tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91463268002569403662024-03-04T23:06:59.566-05:00PhotoBLOGraphyTales of a wandering photographer with a passion for foreign lands, crumbling icons, decaying dolls, human beings and occasional pretty things.Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.comBlogger71125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-76143968815458441432010-03-14T13:16:00.009-04:002010-03-14T13:56:22.053-04:00Seeing Red on a Gray Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN-HYkEsm_q7SHEMCKAPUX2WNkBrJcA0D-tOSUCTtPP8ahlgLtUprSck9pd-fcK4KB8fhZ0NbWiW2uuq6B3U4FcvP4kmPR30jQwtUSo-4RSx9_DEC44N2IrJ3XljzZNUfkSaCxbRIZoEI/s1600-h/LotusShell.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN-HYkEsm_q7SHEMCKAPUX2WNkBrJcA0D-tOSUCTtPP8ahlgLtUprSck9pd-fcK4KB8fhZ0NbWiW2uuq6B3U4FcvP4kmPR30jQwtUSo-4RSx9_DEC44N2IrJ3XljzZNUfkSaCxbRIZoEI/s400/LotusShell.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448544683041541570" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Here in Michigan, I'm embracing these gray and damp days of pre-spring. They aren't conducive to being cheery when they drag on and on but...this is my last spring in the Great Lake State so I'm determined to enjoy them. Until I have time to go out and capture the murkiness in some artistic way, I'm going to refer to some oldies but goodies. It wasn't easy coming up with red-themed photographs the other day so I scrounged around for a few more.<br /><br />Above is a lotus in the Portland Japanese Garden.<br /><br />Graffiti in Oaxaca, Mexico:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggDvjSCajZVZw8ZLQ5T7v3zlZ7qCDUECmO9STuxfW6OyQzQvNTUIFyzVpDBO9NpOtDsbUbvPMwIwkpi-u6uKasvp8qz0JBqVkqTDKT4MvTaDo0_HdxaDVFVjXolW_4ZWoMo1zF8MpbnNI/s1600-h/Fist.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggDvjSCajZVZw8ZLQ5T7v3zlZ7qCDUECmO9STuxfW6OyQzQvNTUIFyzVpDBO9NpOtDsbUbvPMwIwkpi-u6uKasvp8qz0JBqVkqTDKT4MvTaDo0_HdxaDVFVjXolW_4ZWoMo1zF8MpbnNI/s400/Fist.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448539960417888914" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />This makes me salivate:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgGqanOIoIKpTYSqTKtsdvxO7XlNyl5uxgrpkp08lnj6JjiNzomKYbatSFVy4wGzXjsXMrQafxMLO5hyuerGL9HSuJavxO_vG8HU9-IIJi346eWAGf5t9xzLgw9a54bLkVk50O9624SJ8/s1600-h/Watermelon.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgGqanOIoIKpTYSqTKtsdvxO7XlNyl5uxgrpkp08lnj6JjiNzomKYbatSFVy4wGzXjsXMrQafxMLO5hyuerGL9HSuJavxO_vG8HU9-IIJi346eWAGf5t9xzLgw9a54bLkVk50O9624SJ8/s400/Watermelon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448539809677108018" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />"You can trust your car to the man who wears the star..." Target practice on a Texaco sign:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip27m4dwMuwk2P1z5_mAcucglvvz8Ge9F9-lsUv1zkH3AOcyxmVuybljREh62rUoYvw6adl8KNFmiYDpLml3uI9gAm4Pa1wevtiDkvlkzYXFtaEx45CIixkE3hxvBgJm0DA-DiOTr2uNg/s1600-h/TexacoT.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip27m4dwMuwk2P1z5_mAcucglvvz8Ge9F9-lsUv1zkH3AOcyxmVuybljREh62rUoYvw6adl8KNFmiYDpLml3uI9gAm4Pa1wevtiDkvlkzYXFtaEx45CIixkE3hxvBgJm0DA-DiOTr2uNg/s400/TexacoT.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448539751580425266" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Autumn in my neighborhood in Michigan:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDIWQLvUdXTwU_GrPt4lXCw9qHc0iDoea26fsBgN30Cr2_f9VkhDv7EcCL5NoP-oZEHQSgFEsdYD43bl3kVgdvn98jzUtBgl2v2cwITn5Ubshn5Mnqf8sRSon-4M6V2sZ5KnoGZS7RteQ/s1600-h/Redleavesclouds.