2024 collection.
ONE TANK OF GAS
AN INQUIRY INTO HUMANITY’S PREDILECTION TO HARM THOSE THAT ARE UNABLE TO DEFEND THEMSELVES.
YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.
THE NEW NOVEL BY
MARK WARFORD
COMING DECEMBER 2024
“In the realm of McCarthy and Hemingway, The Thomas Edward Muir books are a brave and serious literary achievement, melding action and prose in such a way that it can be consumed like a fine wine. Easily the most enthralling take on the classic adventure series in print today. ”
KIRKUS REVIEWS
ABOUT THE BOOK
Henry 'Merle' Travis is a world-renowned photojournalist. A man of compassion and clarity. No conflict, nor famine, nor natural disaster of any reckoning hadn't left an indelible mark on his life and his work. But unlike the vulnerable and the abused he sought to give voice to and to protect, when he most needed help, help was there. Two strangers, manifested as saviors, asking nothing in return. Thomas Edward Muir and Manolito Rodriguez Romero had walked through the flames, and they too had not emerged unscathed.
AND SO A BATTLE LINE IS DRAWN.
A cadre of United States’ Navy SEALs have become the victims of their self-anointed grandeur. Once a force for good, the elite and revered institution is mutating into mercenaries for profit, trading in the currency of drugs and weapons and… humans. This fight is gonna come full circle - from a sleepy town in El Salvador to the US / Mexico border - a tense psychological thriller is unfolding as the embattled journalist joins the storied heroes of 'Sky Blue Sky' and 'Says Who?' in walking a tightrope of vengeance in conflict with the avaricious spawn of the world’s most powerful military industrial complex.
“You don’t blow up a man’s airplane,” Muir said. “You just don’t.”
PHOTOGRAPHY BY
MARK WARFORD
THE LATEST IS ALWAYS THE GREATEST
Lots of words out there. So much to say; so little to do, apparently. If you’re stuck, I recommend embracing a distraction. It’ll get you on your way. It’ll be all very necessary in the way that roads wind and roads undulate, and weather freezes and weather scorches, and people thrive and people starve. Along that road you’ll learn that there is acclaim for the undeserving, and there is compensation for the unwarranted. Fairness is entirely subjective. Until it isn’t. Pay attention not to what humans say, look closely at what they create.
PERSPECTIVES
FRom, and for WHOM, THE SEVENTIES WERE A THING.
Sands Motel, Las Cruces, NM
Photo: ©2024 Mark Warford/ Cry Desert Media
Were motels ever as quaint and appealing as they exist in the recesses of my memory?
“Enjoy your stay. Don’t stay too long.”
That would be my mantra were I the proprietor of such an establishment today. There would be no reservations allowed and no credit cards accepted. Cell phones would not function on the property. A strict, “no asshole”, policy would be enforced. There would be no cooking allowed in the rooms, and certainly no breakfast provided.
I would provide a simple, well-appointed room with air conditioning and a small, color TV. Not a flatscreen. A TV. With a tube that glowed crimson hot when viewed through the plastic vent. And it would only receive a pre-selected broadcast on one channel. Every other click of the dial would deliver a feast of static.
In keeping with a certain time-honored wisdom, I’ll provide a selection of 1970’s family viewing, ‘cause.., well.., back then it was all family viewing. The only censorship required was the level of viewer interest.
The daily broadcast will kick off with some of Hanna-Barbera and the like’s finer moments - Top Cat; The Flintstones; The Jetsons; Jonny Quest; Harlem Globetrotters; The Pink Panther Show; The New Scooby-Doo Movies; Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids, followed by an amalgam of enduring light entertainment, Bewitched; Wide World of Sport; M*A*S*H; Alias Smith and Jones; The High Chaparral; NFL Monday Night Football (every day); The Odd Couple; Love, American Style, and seeing the day out, The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson.
There would be the obligatory kidney-shaped swimming pool with an actual diving board. Screw the ridiculous, overreaching governance for health and safety. If your kids want to hang on it, bounce on it, or dive off it, Halleluja! All bruises, cuts and broken bones will be treated as a valuable life lesson.
I’ve ridden/driven just shy of thirty-thousand miles this past year, and I can state with all honesty that, if a motel like this was available to me at any point on that journey, I would happily pay whatever it takes to secure a room for the night. Dispensing with what can only be referred to as The Great American Cattle Drive would be the literal definition of joy. Once upon a time, I had a good deal of empathy for my fellow, road-weary travelers. Now, not so much. En masse, the questionable specimens of humanity that grace the highways and byways of this land are an insult to the morally and culturally superior folks of yesteryear. And my theory is that that’s exactly how corporate America wants it. There’s no profit in ‘joy’. There’s profit in boredom, because in boredom there lies the roots of frivolous spending, with heads buried in paid streaming services while slithering up to the drive-thrus of the same five, fast-food feeding troughs in order to consume the same nutritionally-redundant foods, and continuing the farce into the evening within the walls of one of the same five, taupe-wallpapered hotel chains.
