This gallery contains 7 photos.
My anger is getting totally out of hand. I have no patience again and I’m trying to truly understand why. My inability to understand the evil and non-logical ways of people in general has always taken me to the edge but since the Cancer diagnosis it’s been a lot harder. I am so angry and [...]
What holds you up you may never see.
Where does your support come from?
Do you know what is beneath you?
Does your path conflict with your direction?
Choose a direction
Know your direction
Every time I look at a cloud filled sky I see something different but it is always regal, relaxing and often humbling.
Every photo is the explicit property of Dwight Williamson and is protected by all applicable Copyright laws.
Any infringement will result in direct prosecution to the fullest extent of the Law.
You never know what’s around the bend but don’t let it stop you from taking the path.
Before I get off track I would like to explain that the majority of the “Missed Opportunities” I speak of were missed because of the choices “I” made. Not because of fate or the actions of others. Some of the greatest possible opportunities slipped by because of the traps I allowed myself to get caught up in. Because I was always focusing on crap instead of necessity. Like most teens, what I called fun was in reality self destructive behavior. I started making serious mistakes in my late teens that would affect a great deal of my adult life. Like they say, “If I knew then what I know now.” But “My” missteps weren’t always the culprit either.
One summer, I won a scholarship to a summer art workshop in Northern Wisconsin. This was a great experience and a loop in the belt of accomplishments for an urban black child of the early 60’s. My mother dealt with the opportunity with trepidation. She would be sending her son into the north woods with people she knew nothing about and didn’t trust. My overly pragmatic father thought it was a waste of time. He didn’t see any money making opportunities for men of color in that field and, at that time, he was probably right. I was, indeed an item of curiosity and I became more of a subject than the art we were studying. It was the first time most of the other students had seen a Black person that wasn’t on T.V. Overall it was a good experience but it didn’t draw me into the art world.
I also had dreams of becoming a pilot. I didn’t want to fly commercial airliners I just wanted to be able to fly my own small plane or even a helicopter. In the late sixties there was an organization called CAP, the Civil Air Patrol. They trained young men to become pilots of single engine aircraft and the Civil Air Patrol, like the National Guard of that time, participated in search and rescue. The United States was a lot less developed then and you had a great deal more forested areas that weren’t part of the National Parks System. You started training at 16 so you were fully licensed by the time you were 18. They recruited through the Milwaukee Public School System and I was hyped when they came toTwelfth Street School. My father, again, gently told me that they didn’t accept Black students and, again, I was heart broken.
The point is, that even still today, we limit ourselves and miss a multitude of opportunities by refusing, or being unable to step outside our norms or our comfort zones. It wasn’t that my father had low expectations of his son by no means. He was concerned about the limits that the world would place on that son if he tried to step outside what was the norm for that time. Almost fifty years later, I find myself thinking about how many times I limited myself by not stepping out and taking that chance to function outside of the perceived norm and how often it was limitations I had placed on myself. I could have been an Artist or an Architect among many other things and my life has passed those opportunities by with little notice. Milwaukee was my home and the idea of moving outside of its boundaries very seldomly came up.
I’m not obsessed with death or graveyards but “perspective” is a big part of a lot of the photos I take. Graveyard shots have a vanishing point even if they don’t always show up in the shot. For me, they’re always there.
Been down a few days. Had my second treatment and my body didn’t take it too well. They say it will do that so it is what it is. I decided to google my name today. I do that from time to time, I guess, just to prove that I exist. About a year ago I googled my name and a Dwight Williamson popped up in Denver Colorado and I was shocked to see that he was a professional photographer. He had a nice website and his portfolio consisted of a lot of the same types of photos I’d like to take, especially of rural Colorado. I recently looked for him again but can’t find him anywhere. There’s a list of the top 50 Photographers in Denver but he didn’t make the list. I did find a listing for a Dwight Williamson in Austin Texas who passed away in 2009. (May he rest in peace) He was a software engineer and a, wait for it, amateur photographer. I’m beginning to think there’s something about Dwight Williamsons’ and cameras.
You can find beauty in some of the oddest places in Milwaukee
I love this one!!!!
Some serene shots from different parts of Milwaukee.
All Photographs on these pages are the property of Dwight Williamson
and shall not be duplicated in any form or fashion without the express written permission of Dwight Williamson
Some of the most powerful photos I have ever seen have always been of people. People in pain, deep thought, love etc. etc. Some of the most beautiful pictures I have ever seen have always been of places or things. Erupting volcanoes, waterfalls, jungles, mountains, etc. etc.
By the time I had decided that I wanted to take my photography seriously, my ability to travel was already limited. I would love to photograph some of our western deserts or, definitely, the Grand Canyon. “That’s not gonna happen.” I’m not going to be climbing too much of anything. As far as taking some seriously deep portraits, I’ve seen some great subjects here in Milwaukee but the nature of man makes trust a constant issue. “There’s got to be a hidden reason you want to take my picture” or “How much are you gonna pay me?” I’ve limited myself to taking pictures of family members but the love for family gets into the subject matter and you can see it. Nothing wrong with that, it’s just not what I want all of the time. So I stick mostly to the serene sites I can find in the city and the city parks. I intend to fight this crap and extend my life and I hope that I can maintain a quality of life functional enough to accomplish some of what I have missed.
