A continuing tribute to James Hockings (1947-2013), who came to use this blog to write about the impact of bladder cancer on his life and thoughts.
A respected photographer-turned-writer, he lived his last months as he'd lived the rest of his life – with energy, focus, creativity, wit, and a commitment to help others.
Before he died, he commissioned a book of his writing on his scrap with cancer, including posts that will occasionally reappear here.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
On the dog walk this early A.M., I took photos of the dog on the path--the abandoned rail right-of-way we are wont to frequent--always the path with vegatation on either side (spring, summer, autumn, winter) the path disappearing in a convergance at infinity. I have been taking this same photo for the past 161 years--the lives of three dogs. None of these dog photos were taken for money nor do they qualify, even in my inflated view of my own work, as art.
The other photo I have been taking for 50 human years is of a lone tree in an empty field.
These two types of photos are the sum total of motifs that reoccur in my photography. Two.