OUT OF THE SMOKE AND INTO THE FLAME

Mark, at the knoll, March 2005

Garage, 2010 House, 2010

Bedroom, 2010Bedroom, 2010

Birdie, in front of the house, 2005

OUT OF THE SMOKE AND INTO THE FLAME

Photographs Sybil Miller & Essay Mark Goodman

2014

It’s not only what was lost in the Bastrop wildfire, but how lost I feel now.

When I evacuated I didn’t take my first-grade crayon drawing of a robin on a branch; my family snapshot albums; or my grandmother’s needlepoint on silk depicting the Great Seal of the United States—a shield beneath two unfurled American flags, a soaring bald eagle with wings spread and a ribbon streaming from its beak—made in the nineteen-teens when she was young. It was our only family heirloom, mine after my parents died, and me, the last of the family line mindlessly leaving it behind. Out of foolishness, I also abandoned my computer containing a nearly completed twenty-five-page memoir describing how I became a photographer in 1969 and 1970 while studying with Minor White. Also forsaken were my photographs, negatives, slides, cameras, and archives of past and future photography book projects. Everything I’d been given, couldn’t part with, or hadn’t gotten around to throwing away; as well as innumerable objects ardently, whimsically collected, and meticulously displayed for my own delight. Not to mention all the utilitarian things needed to get through the day, even if that might be one time only, someday.

All and everything burned. My hand-built Cape Ann-style cottage within the Central Texas Lost Pines, a house out of place and in hindsight always near the edge of destruction, but my home for twenty-four years, first with my wife Sybil (its visionary creator), along with our posse of rescued dogs and cats; then, after divorcing, my sole retreat. Immediately following were the deaths of Wyatt, Topper, and Annie (the tail end of the cat line), and four years later, Birdie (the dog), who died at age fifteen on Labor Day weekend, exactly one year before the fire, the last pet buried by me on the land near the others.

Dear house, in the end nothing more than a funeral pyre.

Sunday, September 4, 2011 Simultaneously in mid-afternoon the air conditioner went out, the television stopped, the computer screen went blank, and the clock radio’s illuminated digital numbers disappeared. The electricity was out, unpleasant on such a hot day during an already endless summer. The power had been off several times recently, and there were predictions of more rolling blackouts. Was that the problem this time? I thought if the power were off for an hour or so, I’d keep cool by keeping still, lying on my bed reading. But what if there wasn’t air conditioning after an hour? I went outside to investigate. It was a sunny day with a blue, unblemished sky, hot and dry, near zero percent humidity, and constant thirty-five mile per hour winds, some gusts stronger, spun off from the outer edges of Tropical Storm Lee coming in from the Gulf. This storm delivered a glancing blow to East Texas but not a hint of rain for Bastrop on what was a Red Flag Warning day, a dangerous day when I should have been cautious, even scared.

But I wasn’t—it seemed like just another day. Suddenly, I noticed thin black clouds not much higher than treetop height streaking across the sky to the east and I wondered where they were coming from. I looked to the west and the sky was still a perfect blue. I didn’t understand until later that what I was seeing weren’t clouds, but smoke. I wandered down my country road (Woodland Court) watching the sky, fascinated by its shifting colors, indigo to gray, mixed with unexpected bits of ochre, black, and russet, as if withered leaves were blowing across it. I studied these clouds that weren’t clouds. I also saw cars rushing along the county road (McAllister) heading to Highway 71, and two State Trooper cars going in the opposite direction, sirens wailing; this was more traffic than usual on a Sunday, even for a Labor Day weekend. Other sirens sounded. Was this a grass fire? A false alarm? A car accident? I heard garbled voices coming from a loudspeaker, announcing—what? I couldn’t decipher any words. I saw a neighbor I’d never met, a recent arrival who lived across the road, loading shotguns and rifles into the trunk of his car and then speeding off. Another neighbor was driving his pickup as fast as his two horses on lead ropes allowed, one on either side of the vehicle. I walked the road in my sandals, dazed. There was a growing procession of cars exiting the street; more people than I realized that lived in the eight houses on this cul-de-sac. One driver slowed long enough to tell me, as I walked backwards beside his car, that the highway was blocked; he said there was a fire in the next town, ten miles to the east, and added “We’re evacuating.”

I called Sybil on a cell phone she’d given me for emergencies (amazingly, it was half-charged), telling her about the nearby fire, everyone getting out, and me among the last to leave. I thought I’d be gone for the night, maybe two nights—not forever. I was confused and indecisive. I grabbed file folders filled with black & white negatives and color slides from my worktable, but didn’t open any drawers or cabinets where boxes of negatives and prints were stored. I picked up photographs lying on the dining room table and a three-ring binder containing more than four hundred postcards diligently collected over the previous decade depicting Millerton, New York, a small town I’d photographed intensely during the 1970s and 1980s; other than that, I left with little else. I went upstairs to my bedroom, put a few

At some point in time, the world I knew either vanished or withdrew, and another world came to take its place.

Haruki Murakami

at the back end of land we bought in the newly platted subdivision of Pine Forest. At that time there were only three new suburban-style homes in the area and a Texas log cabin under construction diagonally across the road from where our house would become the fifth. When the fire erupted two hundred and ten homes existed and one hundred and seventy-one of those burned.

In 1987 we built a cedar clapboard Cape Ann-style cottage painted Lexington Blue, a classic color in the town of Lexington, Massachusetts (my hometown as a teenager), and common for colonial houses researched by Sybil. We bought plans from a designer in Maine (McKee Wing Roth) who adapted early American houses for twentieth-century purposes, but where the traditional colonial cottage had two small bedrooms upstairs, ours included one bedroom and a large bath (not part of a colonial house, of course); the rooms on the first floor contained barely enough space to accommodate a living room, dining room, and galley kitchen (also not authentic).

Sybil and her friend Vicki (an artist/carpenter) framed the cottage, and had help from others bribed with adventure, dinner, and beer; as well as paid professional workers: a backhoe operator, a water well-driller, a concrete foundation crew, a plumber (who absconded with $500 when he joined the Army to escape a debt he owed drug dealers), a metal roofing team, a drywall, taping and floating crew, and a heating and air conditioning installer. This last man always wore a cowboy hat, but continually scratched his head in amazement over a house primarily built and contracted by two women. He was further bewildered when Sybil referred to me as her husband, not believing a husband could be little more than a gofer, manning the burn barrel, hammering nails, and picking up scrap wood. He asked Sybil’s mother if I wasn’t really the “retarded brother.”

