I think by now, if you are familiar with this blog at all, you know that I love to be around talented people. It is just so interesting to me to see the many ways people express themselves creatively. This past year I have been able to spend time with painters, musicians, jewelry makers, even bakers — but never a dancer. I wanted to see if I could capture the movement and exuberance of dance, so I asked my friend Toni Silver if I could tag along to one of her classes. Toni happens to be the mother of the amazing T-Sisters. There’s a whole lot of talent in that family. Toni does traditional modern dance, but she also loves hip-hop and that’s the class I attended.

The cardio hip-hop class was taught at New Style Motherlode dance studio in Oakland. Teacher Momo LeBeau allowed me to be right up front. As I anticipated, it was fascinating and challenging and fun. I have such respect for dancers. I’ll let this series speak for itself. Many thanks to Toni, Momo, and the class for letting me hang out with you. You rock!

Isn’t it beautiful?

I’ll remember opening this package for a long time. It’s so fitting that it arrived on the day after Thanksgiving. The premiere print issue of Rear Curtain is a delight to hold and read and linger over and it contains — I can hardly believe it — my photo essay on my talented friend Catherine DeCuir. So much to be thankful for.

Rear Curtain, in both its online and print versions, is a gift to visual storytellers from the minds and hearts of Ray Ketcham, Matthew Connors, and Sabrina Henry. They believe that photographs, through the stories they tell, have the power to connect people by demonstrating just how much we have in common as human beings. This issue features stories that are thought-provoking, moving, encouraging, and fascinating — stories that have something to teach all of us, no matter where in the world we might live. And Mark Krajnak can suggest an entire shadowy world in one evocative black-and-white image.

But even more than sharing compelling visual stories, Rear Curtain is dedicated to educating photographers in the art and craft of storytelling with images. This inaugural issue includes photo essays from documentary photographer Stephen Urhaney and travel photographer Gavin Gough that show us the form at its best. Then interviews give us a glimpse into their process. It’s a very accessible and effective way to learn. Another essay by Brian Hirschy, who lives in China, reminds us that understanding and appreciating our own culture is key to an authentic experience of a different one.

Visual storytelling as a means of making the world a better place? It’s a big idea, but one best articulated in small stories. Often those pieces that are individual, specific, and personal are the ones that speak most eloquently of what we share as human beings. I love the small stories.

And I love holding this magazine in my hands. I am reminded that my very first post on this blog was titled Why Prints Matter. I have read many of these essays online, but seeing them on the printed page changes my experience of them. It’s slower, richer. And seeing my own essay on these pages? As the saying goes . . . priceless.

So . . . thank you to everyone listed above. I’m honored to be in your company. And thank you especially to the talented and generous Catherine for letting me tag along. You inspire me and now, perhaps, many others.

Would you like a copy of Rear Curtain for your very own? Click here.

I saw this window display in one of the coolest stores ever when I was in Port Townsend a while back. It’s called The Writer’s Workshoppe and, as another sign said, “This shop is for anyone who wants to write, has to write, aches to write, can’t write, wishes they could write, is scared to write. It’s for those who don’t know where to start, or where to end. It’s for anyone interested in developing the craft of writing.”

I took the picture because it made me think of my daughter Hilary, who follows that advice every day. She’s a writer who writes, no matter what. She’s brave.

And really you could put so many pursuits on that first card and it would still be good advice. Because trying to do anything well — putting yourself out there — is scary. And hard.

Next week I will be speaking to some high school students about photography. And I’m scared. I don’t feel at all qualified to stand as a representative PHOTOGRAPHER. I’m just one person who wants to do it, has to do it, aches to do it, can’t do it, wishes I could do it, and is scared to do it.

What I mainly want to tell the students is that a good camera is not a ticket to fame, fortune and glory. But if you care about the craft and strive to learn and improve, photography is an excellent way to add value to your life. It can allow you to explore and express, to stretch, to dare and to discover. Among other things, you’ll discover how you see the world as you strive to develop your authentic visual voice. You will leave your own trace. Yes, it’s scary. Often those things that are exciting and worthwhile are.

And while I can’t direct the students to a bricks-and-mortar photography “shoppe” like The Writer’s Workshoppe in Port Townsend, I can let them know about an amazing community of generous and talented souls ready and willing to take this journey with them. If you are interested in photography, they are there for you too. Let me introduce you to the contributors to Craft and Vision. Meet the storytellers on Rear Curtain. You don’t have to do this alone.

I imagine I’ll disappoint some students with that news about fame, fortune and glory. But I hope I’ll inspire others to do it anyway. They may have something to say that can’t be said any other way, or by any other person. And if they do, wouldn’t you like the opportunity to see those photographs? I know I would.

So I’ll talk to them. Even if it’s scary.

Last weekend Todd and I spent a relaxing few days with our friends Mark and Gloria in their beautiful mountain home. The weather was warm in the daytime, but the low slanting light still made it feel like fall. Most of the trees in the area are evergreen, but there are enough aspens to give a golden glow.

On Sunday morning we drove into Truckee and found this view of the river.

Later in the afternoon I left the group watching football by the fire and took a walk. The Yuba River runs right by the house. It made me happy.

I understand why our friends love it up there so much. It is three hours and a world away. It was lovely to see the area in its autumn splendor, especially since snow is predicted for Friday.

I hope we’ll have the opportunity to do a compare-and-contrast with winter white. Hint, hint.