharing her daily taxi from her home in lower Dharamsala to her office in Mcleod Ganj. She happened to be the only Tibetan women out of a group of Indian people sharing the cab. When it came time to pay the driver he told her to pay him 20 rps, but the Indian’s only had to pay 10 rps. She questioned why she had to pay more and he got very angry, and threatened to hit her. She came to TWA to ask how to deal with the situation. First,  a social worker from TWA walked with her to find the driver and ask him to apologize, but if he did not kindly respond then they were to help her file a police report. Although events such as this seldom occur, it is so sad to see the discrimination in our world. It is everywhere. I believe that our subconscious thoughts naturally create discriminative feelings because we must differentiate between everything we see, thus we automatically construct differences among people. Yet the way we choose to act towards these differences is what transforms the current human condition.


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.