Lord knows I spend too much time on the Internet. There’s Gmail, Facebook, Etsy, thought-provoking online publications (ahem), an endless string of inspiring blogs, Flickr, Goodreads, Pandora, and iChat, to admit to only a few. I mean, the Internet’s other name – the World Wide Web – is just that; while visiting one online destination, I find myself in another cyber-country within a mere click or two. Through the blog of my dear editor, I discovered what is now one of my favorite online hangouts – The New York Time‘s Paper Cuts. As a writer, my favorite feature is “Stray Questions For: [insert an author’s name]”, particularly the question, “How much time – if any – do you spend on the Web? Is it a distraction or a blessing?” Most authors are honest to say that yes, they do frequent the Web for both productive and frivolous reasons, and I must confess to the same.

For example, iChat is especially helpful for marital communication, since my husband works from the garage in his drum studio, and I write on the second floor of our house. But on the flip side, iChat is a bit ridiculous when he works from a computer located in another upstairs room (right across the hall). Likewise, while I strongly believe in the preservation of a handwritten letter, I am grateful for Gmail, and even Facebook, which easily keep me in touch with family and friends.

You might not consider viewing photography an essential task, but since I am visually oriented, I do. In the words of musician Jeremy Casella, I “mine for truth and beauty” in every aspect of life, and if I can see a good picture of these two virtues, the work of my hands and the words I write are better for it.

And so for me, time spent browsing Flickr is time well spent. Through this massive database I discovered the photography of Maria Alexandra Vettese and Stephanie Congdon Barnes; their respective photostreams – mav | port2port and little birds – remain two of my favorites. These ladies have benefited from the Internet social sphere, too, for they initially “met” through their blogs and eventually in person – briefly, yet long enough to discover a true friendship. As Maria peeked at Stephanie’s Flickr photos, and vice versa, each was smitten with the other’s aesthetic. Though Maria’s roommates consist of two cats, she was inspired by Stephanie’s family life, appreciation for good craft and the handmade, and her digital captures of utilitarian objects such as a cup of coffee and a newspaper – so enchanted, in fact, that she approached Stephanie about a project composed of morning photographs. Since Stephanie was taken by Maria’s bent for simplicity and how it translated to her letterpress art (not to mention her own stunning photographs), she readily agreed, even though she was trying to whittle down her computer time.

After realizing they live precisely 3,191 miles apart – Stephanie in Portland, Oregon and Maria in Portland, Maine – their project launched online with the name 3191: A Year of Mornings. Every morning for a year, and without any early morning discussion, they each took a snapshot of their life (the camera of choice is the Nikon D50).Stephanie emailed her image to Mav (Maria’s online persona), who paired the two photographs, posting them on the Year of Mornings blog.

Neither woman had any intentions of fame, but their project instantly charmed people across the globe.Nearly three thousand visitors dropped by this quiet space each day during the annual cycle of January to December 2007.They couldn’t take their eyes off Mav’s photo on the left, Stephanie’s on the right.Nor could I.And collectively we saw startling connections between each pictorial set. The women, however, cannot explain such magic. My best guess is that humans see creation in a particular way; it’s in our nature. There is an equality in all things that we recognize despite our fallenness. A common thread runs through our lives connecting us one to another.

Traditional still life photography is a deliberate arrangement of inanimate objects to create a beautiful picture, much like still life paintings.As much as I admire those art forms, I believe Stephanie and Mav take still life to a new creative level.Instead of controlling a picture, they honed the skill of noticing accessible beauty in their line of vision.With poets’ eyes, they revealed the peacefulness of domesticity even with the chaos of kids and cats underfoot.One often sees a glimpse of Stephanie’s quite animated children in a photo, for instance.

And the only intention in their photography is a reflection of how they live – their personal, deliberate philosophies. Stephanie’s family eats locally-grown food and cooks from scratch. They walk to many places instead of using a car. They take things slowly. Influenced by Montessori principles, her children use breakable glasses and bowls, not plastic. She said, “I don’t think about it much, but occasionally someone will ask me why I didn’t take pictures of cereal boxes or morning cartoons, but those things are just not part of our home life.”

