Stu Jenks' Fezziwig Press: Rocks

December 07, 2020

Images From The Holiday Season.

Posted at 11:22 AM in Alexa McColl Smith Jenks, Ancestors, Arizona, Art, Beachs, California, Churches, Colorado River School, Deserts, Good Folk, Love, Mountains of North Carolina, Nature, Night Photography, Nocturnal Photography, North Carolina, Prayer, Rivers, Rocks, Sky, Snow, Stones, Stu Jenks, The Road, The Sky, The South, The West, Virginia, Women | Permalink | Comments (0)

October 13, 2020

Images From Ashe County, North Carolina (& Elsewhere)

Posted at 07:05 PM in Arizona, Dying, Emotions, Good Folk, Mexico, Mountains, Mountains of North Carolina, North Carolina, Plants, Rivers, Rocks, The South, Travel, Trees, Virginia, Weather | Permalink | Comments (0)

July 16, 2020

Images from the final months of the Trump Administration.

Yes, it's 4 months before the November election but it's a lock that Trump will no be reelected. I can hear some say "Don't jinx it. We said that about Hillary." Well, many independents disliked Hillary and didn't come out to vote. Now a ton of Democratic-leaning Independents hate Trump even worse than Clinton, and they will show up to end this horrible shit show that is the Trump Administration. And tens of 1000's of young people will be voting too, just like they did in 2018.

Most people look at my Facebook page for photos and info about me, maybe a few look at my Twitter feed, but hardly anyone I know comes here to my blog. That's OK, but I'm going to leave a large Easter egg here and I'm going to see if anyone notices.

In mid-August, I'm moving back to Greensboro, North Carolina, to hopefully find work there and to live the rest of my life with my lovely wife Alexa. All I need to do is find part-time work. I'll be OK.

And I miss Alexa like the Dickens.

My recovery from my radical prostatectomy surgery has been slow but moving forward. Still pain in my groin and sexual functioning is every so slowly returning but it is coming back a bit. The cancer is all gone and I can pretty much hold my piss and shit. That last sentence is a big fucking deal. Many men do not have that result after surgery. I do. I'm grateful.

So before I leave Arizona, here are some photos from the last few months: some good, some mundane, but all heartfelt.

And I'll see who text me, emails me or Facebook messages me and says, "Dude, you're moving? Man, we will miss you, but do what you gotta do."

I am. I need to go home and be with my wife.

Hugs, kisses and deep gratitude, y'all.

Stu

It's mid July and the Bighorn Fire is finally out. We think. It burned all over the Catalina Mountains for what? Six weeks? While the Covid-19 spread so did the fire. It was a bit much after a while. Everything right now is a bit much for many of us.

I may never see this place again. Been coming here for 33 years. And even though I'm sad, this canyon has given me so many things, physical, emotional, and spiritual. Big kiss, Coalmine.

Going to have the sell the Buick for scrap before I leave Arizona. It has a value lifter problem and the car is only worth $1000 at best, with 415,000 miles on it, and the repair would cost over $2000. Luckily, I have the old Pathfinder with a new clutch and a new-ish front end. Strong engine too. 'Spirals' on its license plate. I will be styling when I get to NC. Even the good-old-boys will respect an old truck like mine but the Arizona tags may make them a little suspicious.

This particular juniper tree I have been visiting for over 30 years. Have harvested its boughs for incense more than once. It's an old but very fragrant tree. I'll miss you buckaroo, but I'm taking some of you with me.

Obelisk!!! (Inside family joke.)

"Cast of Richard III, Meredith College, Raleigh, North Carolina, Summer of 1973" (c) Photographer unknown.

The first play I acted in, a couple months before I went off to UNC-Chapel Hill. In the Raleigh News and Observer, in their review of the play, I was mentioned positively in my role as Lord Dorset. That one sentence in the paper propelled me to a career in the Arts. I'm not kidding. All the photographs, music, books, projects, installations, etc., point back to that one role in Raleigh in 1973 and that one tiny bit of encouragement.

Yep. Fucked me up pretty bad. (That's a joke. Sorta.)

Baby, I'm coming home to you.

Posted at 10:02 PM in Alexa McColl Smith Jenks, Angel/Ghosts, Arizona, Art, Cactus, Cancer, Chagford, Death, Deserts, Ethics, Faith, Good Folk, Grand Canyon, Home, Love, National Parks, Night Photography, Nocturnal Photography, North Carolina, Pamela's Baby Rocking Chair, Photography, Pictorialist Photography, Relationships, Rocks, Sky, Stars, The Border, The Four Directions, The Road, The Sky, The West, Trees, Tucson | Permalink | Comments (0)

March 11, 2019

Cherry Picking Leviticus, as a pdf and as an ebook for only $2.00

My new book Cherry Picking Leviticus is available for only $2.00, at the Fezziwig Press store, both as an pdf and as an epub file. You can also buy other Stu stuff there as well.

