Hyperbole

i am going to indulge in a bit of hyperbole and boldly say i think this image may be one i was born to create.  it contains everything i want in a photograph, and in life:  deep, abiding quiet; simplicity; tenderness; beauty; the oneness of all things, but especially small things in the natural world.  this image speaks truth to me.  i am so very happy i found it, printed it and can share it with you.

over the river

my family used to travel by car from Michigan to our home state of Iowa for the holidays.  we would always sing "over the river and through the woods" at the top of our voices as we descended the hill that led to my paternal grandfather's farm in Muscatine.  this memory will be indelibly, and audibly etched in my mind forever because my mother really, truly could not carry a tune.  she absolutely loved to sing and would wholeheartedly belt out each number, serenely oblivious to the cacophony she created with her voice and to her children plugging their ears and giggling in the back seat.

Lou and i will be heading over the rivers and through the woods of Pennsylvania and Ohio to Michigan at the end of the week, weather permitting.  i've heard rumblings from friends that a big snow storm may be brewing.  if it materializes we will wait it out.  but it's back to Michigan for the two of us as soon as possible...  hopefully in time for THE BIG Michigan State versus Michigan football game in East Lansing.

i do not anticipate that i will be posting here while we're back...  too many things to do and people to see, plus a super-duper slow internet connection.

i will be walking my brother's dog Lucky every day past this pretty little lake (or is it officially a pond?).   i do not know its name, but the geese love to hang out here.   it's tucked behind some apartment buildings off Abbot Road.

the city of East Lansing has created wonderful walking trails throughout town since i moved.  i plan to take my big girl camera, the 4x5, with me on this trip and take some pictures, especially here.

since i won't be writing for awhile, i want to wish you a scary Halloween, a peaceful November, and a fattening, family-filled Thanksgiving feast day.

please, do not shop on Thanksgiving.  spend it with your loved ones.  it's the best gift you can give them during the holiday season, whether you're traveling over the river or staying close to home.

see you when the show flies....

Janet Cardiff's Forty Part Motet

on Wednesday i was transported from my mind and my body by Janet Cardiff's sound installation at the Cloisters, The Forty Part Motet.  if you live anywhere near NYC, or you are planning a visit before December 8th, you absolutely, positively must make the trip north to Fort Tryon Park (the 190th Street stop on the A train) to visit the Cloisters and experience this in person.  it has been years since i have been so moved, so uplifted, so changed and exhilarated by a work of art.  it is a transcendent experience.

i have provided a link to the Metropolitan Museum page about the exhibition and a link to a Vimeo sound clip.  but really, believe me, i implore you to go to the Cloisters and sit quietly in the Chapel, surrounded by forty small speakers, and hear this magnificence.  wander among the speakers and listen to individual voices.  sit in the center of the chapel and be overcome by all the voices as one.

i'll be returning often, and staying long.  after this exhibition has closed, i will wish for the rest of my life that i could hear it once again "live."

http://www.metmuseum.org/exhibitions/listings/2013/janet-cardiff

http://vimeo.com/74720972

(this image of Janet Cardiff was taken in 1991 by Don Lee
during a residency at Banff to create her early piece Forest Walk)

Judith Joy Ross

this is an interview with one of my all time favorite portrait photographers, Judith Joy Ross.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S29dwdrMEh4

while i have seen most of her work, i had never seen her face or heard her voice before discovering this interview.  she looks and sounds exactly like she should... honest, open, a bit gruff, down to earth, real... just like her portraits.

i'm sharing this interview for several reasons.  i wanted to introduce you to the work of an artist i have long admired.  i first learned of Ross when i stumbled upon this image, i don't know where.

these three girls, all of them, are me in my early teen years... shy, modest,  a bit uncomfortable and gangly in their developing bodies, they are traveling in a protective gang into the big, intoxicating adult world just opening up to them.  i absolutely love this image.

