Words can paint, each letter, a bristle of a brush. The sentence becomes a stroke. Paragraphs shape objects. A portrait needs no beginning, middle, or end. When we look deep at a painting, we can’t help but wonder why the Mona Lisa smiles. If you look deep enough at portraits, close enough to pick out desire, they jump out of the frame. The frame is the story. Break out! Break out!
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Click on image to enlarge. Find a book I’m in here. More images to be found here.
(Click on image to enlarge) More images found here.
Woman King More images here.
He’s moving to a song he knows and it’s a song we’ve heard before but can’t place. As he moves, the sweat, sores, and scratches stay in place. What’s inside him is externalized. He doesn’t care about our inner secrets, our inner fears, our…
Catching fall in the act. More Images here.
Some leaves make an early exit. They wait for rain. More photos here.
The last little glimpse of a bull kelp. Check out more images here.
We’re rampant dust with sunlight between our fingers. Check out more images here.
Ghost Fence (Click to enlarge image) Check the gallery out here.
Rain, Reflection, Red Tennis Court, Mt. Tabor, Portland Oregon. June 2018 Elan’s Photography
A Last day of blue. Found on Clatsop Spit, August 2018 (Click on image to enlarge it and check out more of Elan’s photos here.)