Kevin Carrel Footer

Category: Little Epiphanies

  • The Chapel in the Signal Box

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    KCF
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    I chanced upon this signal box behind a truckstop in Kingman, Arizona where we spent the night. I woke early and walked between the trucks as the sun came up over the desert. Truckers in overalls emerged groggy from their cabs, each carrying a wide-mouth thermos waiting to be filled with the steaming coffee of…

  • Beyond the West

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    KCF
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    After the West begins the Beyond, a place of inscrutable intentions and cross-purposes that blow you off-course like the gusts over Altamont Pass, where contraptions of precarious beauty born of human hubris float like effigies on the once-pristine hills now stained in the blood of a generation’s lost dreams. Meanwhile, in the Sierras, giant trees…

  • Truckstops of the Sublime

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    KCF
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    There are truckstops of such sublime, searing beauty. I took this picture from a patch of dirt off to the side. This is the overflow lot where a few diesel trucks had parked to get their statutory rest, away from the noise of the semis downshifting from freeway speed and kids spewing from family vacation…

  • To Write and to Explore

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    KCF
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    By Kevin Carrel Footer COBSCOOK BAY, MAINE – I have always been about exploring: the big house, my dad’s locked closet, a woman’s body, the backroads of this world, myself. The great explorers of the New World, of the Artics? They have nothing on me. This morning I sit in a wooden shelter overlooking a…

  • The Poetry of All Things

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    KCF
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    [et_pb_section admin_label=”section”][et_pb_row admin_label=”row”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″][et_pb_image admin_label=”Image” src=”http://kevincarrelfooter.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/IMG_1900.jpg” show_in_lightbox=”off” url_new_window=”off” use_overlay=”off” animation=”left” sticky=”off” align=”left” force_fullwidth=”off” always_center_on_mobile=”on” use_border_color=”off” border_color=”#ffffff” border_style=”solid”] [/et_pb_image][et_pb_text admin_label=”Text” background_layout=”light” text_orientation=”left” use_border_color=”off” border_color=”#ffffff” border_style=”solid”] by Kevin Carrel Footer Walking, I chanced upon this beach scene: a wooden spool, a stripped branch, an eroding cliff. It fascinated me, these leavings of nature and man. They had…

  • Clouds and Shadows

    Clouds and Shadows

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    KCF
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    [et_pb_section admin_label=”section”][et_pb_row admin_label=”row”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″][et_pb_image admin_label=”Image” src=”http://kevincarrelfooter.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/LA-BOCA-4409-2.jpg” show_in_lightbox=”off” url_new_window=”off” use_overlay=”off” animation=”left” sticky=”off” align=”left” force_fullwidth=”off” always_center_on_mobile=”on” use_border_color=”off” border_color=”#ffffff” border_style=”solid” /][et_pb_text admin_label=”Text”] By Kevin Carrel Footer The afternoon is bright. There are a few creampuff clouds in the sky – isolated, pristine, sovereign – and trailing them dark stains on the water’s surface. Above, they are all majesty…

  • Soledad Nani

    Soledad Nani

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    KCF
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    [et_pb_section bb_built=”1″][et_pb_row][et_pb_column type=”2_3″][et_pb_image _builder_version=”3.11″ src=”http://kevincarrelfooter.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/SOLEDAD-2184.jpg” /][/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”1_3″][et_pb_text admin_label=”TITLE” _builder_version=”3.11″] People of Tango Soledad Nani Photographed in Paris, France [/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”3.11″] In my home in Buenos Aires, we danced a lot — everything except tango, that is. But we listened to some tango because my dad is a tanguero. He grew up with the radio so…

  • Nothing is Everything

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    By Kevin Carrel Footer Nothing, in spite of its bad press, is quite something – especially when compared to the alternatives. So many of the things that press around us filling our time and space are so bland and pointless that emptiness becomes a refuge. Emptiness at least has the virtue of being true while…

  • The Cowboy Hat and the Tango Shoes

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    by Kevin Carrel Footer Thirty or so years ago, I met a man in California who offered to teach me to ride horses. This had been an abiding desire of mine, so I jumped at the offer. The next Saturday I was out at his place ready to ride. He lived in a house he…