kiln poem
i’ve been listening to some of the this american life episodes that i downloaded for my road trip while i’ve been unpacking, and i’ve noticed two things.
first, nearly every episode triggers a tight feeling in my throat like i’m about to sob. i wonder if this is just a characteristic of the episodes i downloaded (all of the favorites) or if this is an inadvertent effect of the show in general?
and second, i’m finding that the sound of my voice when i’m mentally composing something to write is starting to sound a lot like ira glass. especially the pauses and repetition.
what i was actually composing in my head when i had those thoughts went something sort of like this.
i want to take a momentary break from the chronicle of my cross country move and subsequent settling to exhibit a single image. it comes to me from someone who appreciated my photos and their public domain license enough that he was inspired to use a photo to create a wholly new work of art. something unlike what i do or might plan to do. but strange and interesting and compelling in its own right.
it’s such a small gesture, unlikely to have much economic impact on either of our lives. but in a world increasingly filled with the rhetoric of intellectual property and digital rights management, this small transaction–i snapped a photo, he used the photo as a basis for something new–seems almost monumental.
kiln poem by mike butler

mike’s art is not the only example of this, it’s only the latest. i’ve kept track of all the examples i know of people taking advantage of my public domain photos on my creative commons page.


tal seems to have that effect on a lot of folks. especially when they start talking about families. you should take full advantage of this frame of mind: big life changes make you more ripe for inspiration and extreme emotions.