Not in the National Geographic, war zone, CNN ilk… but in the truer sense of the word. Using photography to document what is going on around me. Right now.

The word “journal” originates from the Old French word “jornal,”. And this has in its turn come from the Latin word “diurnalis,” meaning “daily.”

Taking photos of daily happenings. Sometimes extraordinary, mostly ordinary.

I suppose you could say I was a photo diarist. But that sounds a little too scatological to me.

And it is not so much documentation, as representation. Framing a photo that captures the poem lingering within the moment.

Take the lead photo on this post. It is nothing special to you. It is not even a particularly good photo.
But for me, it is my favorite reading chair (that you will probably find me flopped across if you are looking), a picture I made (Kelly hates it, I love it — so there is a tension in this corner of the room), and a pot plant given to us by a friend (that has now been divided and propagated into many other pots around the house).

And here is the state of our dining room table right now. And my guitar, and a peek out the window. I just pick up my camera and pivot around on the spot shooting things.

Ordinary things in my life that once journaled perhaps have a certain voyeuristic interest to you, and if you linger, there is a certain reassuring stillness to be found. That accessible pause of light captured in the moment that is usually missed in the rush. In the scroll.

I have been thinking about this video a lot lately. A photographer uber-far more talented than me, who never the less struggles with the performative aspects of his art.