I wonder, how many of the shareholders of corporations that profit from the peddling of garbage on America’s interconnected arteries actually drive them?
History’s perspective is vital but it doesn’t always mean dispensing with it. If you wanna reach me, I’ll be scouring the New Mexico landscape looking for a motel to renovate.
BORDER STORIES
Prior to the release of 'Under Western Skies' - the Home Trilogy, I rode down to the US / Mexico border to witness firsthand the migrant crisis and seek some clarity on an issue that is as convoluted as it is devastating and demoralizing.
The concept of 'Home' is central to the three published volumes that make up this trilogy. The notion of, "Where you belong..." has evolved seamlessly to be as relevant as, "Do you belong?" No matter the city, the state or the country, the quest for Home is eternal; it's endemic to us all.
From the Gulf of Mexico to the Pacific Ocean, it's the tenth-longest border between two countries in the world. Roughly 2000 miles, of which only 700 miles are fenced. Official sources state that over two million illegal crossings were undertaken in 2023, of which 500,000 were not returned. When I rode along its length, access was restricted unless supervised. Not my preference. The Border Patrol tells me Cartel snipers on the Mexican side take pot shots at random. They camp in high ground and shoot over the fence.
Drones are the latest donkeys. They can be heard flying across the fence line. Like distant bees buzzing. I'm told bags of Fentanyl are slung underneath like storks delivering babies. Virtually impossible to track.
California wants leniency for illegals; Arizona and Texas want the legal authority to shoot to kill. No one seems to care about New Mexico. I’m sure it isn’t personal.
THE STORYTELLING BAR WAS JUST RAISED.
From producer, director and composer, Mark Warford, and renowned Swedish Artist, Leif Boman, comes an immersive audio experience like you’ve never encountered before. Featuring the voice talents and musical works from a host of Grammy-winning artists, A Voyage For Soldier Miles - the SoundScape, will send you on a cerebral journey that will leave you breathless, energized and wanting for more. Original Songs have been woven into an Original Story in such a way as to literally eclipse every other offering cluttering up the airwaves.
A Voyage For Soldier Miles - The Story:
Carried around the world for millennia on currents of air and water, the sounds of generations of tears has been unlocked. As Earth’s atmosphere, now saturated with humanity’s true and naked emotion, remains the guardian of these truths, the planet holds forth an elemental, sonic force that can redress the balance of centuries of untold suffering in one calamitous, global event.
In a remote corner of the world, the resolute Soldier Miles endures an horrific and devastating attack, suffering a soul-destroying loss, and is ultimately accused of exacting willful retribution by his own hand. Branded by society as little more than a broken, returning fighter, Miles roams the wild, unforgiving desert in search of a new homeland and is soon drawn into the domain of Ramsey, a reclusive, headstrong scientist responsible for unleashing a series of mind-altering, atmospheric events.
With respective journeys now fatefully intertwined, they seek out the last human connection to an otherworldly phenomenon whose potential to nurture the hearts and minds of every living soul is equaled only by its power to eradicate the existence of humanity, forever.
PERSPECTIVES
“There’s land for sale - everywhere; millions of acres. Yet there are no more pastures to claim. So, where’s the adventure in that? That’s the decline of the American West, right there. Without a frontier to behold or build upon, folks slowly turn their thoughts inward and they begin to act smaller than they are capable of being. I know this like I know the weather outside of my window because with no deliberate intent, my memories have become so disproportionate to their projection that they feel more like a plea to act out rather than a desire to relive old times.”
UNDER
WESTERN
SKIES
THE HOME TRILOGY
Three stories, one volume.
SPACEMAN SPIRITUS;
ERVIN SHANE AND THE SUNSHINE MOTEL;
DIRT AND SNAKES
Available in print only.
OUT NOW
This book is a collection of three novels, Spaceman Spiritus, Ervin Shane and the Sunshine Motel, and Dirt and Snakes. The motivation for what became a Trilogy started out as a study of the concept of Home - what it means to desire one; to have one; to defend one; even to dismiss the notion of one.
I remember in my late-twenties, sitting with my English grandmother. She was showing me her address book - family and friends were afforded a single line inked by her own hand. She ruffled the pages to my name and showed me the twenty or so addresses and phone numbers that had been scribbled out. She looked at me with a beaming smile and sat down at the dining room table with her pen poised, ready for a new entry. If she were alive today that number would exceed fifty.
As I unpacked this memory further, I reckoned a study of this curious institution called, Home would make for a compelling story, and all was well until I finished the first draft of Spaceman Spiritus. It was clear then that a study of all that is Home, however obscure or fantastic the narrative became, was far from realized. Likewise with the next piece of work - typing THE END on Ervin Shane was followed immediately by starting a fresh page writing the words, Dirt and Snakes: Chapter One.
