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This is the 21st Century.
Shouldn't we all be "free and accepted"?

19.2.17


Paris Autoportrait, 2005

18.2.17

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13.2.17

R. Mark Woods





Mark lived in the small town of Perth, Ontario, Canada, and published the Web log ("blog") titled "Wood s Lot" for nearly a decade. It was a compilation (or aggregation, if you will) of posts found elsewhere on the Internet, primarily focused on exceptional writing and visual expression. I always found it very heartening to go there, and often passed it on to others.

But then it stopped—freeze frame—on 13 July 2016. I kept checking nearly every day, and worried that something had happened to Mark. [Wyeth is not a bad place to stop, but…] I sent him several e-mails but heard nothing back.

A big problem with what I call "virtual friendships" is that we really know so little. Mark didn't write about himself. The closest I came was in the photographs he made and posted on his blog. This was a sensitive and intelligent man, whom I wish I could have known better.

But my worst fear was realized, and his brother kindly wrote the other day to inform me of his death from cancer this month.

Damn! And double damn!

"Winter Swing" by Mark Woods

Although I didn't know you, I will miss you, Mark.


And thank you, ever so much, for sharing your spirit with us.

Tyler 


12.2.17



My wife bought a scarf at the Bastille Market in Paris in 2009
and I fell in love with her again.

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7.2.17

Then and Now


I came across this in the newspaper twelve years ago, and it is even truer and sadder now.

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A self-portrait made on 21 November 2004 at Hattie's Hat, in Ballard, Washington, while waiting for my bacon-cheeseburger to arrive.  Just doesn't seem right to call it a 'selfie'.

1.2.17



When a person, a memory, or a significant object is lost,
there remains behind a burden not to be forgotten, ever.

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16.1.17



I took this picture of a sign in the window of a downtown Seattle corner grocery store in 2004.
Now time has added a whole new level of significant meaning.

Oops! I went back and dug up the original camera file for this picture:


I'd forgotten that I had changed the 'Rain' to 'Pain'. 

Now, where did I park my car?

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When the ignorant rule…

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