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDIWQLvUdXTwU_GrPt4lXCw9qHc0iDoea26fsBgN30Cr2_f9VkhDv7EcCL5NoP-oZEHQSgFEsdYD43bl3kVgdvn98jzUtBgl2v2cwITn5Ubshn5Mnqf8sRSon-4M6V2sZ5KnoGZS7RteQ/s400/Redleavesclouds.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448539678227101426" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Waiting for water to spout out of the mouth at Millennium Park, Chicago:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2zvxsfCSr8cYqYYQ0p76fy9_eT4q1K3RH4f3Dto-OabCQLyOQyykaziGcMuZVpyOoP9Cv1ntAPSFt9ezMe3C4HgTJIeENGSKhojkmc6GxqVtfmZTXKiXzSv3hxn-N7MCwP560KUFMZkc/s1600-h/Fountain.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 273px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2zvxsfCSr8cYqYYQ0p76fy9_eT4q1K3RH4f3Dto-OabCQLyOQyykaziGcMuZVpyOoP9Cv1ntAPSFt9ezMe3C4HgTJIeENGSKhojkmc6GxqVtfmZTXKiXzSv3hxn-N7MCwP560KUFMZkc/s400/Fountain.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448539597394672498" border="0" /></a>Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-51082043957115321722010-03-11T12:11:00.006-05:002010-03-11T16:34:47.834-05:00Who is this cranky girl?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLi2A2-5x3NGYRxNfvShwDSKKhH7rv9IvNW5CjstoVmaApPd3205_6MObKzV5Zpdk822B-5L4hZWDcr4mITr2yFrEfdEnRqnItpLKsI0uCtpMyfOXEaMjGCnDhKI3I1V-uaut9aD196pk/s1600-h/Mom_Graduation.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLi2A2-5x3NGYRxNfvShwDSKKhH7rv9IvNW5CjstoVmaApPd3205_6MObKzV5Zpdk822B-5L4hZWDcr4mITr2yFrEfdEnRqnItpLKsI0uCtpMyfOXEaMjGCnDhKI3I1V-uaut9aD196pk/s400/Mom_Graduation.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447426286152002946" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />For a couple of months now I've been going through every box, envelope, album, etc. of memorabilia and although progress has been made, there is still a mountain of work to be done. I am, after all, moving to Santa Fe in July. At some point it would be nice to have everything organized and ready to ship to New Mexico or give away. July isn't as far away as I pretend that it is.<br /><br />In the meantime, I'm so grateful that my parents kept their legacy in this way.<br /><br />This photograph was taken in 1925. It shows my mom's 8th grade graduation class from St. Benedict's School in Carrolltown, Pennsylvania. Mom, whose name was Grace Kelly, must have been having a bad day...she's the scowling short girl in the middle row, center. This is the only photograph I have of her - and there are hundreds - where she isn't smiling or at least has a spark in her eyes.<br /><br />What I'd give to know what her state of mind was at that moment. Was she excited to have her picture taken with her classmates? (Apparently not.) Was she looking forward to high school? Did she have any thoughts about her future? Did she know she would attend nursing school and then forsake that dream to become a mother of eight? Did she ever suspect that her youngest child would stare at this photograph<span style="font-style: italic;"> eighty five years later </span>and pose so many unanswerable questions?<br /><br />Of course she didn't. Maybe she was just having a bad hair day.Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-21755931884629846752010-03-06T08:55:00.013-05:002010-03-06T17:24:24.652-05:00Seeing Red<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRm2fYqalLiPzGDPZLbyASUF8agr9RjQtkqXZSibim445kMczK6zCL2HjuvPDilOMHBV1fpFT-BwEtolxcS7bfiPHrXLVYr4DFu1IHZv5G7TEFlq4JuU1EwlNYU2VSZmvglHHFOaTjTNE/s1600-h/redturban.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRm2fYqalLiPzGDPZLbyASUF8agr9RjQtkqXZSibim445kMczK6zCL2HjuvPDilOMHBV1fpFT-BwEtolxcS7bfiPHrXLVYr4DFu1IHZv5G7TEFlq4JuU1EwlNYU2VSZmvglHHFOaTjTNE/s400/redturban.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445530222627129042" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />This morning, I woke up thinking about the color red. Maybe I was singing "Red Red Wine" to myself. Or perhaps "Red Rubber Ball," "Lady in Red" or "Red Roses for a Blue Lady." More likely, it was "My gal is red hot, your gal ain't diddly squat..."<br /><br />The color red, the longest discernible wavelength of light, is associated with anger, passion and love. Most people have definite opinions about the color red. For instance, I would never wear red nail polish, but my hair is a dozen shades of red. A friend thinks my hair is "too arty" for her but she has a room painted red.<br /><br />With red in mind, I found some favorite red-themed photographs to share.<br /><br />Above is "The Man with the Red Turban" taken in Rajasthan, India.<br /><br />"The Red Polka-Dotted Skirt" was taken at Millennium Park, in Chicago:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9POM5squqWAZH-rzNnxthEdvKyR2pDo1ejf3_4ExT4gGkk_w2iNY6yJ53t-JCmlGAm6aq3YWzQbuLO6nTIopcphk1RMzH79wTSCcvP3OwyCXfg0wNYvbUQGJwN_QpiJnTgcnw8qzIUrA/s1600-h/redCkirt.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9POM5squqWAZH-rzNnxthEdvKyR2pDo1ejf3_4ExT4gGkk_w2iNY6yJ53t-JCmlGAm6aq3YWzQbuLO6nTIopcphk1RMzH79wTSCcvP3OwyCXfg0wNYvbUQGJwN_QpiJnTgcnw8qzIUrA/s400/redCkirt.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445540355313303378" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />This house, in Okemos, has been for sale for a very, very, very long time:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW7iWm781jaFAdH-K8T1JCDLzwfiQXJj5HX92A_91aRhGOwQVOukwoic5QkHmL1Cm8Rv97l-1slfNfr58asRr9uu2kgOMJF4NjU65Uh7ddR0qEwOvQrgOIspFNcUldXMmgXh8SjMiP8PA/s1600-h/redforsale.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW7iWm781jaFAdH-K8T1JCDLzwfiQXJj5HX92A_91aRhGOwQVOukwoic5QkHmL1Cm8Rv97l-1slfNfr58asRr9uu2kgOMJF4NjU65Uh7ddR0qEwOvQrgOIspFNcUldXMmgXh8SjMiP8PA/s400/redforsale.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445529654779619330" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Recognize the logo on the left? This was taken outside of Acapulco, Mexico:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixlzX3HtX68Il3xLSBDhSQ6jCxvfU-rt_qf8rusQQMBEsojSWeYenqxYyqHZ6rrrlyPtVDHw3O4erAY4KrQ0Np-ihI0RZ3RxW4WZ0xu9mZh73Nhm2a7zsy8oW0ttprio3fCh-8Y6ar81o/s1600-h/redcola.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixlzX3HtX68Il3xLSBDhSQ6jCxvfU-rt_qf8rusQQMBEsojSWeYenqxYyqHZ6rrrlyPtVDHw3O4erAY4KrQ0Np-ihI0RZ3RxW4WZ0xu9mZh73Nhm2a7zsy8oW0ttprio3fCh-8Y6ar81o/s400/redcola.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445527466819822770" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />This little girl adores her <span style="font-style: italic;">abuela</span> who happens to be artist Josefina Aguilar. This was taken at their home in Octolan, Mexico outside of Oaxaca:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRaanZfhc6S0MpQnDO-KxBdKN-1YAJFOgFfCAEhoC5BIpIpflU4E6yRW2iGAWEMwtymD9YcLCfTejciXMtfLpYt5g_oBqPq8ULXaV6GLB2Y9uUaz0CSrt5uA9nrCCNZt0_YQXEQ-PCpc4/s1600-h/redgirl.