Street Scene: Avondale Estates

Decatur Arts Festival: Act II

Rose Grown Ceramics

Freedom Farmers' Market: Act II

Door prizes awaited the first twenty, helmeted cyclists Saturday morning. There was also a blog posting for riding in fancy dress ; )

Freedom Farmers' Market: Act I

A Soundtrack To Summer: Act II

A Soundtrack To Summer: Act I

Inspired by a 2003 road trip in a 1972 Cutlass, Lynn Tanzer curated this exhibition, and its soundtrack. While the show was for one evening, the summery moods remain here on Spotify.

Decatur Art Walk Tonight

Decatur Arts Festival

Save The Date: Saturday

Celebrate the dry, sunny Saturday forecasted by riding to the Freedom Farmers' Market. The first twenty cyclists wearing helmets will receive special gifts at check in. Free valet parking, and advice from SoPo experts promise a convivial morning. See you there !

Decatur Arts Festival: Act I

Decatur Arts Festival

Cabbagetown Revisited

Wells Street Revisited

At King Of Pops

On Assignment In Druid Hills

A photo safari in the Olmsted Linear Park proved a delightful way to spend Saturday morning. The joy we found making these images always shows in the results. If you fancy such portraiture of your selves, loved ones, or even special friends, please send me an email.

Pop Art Show

What makes Atlanta unique? For me there is no one defining trait. We live in a magnet city that draws people here from everywhere to do their best. Last night King of Pops celebrated that conglomeration of talents with a Pop Art Show. Another is planned for June, so keep an eye on their facebook page for ways you can be inspired, and be inspiring.

Attempts To Translate Soul

My soul lives in such a strange unsayable space
It pulses with odd sounds, dipped in a sea of sadness, lazy float on blood cell tubes, it sometimes explodes uninvited into gaping gaps in my heart, other times like breath fills the uninvited cracks in my heart,
God I wish I could translate it, transcribe heartbeats into words,
catch those deep and heavy feelings and strain them through a dictionary, fit them into these molds of english language,
but every time i try to summon that strange mysterious thing in my inner being and manifest it into something tangible, flatten it into just two dimensions,
It dissolves, leaking through the holes of these alphabet letters,
Like a haunt, a phantom,
And i am terrified.

Wondering if there is something wrong with my insides.
Wondering if there is something at all in my insides.

My soul lives in such a lonely and isolated place
Where it doesn’t believe that it can ever be understood
It longs for the substance in smells and sounds and especially colors,
Aches to contain those wide and untouchable blues, pine-scented greens, warm and glowing yellows,
At times i feel so close to being able to touch it, that vast mysterious thing,
But it passes, and my soul is left again wondering,
If there exists anything of substance, anything to declare as objectively, undoubtedly, true.

But from that same strange space, i hear a spirit also saying
do not be so afraid, dear human.
And my goodness Loosen up
I guess my soul has been holed up for far too long; grown overweight with these unheard emotions and thoughts,
It’s gotten claustrophobic all compressed within the confines of the body -
it’s time , dear soul. to climb up the spine and gaze out from from where your eye socket lets light in, take the veil off the beautiful outdoors, see a glimpse of land above epidermis, and then squeeze yourself out as tears and feel what freedom you can experience in exposed and liquid form-
take note of the present unfolding like candy, like therapy,
Because you’ll begin to see the things that are objectively, undoubtedly, true,
Like the way a baby giggles at adults playing peekaboo, like sticky hands from popsicle juice on summer sidewalk cracks, like the deeply life-giving pat on the back from a dear listening friend.
These are small inconsequential things but they will expand your soul, fill you with a sort of affection for all of creation, convince you of the magic that breathes within each everyday, remind you of things bigger than yourself, and outside of yourself.
I have slowly begun to find love here, organically growing, eager to be picked,
Expansive,
Filling,
Strangely substantial,
And i realize that i am not so alone anymore, if i just allow myself to love
And be loved.

And one more thing that i think all humans should do, and it is this.
To take heart in the hyphens - they connect these feelings and ideas that dont have words - they’re like words for the non-words, those unsayable mysterious things,
and yet they’re recognized as a completely legitimate grammatical structure.
Hyphens imply that It is okay to not understand,
It is normal that your soul translations are far from perfect,
It is okay to simply see that it is all very, very good,
So I will continue to believe. in those larger and infinite eternal divine hopes,
Because maybe they are the truest things yet,
But perhaps they’ll take a lifetime to manifest,
Keep trying.
Because the soul lives. and if it can live, it can grow. and if it can grow, it can grow full.

Jessie Lian

Decatur Revisited

Thai Trousers In Little Five Points

Poncey-Highland Revisited

Piedmont Avenue Revisited

On Mother's Day

Rainy Day Memory

At TULA

A chance encounter with @joekingatl made Brian the subject of this iconic image, which was chosen by Alan Rothschild to be part of the exhibition Where Are We?, on view through June 17 at the Atlanta Photography Group, 75 Bennett Street, NW.

Midtown Revisited