in this interview Ross acknowledges the influence of the German portrait photographer August Sander on her work.  in fact, she boldly states she was copying him when she first began to photograph.  since i was recently writing about finding inspiration in the work of others, i find this honesty refreshing.  as she also says, a quick look at her early work makes it quite apparent she was influenced by Sanders.  but, as in all great art, she goes beyond Sanders, takes her portraits to a different place and puts her unique Judith Joy Ross mark on each image.

there is a profound difference between a portrait by Ross and a portrait by Sanders.  for me, it's the heart, the sense of a real connection between Ross and her subjects that i do not get from Sanders.  while i greatly admire Sanders work... it is technically magnificent... his portraits feel to me like a Bernd and Hilla Becher typology, nothing more than human water towers... cold, analytical and sterile.  Ross's portraits breathe.

this summer i took a big plunge and forced myself out of my safe, secure, comfortable cocoon of nature photography and embarked on a long term portrait project.  whew... i said it.  this is very, very challenging and scary for me.  i am painfully shy, so the notion of photographing actual living, breathing people, even ones i know and love, puts me into a cold sweat.  but, i'm going to do it.  and i'm going to do it with my large format camera.  i will keep you informed on how it's going.  but, for the time being, believe you me, i will be drawing huge gulps of inspiration from the work of Ross.

special no. 39

i am completely baffled by why this charcoal drawing by Georgia O'Keeffe stopped me in my tracks last weekend at MoMA.  what in the world is lurking in this plain, simple image that moves me so?

i did some quick online research and discovered that the art experts at MoMA feel this series of Special abstractions draws on "organic motifs" found in O'Keeffe's later work, and represents her "gender based expressions of self."  O'Keeffe herself said these abstractions express the "things in my head" as opposed to the things out there.

this does not help me in the least.  i'm puzzled by the title, Special No. 39.  why special?  why all the other specials?  one image titled No. 13 Special, while another is titled Special No. 9.  if you know, could you let me know?

in addition, i can't put my finger on what i'm seeing in this image that will keep me looking at it, and enjoying it for a long, long time.  it looks like round, plastic tabs attached to pages in a book, or an horizon line with two rising suns placed vertically, or tiddly winks, or chinese checkers, or god knows what else.

actually, it doesn't really look like anything, but it speaks, and that truly is the beauty of abstraction.  abstraction frees us, both as artists and viewers of art, from the constraints of representation and lets our minds wander wherever they may care to go.  what freedom.

how to be creative

i generally rebel against all "how to" stuff... how to save your marriage or how to win friends and influence people...  unless it's practical,  like how to repair a leaky faucet.  but this video  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=weIQIthC3Ks&feature=youtu.be    

is actually an interesting summary of recent research on the creative process.

i particularly liked the "nothing is original" section.  i have a very creative photographer friend who refuses to look at the work of other photographers because she does not want to be influenced by their output.  she wants her photographs to be "original" and hates it if you tell her one of her images reminds you of someone else's work.  we've argued about this incessantly because i live to be inspired by the work of others and believe my work is enhanced by this exposure.  great art gets my creative juices flowing.

this image by Hiroshi Sugimoto is a constant source of inspiration for me, as is most of his work.  the light, the tones, the mood, the quiet, serenity and simplicity of this piece put me in the right frame of mind to descend into the darkroom, or out into the world and create to my heart's content.

i may achieve good, bad or indifferent results, but i always draw upon the work of others, whether i know it or not.

Seascape: North Atlantic Ocean, Cape Breton, 1996.    Silver Gelatin Photograph

more magritte

sorry for running on, but i really enjoyed this exhibition and wanted to show you a few more personal highlights.  this was Lou's favorite painting, and one of mine as well.

i hope this won't sound foolish, but, often when i ponder the big questions in life... like why are we here, what does it all mean, how should i live... i often employ mental metaphors to try to answer the unanswerable. i think that's what all great art does.  it goes beyond words to imply or lead us to an understanding of life's many mysteries.

this painting made me think of a metaphor i often use to deal with the conundrum of whether we can ever really understand those huge philosophical/spiritual/metaphysical questions about life.