Fast forward three years and I reckon that compiling these books into one volume just makes sense. As a collection, these stories are written to speak to a yearning for something unseen; something missing in our day-to-day lives, and I don't mean a house, so much as a sense of belonging - to your people, to your tribe, to your beliefs, knowing the boundaries of your contentment, etc. For some, that sense of Home may have yet to be discovered and it might take a hell of a leap to get there. Conversely, it might lay at your feet and you've been blind to it all of these years.
Something to explore, this thing called Home.
Expansive.., and eloquent.., at once grave and majestic. In the final volume of the 'Home' trilogy, it is 1974 and we are in the windswept territories of the southwest USA.
Written with terse lyricism, and cinematic detail, and wry humor, Dirt and Snakes is a tale of the American West like no other in contemporary literature. This searing, extraordinarily evocative narrative opens with Gus Alamo, a wayfarer; a Cowboy; a seeker of all that is the open road, traveling to the borderlands of northwest Texas in order to release his prized Mustang mare back into the wild so that she may find a worthy stallion to sire her young.
And so begins an odyssey worthy of the western frontier, stimulated by motion, and by connection, and by tragedy. Along the way, we will encounter a Race Car Driver that is embroiled in an interminable search for victory, and an Indian Chief that has pledged his soul to the isolation of the rugged wilderness, and a stray Dog with a peculiar and tenacious desire to achieve celestial greatness.
Beautifully constructed and fully-realized, Dirt and Snakes speaks to the conflict alive in all of us; a scary illumination soothed and nurtured by a restless baby soul endlessly seeking the warmth of a place called, Home.
‘Dirt and Snakes’ is a companion enterprise of CRY DESERT BOOKS AND MUSIC PUBLISHING
©2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
A Portrait of The West.
The pictures here are intentional antidotes to the turbulence of the 21st century - majestic, silent landscapes, endless highways, bluebird skies stretching to infinity, a few condemned and storied buildings - stories in motion, one and all.
Shot mostly at dawn and dusk, the photographs in this collection conspire to inform the narrative of the novel - a first, I believe, to take the visual inspiration of wild and rugged landscape photographs directly to the page where they literally embody the story arcs of every character. MW.
-- The blanket of dusk was thrown to the horizon. “I have climbed that mountain,” the Chief said. “Now it is your turn.” So I walked. And the distance did not close. Night fell and I was consumed by the blackness. I said, “I think we’ve come far enough.” He laughed from the pit of his belly. It was a new sound to my ears, and for all that walked by his side. And they were startled and they succumbed to his mirth. And the torches burned brighter and the path was marked with a thousand flares.--
-- Gus Alamo sipped Bourbon and thought of nothing. Or he tried to. He sat on a stool, elbows propped, hands clasped, chin resting. The house lights were lit just north of dark. The jukebox was singing in a soft murmur. It was just him and some drunk at the other end of the bar. A veteran of some foreign war. Not the obvious one. This guy says he'd seen the sky blackened with spears thrown by black dudes with painted faces. Gus didn't think anyone could have lived that long. He was wrong. --
LIMITED EDITION PRINTS
“I stared into an empty summer and decided that would never do.
Take a picture. Write a book.
Time for these honed skills to conspire under the same sky; time to fill the tank and check under the hood. The road is long and hot and calls out like all things wild and free.
And the road will always have its way.
In pursuit of the photographs showcased here, 10k circuitous miles were ultimately driven (mostly off-road, in a 4x4 and on a motorcycle) with noonday average temps hovering around 105°F. From Oregon in the north to my home state of New Mexico, eschewing tourists and politics and strip malls and freeways, embracing heat and dust and storms, I guess an awakening of sorts was all but assured. One thing is for sure, this country isn’t broken, it’s just waiting patiently for folks to wise up.
Written and photographed by the light of the sun and stars, Dirt and Snakes is a novel set in the whereabouts of everywhere out west. The pictures are relative to the narrative. They came first. Stuff to stare at while writing. Better than a blank page.
Gallery showings are forthcoming.
Dirt and Snakes, the novel, OUT NOW
- - I sat down heavy at the base of the mountain, feeling the swell of the scorching rock at my back. The summit towered at the edge of my sight, shuddering in the haze, eclipsing the noonday sun, and it was arrogant and taunting. “if you remain here, You will drown here,” the chief said. “You will drown in an ocean of dirt and snakes. The desert will not consume your flesh and bones. It will mock your remains in death as it did in life. It will surrender you to all that slithers and crawls and walks and flies. And finally, it will present you to the wind. - -
All images produced with SINAR, MAMIYA, Nikon and Fujifilm cameras and lenses.
HOW TO SHOOT THE WEST