Aside from traditional wide-plank pine flooring and cut nails imported from specialty manufacturers in New England, the cottage was constructed using locally available materials—pecan beams, Galvalume metal roofing, and reclaimed Heart Pine. On the first floor three massive pecan columns (cut from a stand of trees a few miles down the road where a golf course was later developed) supported pecan beams spanning the length of the house with the underside of the above flooring exposed. These recently cut timbers were still wet and heavy when installed. They should have been hoisted using a come-along and a spreader beam to safely position them, but we enlisted volunteers to lift an end while a lone weightlifter (a friend of the backhoe operator) walked up a ladder with his arms around the opposite end over his shoulder before wrestling each timber into place. That no one was injured amazes me, still. Once we moved in we heard scratching sounds coming from the interior of these beams and discovered a secret—Powderpost beetles: oblong-shaped, pinky-finger-sized albino cockroach-looking insects that haphazardly emerged, one by one, flying blindly, wildly throughout the house. On the floor beneath their “shot hole” exit points, small mounds of fine sawdust accumulated; at first, we’d circle and number the openings, but after forty-something we stopped; even decades later the occasional beetle still made a startling appearance.

The cottage wasn’t supposed to be our home, but a guesthouse. After six months (our naively imagined completion date) when we were still not close to being finished, the burden and expense of building the much larger structure (we unrealistically contemplated a hand-cut stone house) was abandoned and that cleared land became a garden. The following year when a home improvement loan was secured on the outwardly completed cottage (the interior required years more effort), Vicki and Sybil designed a two-story addition, a modernized riff on the Cape Ann, that accommodated a darkroom and second bathroom on the first floor, and a studio/guest bedroom above; being in this upstairs room felt as if you were in a tree house. It looked over a ravine and the forest to the west, and had majestic vaulted ceilings and clerestory windows that bathed the room in cascading, soothing sunlight.

We furnished the house with a hodgepodge of hand-me-downs, near-antiques, contemporary, and custom-made pieces. A pine country-style table made by Sybil with a heron inlaid by Vicki was in the dining room; around this table we put modern Shaker chairs, their seats and backs woven with Indian-red fabric tape, and a five-foot-long Shaker-style bench; suspended above, a reproduction wood-turned, seven-arm early-American-style chandelier looked rustically elegant. A green and red primitive two-door, two-drawer Pennsylvania cabinet stood against one wall, and a large hand-painted wood dairy cow with five pegs for hanging coffee cups was on another. The living room was crowded with a Herman Miller chair, occasional tables, a bookshelf, lamps (floor and table), a one-drawer desk, a hutch, potted plants, a second Shaker bench, and a love seat (a full-sized couch never fit). The plans called for a brick fireplace that was never built because we didn’t think it could be operated safely in the allotted space (we didn’t want the house to burn down); instead we installed a red-enamel

items of clothing and my toothbrush (but not my electric razor) into a laundry bag with my name (including middle initial) embroidered in red-letter script across one side, a remnant from a childhood summer at overnight camp. I thought as I headed out the front door “I’ll be back soon—yes?” I locked the door behind me, saying out loud “Goodbye, house.”

Because I’d heard that the main highway was closed, I turned off McAllister at the next east-west road (Kaanapali Lane) that paralleled Highway 71, and within a few minutes was stalled at the end of a long caravan of cars. I turned around and went back to the T-junction at McAllister (halfway between the highway and my house) where I briefly contemplated going right—returning home. Instead I went left, expecting a barricaded highway, but finding that it was open and deserted. A cop stood at the furthest edge of the roadway on the opposite side of the crossover, watching and waiting, seemingly lost in thought. As I started across, a car in the eastbound lane going the wrong way almost hit me, and after a collision narrowly averted I drove west along the stretch of highway bordering the southern edge of the Bastrop State Park heading to Sybil’s house in Austin feeling eerily alone under a rapidly darkening, menacing sky.

Of course, the fire was inevitable. That summer brought ninety 100-plus-degree days, twenty more than ever recorded, the hottest August in one hundred and fifty-seven years, and the lowest annual rainfall since 1895. This followed a dry winter and an even drier spring that created the worst drought in Texas since 1951. Three months earlier there had been a small fire a mile from my house. I was painting a chest of drawers outside never realizing what was taking place within walking distance, even after seeing a low flying helicopter with a suspended water bucket circling above. That grassfire was quickly contained and only trees and brush burned; but the trees, with or without fire, were already stressed, dying, or dead. More small brush fires were feared. “Keep your butts in the car” read handmade signs taped to utility poles up and down the roads, warning smokers and others of fire danger. And yet I remained complacent, though I knew the ground was bone dry, the trees combustible, and the air electric. Potentially dangerous fuel was everywhere: pine, cedar, oak trees; blankets of pine needles and leaves; tangled scrub brush and yaupons—and not a sign of rain.

On that Sunday at 1:47 P.M. winds toppled Loblolly pine trees five miles north of my house, and a half hour later other trees fell in the park. These downed pines snapped power lines causing sparks that ignited dry grass and leaf litter, and flames that quickly raged south pushed by strong winds. Two blazes merged at 3:02 P.M. with a third fire that began west of the park. This complex wildfire fanned out along a sixteen-mile front and advanced south at five miles per hour burning across ravines, valleys, and uplands, leaping from pine tree to pine tree—trunks in flames and canopies exploding—their resinous sap an inexhaustible accelerant. It was a massive conflagration that consumed all but one hundred of the park’s six thousand acres, more square miles ravaged than in any previous fire. The fire then jumped Highway 71 and crisscrossed the Colorado River ultimately burning an area twenty miles wide by twenty-four miles long beneath a one thousand-foot-high wall of smoke.

It was the worst wildfire in the state’s history. A million and a half trees burned. Thirty-three thousand acres were laid waste, a total of fifty square miles—and three of those acres were mine. My house was destroyed along with 1,696 others. The estimated insured property losses reached $380 million with two thousand insurance claims filed, though ten percent of the devastated homes weren’t insured. Five thousand people evacuated. Two people died. Two hundred and fifty volunteer firefighters (sixteen crews) worked on the ground with one hundred and twenty-six engines, eight water tenders, and twenty-six dozers trying to secure the fire’s perimeter; from above, Black Hawk helicopters and heavy air tankers dumped fire retardant and water. The fire was not brought under control before October 10th, and not completely extinguished until October 29th, almost two months after it began.