i don't know if this will make sense or not, but when i'm trying to comprehend my place in the universe i imagine myself as an a tiny acorn and wonder if it's really possible for me to understand the giant oak.  obviously, i'm the acorn and the universe is the oak.  if i'm lucky, i will grow to become the oak and maybe then i'll comprehend what it all means (but probably not).  while i'm an embryonic acorn, though, can i really know what it's like, what it means to be the oak?  can we ever completely understand the big thing we come from?

i think and hope that mediation or prayer, and, for me, looking at life through my camera, may allow this to happen in small doses.  we can catch a glimpse, a sense of what we emerged from, what we are constantly becoming and what we will return to when we depart our physical bodies.

while this painting was titled Clairvoyance by Magritte,  for me it's more like an awakening... patiently pondering the little things in life and slowly coming to an understanding of the bigger stuff, what is and will always be.

 

the human condition

i could not pull myself away from this Magritte painting yesterday.  with the crowds swarming around me, all i could think of was people standing before the Grand Canyon with their cameras glued to their eyes, or folks experiencing the Sistine Chapel through their cellphones, or parents witnessing the birth of their children on a video screen.

planted right next to me was a gentleman taking a picture of this painting in a painting with his i pad.  i kid you not.  (p.s.  ~ there were "No Photography" signs everywhere)

the times change, the technology changes, but the human condition remains the same.

The Human Condition

a day in the city

off to the city today to see Magritte at MoMA ~

http://www.moma.org/visit/calendar/exhibitions/1322

which will probably leave me enthralled and confused.

if time permits, i'll check out New Photography 2013 ~

http://www.moma.org/visit/calendar/exhibitions/1381

which will most likely make me angry... if past New Photography exhibits are any indication.

then it's off to the cheesiest cheese restaurant in Manhattan, one of my all time favorites ~

http://www.artisanalbistro.com/

to eat, eat, eat and drink wine to our hearts content with Lou's old friends from high school days, Dwight and Tina Daley.   they have been in the city on a Broadway orgy... a play a day, and sometimes two, since Monday.  and they're ten years older than me.

Allie + Patricia = Super Best Friends Forever!!

i started this blog to share my work and my thoughts on photography.  i hoped it might motivate me to work harder and to think more.  it has.  but it has also become an additional thing to feel guilty about, like unanswered emails.  i think it's because i put too much pressure on myself.  i feel like i have to be profound when i write here, and i never, ever feel profound.  as a result, i don't write in here, and then i feel guilty, and stupid, and nervous about writing again, etc. etc.  the good old vicious cycle thing.

because of this profundity/guilt trap, i'm going to lighten up a bit and make this blog more about sharing,  just plain sharing.... everything.... perhaps a good joke, maybe a great recipe, or the title of a book that really moved me.  it will probably still be largely about art, creativity and photography, because that's what i mostly live and breathe.  but i just can't fake being so studiously serious all the time.  it wears me out.  one of the reasons i love art and photography is because it's fun, and i want this blog to be fun for you and me as well.

to that lofty end, let me start by introducing you to the blog of a young lady i first learned of today, Hyperbole and a Half.  you may already know about her because apparently she has quite a following.  since i don't own a smart phone or i pad, and i'm not on twitter, or very adept at social networking, i tend not to spend much time online and, consequently, i am not all that up to date on internet-ish, you-tubey things.  i do know how to google, so i found out a few things about the fantastic mind behind this blog.  it belongs to a young woman named Allie Brosh.  she has been at it for a few years but hasn't written in awhile because she suffers from depression and went into a bit of a tailspin last year.  it seems recently she has begun to feel better (YAY) and is  returning to her blog.  there may be a book in the works.  one can only hope.  she reminds me of a young Roz Chast (another major hero of mine).

as a sample of her work, i've selected a piece i know you will like, Val, because you're a dog lover and it's about her dog.  i laughed out loud, and i'm a cat person.  here it is:

http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/07/dog.html

i've only had the opportunity to read a couple of her past posts and can't wait to dive into her archive.

i feel happy.  like when you discover a writer you really, really love and learn that she has written forty-four previous books.  what a treat lies in store for me, and you too, i hope.