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRaanZfhc6S0MpQnDO-KxBdKN-1YAJFOgFfCAEhoC5BIpIpflU4E6yRW2iGAWEMwtymD9YcLCfTejciXMtfLpYt5g_oBqPq8ULXaV6GLB2Y9uUaz0CSrt5uA9nrCCNZt0_YQXEQ-PCpc4/s400/redgirl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445527369534001794" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />This young monk, in Luang Prabang, Laos, was curious about my red hair:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigEyjASx9pvxvLEAeGXxGbZwGw6JeRNurz8vCAfb1kQPewsBnhISQXIfb2BnCHvs0exgSeIGS7mWWyNILd1Wyra5thoHpi3rf4ljKjGPL3kLW_jUw_BmQqomM5lHKS_JmSnH4gLurAaa4/s1600-h/Redmonk.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 314px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigEyjASx9pvxvLEAeGXxGbZwGw6JeRNurz8vCAfb1kQPewsBnhISQXIfb2BnCHvs0exgSeIGS7mWWyNILd1Wyra5thoHpi3rf4ljKjGPL3kLW_jUw_BmQqomM5lHKS_JmSnH4gLurAaa4/s400/Redmonk.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445530012138465570" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />JoJo, one of my less scary doll photos:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXfn62CQ4f5HiFtvm1LzvKXVHl3qLecFMC1ohyphenhyphenl1EdGH7dY-VUKkR1ae_ynV8HSynR4db3OIHNyaOc_NDyMfCz5yYkJkhKdYgNkeS2dZWFi8hOo1XhRL33yxR76UIC4zAM577D7MgHUns/s1600-h/JoJo_7761.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXfn62CQ4f5HiFtvm1LzvKXVHl3qLecFMC1ohyphenhyphenl1EdGH7dY-VUKkR1ae_ynV8HSynR4db3OIHNyaOc_NDyMfCz5yYkJkhKdYgNkeS2dZWFi8hOo1XhRL33yxR76UIC4zAM577D7MgHUns/s400/JoJo_7761.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445539600694674866" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Stigmata, on a statue in Cortona, Italy:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDwYM2g1Qq8dfrN5MHNKyYtvBqHdAXItTqb2EhSQG2B3X5RaoOWtzG_Ji6th-Vl8vba7Q6TErNDT04DIBTZ5y8jZsti6bUm1amviykFiCAcmb74h2OoFGNNzKtfnsW2q5jUynu4-THryk/s1600-h/Stigmata.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDwYM2g1Qq8dfrN5MHNKyYtvBqHdAXItTqb2EhSQG2B3X5RaoOWtzG_Ji6th-Vl8vba7Q6TErNDT04DIBTZ5y8jZsti6bUm1amviykFiCAcmb74h2OoFGNNzKtfnsW2q5jUynu4-THryk/s400/Stigmata.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445539988009315538" border="0" /></a>Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-55223069331482074872010-03-03T18:23:00.005-05:002010-03-03T18:43:51.292-05:00Getting close, really closeMany years ago, I spent much of my time making portraits, getting close enough to spot flaws and wrinkles and so-called "imperfections." Clearly my doll portraits are an extension of that. But the dolls, sweet as they are (yes, even the "scary" looking ones seem sweet to me) do not respond, react to a joke, blink, laugh, turn away or reflect. Are the dolls my segue to a return to portraiture? <div><br /></div><div>Many of those photographs were taken with Tri-X film and have yet to be digitized. But today I dug up three that I like. </div><div><br /></div><div>Here is my Dad. He was a kind man with integrity, dignity and a sense of humor. He was always willing to pose for me and for that I am eternally grateful.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs5koXNB4rawQmTMktHl68EjlzikGRzrCuVTrQQ9j9h8NSS82inIMvK7IC4IOsFFdjUDjMxQBH8YvvtHRJy2tHoIzZ3cTvpPpwfTzufA1GulnK97rVsAhrFfCrWAcXEEO-QFCI4112L14/s1600-h/DadWrinkleFace.