The wires are a connective element; a conduit of civilizing electricity, yet there is an insistence on isolation inherent in the design of some of the houses here. Beyond an eye toward privacy, they sometimes feel fortress-like, extending a feeling of invitation only to those already familiar; only to those whose homes they are.… Continue reading An architecture of isolation
Along windswept edges of town amid stern midcentury angles, a bright unsunny light filters and glances; limns the geometric emptinesses between things on a weekend in shoulder season on a slip of land off the coast of Long Island. The color of the wood sea-silvered— salt boxes beheaded, re-envisioned by exacting minds, rise out of… Continue reading An austerity of angles sprouting from wild grasses
Here are some photographs from my brief but lovely stay in Cherry Grove, Fire Island last week. A soothing balm, and the friends I stayed with had a little oasis of a cottage on the bayside. It was so serene and lovely that I didn't even go off on a wander to photograph more of… Continue reading Scenes from a nearby barrier island
Another half day spent at the beach, and two more people added to the sketchbook. I also made a silly little movie of sea birds —fluttering, fighting, and diving as they do— posted on Instagram. The drawings before adding the sky and joined them into one scene:
The rain was very light, but the skies were darkening. After learning what the satellites warned, we broke camp— packed as quickly as possible, ran to the boardwalk and rode fast to beat the real rain at our backs. Made it to a bayside pub to wait out the rain then another quick dash to the… Continue reading Returning from Riis Beach after a light rain warned of a coming storm
Here are the days— Heat, haze on the horizon like a matte painting, wavering This part of summer finds me un-hungry. I have no appetite. My desires simplified, bleached like the half-shells of bi-valves, left hollow on the sand. The sounds of waves, shrieking gulls, soft wind— And the gradual granular erosion of my skin,… Continue reading From here I can see the curve of of the earth
The feeling when You’ve got back from the beach— shook out the sand donned fresh togs. Open the window, or maybe the air conditioner. Nothing left. All’s as it was before the beach Save that pretzel taste on your lips and a fine tiredness— that welcome, long lost fatigue peculiar to beach days.
From a congress of reeds along the water’s edge A white crane rose on a silent vector— horizon-wise...
This is a departure from my usual urban photography, yet Marine Park is urban— but urban nature. This small stretch of beach and marshland is adjacent to a small neighborhood on a peninsula in Brooklyn.
e daggar art: THE MUSEUM 