My earliest memories are peering through these eyes at the world


These eyes, the inner being that saw through these eyes

Wishing to communicate before I had words to form into sentences..


These eyes,

myself now looking through these eyes

using images and words…

having lived a longer time of joys and sorrows as life is lived. 

Yet the same being peering through these eyes still sees.


In the late night,

early morning,

days of sun or darkness,

cold of winter,

heat of summer,

mildness of many in betweens…

I see.


Not searching for vision,

not asking, this magic appears

touching something within.

 Inside warmth of the crackling fire

Sliding the heavy glass door open

Cold blast of winters chill swirls

Passed me and into the room

The oak standing tall beyond the pines

Covered in floating snow,

Through the screen of summer

All of time fills the space

the camera between us

inside looking out..


Of the house

Through the door

Through a window

Through the lens

Through these eyes


Back within the being

A connection to being here



I now notice that all of my photographic work has been from this place,

This place, within and wishing to communicate what is felt through this seeing seer.

This body of new work, inspired on a snow stormy day in 2004, is again full of this wish.

This is my search in my life and in my photography…


Here in this place


Yet not alone at all.

Martha Henrickson February 2005