Dharmic Light

03/19/2026

@ 3/14/26

02/21/2026

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-features/bob-weir-photographers-jay-blakeberg-rosie-mcgee-1235515262/

Photographers Jay Blakesberg, Bob Minkin, Danny Clinch, and Rosie McGee remember photographing Grateful Dead co-founder Bob Weir

01/22/2026

Midnight light and muffled footsteps in the Village of Hamburg. Finding the stillness in the center of the storm.

01/03/2026

No corporate bu****it - Remembering Woodstock '89

There is a profound metaphysical argument that a specific plot of earth can retain the psychic resonance of the events that transpired upon it. Certain landscapes do more than just hold space; they evoke a visceral, spiritual significance that lingers long after the crowds have dispersed. For many, the rolling hills of Bethel, New York, are an example of that phenomenon.

​In August 1989, that resonance was reclaimed. This was the 20th anniversary of Woodstock as it was meant to be: a spontaneous, grassroots convergence of souls that existed entirely outside the machinery of the corporate music industry.

​I look at these images and see a version of myself that feels like a lifetime ago, fu***ng young, wide-eyed, and completely immersed in the raw energy of the moment. These scenes were captured by my mother, Linda Miklasz, who was there in the mud with me, documenting a pilgrimage that was as much a spiritual homecoming as it was a musical one.

​At the time, the site remained in its most honest state. This was years before a corporate amphitheater or a polished museum stood on the ridge. There were no turnstiles, no gift shops, and no gates. The only architecture was the land itself, punctuated by a solitary, modest historical marker that stands as a silent witness in these photos.

​Our experience was rooted in the literal geography of the counterculture; we car-camped on the exact footprint of the original 1969 stage. There is a Dharmic weight to sleeping on the very soil where the air once vibrated with a collective prayer for peace. We weren't just visiting a historical site; we were participating in a living history that proved the spirit of the Woodstock Nation belonged to the people, not a brand. 🕊️✨

​📸: Linda Porter

​

12/30/2025

Before the wind started screaming and the heavy snow buried us, there was this brief, damn near spiritual window of time where the world just stopped.

The ice wasn't destructive yet; it was art. It coated everything in a layer of perfect glass. The woods were dead silent; no birds, no rustling, just this suspended animation.
It felt like nature was taking a deep breath, holding it, and letting us admire the stillness for a second.

Of course, a few hours later, the weather turned absolutely brutal. The wind howled and the snow blinded everything. But in this moment? It was pure, frozen fu***ng magic.

Tags:

12/22/2025

The Ghost at Third Base. 🏟️🏗️

​1986, I stood on the corner of Ellicott and Douglass, my camera aimed at a building whose fate was sealed.

​The L.A. Woolley Building wasn’t an architectural marvel. It was a three-story workhorse of soot-stained brick, built in 1916 to house the electrical supplies that literally wired Buffalo’s industrial peak. It had the quiet dignity of a structure that knew its job and did it well for seventy years.

​Today, that corner has been wiped from the map. Douglass Street was demapped. Ellicott was re-engineered. If you stand at 73 Ellicott Street today, you’re standing near third base at Sahlen Field. Where the smell of ozone and the crate-thud of commerce once lived, there is now only the crack of a bat and the roar of the Bisons crowd.

​Progress in Buffalo has always worn a heavy, sometimes ruthless, uniform.

​These photos were a professional commission; the owner wanted the building documented before the wrecking ball arrived. When you’re tasked with capturing the "last" of anything, your eye changes. You stop looking for light and start looking for ghosts. You listen to the walls hold their breath.

​Buffalo knows this ritual of loss: the Larkin Building, the Aud, the thinning of entire neighborhoods in the name of "renewal." We trade our soul for a better view of the horizon, leaving a dull ache behind.

​The Woolley Building was a practical assembly of brick and glass, a nervous system for a city that believed in its own permanence. The building fell, but the name traveled; L.A. Woolley still operates today on Tifft Street.

​These frames aren't a protest; they’re an acknowledgment. A reminder that cities are living organisms, constantly shedding their skin. If you look closely at these photos, you might still hear the echo: the scrape of a boot, the hum of inventory, the patient silence of a building waiting for its final assignment.

​Light catches what it can. Memory does the rest.

​

10/28/2025

Looking all the way back to the summer of 1998 and the first time we saw perform. It was at the O.U.R. Festival at The Brushwood Folklore Center in Sherman, NY. We were blown away by his solo sets on this mini stage in-between acts on the main stage. It was a soggy weekend and the attendance was light, but we could hear that Keller was something special.

10/16/2025

Today we are looking way back to July 31, 1999. and Wild Band of Indians played a great set at Grape Jam, which happened that year at Erie County Fairgrounds in Wattsburg, Pa! They played just before the headliner, .

10/13/2025

In a world of endless scrolling, there's radical power in simply *looking*.

When you pause, really pause, to sit with a photograph, something shifts. You're not just consuming content. You're present. You're witnessing light, shadow, and story the way the artist intended. You're breaking the cycle of endless flicking and distraction.

Each image deserves that. And honestly? So do you.

Next time you see a photo that catches you, stop scrolling. Breathe into it. Let it speak to you instead of moving to the next thing.

That's where the magic lives.

09/10/2025

Rewinding back to September 2021, high up on Sugar Mountain, where lit up The Estival Festival stage. Fiddle, banjo, stomp, and shout; their Celtic-fueled folk rock has been shaking dance floors since the late ’90s, born out of Vancouver and carried around the world with boots and pints raised.

The Estival itself is a New York gem; a mountain-top gathering of music, community, and fire-lit nights. That year, The Town Pants turned the hilltop into a raucous sea of dancing bodies and wild joy, a perfect match for Estival’s spirit of freedom and celebration. 🍻🎻⛰️

09/05/2025

September 2018, , Buffalo, NY.
As daylight slipped away, we came upon this dock and the lake beyond it glowing with layers of color. It felt almost unreal to find such quiet beauty so close to the heart of Buffalo, a natural refuge where the city’s edges give way to wetland and sky.

September is the gateway to autumn: shorter days, cooler nights, and the slow gathering of pigments in the leaves that will soon set the Northeast ablaze. Standing there, it was clear, this was the season’s opening note.

09/01/2025

September marks a subtle but powerful shift in our environment. The tilt of the Earth draws the Northern Hemisphere closer to balance between day and night, and we feel it in the cooler evenings, the lower angle of sunlight, and the first signs of migration in birds and insects. Leaves begin their chemical transition, pulling back chlorophyll and revealing the pigments that were always there. These changes remind us that we are not separate from the cycles of nature; we live them too. At Dharmic Light, we look to these seasonal transitions as a way to see the world more clearly, knowing that every shift in light, temperature, and rhythm shapes the moments we experience and the memories we hold.