|
Photographs in clearcuts in Clatsop and Pacific counties, often with Kerstin. He discovers at one point a light leak in the bellows of his beloved
Plaubel Makina camera, and in despair throws more than forty undeveloped rolls into the wastebasket. Kerstin finds and retrieves them.
Many of the negatives prove salvageable.
Spends part of September in Halfway, Oregon.
“The events of 9/11 and their aftermath have made available to me a new painter, Watteau. There we are in our fine clothing in a dreamlike world,
waiting, unable to change—the landscape sweet and terrifying.”
—From notes made in 2001 |
|
Spends October in Bandon, Oregon, working in the desolation north of Charleston.
“In the midst of a cut—no birds, no green—we came to a pit filled with brush and heard at the bottom of it the faintest, slowest movement—a porcupine,
as lost as any animal can be.”
—From notes made in 2001
“I was taught to love America, and why to love it. I still do. It startles me even now to see contempt for it, to see a man fail to remove his hat,
for example, when the flag is carried by in a parade. . . . [Over the years], however, I discovered that I could not . . . fly an American flag.
The Vietnam War taught me that. I owned a flag that belonged to my grandfather, but I gave it away.”
—From a response to questions from German photographer Reiner Leist, for his book American Portraits 1910–2001 |
|
Begins carving representations of books; eventually there are fifteen throughout the house.
Publishes Alders and Bodhisattva.
|
