2024 in Review: A Visual Journey in 12 Photos

In looking back at 2024, I scrolled through the hundreds of iPhone photos I’ve taken. There are so many images of people, dogs, art, landscapes, cycling outings, hikes, vacations, and other trips. There were also tons of work-related images of art, talks, people, performances, and more. It was hard to choose. On a different day, I could have selected other images, told a different story. So this is one story of my year.

January: Figgis at home, raises his head, as if a little startled to have his photo taken. Does he look lonely? Bored? Figgis came into our lives as a seven-month-old in May 2020. He was a pandemic puppy, and we were home all the time.

February: Mika Tajima’s Negative Entropy (Deep Brain Stimulation, Yellow, Full Width, Exa), 2024, at Pace Gallery in NYC. A highlight of a day of gallery hopping. The work is made of cotton, polyester, nylon, aluminum, and wood. In the exhibition catalogue, the writer/curator Matilde Guidelli-Guidi describes Tajima’s work: “Her most recent series probes more concealed sonic vibrations, portraying the electric pulses emitted by the brain during surgical stimulation intended to repair damage. Working closely with a neuroscientist, Tajima obtained scans of brain frequencies that she then translated into a woven pattern and rendered at a monumental scale.”

March: FaceTime, Brothers, Glasses and partial faces. This started as a call to me from my younger brother, Matt. We slowly added our older brothers one by one. Who knows what we talked about over the next hour or so? It was a fun conversation, though.

April: Eclipse, 97 percent totality, still pretty bright. Thanks to Skidmore for the nifty eclipse glasses! This is the first of three celestial-related images in this annual round up. I suppose I do spend a lot of time looking up at the sky, stars, clouds, and, in this case, the sun. I also spend time looking down at the ground, at what images such events create here on earth.

May: Aurora borealis visible from home. I never thought this would ever happen. I always thought I’d have to go much farther north, like Scotland or Finland, to see the northern lights. Of course, this isn’t as dramatic or as green as I was expecting. But still this was something I’ve always wanted to see since that scene in the movie Local Hero.

June: Figgis welcomes Ooma to her new home. Both Figgis and Ooma came to us via Hay Dude Critter Rescue in Texas. Ooma was found on the streets of Las Cruces, New Mexico. She had recently been attacked by other dogs. She had deep bite marks on her that were still healing when she reached us. We remembered the 3-3-3 rule: it takes 3 days for a dog to recover from the stress of moving; 3 weeks to figure out the routine of her new surroundings; and 3 months before she truly feels at home.

July: Flat tire, Beartown State Forest, Berkshires. I saw a bear the day before on a road that runs alongside the state forest. My rear tire flatted out when I was on the gravel rounds deepest—and chunkiest—point in the forest. No cell service. No other people. Barely any birds. Thankfully, no bears.

August: Hotel art in Atlanta, quoting “Gone with the Wind” (it says “After all tomorrow is another day”). The novel and movie have long associations with Atlanta. And this was in a new-ish hotel (it opened in 2018). Didn’t they also know the novel and movie have long associations with racism and white supremacy? Were we suppose to not think of the connection? Would having those words above your hotel bed read like a hopeful message? Anyway, we were in Atlanta for Deborah’s first exhibition at Sandler Hudson Gallery. We had great times visiting the High Museum, the SCAD Museum, Debbie Hudson and Robin Sandler (the gallerists), and the designers Bradley Odom and Peter Huesemann-Odom (of Dixon Rye).

September: Figgis and Ooma at home. This is exactly three months later. Ooma had put on some weight (she was too skinny when we got her). She and Figgis have gotten along great right from the beginning. Here, she looks perfectly comfortable and happy in her new home.

October: Richard Williams’ parody of Norman Rockwell’s self-portrait featuring Alfred E. Newman, on view at the Norman Rockwell Museum. What a trip down memory lane, with more than 150 works on view. My one quibble with the exhibition is related to my favorite part of the magazine, the fold-ins. These were trippy illustrations that, when folded in, brought two sides of the illustration together to form a new illustration. The new illustration was often a comment on the first illustration. In the exhibition, one wall was dedicated to the fold-ins (😊). However, the wall only showed the full open illustration; it didn’t show what the folded-in illustration would look like (😢).

November: Schroon Lake in the Adirondacks, on a break during a writing retreat. The writing retreat was made possible by an individual artist grant via a program called Arts Thrive and Grow. I’m happy to share the required language for all marketing related to the grant: “Arts Thrive and Grow has been funded by New York State, Kathy Hochul, Governor. We thank Senate Majority Leader Andrea Stewart Cousins for her extraordinary commitment and leadership, and our elected officials who represent our grantmaking region: Senators Jake Ashby and Neil D. Breslin; Assemblymembers Scott H. Bendett, Patricia Fahy, John T. McDonald III, Angelo Santabarbara, Phil Steck, and Mary Beth Walsh.”

December: Moon shadows through branches on the front yard. I was taking out the trash bins when I notice the dark lines cutting across the front lawn. They looked deep, like tire tracks pressed into the hard earth. Then I noticed the bright moon and took this photo.

If you were to pick one image a month to tell the story of your 2024, what would you pick?