The Weight of Power
They left before dawn, walking east with what they could carry. The road out of their village was lined with others doing the same. Old men pushed carts, women balanced bundles on their heads, and children gripped sleeves so they would not get lost. Smoke rose behind them. Somewhere back there, soldiers were moving from house to house. The sound was distant but steady, the end of something familiar and the beginning of something nameless. They did not call it the Nakba then, not yet. They just knew they could not go home.
The Lure of Complexity, the Freedom of Simplicity
We often find ourselves tangled in the threads of complexity, drawn to the idea that a fuller life must be a more complicated one. It’s a deeply human instinct, this subtle pull toward filling our days with more commitments, more possessions, more friction. It’s as if complexity itself were a measure of meaning.
The Rest Goes Out with the Tide
Loss can move in both directions. We lose people, and we also lose the version of ourselves that existed with them. In Sealskin, Jeff Dworsky’s photographs sit in that space. They aren’t distant observations of someone else’s life; they are the life. His children grow. The seasons change. Work is done and undone. And then something shifts, a presence is gone, though the photographs never name it.
Across the Street in Donegal
We landed in Dublin with a hotel booked all the way across the country—in Donegal. No car rental, no train tickets. Just a general sense of direction and the quiet confidence that we’d figure it out…
Not Here to Please You
I posted a photograph the other day to the Frames Photography Facebook group: three women, standing in front of the courthouse in Troy, Ohio. They were holding signs. It was quiet, striking, and very human.
That image drew more response than I expected. Not about the composition or the tone, but about what people assumed it meant.
Still Looking
I used to think the best photos came from faraway places.
Morning fog in the Alps. Golden hour in Morocco. Some crumbling archway…