And below are some recent images from me. Hope you like. Have a wonderful day, and keep the faith baby, however you do that.

Love and light, Stu.

"Nannie's Mirror: Town Creek Indian Mound, Mt. Gilead, North Carolina" (c) 2019 Stu Jenks. [This structure is a re-creation of the religious building that stood here centuries ago, so I wasn't damaging anything by placing my grandmother's mirror within its ropes. Quite a spiritual place to visit, with the creek over there, the temple up there on that mound and the woods all around. Check it out if you are in the area.]

"Deer Skull along the Ararat River, Virginia" (c) 2019 Stu Jenks. [I found this white-tailed deer skull on the other side of the river from where I took these photos, not far from the grave of J.E.B. Stuart's great-great-grandfather who was murdered (not killed in battle but murdered in his home by a Torie), during the Revolutionary War.

This pristine skull sat atop a tall bluff, near a rusty old Model A Ford car door, both I'm guessing washed down stream during hurricane flooding. It was just sitting, on some grass, like it had been placed there. A lovely and welcome surprise.

"House on Rt. 831, Virginia" (c) Stu Jenks 2019

"The grave of the poet Randall Jarrell, a Quaker Cemetery near Guilford College, Greensboro, North Carolina" (c) 2019 Stu Jenks. [Randall Jarrell's poetry inspired me to be a writer when I was in high school. And yes, I place those flowers there. RIP Randall.]

"Confederate Water Skiers, Mt. Airy, North Carolina" (c) 2019 Stu Jenks [A clandestine image capture of a postcard in a consignment store. Was I going to pay $10 for this creepy postcard? No freaking way.]

"Nannie's Mirror at Turn Four, looking down the front straightaway, Martinsville Motor Speedway, Martinsville, Virginia" (c) 2019 Stu Jenks. [Holy ground to you gear heads out there. And when they aren't racing, you can drive right up to the fence. I kid you not.)

"A Fatal Figure on the wall, after 40 years, Art Lab Building, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill" (c) 2019 Stu Jenks [After all these years, it's still there. Then again, I did spray paint this onto a porous brick wall in 1978, but still.]

Posted at 11:31 AM in Ancestors, Art, Black & White Photography, Books, Business, Civil Rights, Clouds, Current Affairs, eBooks, Emotions, Faith, Fezziwig Press, Good Folk, Greensboro, NC, Highways, History, Hope, Humor, Love, Memoirs, My Grandmother Nannie's Mirror, Nannie's Mirror, Native People, Nature, Night Photography, North Carolina, On The Rez, Other Writers, Pamela's Baby Rocking Chair, Performance Art, Photography, Politics, Prayer, Rivers, Rocks, Sculpture, Spirituality, Stu Jenks, The Road, The Sky, The South, Trees, Trouble With The Law, Virginia, Weather, Wildlife | Permalink | Comments (0)

June 26, 2018

"A Chair in the Wilderness" is coming...

Above image: "Pamela's Baby Rocking Chair, After The Flood, Sonoran Desert National Monument, Arizona" (c) Stu Jenks 2018

A Chair in the Wilderness, my 15th book, is coming. Like my previous tomes, there will be semi-iconic photographs of rocking chairs and such, but unlike my other books, this one will be purposefully funny. And political. And spiritual. And a little sad. But witty and funny is what we are going for, like a dark chuckle in the night from a wounded man while the civilized world burns. Fun stuff. Trump stuff. Good times.

The dedication for ACITW is probably going to be a quote from my good friend Karen Hardy from the Northern Neck of Virginia. We were talking on the phone a while back, mostly about how her mother Victoria was doing, when, as I recall, I talked about how I perhaps cared too much regarding what other people think of me, and that I'm more than a little sensitive to art criticism from strangers on the internet.

Then Karen spoke this chestnut:

"They talked about Jesus Christ, Stu. They are going to talk about you and me, too."

Look for A Chair in the Wilderness before Christmas, wherever you buy your books.

Love you guys,

Stu.

(P.S. below are some images from the past couple of months and some older ones. If you have an questions, don't hesitate to call. Or email. Or tweet. Or message me. Or heaven forbid, talk to me, face to face, like they used to do back In Olden Days. Don't lose hope, y'all. Resist.)