There are faces who, in the right light, can tell a hell of a story and I would love the opportunity to photograph some of that energy and tell some of their story. That old saying, “He who hesitates is lost.” Covers a lot of territory and can be used in a lot of different situations. I hesitated many times throughout my life and lost or missed opportunities that would have made a big difference in my life. I don’t regret my life as a whole. The people I love that are in my life, I would not want to change and I would not want any change in my life to reflect upon them in a negative fashion. They too make up who I am. It’s just as I sit here in a pain that’s hard to describe and even harder to take, I can’t help but wonder where the difference would have taken me.
All Photos Copyright Dwight Williamson
My life flashes before me
Day after day
Shoulda, coulda, woulda
Is always at play
Beating me up
Tearing me down
Trying to smile
But can’t fight this frown
Counting my blessings
That drown in regret
Outsourcing the evil
In the people I’ve met.
In 1995 I self published a book of poetry and prose that I felt was well recieved for a first effort. “Love and Anger: As Black as I Can See It.” I sold over 500 copies by word of mouth and hitting the bricks. Now 500 hundred copies is not a best seller but I was satisfied and at times honored by the fact that over 500 people were reading my work. I was getting feedback on which piece effected the reader the most. The book was read and passed on so more than the original 500 actually read it. The problem was that, at the time, I was a city bus driver. I was making a lot more money driving city bus than peddling a piece of written work even though that written piece represented who I was internally.
Writing was something else I enjoyed and was, ocassionally, good at but too often we think we have forever to decide who and what we want to be in life. You could walk out in front of that speeding bus tomorrow and not have time for regret. With the world as it is today. you could be the innocent victim of a drive by shooting or a terrorist act and never see it coming. In these cases, it is what it is. But Cancer is a slow death which leaves a lot of time for reflection. Don’t get me wrong. My entire life is not filled with regrets. I’ve got great memories of great times but I also have the feeling of missed opportunities.
Let me pause for a second and say that today is a low energy day which is unusual. I had my second Chemo treatment two days ago and the steroids usually have me up and full of energy. Today, I’m whipped.
I joined an online writers group once and there was a group assignment to write a short story of approximately 500 words. No particular subject or genre. I wrote a short piece that was somewhat graphic in description and violent in nature but it was justa short story, quickly written, from the mind of Dwight Williamson. The response was overwhelming in the fact that, due to screen names, I didn’t realize that most of my co-writer, associate, on-line friends were women and due to the subject of my writing, they quickly became my enemy. Suddenly I was an oppressive woman hater with hidden hostilities and a violent nature. None of these things are representative of who I am but it proved that I could stimulate emotion and attitude through my writing….(Another missed opportunity)
This is that short story: Shoot me later…LOL
True Love
By
Dwight Williamson
Copyright © 1999
Jonathan sat, quietly smiling, as his loved one slept. She was so beautiful, so perfect. Even more so when she slept. He could sit for hours and just watch her. The way her hair hung loosely across her face, one closed eye showing seductively between the strands. Those closed lids hid a brown so deep and sensuous, that one could easily lose his soul in those depths.
Her lips were hidden also but he knew those full and inviting lips oh, so, well. He remembered the sweetness and the enticing warmth of the breath that flowed from those lips. He remembered the taste of those lips and felt his love for her stir again. He let his eyes flow over her nude and perfect body. Every line, crease and shadow looked like a well thought out stroke of an artist’s brush. It was a crime to hide such beauty beneath clothes. There wasn’t a material made that deserved to touch that flesh. She should be forever naked so that her true beauty could be constantly enjoyed. God should let her float just above everything around her so that her delicate skin would never have to feel anything against it, other than Jonathan. Her long, entwined legs tried to hide the secret and special place between them. Her trimmed hair peeked from between her thighs like an oasis in an unforgiving desert.
Touching her while she was at rest was out of the question. If he touched her, that touch may disturb the calm that radiated from her at this moment. He had no desire to disrupt the beauty that lay before him. He knew that if he disturbed her, she would fight. Fighting was not what he wanted to do. He wanted to love her. She just didn’t understand that his love for her was true and endless. No matter how hard he tried, they never seemed to understand or believe that no one could love them like Jonathan.
He had made the mistake of awakening her earlier that day. He had thought that she understood. That she had begun to realize what being loved by him could mean to her. So much so that he even removed the duct tape from her mouth and wrist so that she could return the kisses and caresses that would envelope her. She thanked him by slashing his cheek with the multicolored nails that adorned her beautiful hands. Such a wonderful pain those nails inflicted. The deeper she dug into his flesh, the more he realized that she did love him. He would keep those nails as a souvenir of that moment between them.
