Water Flows / September 19, 2015 by Rebecca Tillett

“Water does not resist. Water flows. When you plunge your hand into it, all you feel is a caress. Water is not a solid wall, it will not stop you. But water always goes where it wants to go, and nothing in the end can stand against it. Water is patient. Dripping water wears away a stone. Remember that, my child. Remember you are half water. If you can't go through an obstacle, go around it. Water does.” ―Margaret Atwood

Redwood National Park / September 12, 2015 by Rebecca Tillett

There is nothing I can say about the trees to describe them to you if you've never seen them or found yourself in their presence. I hope you trust in my sincerity when I announce my satisfaction at that realization. It's true. I'm so utterly contented knowing there are places in this world that lie outside the boundaries of articulated description, places you simply have to see and feel and experience to know.

The Body Electric / September 4, 2015 by Rebecca Tillett

We made love last night, not on my part because from a compulsive need to do it, but because we sort of drifted into it. In fact, to begin with I wasn't even sure if I wanted to. But once we'd begun, I was very glad because I was in one of those marvelously physical states where all my sensations were velvet. Anywhere I was touched and any touch I put out to him felt floating and exquisite.

Bring it Down Like Rain / August 29, 2015 by Rebecca Tillett

"Sometimes, when you’re asleep, I want to do it to myself while I’m watching you. It would be easy, two fingers along my clit, back, in, back out. Your skin’s heat comes into me, adjacent. Through the mussed chrysanthemum— petals, your big child’s sleep-face, closed around its openness, gives me your mouth to ground on, but only with my eyes. I could come like that, but I don’t—take you against your will, it seems like, and I wouldn’t; rather wait adores in sunlight, with this morning heat condensing, a soft cloud above my groin gently diffusing brightness there, until you wake up, and you bring it down like rain." —Marilyn Hacker

Dark Rabbit Hole / August 17, 2015 by Rebecca Tillett

You mentioned thinking life could always get better. I think I suffer with that as well. It used to be on both a personal and professional level and now it's only on a professional level (which is good) but seriously, I feel like I actively avoid success sometimes. Does that make sense? I just can't seem to get on the internet anymore without stumbling on someone's fantastic body of work and seeing that they're somehow doing that for a living (no 9-5 bullshit). How did they do that? How did that happen?You mentioned thinking life could always get better. I think I suffer with that as well. It used to be on both a personal and professional level and now it's only on a professional level (which is good) but seriously, I feel like I actively avoid success sometimes. Does that make sense? I just can't seem to get on the internet anymore without stumbling on someone's fantastic body of work and seeing that they're somehow doing that for a living (no 9-5 bullshit). How did they do that? How did that happen?

We Are Making Photographs / August 13, 2015 by Rebecca Tillett

“We are making photographs to understand what our lives mean to us.” —Ralph Hattersley

I Go to the Sea / August 12, 2015 by Rebecca Tillett

"When anxious, uneasy and bad thoughts come, I go to the sea, and the sea drowns them out with its great wide sounds, cleanses me with its noise, and imposes a rhythm upon everything in me that is bewildered and confused." —Rainer Maria Rilke

When Love is Not Madness / August 11, 2015 by Rebecca Tillett

"When love is not madness it is not love.” —Pedro Calderón de la Barca

A Tree Says / August 10, 2015 by Rebecca Tillett

"Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.

A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark. I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail."

I Shall / August 9, 2015 by Rebecca Tillett

“Let the first act of every morning be to make the following resolve for the day: - I shall not fear anyone on Earth. - I shall fear only God. - I shall not bear ill will toward anyone. - I shall not submit to injustice from anyone. - I shall conquer untruth by truth. And in resisting untruth, I shall put up with all suffering.” —Mahatma Gandhi

Forest Leaves / August 7, 2015 by Rebecca Tillett

And then I said "Baby, promise me that when our Denver sentence is up, we'll never again live in a place where the forest leaves aren't larger than our heads."

Catch and Release / August 2, 2015 by Rebecca Tillett

I think like so many others, I have these moments, these days or weeks or sometimes even months where I'm doubting myself in some tormenting capacity. Is this where I'm supposed to be? Have I been eating all the wrong foods? Have I gotten heavier? Am I spending enough time outside? Will I always be reliant on a desk job for a paycheck? Are there enough people that care about me? Am I proud of myself professionally? Can I call myself an artist? Where has any of it taken me? ("...to Rome?" Thanks for the reminder Kirsten!)

Sex Swing / July 30, 2015 by Rebecca Tillett

We’re consistently being judged and schooled in the ways of a righteous and moral existence by men who keep mistresses, fuck gay male prostitutes and molest their little sisters, all while voting against laws that would give women, minorities and gays equal rights. It’s one classic case of do as I say, not as I do after another and the obvious and blatant hypocrisy is stomach-churning.

The Burden of Filling the Vacant Spaces / July 28, 2015 by Rebecca Tillett

So many never wake with clenched jaws, with jagged teeth newly softened and smoothed and transformed to powder. So many have never hosted such a civil war in their mouths. They'll never mourn the fatalities, the wounded, the lost. You'll never crush things between your teeth the way you used to. You acknowledge this.

Almost Like God / July 26, 2015 by Rebecca Tillett

Every child wants to know that their parents not only love them but love each other. I have small fuzzy memories of what could have been love between my mother and father: laughter, tickling, pet names, but those small moments had all faded and died before I was out of elementary school. From that point on until my father shot himself, my parents were strangers to each other at their best and bitter enemies at their worst.

Naked in the Woods / July 24, 2015 by Rebecca Tillett

What if this is Heaven? What if this our reward for being good in a life of bleakness and despair, darkness, and savagery? What if we, holy, starved while all the others ate each other before turning themselves inside out and rotting to waste in the pulsing sun? What if earth is paradise?

Lumiere Tintype / July 15, 2015 by Rebecca Tillett

Last week my boyfriend, Mike and I had the pleasure of catching Adrian with Lumiere Tintype Photography during his summer road-trip stop here in Denver. I've always always always wanted a tintype portrait so my excitement at this can hardly be contained. I'll surely treasure this photo for many years to come.

The Lover's Gift / July 8, 2015 by Rebecca Tillett

When I was still a teenager, I bought a beautiful book showcasing some of the most gorgeous nude and erotic photographs of the time. It was phenomenal, and it only fueled my passion for photo documentation of the female body. Anyway, on the first page there was a a graceful but delicate quote about how all photographs are essentially about love. And I loved that quote. It alludes me now and a quick google search yields no results, but I know I still own the book. Someday soon I'll find it.