Posted at 09:47 PM in Ancestors, Arizona, Art, Babies, Black & White Photography, Books, Business, California, Canyons, Current Affairs, Dying, Emotions, Fezziwig Press, Forgiveness, Good Folk, Grand Canyon, Home, Hope, Humor, Love, Medium Format, Metaphysics, My Grandmother Nannie's Mirror, Nannie's Mirror, National Parks, Nature, Night Photography, Nocturnal Photography, Oklahoma, Politics, Prairies, Prayer Towers, Rivers, Rocks, Spirituality, Stars, Stu Jenks, The Arizona Trail, The Border, The Road, The Sky, Tucson, Valleys | Permalink | Comments (0)

October 17, 2017

Mom's Bowl...

1993: Mark Hewitt threw this bowl. My sister Pamela bought it for our mother for Christmas.

1993-2008: Mark's bowl sat on Mom's dining room table for years, a vessel where Mom put old greeting cards and this month's bills.

2008: Mary Jenks moved to Arizona and quickly became very demented and very ill. She moved into an adult care home within months. She could only take a few things with her. The bowl came to live with me.

2011: Mary and Pamela Jenks died that summer, within three weeks of each other. Yeah. I know. It was tough but a blessing. Life is complicated.

2017: Maybe I'm starting a new series. Maybe not. But I seem to be traveling hither and yon with Mom's bowl, taking photos of it in pretty and interesting places. And it's not just for the memory of Mary Jenks or as an acknowledgment of Mark Hewitt's body of work. It is partly that, but it's also a walking prayer of sorts, for a woman I love very much who is going through some tough times.

So those are the ideas around the bowl. Remembrance, respect, love and prayer.

(Oh. And at some point, this bowl is going to break. It is clay. Pottery breaks. And I am trucking it around rocks and hard things. Pottery is not fond of rocks and hard things. But the plan when it breaks is to glue it back together and keep photographing it. We all have cracks. We all have wounds and scars. It's what makes us interestingly and lovingly human. This bowl will have scars too. But I'll be careful until that happens. Promise.)

#pottery, #stujenks, #markhewitt, #maryjenks, #ceramicbowl, #remembrance, #love, #prayer.

Posted at 04:46 PM in Arizona, Art, Black & White Photography, Canyons, Ceramics, Current Affairs, Faith, Family, Forgiveness, History, Love, Mary Jenks, Mountains, Nature, Pamela Jenks, Pottery, Relationships, Rocks, Spirituality, Tucson | Permalink | Comments (0)

June 20, 2017

It's a 110 in Gila Bend. In Buckeye, it's a 102. Summer's here and I just can't find a way to stop loving you...

It's a 112 in the shade in Tucson right now, and I'm almost done the initial recordings of my Snow album, an Christmas/Winter Solstice CD of original ambient and instrumental pieces. I'm keeping the music under wraps for now, but here are some images for the front and back covers of Snow and other winter images too. Visual air-conditioning, don't you think? Also below are some other photographs from the last month or so.

Snow will be available on CDbaby, Bandcamp and iTunes in early Fall. It'll also be available as a physical Hi-Fi CD as well. It's coming along nicely I think. A very odd experience recording Christmas music when it's 112 outside. Living the life in the Sonoran high desert.

"It's a 110 in Gila Bend. In Buckeye, it's a 102. Summer's here and I just can't find a way to stop loving you..." - Heatstroke by Dusty Chaps.

Images from the recent Dragoon Fire, Dragoon Mountains, Arizona. (c) Stu Jenks 2017

[Needless to say, the photo images of Mr. Marshall's work is not for sale. Not from me at least. All other images and rights of my work are, as always, for sale. Needless to say too.]

The books Nannie's Mirror and A Chair In The Wilderness are at the book designers now. Expect them to be released, as hardbounds and as ebooks, in the early Fall too.

"1960's Postcard, Washington Monument, D.C." Photographer Unknown. Image Capture by Stu Jenks.

Stay cool and hydrated out there folk. It's a hot one.

Posted at 05:12 PM in Arizona, Atmospheric Music, Books, Business, Canyons, Cds, Christmas and Winter Solstice, Current Affairs, Earth Spirals, Fire, Music, My Grandmother Nannie's Mirror, Nannie's Mirror, Other Artists, Pamela's Baby Rocking Chair, Rocks, The Arizona Trail, The Road, Tucson, Valleys, Weather | Permalink | Comments (0)

June 11, 2016

"Bozette at Bell Rock"

For Gail Cross and all the Crosses, Mary Jenks, and Cathy Spann.

