Tunisia

Here is a snapshot of a neighbor who lived across the street from me in Tunis. He gave me rides on his moped. I spent four months there in 1983 as an intern for the government owned transportation department.

I knew before going that I was in for a beyond backpacking through Europe variety of culture shock, but my first few days in Tunisia tested all my reserves. I had just come across the Mediterranean on what I would describe as 'steerage' from Italy, and the university student who was at the port to meet me, spoke French so fast, and with such a thick accent, that I barely recognized the language at all (though I had studied it for five years.)

For those first few weeks I felt as if my equilibrium had been knocked out from under me. Ramadan was just getting underway as I arrived and I stupidly pledged to my host family that I would be fasting for the whole month. I did regain my balance, over time, as I got use to the language, climate and logistics. I made friends with some students from the University of Tunis and other interns from Europe who engaged me in lively political discussions on the beach. Being the only American in the group I did more listening than talking. I moved into a beach house which I found charming until a middle of the night trip to the bathroom revealed a serious problem with cockroaches.

Another strong memory was the face of Habib Bourguiba, then president of Tunisia. His face was everywhere... TV screens, billboards and even a large banner on the presidential palace which I wasn't permitted to photograph. When I asked around if all this wasn't a bit much they expressed loyalty to the leader who had led them toward freedom from colonialism and imperialism. The Tunisians do have a strong tradition of dissent, however, as was demonstrated a year or so later when they rioted in the streets of Tunis over the government controlled price of bread.

The conflict in Tunisia today is as inevitable as the struggle for independence was back in the 50's. Every struggle is a step toward reconciling faith and tradition with the forces of globalization, which is often seen as just another form of oppression. As an emerging quasi-democratic state, Tunisia has tried to preserve its Islamic roots while reaching for economic growth, modernity and finally, respect from the international community. But hard earned progress is precarious when Islam has been so sorely misunderstood in the West. The distortions of religion as dogma used for power or fear mongering is played out in the world as a way to gain control over people.

A line from the Qu'ran that always stays with me is "The pen of the scholar is more sacred than the blood of the martyr." I feel these words should be applied often if the aim is to effect change that endures the vicissitudes of economic progress and democratic forms of evolution. Greg Mortenson's contribution of building schools in the war torn regions of Afghanistan and Pakistan is a testament to the power of education to change the status quo.

Red Tent

Our family recently camped and surfed at La Push, a Quileute owned and operated resort on the Washington coast. This place was little known before the Twilight tourist trade, but it has always been a great destination. It's charm comes from the wild and rugged beaches where intrepid surfers go year round (imagine) and anyone can camp on the beach for free.

Here is a Haiku dedicated to Jake, who tried to teach me to surf before I wimped out after 5 minutes because I was barefoot. It's a list poem of 7 essential things.. True, I've left out marshmallows and chocolate but I didn't have enough syllables for true Haiku (5-7-5):

Red tent, solitude,

beach, sand, surfboard, neoprene

and wood for the fire.

Evolve

Wandering around with my camera, I am often struck by the eloquence of graffiti. With just a word or two, much can be said. There is a dynamic play of color and graphics in language painted onto a canvas of concrete. A power and wealth driven society has produced a counter-culture that defies boundaries and rules. A spray-painted word on a wall or a door has impact and is much more compelling than if you used the word in conversation.

I saw the word, "evolve", spray painted on a wall in Pismo Beach. I stopped in my tracks and aimed my camera. It was reflexive, as if someone had just tapped my knee. Visual art forms, film and still-photography are powerful that way. They have a unique ability to bypass the intellect and reach right into our gut.

Graffiti is interesting because it's raw and territorial. In an urban environment it's so common that it blends into the surroundings. Ironically, its impact is more subdued when juxtaposed against the hard edges of the city. But graffiti can be aggressive; an unwelcome visual assault when brought into natural settings or places of solitude or reverence.

Tumacacori Mission

The missions south of Tucson were the focus of my recent travels to the Southwest.

Pictured here are the physical remains of the convent near the mission church, San Jose de Tumacacori. Nearby, there is a walled cemetery surrounded by old trees where the graves are marked with stones and dark wooden crosses. As I wandered, seeing things "rectangularly" as usual, I snapped away, picking up odd impressions.

I imagined the voices of indigenous people floating on the breeze. The old mission church bells were adding their music too, in my mind, accompanied by the chambered echo of chanting Franciscan Monks.

Wandering around this sacred site I distinctly felt their presence. In the stillness, I could almost hear a cacophonous clash of cultures emanating from the hills and the walls of the church.

Water Locked

I found this urban "white on white" image in the Fremont District, one of Seattle's more interesting neighborhoods. I was drawn to the strong shapes and shadows and gave it the title "Water Locked"

Ascending

This is a photograph of a staircase in a Mexican border town. The framed mirror on the landing wasn't reflecting enough light so I dropped in a photo of my mom on one of her early morning walks in Tucson.

I like the juxtaposition of the dark stairs in the photo leading down to a photo of her going up a hill, ascending toward the sunrise.

Red Amaryllis

Here is an amaryllis that, from the package, I expected to be white (my intention and desire was to grow a white amaryllis) but turned out red. As it grew, at every stage I wondered, "Is this the right time, the auspicious moment to photograph this?" Yesterday I looked and everything told me, "Yes, this is it."

I set it under a spotlight and made this photograph. Within an hour of shooting, the two blossom heads began to separate and this progressed through the morning until there were two distinct flower buds.

From the perspective of duality, reality is the world of opposites; it has to be either/or, up/down, time/non-time, but unity is always there. It's like the sun hiding behind the clouds. In choosing that moment to photograph my amaryllis I was aware of the precarious balance between here and there; through my lens I witnessed the play between these two worlds of duality and unity consciousness, two very real worlds that live both as one and side by side. There is always an edge of truth between unity and duality, a fleeting, transient edge of truth. It's a calm place, like the eye of a storm.