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs5koXNB4rawQmTMktHl68EjlzikGRzrCuVTrQQ9j9h8NSS82inIMvK7IC4IOsFFdjUDjMxQBH8YvvtHRJy2tHoIzZ3cTvpPpwfTzufA1GulnK97rVsAhrFfCrWAcXEEO-QFCI4112L14/s400/DadWrinkleFace.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444553431673846706" style="cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 400px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Here is Anja, our exchange student (2000-2001) from Switzerland. She hated this photo but I love it's honesty. And honesty is the point of a photograph in the first place as far as I'm concerned.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizdZijkV3yEKvS6YCBm7y7fiMCBtTWOXc-lFtrkz2GXrXDliLsLNmKZiyNDy4yxTkiltOd5RIvfMAqiRUOBcF6zjxjz-lLq2NAITRzBTszytWc9D9_soPmPxmc6QXv1GYGvN-2wa9Lro8/s1600-h/AnjaFace.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizdZijkV3yEKvS6YCBm7y7fiMCBtTWOXc-lFtrkz2GXrXDliLsLNmKZiyNDy4yxTkiltOd5RIvfMAqiRUOBcF6zjxjz-lLq2NAITRzBTszytWc9D9_soPmPxmc6QXv1GYGvN-2wa9Lro8/s400/AnjaFace.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444553497478214066" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>And here is a woman I met in Santa Fe, taken with my digital camera. I love that her jewelry lines up with her eyes (which are also jewels...)</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz0L9ELoYLlMDtAsiD7fdC3Ahu5oNYg_IwAOwgfMl6AUaGF7Ztm_OW-TSdyXxdgbyahZJ-U8TxIgOAB2bHt_s0xR82ccOwr0k6UB5yFP4fQP1GoJAYo7DK2LjwFdMG6YoJhrmkaR3GiuQ/s1600-h/Santa_Faye.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz0L9ELoYLlMDtAsiD7fdC3Ahu5oNYg_IwAOwgfMl6AUaGF7Ztm_OW-TSdyXxdgbyahZJ-U8TxIgOAB2bHt_s0xR82ccOwr0k6UB5yFP4fQP1GoJAYo7DK2LjwFdMG6YoJhrmkaR3GiuQ/s400/Santa_Faye.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444553562487886274" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 314px; " /></a></div><div><div><br /></div></div>Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-12775760403696451012010-03-01T18:04:00.005-05:002010-03-02T09:05:04.372-05:00What's black and white and square all over?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3pOo0IcUJi3nrtKeo1IESobivMANp3PiuusnBimgaKOPWq6iK3OYz4Q89RzHaSPoFJqY3CqmXIsuxhb5Sk6ZFLP4tck1SAOaYuTO0ElCbdeHPtXJBxTQjdoCY3oh7rD4VtbgFXh_k3cU/s1600-h/Dolls.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 223px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3pOo0IcUJi3nrtKeo1IESobivMANp3PiuusnBimgaKOPWq6iK3OYz4Q89RzHaSPoFJqY3CqmXIsuxhb5Sk6ZFLP4tck1SAOaYuTO0ElCbdeHPtXJBxTQjdoCY3oh7rD4VtbgFXh_k3cU/s400/Dolls.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443808503587111746" border="0" /></a><br /><br />This past week I've been assembling a body of work for a gallery in Santa Fe called<span style="font-weight: bold;"> Artistas de Santa Fe.</span> Beginning April 1, I'll be a partner in the business and I'm thrilled to be exhibiting there even though I won't be a full time Santa Fean until July.<br /><br />As I did with images for the<span style="font-style: italic;"> No Passport Required </span>exhibit at the<span style="font-weight: bold;"> Michigan Women's Historical Center,</span> I'm having a blast with square format and returning to black & white. Not every image translates as well to black and white, or to a square format for that matter, but the process of trial and error makes me giddy. Many of the fractured doll images lend themselves well to both, as well as the "grainy" effect that reminds me of the good ol' days of pushing Tri-X film. You know, sometimes I really miss the smell of those chemicals...