Mav/Maria is equally intentional, carefully considering every object she brings into her home. If there’s a plate or mug, she wants to know its story. Yet neither is overbearing; they simply enjoy living. Maria muses, “I suppose my domestic lifestyle is to have less and appreciate it more. It works for me (and makes me happy), but I certainly am not preaching it for others. One has to do what works and this definitely works for me.” Such personal visions inspire me to live with like-minded thoughtfulness and creativity, sharing my beliefs with guests as they witness the rhythms under my roof.

As I viewed their work every dawn, I began to see the rooms in my house and the view from my window much differently. I’d often recall favorite lines from Marilynne Robinson’s Gilead:

“It has seemed to me sometimes as though the Lord breathes on this poor gray ember of Creation and it turns to radiance – for a moment or a year or the span of a life. And then it sinks back into itself again, and to look at it no one would know it had anything to do with fire, or light . . . Wherever you turn your eyes the world can shine like transfiguration.”

I’d see those fleeting moments so clearly as the light changed in the kitchen, or dust glittered on the coffee table like snow. I wasn’t born a morning person, but this project slowly transformed me into one – at least a late-morning person, and not very talkative. I began to look for daybreak more than watchmen.I carefully established morning rituals and grew to be grateful for the possibility of a new day, a better attempt.

The visual language in each diptych also tells three stories: Stephanie’s, Mav’s, and the viewers’. Regarding the the pairing from October 3, Mav said (in an interview for The Morning News), “On this day I remember feeling very sad, perhaps I was ill, I can’t remember. Of course you can’t see that in the shot, but I believe you can feel it.” It actually is tangible through Mav’s wooden bowl cradling a piece of bread, and an overcast sky in Stephanie’s Portland. Other photo groupings tell fairy tales with small white pumpkins in golden light, a mosaic of autumn leaves, frosty cottage windowpanes, feathers stuck in the sand evoking Hermes’ helmet, or a tea kettle singing an aubade. Let’s not forget the humble commoner in such legends – in these morning photographs they’d be folded dish towels, spilled baking ingredients, piles of laundry, unkempt bed linens, brown eggs, chipped paint, kids’ shoes abandoned on the floor, and dirty dishes, yet all possessing a certain elegance.

They have since removed the Year of Mornings blog, so I was elated when they published the diptychs in a book with a similar title – A Year of Mornings: 3191 Miles Apart (Princeton Architectural Press). As good as their art was online, it is taken to another, immediate level, tangible when I hold it in my hands. Each photograph almost gleams with reverence.The book is structured by the liturgy of the four seasons, so as I flip the pages, I honor the passage of time, the moment in which I find myself, the very minute and hour, and the seasons (though they’re not as grandiose here in Houston).And turning a page manually is a signal to slow down; these photos are meditative and serene. One can really see what Stephanie describes as “the interplay of light, colors, textures, negative space.” Whenever my day becomes too frantic or rushed, I can sit down, turn to a favorite morning, and take a deep breath.

I believe the Year of Mornings blog was a worthy use of my Internet time. Usually, it was my first click of the day right after email, checked with a cup of coffee nearby (and thanks to these two and their selection of dishes, I often warmed my hands with a White Forest Pottery mug). To further appease and delight their rabid fans, Stephanie and Mav embarked on a new online project: 3191: A Year of Evenings. This project will end in December 2008, so I’d advise you to check it out now.

These bookend projects give me a satisfaction and deep peace that I liken to the Christian tradition of Morning and Evening Prayer – an acknowledgment that this is the day set before me; come what may, it is very good. Besides, their joint photography is a brilliant example that great art can be crafted using the very online technologies that so many cry out to be the downfall of society. The 3191 projects are even a splendid use of the Internet to cultivate online friendships – which I appreciate, since many of my friends do not live in Texas. And since neither woman is a professional, and neither took digital photography lessons, they should be an encouragement to take up our cameras and document the beauty in our own daily lives – to use our hands for creativity, and learn as we go.

But don’t forget to enjoy a good breakfast in the sanctity of first light.I think Stephanie and Mav would agree it’s the most important meal of the day, and possibly the most beautiful.

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You can purchase the book A Year of Mornings: 3191 Miles Apart from Powell’s Books, Amazon, and Princeton Architectural Press.

For more about Stephanie Congdon Barnes, visit her current Web site, and her retired blog (where she and Mav first met).

For more about Maria/Mav, visit her blog.

For more about both women, peruse 3191: A Journal.

3191 Flickr mornings still life photography The Internet