•••

A born and raised New Englander, I struggled to feel at home in Texas when I got a job teaching photography in 1980. After living in Austin for five years, Sybil and I looked for affordable land to buy where we (and our hyper-aggressive one hundred-pound Louisiana Catahoula Leopard/Rottweiler dog) could find elbowroom and build a house. We discovered the Lost Pines of Bastrop, a lush and green healthy forest thirty-five miles east of the city inhabited by deer, rabbits, squirrels, birds, buzzards, turtles, rattlesnakes, copperheads, and the endangered Houston Toad. The terrain varied: rocky plateaus, gorges seamed with orange clay, sandy ravines, and wet weather creeks

stuffed with odds and ends hidden from view since construction by a piece of fabric tacked across the four-foot-high triangular entryway. I emptied it and painted the slanting walls/ceiling Stolen Kiss Red (it required five coats to achieve perfection), transforming it into a meditation room, the opposite of its previous disorder. Since the ceiling was too low to enter standing, I’d crawl inside on hands and knees, sit on cushions covered with Napoleonic bee fabric, and imagine myself a hybrid Yogi in his mountain cave. A handmade cedar plant stand between the cushions became the throne for a foot-high black stone Egyptian statue of a cat, a reproduction of Bastet—the goddess protecting against contagious diseases and evil spirits. It was here where I remembered hundreds of childhood Saturdays wandering through the Boston Museum of Fine Arts Egyptian galleries displaying mysterious articles and magical implements for the dead, desiccated mummies wrapped in their winding cloths, alabaster, basalt, and granite statutes infused with the spirits of Pharaohs, Queens, Sphinxes, Gods, and divine guardian stone animals. The concrete garden creatures that filled my house dimly echoed those deities.

Thursday, September 15, 2011 Eleven days after the fire began residents were allowed to reenter Pine Forest. Driving down McAllister Road, Sybil and I could still feel intense heat radiating from ground covered in blankets of ash. I saw an arbitrary house or green patch the fire missed, but everything else was obliterated; the aftermath was mountains of charred rubble, dead trees, upright chimneys, and stone entry staircases leading nowhere. An acrid chemical smell had replaced the pine forest aroma. Clusters of people—all wearing facemasks, respirators, gloves, boots, and work clothes that quickly blackened with soot—sifted through debris searching for something tangible, meaningful, hopeful, but there was little to uncover. To haul away tons of metal and concrete required backhoes and dump trucks, not people bent over looking as if they were picking wildflowers on the moon.

At my driveway entrance the steel-tube ranch gate lay on the ground, undamaged, but the two six-by-six-inch cedar posts to which it had been attached were gone—the metal numbers (1-1-6) indicating the street address were scattered but unharmed by fire. The metal roof of the house was twisted, and covered a crumbled concrete foundation, debris sandwiched between. It resembled a tarp-draped corpse by the side of the road after a fatal car wreck. The kitchen stove, dishwasher, and refrigerator were empty metal shells blown away from walls that no longer existed. The wood-burning red Jøtul stove lay belly-down—a grayish corpse. And what appeared from a distance to be ocean foam were thousands of book pages, diaphanous as cigarette ash. If the Devil’s tongue licked paper, he swallowed wood whole. Wallboard, wainscoting, posts, beams, studs, window sashes, trim, sills, doors, doorjambs, stair treads, cabinets, bookcases, furniture, flooring, outdoor decking, and wood fencing—not a sliver had survived. Dishes, saucers, cups, glasses, pitchers, and vases were shattered or fused; an occasional knife, fork, or spoon (minus handles) randomly poked through debris. The cast-iron bathtub had vaporized. And yet, a concrete rabbit, having fallen from the second floor to rest upright in the middle of the living room, dried-out and fractured, but delicately holding his shape as if holding his breath, miraculously existed.

As I walked across the land white ash clouds swirled around my ankles drifting up to my knees, and glass splintered underfoot. Every nail from the house was exposed in pick-up-stick fashion on the ground or sticking menacingly through pieces of metal. There was not a bird, squirrel, or deer in sight—not even a sign of one. For the first time I could see the full contour of the property, end-to-end and side-to-side, including the knoll at the furthest point from the house that had always been hidden by dense stands of trees. Sybil discovered this spot the first time we arrived in November 1985, believing it special, if not sacred. Many of the trees on the knoll had collapsed the year before the fire from heat exhaustion and insect infestation; each falling tree missed the blue-painted wooden bench positioned directly below. I’d sit on this bench gazing into the treetops rising from the valley floor below watching buzzards glide high overhead in looping circles, squirrels acrobatically leaping from branch to branch knocking off pine bark that slowly spiraled downward. I’d listen to the hum of distant cars along Highway 71, buzzing insects, birdcalls, and warning honks from migrating geese. Walking to the knoll had always meant sidestepping upright and dead trees, going around twisted branch and brush piles, moving along pathways impossible to keep clear for long, though for nearly two decades I’d methodically tried—a Sisyphean task. During that time I also collected thousands of rocks used to fashion magical circles around barkless, limbless, dead pine tree trunks standing three stories tall, revenants that I imagined as totem poles stripped of their carvings. The fire torched every one of these talismans down to the tips of their roots, leaving charred holes in the earth and rings of cinders above.

Reaching the knoll after the fire was a simple—if emotionally painful—walk across a starkly bare, rocky plateau on an ancient ruin’s hallowed ground where ash had fallen instead of rain.

cast-iron Jøtul woodstove. We already owned a salvaged pine fireplace mantel that later leaned unfastened against the bedroom wall where it complemented a restored French country-style armoire and two companion end tables. During the years when Sybil and I shared this house, we collected a kaleidoscopic assortment of stuff: tools, furniture, more than a thousand books, camera equipment, boxes of photographs, framed artwork, and bric-a-brac beyond enumeration; plus dog bowls, rawhide chew bones, cat toys, and litter boxes. Cozy clutter.