<br /><br />Pulling together the exhibit in Santa Fe, returning to my blog and updating my website brings me hope. It's been a long winter, beautiful to be sure, but not artistically productive. Although I love winter, another thing has made me giddy today. Squirrels and chipmunks have quite suddenly appeared in our yard. A tad early for the official onset of spring, but close enough.Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-79213884004796580042010-03-01T07:14:00.005-05:002010-03-01T07:36:46.923-05:00The Ice Queen<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgPR4dvsWVwPKoWDZxPZrH4oRhUILlEz2ceqz_YwM8JW_40DLtxSh_R0lMZjVa-G549stDzBURIRLbfUKcTm7mb80emtA9zg4GFs9qWseOKCe8E_4Sq2j7OriPBULDYzFt5sOiLJlmevQ/s1600-h/IceQueen.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgPR4dvsWVwPKoWDZxPZrH4oRhUILlEz2ceqz_YwM8JW_40DLtxSh_R0lMZjVa-G549stDzBURIRLbfUKcTm7mb80emtA9zg4GFs9qWseOKCe8E_4Sq2j7OriPBULDYzFt5sOiLJlmevQ/s400/IceQueen.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443642365010396578" /></a><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgPR4dvsWVwPKoWDZxPZrH4oRhUILlEz2ceqz_YwM8JW_40DLtxSh_R0lMZjVa-G549stDzBURIRLbfUKcTm7mb80emtA9zg4GFs9qWseOKCe8E_4Sq2j7OriPBULDYzFt5sOiLJlmevQ/s1600-h/IceQueen.jpg"></a><br />Last summer, St. Francis lost his head. I replaced it with an oversized doll head and left it on the back deck where it tolerated the season changes. (See <a href="http://janerosemont.blogspot.com/2009_08_01_archive.html">"Making Art from a Mishap" - Tuesday, August 18, 2009</a>). For the past few weeks she has been encased in ice, and as it slowly thaws she reveals her features once again. <div><br /></div><div>No surprise, this inspires me to think towards next winter when I could line up several dolls for an icy installation. Instead of setting up lights for a shoot, a task that takes less than an hour, I'd have to wait (weeks, maybe months!) for Mother Nature to supply the effect. Oh, I do <i>so</i> love to anticipate!</div></div>Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-83643761229614186602010-02-24T11:54:00.006-05:002010-02-24T12:10:59.683-05:00Let It Snow in Okemos<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5V6GyjmKOXcNluiueDrAvnhUh3HrLZl-ctQ5Zvz6OGn_SJya23fg8P7evJORyONlCyiqoGrOry3zO3x8Eu0atcFIpZqKoug6YkrT_OGsIqbdrUMJQ7wzIpSzn-245s0UXhMfILBbg22Y/s1600-h/RosemontYard2010_6684a.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5V6GyjmKOXcNluiueDrAvnhUh3HrLZl-ctQ5Zvz6OGn_SJya23fg8P7evJORyONlCyiqoGrOry3zO3x8Eu0atcFIpZqKoug6YkrT_OGsIqbdrUMJQ7wzIpSzn-245s0UXhMfILBbg22Y/s400/RosemontYard2010_6684a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441857523491494450" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />First of all, thanks so much for voting for your three favorite doll images. I'll write more about that in the next few days. Today I'm savoring my Okemos house. Another snowfall last night has made the views from every window simply stunning! It snows in Santa Fe, so it's not as if won't experience winters, but I will miss <span style="font-style: italic;">these</span> winters, from <span style="font-style: italic;">this</span> house, with <span style="font-style: italic;">these</span> views.<br /><br />I trudged outside with my camera, the snow sometimes coming up to my knees. Remember snow pants? Leggings? We kids used to look like miniature Michelin men when we went out to play in the snow. I'm considering bundling up specifically to make snow angels and suck on icicles.