For a moment as I headed south from Carmel on HWY 1, took a left before a bridge and headed down a dirt road, I thought I may be entering where Jack Kerouac took his debaucherous respites which inspired his great novel, Big Sur.
I was invited by the Weston Gallery to stay on their families’ historical property in Big Sur which stretches from the ocean into a deep valley along a creek. There is a lake full of trout Cole Weston used to farm. I can’t help but see the ghosts of naked woman posing for the camera or slice a pepper at dinner without seeing Edward’s Weston’s work. I am truly surrounded in some serious photographic history.
I am here alone for one week. I am wandering up the valley and down to the beach. The house is full of inspiration with old books, family snapshots, music and of course, photographs and paintings by the Westons and friends. All I can hear is the water, birds and the wind. The fog and sun seem to unfold differently on the hour. It is always intense being this quiet and alone but I also know enough about my process that this is how I thrive creatively. It is a gift to have such a time to play with my old cameras.
(Pepper by Edward Weston 1930)
(Nude by Edward Weston 1936)
Above: Edward Weston(bottom left) with his wife Flora and their four sons Cole, Neil, Brett and Edward Chandler.