Eighteen years after we started building our dream house, the marriage ended. Sybil moved on. I stayed put. The not-quite-finished house had become neglected and faded to gray, needing repairs and repainting. Every window was deteriorating because the manufacturer had unknowingly used a defected wood preservative that allowed premature rot to develop; after a successful class-action lawsuit, new windows were available for purchase at cost. I bought more than thirty replacements over the next five years and hired a local handyman to install them; along with new doors, including a craftsman-style front door painted enamel black that had six palm-sized, hand-blown bull’s-eye glass panes looking like swirling galaxies. The house was blossoming as the surrounding woods were drying up and dying. Although I’d been a peripheral participant during the initial construction, I tried to make the house my own by becoming the chief steward of its rejuvenation. I painted every interior surface: walls, windows, sashes, trim, wainscoting, kitchen shelves, cabinets, bookshelves, and some of the furniture. I spent $797.53 buying fifty-one quarts and four gallons of Sherwin-Williams paint. The previously off-white walls became orangey shades of white: Captivating Cream, Frangipane, Champagne, Flan, and Cherish Cream; trim and wainscoting violet-tinted dark grays: Exclusive and Expressive Plum; and the window mullions and sashes reddish yellows: Peppery and Papaya. The former day-to-day possessions of married life were methodically sorted out and what Sybil didn’t take was integrated with secondhand objects discovered in antique and thrift stores. I wasn’t remaking a home, but curating a cabinet of curiosities.

On the verge of its completion, the wildfire consumed it.

What remained was emptiness and irrevocable change. I couldn’t grasp my future or touch anything from my past. Other fire victims partially consoled themselves by saying they still had their family, that the rest was just stuff. But I didn’t have a family, and stuff was my anchor. The insurance company adjustor explained to me the value of such things: Something artlessly made from mahogany had greater value than something lovingly made from white pine—base materials counted, they are what they are, possessing properties that are known and established values. Whereas art and love are in the eye of the beholder—my taste, your taste, both are up for debate, nothing more than agreeing to disagree—a stalemate. In the end, you loved what you had and now you don’t have it. Your compensation consists of memories.

•••

My home in the woods never had blinds or drapes and I blurred the lines further between inside and outside by filling the house with a growing menagerie of animals, most of them made of concrete. Three squirrels chased each other around the base column of a 1950s birdbath kept in the living room, a small brass dog stood at attention in the empty water bowl balanced on top. A deer and two fawns curled up on a five-foot-long Shaker bench. Three life-sized ducks with smooth necks and backs floated on top of an indigo-blue, one-drawer table. Two squirrels on the floor were in a vigilant stance bookending a 1920s freestanding kitchen cabinet painted jade green (previous dark blues and reds peeked out beneath scratches, gouges, and scrapings); and two peachy-colored cardinals—noble sentinels—perched on top. Another tabletop was the platform for a life-sized rooster, and behind him a crystal candy dish (three eagles rose from its gold leaf rim) contained an antique darning egg. A 1930s three-fold screen depicted a nearly life-sized woman dancing through the forest while a deer ran by her side, and directly above was a hand-carved wooden sparrow poised for flight from the flat roof of a post-modern birdhouse attached to the wall. A Boston terrier was stationed on a rosy-brown Shaker three-step bench near the entry. A gray and black raccoon crouched on a stepstool. Open pantry shelves displayed chickens, chicks, long-necked geese, and a frog. There were also brass deer, swans, and peacocks; stone walruses; and wooden letter openers in the shape of birds that lined the top ledges of windows. And fourteen pair of brass duck-head bookends marched across the fireplace mantel in opposite directions from the center, proclaiming—ducks in a row.

The womb of my house was an A-frame closet space at the juncture where the original cottage connected with the addition’s second floor

From things about to disappear I turn away in time. To watch them out of sight, no, I can’t do that.