Alec Soth and his 52 popsicles assignment

every time i sit down to write here (and, sorry,  i haven't done so in quite some time) i think of Alec Soth's blog and how totally lame mine is in comparison.

Soth, an amazing photographer (see Sleeping by the Mississippi for a start; here's a teaser ~ http://alecsoth.com/photography/?page_id=14) is also an intriguing thinker and writer.  i highly recommend visiting the Little Brown Mushroom site and reading all the popsicles so far (he's up to #37 now, i think.  i'll let him explain the popsicle part).  i also recommend the archive of his previous blog.

he stimulates and challenges my thinking about photography and creativity more than anyone writing today.  part of me hates to admit this because i am usually loathe to like someone who already has an enormous fan club... as does Soth.  but, he's just too good not to recommend.  try this recent popsicle post on for size.

http://www.littlebrownmushroom.com/blog/popsicle-34-lectures-by-charlie-kaufman-and-george-saunders/

Alec Soth, Lary, 2009, courtesy of the Sean Kelly Gallery

A Lovely Little Poem

i stumbled upon this wonderful poem a few days ago in an old New Yorker.

Before Air-Conditioning

The sweetness of the freshness of the breeze!
The wind is wiggling the trees.
The sky is black.  The trees deep green.
The man mowing the enormous lawn before it rains makes goodness clean.
It's the smell of laundry on the line
And the smell of the sea, brisk iodine,
Nine hundred miles inland from the ocean, it's that smell.
It makes someone little who has a fever feel almost well.
It's exactly what a sick person needs to eat.
Maybe it's coming from Illinois in the heat.
Watch out for the crows, though.
With them around, caw, caw, it's going to snow.
I think I'm still asleep.  I hope I said my prayers before I died.
I hear the milkman setting the clinking bottles down outside.

--Fredrick Seidel

Butterflies

a few days ago, i went to the garden of our local park to take some pictures, something i have not been able to do for the past month or so.  the flowers in the garden were awash in butterflies ~ big, beautiful, bold butterflies on steroids.  i've never seen butterflies quite so large.  i became completely hypnotized by their languorous, luscious beauty and carefree flight.  it was heaven.

as i watched the butterflies sparkle in the air, i was reminded of a Rabindranath Tagore "Firefly" i intend to have engraved on my tombstone:

"The butterfly counts not months but moments,
    and has time enough."

i may have taken a picture or two, but i fear they will be blurry.  the butterflies never quite stopped beating their wings.

that evening it poured rain ~ a steady, strong rain coursing from the sky.  this got me to wondering, and worrying about the butterflies.  where do they go when it rains?  how do they protect their delicate wings?

here's what i learned from the Children's Butterfly Website:

"Butterflies hide when it rains.  They usually go to the same places they do for the night.  Some butterflies hide under large leaves, some crawl down into dense leaves or under rocks, and some just sit head down on grass stems or bushes with wings held tightly.  If the rains are exceptionally hard or of long duration, many of the butterflies become tattered or die."

recently i have been like the butterfly hiding from the rainstorms in my life.   but yesterday, it finally stopped raining.  yesterday, i learned that my husband is free of the cancer he has been valiantly battling for the past eight months.

today i emerge from under the leaves, head now up, and spread my wings to fly, once again, back into the sunlit sky.  a bit battered and worn, you'll find me dancing with the flowers.