<br /><br />Above is a photo of our side yard.<br />Below are two photos from our neighbors' backyard. A sleeping vegetable garden and an abandoned seating area.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfRQlhjYgVjfGALMZw-ATCgLKy_aWDI7LdZXcKCdWUwNbn5xDhyU6OLlnRVkKKLRuLXzFpcPKICOVlegRUuPenKe6mXf0MMsCwHVMIOpb2NdpbAcaZIZDNZ03iSF96B7n6dwBMO6I8eDM/s1600-h/RiversYard2010_6674.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfRQlhjYgVjfGALMZw-ATCgLKy_aWDI7LdZXcKCdWUwNbn5xDhyU6OLlnRVkKKLRuLXzFpcPKICOVlegRUuPenKe6mXf0MMsCwHVMIOpb2NdpbAcaZIZDNZ03iSF96B7n6dwBMO6I8eDM/s400/RiversYard2010_6674.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441857388802003714" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig5kpjJBbO8mEkwY3fSPkt_qKCiI9OOlDyEvVR1NCKWVsDXegEa-c3dxeZrbIBgvfZwW1gvZPsTaHLywsDi87NQT_upvHAyVU1NeP9IUS84ZpZvOs1miXbFNIbdc1G9Cewc5vG-dJGHMo/s1600-h/RiversYard2010_6676.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig5kpjJBbO8mEkwY3fSPkt_qKCiI9OOlDyEvVR1NCKWVsDXegEa-c3dxeZrbIBgvfZwW1gvZPsTaHLywsDi87NQT_upvHAyVU1NeP9IUS84ZpZvOs1miXbFNIbdc1G9Cewc5vG-dJGHMo/s400/RiversYard2010_6676.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441857462236136178" border="0" /></a>Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-82076179565394298952010-02-20T16:13:00.021-05:002010-02-20T17:19:40.259-05:00Vote for ThreeSome of the<b> Secret Keepers</b> are getting a face lift! These decrepit doll faces will be shown in a smaller, square format and printed in black & white. I've always loved black & white images because they hone in on form and texture. It's been fun for me to sort through and pick those I think work better that way.<div><br /></div><div>I would love your help, and ask that you choose<i> three </i>favorites from the following ten images. Please help me decide by naming your choices either here on the blog, or via email. If you can articulate why you like them better than the others, go for it. Don't think too hard about it, just pick the ones that strike you as more powerful.</div><div><br /></div><div>Beginning April 1, some of these images will be exhibited at the gallery<b> Artistas de Santa Fe. </b>Who will make the cut?</div><div><br /></div><div>Thank you so much in advance, and now allow me to introduce you to the contenders...</div><div><br /></div><div>Stella:</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhLN221Hs1OvqWJGiM5Y3OLD2hEVlDL1LmVrArzJbEcfknKApSlzddWrA0pzMbkklnQBknb7fSTtR5GC_xmZbwT1UsDRkQAYrb8bglip_h6O0sypIaWRs2RvfysgclU__eVGttKo3GWL0/s1600-h/MaryStellaSQa.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhLN221Hs1OvqWJGiM5Y3OLD2hEVlDL1LmVrArzJbEcfknKApSlzddWrA0pzMbkklnQBknb7fSTtR5GC_xmZbwT1UsDRkQAYrb8bglip_h6O0sypIaWRs2RvfysgclU__eVGttKo3GWL0/s400/MaryStellaSQa.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440441540355114994" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Tammy:</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCW-Xr_R-nCVBA1oQ6CPb6wQcgPedYMwXq_mnkG2Lpc7ywUScDwfn24lR_otUguVwF4c9M1UJcIe3QcpuR5nXAjYG1Z4fk0ox-5VeRMXed20nBIaE9yePY4c3LuaeCOU03KsgVqkcWVg/s1600-h/TammySQa.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCW-Xr_R-nCVBA1oQ6CPb6wQcgPedYMwXq_mnkG2Lpc7ywUScDwfn24lR_otUguVwF4c9M1UJcIe3QcpuR5nXAjYG1Z4fk0ox-5VeRMXed20nBIaE9yePY4c3LuaeCOU03KsgVqkcWVg/s400/TammySQa.