rose in midair

Read this on ignant today. Powerful. The pressure on women to look, dress, and behave in particular ways in most cultures has not lifted. I ...

bennington, vt

this earth we live on(!)  we should stay a while. maybe even find ourselves enjoying it a little.

some new photos posted . I. with blueberries, somewhere in the middle of maine “And in the end, we were all just humans…Drunk on...

“I was satisfied with haiku until I met you, but now I want a Russian novel, a 50-page description of you sleeping.”  - Dean Young

it seemed normal, even likely at the time. this hope. (petals falling though it wasn't windy, sunny though it wasn't warm, ...

i started another project to document my meandering. (when will a project be about stability? i'm not sure).  at times i stop taking m...

I've been thinking a lot about photography. And lack thereof. I recently attended my friend Sam's annual studio opening, and I felt...

Note to self: pop up shows 

i'd rather photograph than be photographed

i took this stealthily when they weren't looking during my visit with j to the metropolitan museum of art in nyc. "For the B...

posted at  flickr/rosekuo self, in a bathroom in a house that's not mine, in a mirror that was not whole, with a camera that s...

My friend Tu posted about a New York Times blog article about travel, and I thought it was such a fantastic, relevant read. In the past f...

I went to the ICP and found Weegee's exhibit informative, but Chien-Chi Chang's work was what really hit home. I stood in front of ...

"these are the moments that inspire me to take pictures. so quiet you could hear a pin drop. your heart beating. one out of a million t...

"I'm sorry for my inability to let unimportant things go, for my inability to hold on to the important things.” ― foer

where our endings were the same as our beginnings.

saturday, march 17, 2007 i took down this quote. "... in whatever one does, there must be a relationship between the eye and the...

I suppose I could become a wave in the night. They come in, rocks and tide, ripping the sand and following the wind. I suppose I could becom...