Alan Stacell said, “I paint like a dog wags its tail.” What do we do that way? What is ours to do the way tail wagging is a dog’s to do? My father smoked and drank burbon and Coke. Not quite the idea but, as close as he could come to it. I look out the window, and take what comes with that kind of self-induced trance state. Looking, waiting. It is like fishing in a way, baiting a hook and wating. And knowing a keeper when you see one. I hunch that Alan Stacell knew a keeper when he saw one. And the others he may have viewed as steps along the way. Dogs don’t grade their tail wagging, or get down about theirs not being as good as the dog’s next door. The things that set our tail to wagging are beyond critique. And we have to give ourselves to them because our tail says so–and we could do worse than letting our tail lead the way.
Jim Dollar's Photography and Philosophy 