he came to me,
this African man,
and in a thick accent,
asked; “how dare you
write about being black? 
what do you know about
oppression, about racism,
about history?”
I replied;
“I used my imagination.”
he scowled and said;
“you have no right.”
defensively, I exclaimed;
“I only did it because
the Native wrote as if
he were white.”
together, the African
and I found the Native,
and I pointed a finger
accusingly.  “how dare
you write about being white? 
what do you know about
having to live down your
ancestors’ evils?  it is
not my fault your
people died.”

Some time ago, my youngest (9 years old) expressed an interest in Tolkien books.  This was no doubt because of the success of the recent Lord of the Rings movies, and so I told him that we should read The Hobbit together.  I’d never read it and so thought it would be good for me also.

Nowadays, everyone knows the story fairly well, or at the very least the characters.  It’s difficult to block out the film’s influences over our imagination, though because the main characters were different in The Hobbit, it is not impossible.

It comforts me that we are creatures of habit.  This is an interesting statement, and the pun is quite intentional.

There are those who crave all that they do not have, whether it be adventure, knowledge or experiences.  With might in hand, they pursue these relentlessly… however it could be said that this type of drive is also a habit.  And so, as previously stated, they too are creatures of habit.

For myself, it’s writing.  Just to sit comfortably and put pen to paper.  This reflects my analogy as well, as to this day, I feel most like myself with a pen and a sheet of paper.  I know that nearly everyone has moved into this century and uses a computer to create, however I only use mine as a last measure (to prepare my work for publishers, this site, etc).

I was speaking to Roger the other day and he was musing over how it feels whenever he misses a couple days of writing.  He explained how it bothered him so not to write anything in a day.  He said he’s prepared to settle for a poem, a line, something, so long as he can let some of the words out.

I laughed, understanding exactly what he meant. 

Write about wings.

Write about sorrow.

Is there such a thing as too much honesty?

Well, in real life, I’d have to say yes.  It’s just common sense.  There are thoughts which only you should have because to spew them onto an unsuspecting victim may not solve anything.  Sometimes these truths are harsh because of something that is intrinsically you.  Sometimes, the words in your mind are simply rude and would serve no other purpose than to hurt/insult/demean/etc.

Write about where you read.

Photography is a very interesting artform, in that one must be extremely precise with the subject matter, location, angle, etc.  It’s not at all like other forms of visual arts where you can use your imagination to create the wanted effect.  With photography, the effect has to be there.  Certainly, there are tricks of the trade to fool the eye, but when you strip everything away, a bridge is still a bridge, a cat is still cat, and an old shoe is still, well, you get the point.

I’ve always enjoyed Noel Peterson’s photography.  He has a wonderful eye, and his imagination in terms of how to capture a shot or convey an idea speaks to me.  Like all forms of art, photography is quite subjective.  It’s what you bring to the piece that defines how much it will affect you.

I spoke to Noel and asked him about his work, his aspirations, as well as his other creative drives.