20 to Tulum

Looking back at what is almost the end of the year, I would say that expression seems to come in waves. Art, music, prose, and even inspiration all need their time in the spotlight to evolve. The revolving door, through which they often arrive unannounced, is always open to the next muse, whomever she may be.

For now, it's nice that she has returned to the page.

Looking ahead, I can't help but wonder what opportunities will appear once we switch time zones for warmer climates:))

Would be awesome to run into Clarence and Alabama if they're still sharing the same coast. You never know;) The last time I was in their neck of the globe, little Elvis was only 8. He' must have 2 decades on him by now!

Oh, como pasa el tiempo;)!

Pause, Exhale, Reset. Next?

It's so nice to have a little free time again and go out to walk around with the camera and simply explore and observe freely. The brief time "off" from my commercial work has also been great to re-evaluate just what I'm doing with my career and where I want to go from here.

There's still so many more questions than answers, but happily the 3 Monkeys will be on a plane to Mexico in 24 days, where I suspect a couple months on a beach will help shed some light on just where to go from here.

In the meantime, a small sample of a December afternoon in Old Town Square, Prague....

Tension Rising

This idea of Truth is like a record skipping in my head.

One voice says, perhaps the Truth is happening behind doors I don't know even exist while I preen myself blindly in front of some two-way mirror. Maybe it's so beyond all of us, that we will have to one day tell our kids when asked, only Google knows.

It's easy to forget that the truth is beyond the realities of our tiny bubbles, but after all, how many truths can one truly handle, when perhaps it is only one or two that matter most?

We have seen artists enlightened enough to prove that sometimes only fiction can reveal real truth, thereby blowing the definition of truth down a whole other rabbit hole... and drunken debacle no doubt;)

After all this week's midnight walks and missed tram stops, the crescendo of voices have come to the unanimous conclusion that an artist can also use the truth to create fiction, and how dramatic it may be when set free...

Blind Eyes, White Lies & the Three Truths

I love pub-induced debates that drunkenly stumble down verbal spirals on things like the theoretical differences between reportage and. documentary. Three inebriated photographers waxing poetic can be a very amusing, if not impassioned, thing.

In regards to the matter, I don't recall who said it, but his quote remains, "There are 3 truths: your truth, my truth, and the truth." Even looking at my work, I think it's pretty obvious which truth I'm prone to. The hardcore and the haunted can have all the other stuff.

In the meantime, bar stool semantics can continue to split hairs on the same head, while the only difference that matters in my eyes, is the most beautiful divide between that which aims to captures reality, and that which aims to defy it.

It would appear, my dear, that I am stuck between the two:)

P

This message is brought to you by the fine makers of Krušovice, or something equally tall, cold, and yummy.

50 down, 50 to go.

I've been home almost 2 weeks now and my 40-day and 40 night, sleep-deprived epic photo-marathon already seems like a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.

Though now well behind me, it's assuring to to speculate that the distant faces and sleepless nights connecting Budapest, Bratislava, Warsaw, Geneva, Abu Dhabi, Beijing, Shanghai, Bankgok, Pataya, and the eventual island mountain sunsets of Koh Lanta will surely have a ripple effect for many years to come.

Along the way I've affirmed that sometimes a window seat is a soother for the soul, and that sometimes a massage in Shanghai can save a man's life:)

My favorite part continues to be the randomness of doors that open that wouldn't appear otherwise, while the icing on the cake, and sacrifice I make, is the light at the end of the tunnel to come home to instead of having to Skype every other night. 

Lora's vocabulary and bag of ticks seemed to explode while I was gone, and the fact that I missed all of that is my pound of flesh for the job. She's only 16 months, and I'm pretty sure she's going to be smarter than me sooner than later. She's now also practicing her dramatic skills to see how she can play her Maminka and Tata:) The best I can do is stay one step ahead... though now it feels like I'm now one step behind.

50 days from Budapest

50 days to the Yukatan.