Samuel Beckett

Shaker Workshop #5 shawl-back maple armchair • universal 4-blade enlarging easel (11”x14”) • 32-gallon plastic trash can • Vornado space heater • GE 7.0-cubic-foot electric clothes dryer • 19th century Pennsylvania grain bin with two compartments • Richard Wright, 12 Million Black Voices, 1941 • medium flat grater • CD: On A Coconut Island, Music of Hawaii, 2007 • 4-inch Phillips screwdriver • 1960’s red metal Levi Strauss factory cart • queen-size tenor maple bed frame • 44-gallon aluminum stock tank • 1950’s pine fireplace mantelpiece • French provincial pine armoire • heavy-duty hand-dolly • 1920’s wrought iron flower stand with glass flutes • Shaker-style blackboard with drawer & shelf • 1950s church chair with Bible holder • 3 concrete deer • Gray Lab timer • longleaf pine custom-made dining table (32”x96”) • Time-O-Lite darkroom timer • 26-inch hand saw • 2 concrete cardinals • 6-foot desk (4 drawers + 2 cabinets) with brushed aluminum top • rubber flip-flop doormat • utility-knife • GE 3.3-cubic-foot top-load washer • 2 LG 8,000 BTU window air conditioner/heater units • 15-cubic-foot Sears refrigerator • Kohler stainless steel double kitchen sink • Delta-1 amber jumbo safelight • Paraná pine corner cabinet (6-sides, 6-doors, 4-shelves) • Kohler single-handle kitchen faucet with side spray • Eureka Mighty Mite—The Boss canister vacuum cleaner • 2 whiskbrooms • Agr-Fab 14-cubic foot garden cart • 2 standard caulk guns • 3 smoke detectors • post mounted mailbox • safety eye-goggles • 22-compartment plastic storage cabinet • 6 clamps (13/16”) • Garden Plus 24-inch pruning saw • Woodlink squirrel feeder • 100-foot outdoor extension cord • 31-gallon steel trashcan • Lee Friedlander, Bellocq, 1970 • Minor White, Mirrors Messages & Manifestations, 1969 • 3 concrete ducks • 3 cedar wood plant tables • Rubbermaid 24-quart cooler • 2 concrete terrier dogs • 50-foot ACE garden hose • Woodlink birdhouse with copper top • Cuisinart 9-cup food processor • D-handle spade • Danny Lyon, Conversations With the Dead, 1970 • Blenko cobalt blue hand-blown carafe • 16-inch Yankee bird feeder • Hatteras quilted hammock with pillows • CD: Victrola Favorites, 2008 • 10 long-leaf pine beams (10’x4’x6’) • 12-inch tongue and groove pliers • 7-inch vise grips • 24-inch bow saw • carpenter’s wood glue (4-ounces) • 3-inch putty knife • 39-compartment plastic storage cabinet • Vermont outdoor thermometer • CD: Jimmie Rodgers, No Hard Times, 1932, 1992 • 48-inch aluminum straightedge • 8-foot stepladder • 2 sawhorses • 8-inch adjustable wrench • 2 straight claw hammers • CD: Slim Critchlow, Cowboy Songs, 1999 • 7-inch side-cutting pliers • 3 Rubbermaid laundry baskets • beech-wood armoire • 48-inch aluminum level • Vivitar 383 flash • mitre box and saw • heavy-duty metal shelving units (48”x18”x78”) • Arrow heavy-duty staple gun • 1 box of staples (1250 package) • floor lamp with silk shade • CD: Steppin Out: Astraie Sings, 1994 • #16D framing nails; #6D, #10, #12 common nails; and #50 galvanized common nails • plastic toolbox • Gilmour select spray heads • 7-inch angle square • Gorilla glue tube (8-ounces) • steel dustpan • 4-inch paring knife • Polycrylic (1-quart) • 8 long-leaf pine boards (12’x2”x6”) • 8-pound sledge with wooden handle • Corona 5.5-inch bypass pruner • Gilmour lifetime 75-foot garden hose • 4 metal outdoor armchairs • steak knife set with wood block • 35mm Gepe slide mounting press • Peak 4X anastigmatic loupe • garden hoe • 9-inch torpedo level • 3 cut-glass table lamps with brass animal finials • glass pitcher (90-ounces) • Omega 4x5-inch sheet film glass negative carrier • 6-cubic-foot wheel barrel • CD: Sol Hoopii. Master of the Hawaiian Steel Guitar, Volume 1, 2009 • 36-inch wrecking bar • straight snips • 24-inch stiff push broom • 4 pine boards (2”x12”x12’) • 8-inch long-nose pliers • Peter Bunnell: Emmet Gowin, Photographs 1966-1983, 1990 • 3 pine boards (1”x6”x16’) • Cape Cod Beach chair and recliner (The Balau) • 3 silk flower arrangements • 7 film hangers (4”x5”) • film squeegee • stainless steel film developing tank and covers (4”x5”) • stainless steel photo graduate (1-gallon) • 8-inch Phillips screwdriver • 1 MDF board (1”x12”x16’) • 2 Shaker Workshop #5 shawl-back side chairs • 1 cedar post (4”x4”x8’) • 19th century Pennsylvania (2-drawer, 2-door) cabinet painted blue with red doors • 6 pine boards (2”x4”x12’) • burnishing bone • multi-purpose rope (3/8”x50’) • 10 sheets of sandpaper • bamboo mini-cutting board • 6 ruby-red drinking glasses (8-ounces) • 8-inch breadknife • CD: My Rough and Rowdy Ways, Volume 1-2, 1998 & 2006 • 9-inch stainless steel tongs • 12-inch stainless steel tongs • 13-foot tree pruning saw • Billingham camera bag • Kiltz latex primer (1-quart) • 6 Mexican wine glasses • 19th century mirror with picture painted on glass • 19th century Pennsylvania 5-foot wood bench with some original green paint • 14 cedar siding boards (1”x6”x12’) • Kitchenaid 5-speed blender with pitcher • 84-ounce glass spaghetti storage jar • wine pump with three stoppers • CD: Hobart Smith, In Sacred Trust: The 1963 Fleming Brown Tapes, 2005 • Kohler 16-ounce deck mounted soap dispenser • Weber 22.5 one-touch charcoal kettle • crystal table lamp with brass-monkey lamp finial • 5 print shipping cases (11”x14”) • 3 silk lampshades • garlic press • salad spinner • Krups 2-slice toaster • 7-piece reverse ratcheting wrench set • John Szarkowski, Photography Until Now, 1989 • 5-quart colander • 8 Hewes Pro stainless steel 120-size film developing reels • longleaf pine worktable (32”x96”) • winged corkscrew • Oxo kitchen scissors • rolltop breadbox • Krups programmable 12-cup coffee maker with glass carafe • 24-inch fluorescent tube shop light • 4 “Royal Bee” drinking glasses (8 ounces) • Gilmour lifetime 50-foot garden hose • transparent hot water bottle • crystal table lamp