Sadly though, he had to put her back to sleep. She seemed unwilling to acknowledge the fact that she loved Jonathan as much as he loved her. He only hoped that he hadn’t struck her too hard. He had made that mistake once before and had, regrettably, scattered the brains of his once true love across the floor. This one was still breathing and seemed to be breathing normally. He wondered what it would take to make her admit how much she loved him.
A noise from the street below caught his attention. He hadn’t noticed that dawn had slipped into the room. He was so entranced by the beauty bound on the floor before him that a great deal of time had passed. He walked over to the window of his loft and looked out at the street.
The morning people were starting to stir. ‘So much ugliness in this world.” He thought. “So many ugly people with their ugly attitudes.” His loft was a little bit of heaven in the midst of this hell.
The morning smells from the Horschack Bakery across the street, wafted into the room. He enjoyed this time of day most of all. The fresh smell of breads, cakes and other sweet things would temporarily drown out the odors left by the deceitful ones whose evil pieces littered the floor. Those who offered their love flaunted their love and then tried to deny their love.
He had a clear look at the front of the bakery. He was just thinking that it was time to wake his true love when the door to the bakery swung open and out stepped a vision. She was beautiful. Such beauty he had never seen. She was style in motion. He could feel the passion within this woman reaching out to him. She walked to the curb and glanced up in his direction, pretending that she didn’t see him. But he saw her and it quickly became obvious to him that she was the one and he loved her.
This Goddess of love turned her wanting face toward the sun. Letting its’ warmth fondle her beauty. She gracefully began to walk down the filthy street. Jonathan felt her call out to him. His one true love was calling him. The one that he had searched for, for so long was calling him. He knew he had to go to her. He had to show her just how much he loved her.
He hurried out his door and leapt down the three flights of steps to the street. His beauty was just turning the corner. He would let her lead him for now. Once she showed him how to find her, how to reach her heart and her very soul. He would return home and silence that evil bitch who lay waiting in his private heaven. She had no right to be there. She was just as deceitful as the others had been. He would end her deceit as he had done to the others before her. Then he would go to his one true love.
The End
I don’t know why this garnered such a response from so many women but I found myself seriously apologizing and eventually leaving the group.
Opportunity Beyond The gate
In this shot, I found the wrought iron gate to be intimidating as it seemed to hold the mist behind it but within that mist I could see beauty being hidden by the gate. To me this represents hope and opportunity if we can find our way beyond the intimidating gate. (Copyright 2009 Dwight Williamson All rights reserved)
Its funny how being forced to face your mortality changes your perspective on things. I know I’m not the first to say this because I’ve heard it many times before. The difference is now I understand completely what they meant. That moment of truth for me came when my doctor called to say they discovered a mass in my left lung. Common sense told me what it was long before he got around to it. Common sense also told me how it got there. I was a smoker for 30 years. One of millions extremely addicted to an advertised poison that made me feel good at times, relaxed me at times and helped me focus at times. Those were my excuses.
But this isn’t about that. This is about me and the time I now feel was wasted. The things I could have done and enjoyed, but didn’t. People in situations where death is thrown at
them suddenly always say, “I saw my life flash before me.” This is usually in the case of a close call or a near death experience. In my case death isn’t a guarantee but a great possibility so my life isn’t flashing before me, it’s creeping past, chapter by chapter and sometimes page by page. I was surprised to find that while watching my life go by, even when it looked like science fiction, I noticed some repetition that led to one regret.
I had a fair amount of talent in several areas when I was growing up but never found the means, necessity or inclination to apply those talents to the rest of my life. I’d get to a certain point and something seemed to make me back off. My teachers would shower me with accolades and kudos about my writing, my artistic ability or my creativity in general. I’d garner an award or two and then mysteriously lose interest.
Strength and Beauty
I fell in love with this shot because even though the tree is in a precarious position, close to the edge, weaher beaten etc. It was able to reach it’s full potential while maintaining it’s beauty and strength. (Copyright 2009 Dwight Williamson All Rights Reserved)
I have given up trying to discuss politics, race, human or religious relationships, looking for understanding and common sense where there is none. Some discussions (arguments) are a lost cause even before you start. I was recently diagnosed with stage 3 Lung Cancer and I have decided to focus on the beauty this world still has to offer because there is so much beauty left in it. It’s not that hard to find.
I missed a lot of chances to be something else and do something else constructive. Something that would have built upon who I was instead of trying to save the world. I’ve always wanted to be an Amateur Photographer, among other things. I have the eye, (I think) but I’ve never had or taken the time to learn technique or styles. I’ve just never had the time and now I may be out of time. Thus the theme, “Missed Opportunities.” All I ask is that you join me in my reflections and regrets. Without being political about it, we all have so much in common that you might find some of yourself in me or I in you. Thank You. P.S. This is obviously a work in progress and I ask your patience. As my health changes for better or worse, so may my direction but not my intent.