Posted at 04:18 AM in Arizona, Bozos, Family, Rocks | Permalink | Comments (0)

September 21, 2015

The Spiral Labyrinth of Yuma County

The Spiral Labyrinth of Yuma County.

No one knows who made it.

My friend Tom Baumgartner, who initially showed me his Google Earth screen-save of the place, did a thorough web search but found nothing on it. No names. No photos. Nothing.

So I packed up the truck the next day and drove the four hours to see it for myself.

(Full disclosure: the license plate on my Pathfinder reads "Spirals.")

By dropping a pin on my Google Maps, I found the spiral just outside an entrance to the Kofa Natural Wildlife Reserve. Without Google Maps, satellites, smart phones and computers, I would have never found it, for it can not seen from the road.

I parked my truck when my phone told me to stop and walked toward where I thought it might be. I found it, and immediately knew what it was.

Some man or woman or people had carved a 60 foot spiral into the desert floor as a meditative labyrinth. I know a little about labyrinths being a big fan of the two at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco, and the one at Grace St. Paul's Episcopal Church in Tucson, Arizona. I have walked these mystery mazes many times. I know how to do that: Clear my mind as best I can or rather, in my case, be aware of the bat-shit-monkey-mind-craziness I'm thinking, acknowledging that with as little judgment as I can muster, and eventually bring myself back to these two important questions:

What time is it?

Where am I?

I had Pamela's Baby Rocking Chair with me on Friday. I set up my sister's chair on the edge of the spiral, put on the 28mm prime on my 5D Mark II and took a number of images. I got one or two I liked. I knew I had coverage. I knew I was done for now.

So now it's time to pray.

I entered the spiral with Pamela's chair in one hand and my iPhone in the other. I took some video for my Facebook friends and upload it to the web as I walked. I thought about my worries about finding a new studio, my worries about not having enough money to pay my bills, my worries of perhaps I need to gain so more hourly employment, my worries about perhaps not being as good a boyfriend I thought I was. My worries, my fears, my thoughts, my thoughts, my god damn thoughts.

And I walked and walked and walked some more.

It's a very big spiral, a very long freaking walk I tell you, but I'm grateful to the long freaking walk because after not too much time, I was back on those two questions again:

Where am I?

Here.

What time is it?

Now.

Then suddenly I saw the bigger metaphor of this spiral. It's symbolic of my life's journey from birth to death. My childhood in the outer loops, each taking a long time to orbit the center, like how a single day was an eternity when I was a six. That it took less time for each cycle around, as I lived life and loved and approached my death in the center of the spiral, the last revolutions taking no time at all, like how Christmases come faster and faster each year now.

And then I arrived at the center. I put down Pamela's Chair and sat. I took a quick photo of me sitting in her chair with my iPhone. I sent that up into the inter-webs too, then sat back down in my little rocking chair and took it all in.

I don't think I thought about anything for a few minutes. Just sat. Looked at the distant mountains. Rocked in my chair. I maybe had one or two thoughts about how much time I had till the sun went down but that was about it.

I suppose the spiral had worked its magic.

After a while, I walked back out, enjoying the journey back to my birth.

I took some more shots once I exited. I watched the Sun set behind some mountains to the west. It started to get dark. Time to go. I loaded up the Pathfinder but first I drove down the few hundred yards to the kiosk at the entrance of the Kofa. Quickly I realized I was in the wrong place. I didn't want to be there. I wanted to be back at the spiral labyrinth. I raced back and caught the last bits of light in the sky. It was glorious.

I don't know if my walking the spiral really changed me that much. I was still irritated with a narcissistic woman in front of me at the McDonald's in Quartzite, who special-ordered every freaking thing off the menu, but I did have a delightful brief chat with a trucker, as we both waited for our coffee and food.

"You on the road?" he asked with a smile, thinking I was a trucker too.

"Yes I am," I said.

To get to The Spiral Labyrinth of Yuma County, take U.S. 95, south from Quartzite, for around 10 miles. (or you can come up from the south from Yuma as well.) Take a left (east) on to Palm Canyon Road and drive toward the Kofa Natural Wildlife Preserve. When you get to the entrance to the Preserve, turn around and drive back on the dirt road for around 400 yards. Park your vehicle on the side of the road and walk to the south a hundred feet or so. It's over there somewhere. Enjoy and be respectful. Someone or someones put a lot of work into making this sacred space. It is magical.