with brass elephant finial • Honeywell low-profile electric heater • 12-ounce deadhead rubber mallet • cast iron trivet • Helen Levitt & James Agee: A Way of Seeing, 1981 • garden steel leaf rake • 6.5-inch steel trans-planter • CD: Merle Haggard. Peer Sessions, 2002 • poly-oscillating sprinkler • pill splitter • 5-shelf metal storage unit • Edith A. Tonelli: Louis Faurer, Photographs: 1937-1973, 1981 • spike-base sprinkler • can opener • 10-inch steel knife sharpener • 4 Purdy Dale paintbrushes (2”) • 1950’s chrome and leather settee with red cushions • Herman Miller Eames red management chair • Noritake China: ivory dinner plate, gravy boat, salad plate, serving platter, round & oval vegetable bowl, creamer, sugar bowl, fruit/dessert bowl, bread & butter plate, soup bowl, cup & saucer, tea pot with lid, plate, salad plate, sugar bowl and 12-inch chop plate • 7-inch lead crystal candle holders • CD: Ali Farka Toure: Red & Green, 2005 • GE 24-inch dishwasher • GE 0.7-cubic-foot microwave • HealthMate 400 air purifier • Lois Sherr Dubin, The History of Beads, 1995 • Berenice Abbott, Changing New York, 1939 • photographic plastic funnel (16-ounces) • stainless steel measuring cups set • CD: Jimmie Rodgers, First Sessions, 1927-28, 1992. • 24-ounce ballpeen hammer • Sony 210DV standard cassette voice recorder • Hofbauer byrdes crystal glass bowl • cobalt blue tumbler (10 ounces) • Art Deco gold leaf mirror (21.5”x34.25”) • 8 kitchen towels • 2 oven mitts • maple bread cutting board • polysafe cutting board (9”x15”) • 3 ceramic ice-cream waffle-cone cookie jars • Logan E-Z View slide sorter (12”x16”) • 5-ounce tack hammer • “Boy With Top Hat,” 19th-century silhouette • 16x20-inch universal 4-blade enlarging easel • John Szarkowski, Winogrand: Figments from the Real World, 1988 • 25-foot tape measure • Tamrac camera bag • 8 green/blue drinking glasses (14-ounces) • Leica 22 compact flash • Rodenstock 50mm f2.8 enlarging lens • Schneider 80mm f/4 Componon enlarging lens • CD: Vintage Hawaiian Music. The Great Singers, 1926-1934, 2009 • Robert K. Liu, Collectible Beads, 1995 • archival vertical 12-slot photographic print washer (16”x20”) • 8-inch needle-nose pliers • Nancy Rexroth, Iowa, 1977 • CD: Blowing The Fuse, 1950-1960, 2005 • 10 Hewes Pro stainless steel 35mm film developing reels • Weston stainless steel photo thermometer • chemical stirring paddle • plastic photo graduate (64-ounces) • CD: Sir Victor Uwaifo: Guitar Boy Superstar 1970-76, 2008 • Omega 35mm glass negative carrier • organic half & half (1-pint) • CD: Ali Farka Toure. Savane, 2006 • 4 Datatainer chemical storage bottles (1-gallon) • Ilford multigrade 6x6-inch filter set • 4 metal darkroom developing trays (8”x10”) • 5 plastic darkroom developing trays (16”x20”) • CD: American Primitive, Volume 1, Raw Pre-War Gospel, 1926-1936, 1997 • 4 plastic darkroom developing trays (20”x24”) • Ralph Gibson, Deja Vu, 1973 • Delta-1 darkroom hot & cold water filter kit • 5-foot photographic darkroom sink and cabinet stand with shelving • anti-static brush • William Christenberry, Southern Photographs, 1983 • 2 wooden contact printing frames (8”x10”) • tall shot glass • Noritake Stoneware: coupe cereal bowl, mug, creamer, round vegetable bowl, salt & pepper set, dinner plates • anti-static cloth • CD: Violin, Sing the Blues For Me: African-American Fiddlers 1926-1949, 1999 • Testrite light table (10”x12”) • D2V Omega 4x5 enlarger with condenser head • Scotch #850 silver tape (3/8” x 72 yards) • Art Work of Buffalo, W. H. Parrish Co., circa 1894 • Shaker #5 oval box • CD: Louis Armstrong, The Complete Town Hall Concerts, 2004 • 32-ounce plastic beaker • CD: Tau Moe Family with Bob Brozman: Remembering the Songs of Our Youth, 1992 • 2 TrueGuard 2.5” D-Ring albums and slipcases • acid-free linen tape (1” x 50-yards) • 2 print shipping cases (20”x24”) • Omega 6x6cm glassless negative carrier • 4 tan, metal edge drop-front boxes (16”x20”x3”) • 20 Kodak Transvue 80-slide trays • 2 Pentax Spotmeter V • Armatale butter dish • CD: Jimmie Rodgers, America’s Blue Yodeler, 1930-31, 1992. • 3 bamboo print tongs with rubber tips • CD: Taj Mahal. Sacred Island, 1998 • Oakley Woods Extreme 6-player croquet set • Rodenstock 150mm f/5.6 enlarging lens • Triptych: The Second Apeiron Portfolio, 1978 • Falcon air-evac photographic chemical storage bottle (1-gallon) • 1 stainless steel film developing tank (1-quart) • museum print carrying case (16”x20”) • 2 concrete geese • concrete Dutch boy and girl • Frederick Sommer, 1939-1962 Photographs, 1962 • organic milk (½-gallon) • 4 print shipping cases (16”x20”) • John Szarkowski, William Eggleston’s Guide, 1976 • Microsight 25X grain focusing aid • 1950’s concrete birdbath • CD: Lost Sounds: Blacks and the Birth of the Recording Industry. 1891-1922, 2005 • Land O Lakes whipped butter (8-ounces) • 3 Millerton, N.Y. diaries written by Lawrence Lovell (1935, 1939, 1940) • swivel peeler • Sybil Miller, Itinerant Photographer, 1987 • CD: Stomp and Swerve: American Music Gets Hot, 2003 • Linda Connor, Solos, 1979 • 6 tan, metal edge drop-front boxes (11”x10”x3”) • Robert Frank, The Americans, 1969 • 8 tan, metal edge drop-front boxes (8”x10”x3”) • Josef Koudelka, Gypsies, 1975 • CD: Merle Haggard. Same Train—Different Time, 1993 • Berenice Abbott, Photographs, 1980 • Joel-Peter Witkin: Photographs, 1985 • John Szarkowski, Irving Penn, 1986 • Beaumont Newhall, The Daguerreotype in America, 1961 • CD: Rhythms of Rapture: Sacred Musics of Haitian Vodou, 1995 • Sally Mann, The Lewis Law Portfolio, 1977 • Emmet Gowin, Photographs, 1976 • CD: Hawaiians in Paris, 1916-1926, 2003 • Peter Bunnell: Minor White, The Eye That Shapes, 1989 • CD: Before the Blues: The Early American Black Music Scene, Volume 1-3, 1996 • Jeff Rosenheim, Walker Evans and the Picture Postcard, 2009 • CD: Roscoe Holcomb, The High Lonesome Sound, 1998 • Richard Avedon, Portraits, 1976 • Sonja Bullaty, Sudek, 1978 • Larry Clark,

