Lately I've been accused of being on my own planet. Which, I believe, is very astute, a keen observation. My life has shrunk sweetly down to a little ball, with a field and a pile of books and some very colorful sweaters. A bicycle and a small handful of friends who roam in and out.
When I leapt across the continent, I downsized to a much smaller life that is pleasantly, perfectly furnished, for the time being. There are no birds, no planes, no silverware strewn across the floor. No big walls, no beaches, no market price coffee at the tragically hip cafe.
There are absolutely no flopping fish with their wide mouthed gasped, as they are not allowed.
"I know you're doing well Lina, do you want to know how?" says Lisa on the phone, 2500 miles away in the rain.
"How?" I'm sitting on my planet in the sunlight holding the phone to my ear, throwing the ball for the dog.
"Because I never hear from you anymore."
My mom says, "Well I know you're busy, but call the mom when you can?"
I don't think it's good to be on your own ball for more than a few weeks, but for now, here I am. Clam-happy, ignoring the news. And I was thrilled to discover this app, which seems very pertinent at the moment. It takes your photos and swirls them down into teeny tiny planets.
You know by now that I love photography more than perhaps any other realm of art or communication or documentation or figmentation or whatever it is. And further warping my photos to make them a little more abstract is wild fun for me.
The app is called Tinyplanets. Here are some of my favorites, and thank you for bearing with me as I get this out of my (solar) system.
My friend Erich with the dog at his feet is a frequent visitor to my planet.
My oldest friend Cassie, walking through my family's snowy land in Vermont on my birthday, is about to have a kid on Christmas. I believe that she may be on her own small ball very soon as well.
An entire tiny planet of birds and fish! Here in the Bay of Pillars, sea birds flock around a captured school of fish moments before ten whales emerge, mouths open. Do you see the fin in the middle?
Here's Molly and I, ringed by the blue ridge mountains, a tiny planet play date.
A tiny Ammen flings a giant Ella.
The North Carolina Mountain State Fair.
I used to walk the dreary beach of Golden Gardens every afternoon in Seattle, with the dog and coffee, wondering where to go next.
The wasteland of Baird Glacier in the inside passage near Juneau, Alaska.
Nici in my very favorite Gentlemen's Intermission shot. Montana planets are always good ones.
And finally, me on Dolly Parton, the summer project I never finished and probably never will. Thank you Ms. Jackson for the original shot.
Wild world, isn't it.