Happy Birthday To Me

today is my 59th birthday.  never in my wildest dreams did i believe i'd grow this old.  so old, in fact, my best friend says i can no longer claim that i died young.  she's right, of course, and i am grateful... grateful to have lived 59 amazing, wondrous years, with many more to come, i hope.

i've never been particularly age obsessed... never fudged when asked my age... and, in fact, i've found i've rather enjoyed growing older.  with each passing year i've felt freer, less self-conscious and shy (a true bane of my youth) and much more willing to do what i love, say what i think, go where i want, and damn the consequences.  with age i've been liberated.  i've discovered a comfortableness with who i am that is absolutely glorious.

but, as with all things in life, there is a down side to getting older.  friends and loved ones grow ill, family members die.  how can this happen?  the essential, vital beings in your life slowly begin to disappear, and you feel as if you are vanishing too.  this year i lost my nephew Mateo and my brother Greg within a matter of months.  the pain is still acute.  it is hard to breathe, hard to eat, hard to sleep.  i miss them so much, and have a difficult time carrying on in a world without their physical presence.

yet, they are always with me.  i see and feel them everywhere.  my love for them grows deeper every day.  my memories are strong and untroubled.  these are the comforts that will help carry me through the pain and into a peaceful coexistence with their deaths.

a few weeks ago, i had lunch with my father's life long best friend, Don Marine.  he brought with him some pictures from my youth.  this is one of the pictures he gave me.

Iowa, 1960

in this picture, my father, GR, dead for 20 years, sits in front.  my mother, Pearl Ann, dead for five years, sits behind.  my brother, Greg, dead for 3 months, is by my side.  they surround me.  they protect me.  they love me.  they have left me to travel the river together, until i can again be by their side.  this image breaks my heart.  this image comforts me.  it is a wonderful birthday gift that i will treasure for all my birthdays to come.

infinite worlds

"The moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself." 

 ~ Henry James

this quote perfectly describes what i feel every time i photograph.  when i explore with my camera i discover a multitude of new, astonishing and mesmerizing worlds.  so wonderful... and so addictive.  and, in truth, you don't even need the camera.  all you have to do is really look at the infinite worlds around you.

Pipilotti

"The task of art is to contribute to evolution, to encourage the mind, to guarantee a detached view of social changes, to conjure up positive energies, to create sensuousness, to reconcile reason and instinct, to research possibilities and to destroy cliches and prejudices."

this is the opinion of artist Pipilotti Rist.

anything to add?

Pema

in looking over my last post, i realize i'm sounding a bit too doom and gloom.  while life has certainly been difficult these past months... that's life.  no one is immune from the bad.  and always, along with the bad, comes a bounty of good.

when we first learned Lou had cancer, and would face such daunting treatment, i had a major panic attack.  i could barely breathe.  having seen both my father and my mother through cancer, treatments ranging from chemo to radiation to surgery, hospice and, ultimately, death, i was terrified.  i truly feared i would not be able to hold up for the man i love the most in this world.

that's when my BFF of all BFF's, my BFF to thank God for, sent me an amazing little book, The Pocket Pema Chodron, a collection of over 100 short selections from the writings of the acclaimed Buddhist nun.   everyday, after meditating, i would read one excerpt.  this daily ritual, along with a mind clearing walk, allowed me to make it through each day, with its enormous ups and downs, and still look forward to the next.

from the book ~

"Fundamental richness is available in each moment.  The key is to relax: relax to a cloud in the sky, relax to a tiny bird with grey wings, relax to the sound of the telephone ringing.  We can see the simplicity in things as they are ... [this richness] is available always to everyone.  In raindrops, in blood drops, in heartache and delight, this wealth is the nature of everything.  It is like the sun that shines on everyone without discrimination."

this book helped open me to the moment, however good or bad, whatever it might bring.  so many wonderful lessons in this tiny book.  i recommend it to all.

spring

at long last, i return.  it has been a brutal winter... too much illness, too much death. 

with spring's arrival, things are beginning to look brighter, and my life is returning to a steadier, calmer rhythm.  

i have learned much during this dark, cold winter... hard, valuable, primal lessons that will serve me well as my life continues its steady progress toward its inevitable end.  lessons we try so hard to avoid, to push aside, but that always seem to find us wherever we may hide.

lesson one, regarding grief and mourning...

"it hurts just as much as it is worth."

 ~ attributed to writer Julian Barnes 



Happy New Year

wishing you and yours a happy, healthy and peaceful 2013 filled with light and love