Teenage Lust, 1987 • CD: The Harry Smith Connection, A Live Tribute, 1998 • Larry Clark, Tulsa, 2000 • Lee Friendlander, Nudes, 1991 • Ralph Gibson, Days At Sea, 1973 • 1 sheet film hanger rack (4”x5”) • Frederick Sommer, Venus Jupiter & Mars, 1980 • Joel-Peter Witkin: 40 Photographs, 1985 • Davis Pratt, The Photographic Eye of Ben Shahn, 1975 • CD. Django Reinhardt. L’Inoubliable, 2006 • Leica M4 camera body • Peter Schjeldahl, Cindy Sherman, 1984 • CD: The Astaire Story, 1988 • William Klein, Moscow, 1964 • wall mounted bottle opener • Janet Kardon, Robert Mapplethorpe: The Perfect Moment, 1989 • Roberta Hellman & Marvin Hoshino, Helen Levitt: Color Photographs, 1980 • Jane Livingston, Linda Connor, 1982 • 10 copies, Aperture 19:4, 1975 • CD: Junior Wells, Hoodoo Man Blues, 1993 • Architectural Treasures of Early America, Volume 1-10, 1987 • Roxanne Kuter, Austin, Texas: An American Architectural History, 1973 • John Mack, Ethnic Jewelry, 1988 • CD: Cat Power, Jukebox, 2008 • Esopus #1-13, 2003-2009 • Antoine de Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince, 1964 • CD: Louis Armstrong, The California Concerts, 2008 • August Sander, Men Without Masks: Faces of Germany, 1910-1938, 1973 • Ilford multigrade 3x3-inch filter set • CD: Joan Baez, Live At Newport, 1996 • John Szarkowski, The Work of Atget (4 volumes), 1980-1985 • extra large Dogloo • white wicker hamper • 15 beer glasses with logos • Jenn-Air electric stove • CD: Cat Power, The Greatest, 2007 • Bill Burke, I Want To Take Pictures, 1987 • CD: Elvis Presley, Sunrise, 1999 • 4 concrete squirrels • 7 assorted vintage tin noisemakers • brass camel • CD: Roots ‘N Blues, Retrospective: 1925-1950 (Box Set), 2007 • Margaret Bourke-White, You Have Seen Their Faces, 1937 • CD: You Ain’t Talking to Me: Charlie Poole & the Roots of Country Music, 2005 (Box Set) • John Szarkowski, Walker Evans, 1971 • CD: Hawai’i: Under Rainbow, 2009 • Harry Callahan, Water’s Edge, 1980 • corn broom • weed cutter • Picture Magazine #16—Diane Arbus Monograph, 1980 • 5-piece flatware place setting • Josef Koudelka, Exiles, 1988 • Oscar Gaylord Herron, Vagabond, 1975 • Carl Chiarenza: Arron Siskind, Pleasures & Terrors, 1983 • John Szarkowski, Looking at Photographs, 1973 • CD: Jimmie Rodgers, Down the Road, 1931-32, 1992 • John Szarkowski, The Idea of Louis Sullivan, 1956 (inscribed) • unknown number of silver plate rhinestone roundel spacer beads • CD: Sweet Soul Music, 1964-1969, 2008 • Walker Evans, American Photographs, 1938 • 1960’s wooden labyrinth marble ball maze game • concrete cherub • concrete girl holding seashell • “Jesus,” Paul Strand photogravure (2nd Edition Mexican Portfolio) • Palmolive Eco dishwasher liquid (75-ounces) • Walker Evans, Message From the Interior, 1966 • unknown number of vintage Vaseline glass beads • Frances Borel & John Bigelow Taylor, Splendor of Ethnic Jewelry, 1994 • Daniel Seymour, A Loud Song, 1971 • CD: Bob Brozman, Blue Hula Stomp, 1996 • 9 concrete chicks • CD: Taj Mahal: Hanapepe Dream, 2003 • 1920s silhouette of a woman • Peter Saul ink drawing (8”x6.5”) • CD: Rhythm of The Islands, Music of Hawaii, 1913-1952, 1999 • 1850s German silver stork scissors • CD: Magic Sam, West Side Soul, 2009 • Ralph Gibson, Somnambulist, 1973 • CD: Blind Gary Davis, Harlem Street Singer, 1993 • “Phantom Lights,” Bill Wiman watercolor (34”x29”) • 1920’s oak fireplace mantelpiece • “Little Fannie,” Currier & Ives colored lithograph • “At the Piano,” Art Deco silhouette • Shaker-style 5-foot bench • 2 1930’s metal and wood bistro chairs • “Log House & Dog,” Lowell Davis folk art painting • CD: Hawaiian Steel Guitar Classics, 1927-1938, 1993 • “Mary,” Paul Strand photogravure (2nd Edition Mexican Portfolio) • Lewis Hine 8”x10” photograph (World War I soldiers playing football) • CD: Ruckus Juice & Chitlins: The Great Jug Bands. Volume 1-2, 1998 • “Pregnant Wonder Woman,” Irene Roderick oil painting (18”x18”) • “Man in Bed,” Sterling Allen drawing (26”x34”) • “Buddha,” Sybil Miller photograph (31”x41”) • CD: Harry Smith, Anthology of American Folk Music, 1997 (Box Set) • 9-quart Chantal enamel on steel covered stockpot • Tod Papgeorge, Core Curriculum: Writings On Photography, 2011 • Tom Dardis, Buster Keaton: The Man Who Wouldn’t Lie Down, 2004 • Krups coffee grinder • CD: Kings Of Reggae, 2007 • Sierra Vista clown head cookie jar • Pyrex 1-quart measuring cup • CD: Cat Power, The Cover Records, 2000 • unknown number of vintage African sand-cast trade beads • lithograph sheet of archery targets: twelve images of deer, bears, and rabbits • “A Young Black Man,” 1920’s drawing • Leica M2R camera body with 35mm lens • 2 metal flying pig sculptures • CD: Sol Hoopii. King of the Hawaiian Steel Guitar, 2006 • whaling ship print, Newport R.I. (7”x9”) • 4 corn dishes • Harry Callahan, Color: 1941-1980, 1980 • concrete skunk • CD: Hawaiian Hula Blues. Acoustic Steel Guitar Masterpieces, 1927-1928, 2006 • 3 concrete chickens • concrete frog • Hellmann’s mayo (16.5-ounces) • CD: Old Time Mountain Banjo, 2008 • “Two Women,” Irene Roderick oil painting with gold leaf (l00”x84”) • CD: Lena Machado. Hawaiian Songbird, 2000 • concrete raccoon • concrete rabbit • Pine Plains, N.Y. collector plate • folk art bentwood hand-painted box • 1 bag of Nature Sweet tomatoes • 10-inch lead crystal cut glass vase • electric seashell nightlight • 3-bird dove-footed crystal candy bowl with 22K gold trim on rim • Kathryn O’Grady hand-painted cow wall hanging with five pegs for coffee mugs (2’x3’) • brass bear bookends • 18 brass duck head bookends • brass whale • CD: Jimmie Rodgers, Last Sessions, 1933, 1992 • brass peacock bookends • 2 brass swans • 4 brass deer • Stephen Foster collector plate • CD: Terry Allen, Lubbock (on everything), 1995 • Lee Friedlander, Letters From The People, 1993 • 15 hand-painted folk art wood darning eggs • 1950’s 3-panel room divider screen with

painted scene (each section 3’x6’) • 2 ceramic vases with silk flower bouquets • 1920’s egg carrier • 1920s hand-painted towel rack • 1950s ceramic Baby Jesus Christmas manger figurine (18”) • CD: Jimmie Rodgers, On the Way Up, 1929, 1992 • hand-made folk art watermelon man whirligig • folk art bird mailbox • CD: Darker Than Blue. Soul from Jamtown, 1973-1980, 2001 • 2 Mexican folk art ex-votos retables • “Millerton, New York Boy in Pup Tent,” Rachel Martin handmade doll • 1930s hand-carved deck of cards holder • 3 handmade painted eggcups • old silver India amulet pendant • 3 polished marble eggs • Madonna and Jesus chalk wall plaque • post-modern teak wood and steel birdhouse • 1950s missionary society collection box • solid wood votive candleholder with religious medals (4’x1’) • CD: Jimmie Rodgers, Early Years, 1928-29, 1992 • handmade Indian head crayon holder • 1950s “Millerton, NY Ford” ceramic ashtray • Mark Goodman’s childhood photo album assembled in 1957 • World War II pencil drawing of Robert Goodman by Robert Young • multi-color woven scatter rug (36”x23”) • 36 snapshots taken by Lawrence Lovell between 1939-1972 in Millerton, New York • Oaxaca folk art wood fish carving • CD: Ali Farka Toure: Niafunke, 1999 • Mexican wood fish—wall décor • 3 primitive wooden step benches with cutout handles • Russian standard playing cards • early 20th century Russian Orthodox brass triptych traveler’s icon (Christ on the cross, Mary, and Saints) • Alice Goodman’s family photo album (1940s-1950s) • 15 ceramic peaches • Irene Ezer’s 1958 photo album • Mark Goodman’s 1959-1964 scrapbook of theatre photos, playbills, and newspaper clippings • 1950’s hand-carved frog ice-fishing decoy • 3 1960’s hand-carved fish-shaped ice-fishing decoys • Glad Cling Wrap (200’) • Austrian Piatnik boxed double deck playing cards • unknown number of Czech round glass beads • unknown number of vintage wood Playskool colored beads • 1900 cast-iron bank • 1 strand of Sherpa coral red glass beads • CD: Otis Rush, Right Place, Wrong Time, 1990 • KMF olive oil soap bar • unknown number of red rhinestone roundel spacer beads • 7 1920s Tin HMV Victrola-needles boxes • CD: Skip James, Complete Early Recordings, 1994 • old silver India amulet pendant • 5 1930’s Art Deco Typewriter ribbon tin boxes • unknown number of Bali sterling silver lacy filigree beads • unknown number of carnelian agate beads • unknown number of purple rhinestone roundel spacer beads • “Havana, 1933,” Walker Evans photograph (printed 1989) • unknown number of blue rhinestone roundel spacer beads • 1890-1920 metal bus tokens • unknown number of crocheted doilies and lace trim pieces • Patti Smith, Just Kids, 2010 • 120 Mamiya C330S camera body with 80mm lens • CD: King Bennie Nawahi, Hawaiian String Virtuoso, 1920s, 2000 • Delta table saw • Organic Coffee (2-pounds) • unknown number of Venetian French Cross trade beads • 150 business envelops • Reynolds foil wrap (75’) • Shur-line paintbrush cleaner • pair of Chinese porcelain wall sconces • RCA CD clock radio • Diane Arbus, Aperture, 1972 First Edition, First Printing • wild birdseed package (8-pounds) • Metro clear vinyl shower curtain • 2 glass bottles in the shape of geese (12”) • Kenmore 5.1 cubic foot freezer • Butterfly 38-liter step garbage can • Corona 24.5” lopper • Nick Tosches: Unsung Heroes of Rock ‘n’ Roll, 1999 • The Photobook: A History, Volume 2, 2006 • 2 longneck concrete geese • concrete bear • 2 Egyptian reproduction wall plaques • Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones, 2010 • Sarah Bakewell, How To Live: Or A Life of Montaigne in One Question & Twenty Attempts at an Answer, 2011 • Luc Sante, Folk Photography: The American Real-Photo Postcard, 1905-1930, 2009 • 30 pre-owned Hawaiian shirts • unknown number of socks, briefs, T-shirts, shirts, pants • 2 pairs of Diesel jeans • CD: Tickling the Strings. Music of Hawaii, 1929-1952, 1994 • unknown number of sweaters, scarfs, gloves, thermal underwear • 1 pair Birkenstock sandals • 1 pair of Clark leather shoes • unknown number of old fancy white hearts Venetian trade beads • 10,000 Waves Spa robe • handmade Kuwaiti rug (3’x4’) • Bill Clegg, Portrait of the Addict as a Young Man, 2010 • Thangka blessed Buddhist fabric hanging scroll (14”x24”) • 3-foot oval wrought iron pot rack with 6 hooks • unknown number of natural red coral beads • 3 cans Amy’s organic soup • Ozarka Spring water (101.4-fluid ounces) • unknown number of foiled lamp-work art glass beads • Hefty tall kitchen trash bags • Lou Ann peanut oil (24-ounces) • 3 bottles Fallegro white Italian wine • Gregory Gibson, Hubert’s Freaks, 2008 • Mid-century Modern metal plant table with casters • Revlon nail scissors • 6-pack Fireman’s #4 Real Ale • Colavita extra virgin olive oil (34-ounces) • Maker’s Mark Bourbon Whiskey (1-liter) • 1 bag of pistachios • CD: Jimmie Rodgers, Riding High, 1929-30, 1992 • bath rug (21”x34”) • mini 6-liter semi-round-step-can • kitchen fire extinguisher • All Free & Clear laundry soap (150-ounces) • striped sunflower birdseed package (8-pounds) • 5-pound mechanical postal scale • 1 pair New Balance shoes • unknown number of black Venetian Skunk Trade beads • Leather toiletry travel bag • 1950s child’s wooden toy chest with hand-painted circus decorations • 2 1950s chalk-ware Chinese musician figurines • view camera darkcloth (36”x48”) • 12 jigsaw puzzles (1000-piece) • 3 1950’s sterling silver British fob medals • wicker armchair • 10 archival book boxes • Uniden phone and answering machine • Iranian wool carpet (54”x81”) • 18 Hefty Lawn and Leaf trash bags • 1920s ABC cedar blocks • Tibetan prayer flags on ropes • “Raining Cats and Dogs” ceramic treat jar • Superman, Robin, and Wonder Woman Pepsi glasses • 2 antique glass artificial eyes • Michael Shelden, Mark Twain: Man In White, 2010 • 3 plug-in light timers

A great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. And after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire a still small voice.

Kings 19:11

PhotographsSybil Miller

Essay & Editing Mark Goodman

Pigment PrintingPeter Williams

AgavePrint

Binding & Box Jace Graf

Cloverleaf Studio

Austin, Texas 2014

Limited to an edition of two of which this is # ____

Startled Deer, painting by Le Roy, postcard published by N. A. Co., circa 1910

But it is only in ashes that a story endures / Nothing persists except extinguished things.

Eugenio Montale