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440442691367813058" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCW-Xr_R-nCVBA1oQ6CPb6wQcgPedYMwXq_mnkG2Lpc7ywUScDwfn24lR_otUguVwF4c9M1UJcIe3QcpuR5nXAjYG1Z4fk0ox-5VeRMXed20nBIaE9yePY4c3LuaeCOU03KsgVqkcWVg/s1600-h/TammySQa.jpg"></a>Sherry:</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO8JM2glOGoKDlRy2HDpkd-FK3vGk4khmlRl-pdXxJ05zVoveEyLm7beVDGRSDRhbFEgcDLk_m3YJ8VkV22EfN_bZG4507-OHk5X-I0JsdTJOaJjuI-Yz2ayPYiT-AvX8Rc6SCdJgygZ0/s1600-h/SultrySQa.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO8JM2glOGoKDlRy2HDpkd-FK3vGk4khmlRl-pdXxJ05zVoveEyLm7beVDGRSDRhbFEgcDLk_m3YJ8VkV22EfN_bZG4507-OHk5X-I0JsdTJOaJjuI-Yz2ayPYiT-AvX8Rc6SCdJgygZ0/s400/SultrySQa.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440441365646437282" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Priscilla:</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZkSCM8NFcgGOgZkrqUtSNdyZwphix3Bp7vuq97s3AjbYfEVrTXhPaF1VJeqcBEGbywHvx5weI3Q9ZweSJhHDNe8Q7_WSWPy6IXAeL8pllu92X8D4XwQCQ51y2xRTDFFRRyZ-tUSvftTA/s1600-h/PriscillaSQa.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZkSCM8NFcgGOgZkrqUtSNdyZwphix3Bp7vuq97s3AjbYfEVrTXhPaF1VJeqcBEGbywHvx5weI3Q9ZweSJhHDNe8Q7_WSWPy6IXAeL8pllu92X8D4XwQCQ51y2xRTDFFRRyZ-tUSvftTA/s400/PriscillaSQa.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440441299914795954" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /></a></div><div>Mohawk:</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT-lsgDbi4ftUX_BB7cZdae9BOp6EMyx0XgQ4gHDMrOt_HA1EylAmP73dynb1z0TCkLnJpzCFmp84F0SrHnYcOOgjNVDbCtmzjGEND6FPHjWJk9BwD89jvgWqqJ6iJOhPjP5TlS9KU0As/s1600-h/MohawkSQa.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT-lsgDbi4ftUX_BB7cZdae9BOp6EMyx0XgQ4gHDMrOt_HA1EylAmP73dynb1z0TCkLnJpzCFmp84F0SrHnYcOOgjNVDbCtmzjGEND6FPHjWJk9BwD89jvgWqqJ6iJOhPjP5TlS9KU0As/s400/MohawkSQa.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440441233101582642" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /></a></div><div>Mary:</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUnnqtZe21pqJOm9NX8fUTWnlWRPOsjhKEPVizEhET0sbzJgAaGCLiBsjIlRothoJhmBkgKq_S_kJAZCtwzUM4Yjo_SBUaGLQhaJGfYu4reYi5O6PP133vqDeyCToeibXbyRx8Kl2VGuk/s1600-h/MarySQa.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUnnqtZe21pqJOm9NX8fUTWnlWRPOsjhKEPVizEhET0sbzJgAaGCLiBsjIlRothoJhmBkgKq_S_kJAZCtwzUM4Yjo_SBUaGLQhaJGfYu4reYi5O6PP133vqDeyCToeibXbyRx8Kl2VGuk/s400/MarySQa.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440441161951006658" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /></a></div><div>FiFi:</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr8U7a9y2KqjTgkKf_hR1D9OsrgK8-YtcwSqh3C0X9Xlani4EOTh4kVA9SXljFqldxMKHUKcTFJRkRB-uEuZcXMtfsFi2Kp9R7NQm_1bRvsx82WmEKjhAHmd0XzJwArjLSxaTWxllDB4c/s1600-h/FiFiSQa.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr8U7a9y2KqjTgkKf_hR1D9OsrgK8-YtcwSqh3C0X9Xlani4EOTh4kVA9SXljFqldxMKHUKcTFJRkRB-uEuZcXMtfsFi2Kp9R7NQm_1bRvsx82WmEKjhAHmd0XzJwArjLSxaTWxllDB4c/s400/FiFiSQa.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440441103548497906" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /></a></div><div>Curly:</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxYi8uqGZgD3V2SyhpTAMAdlxwTdX4W6yjQ4LM3uJeMnThmHH0GB1XwkZu7-Ys2euwqW6jzDBvDlS9GgB6q5vueCz7kAJ-vlNQ4i6KUTGPkK_STHuG0_eh6valznezm88YZk8jqPnT2DI/s1600-h/CurlSQa.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxYi8uqGZgD3V2SyhpTAMAdlxwTdX4W6yjQ4LM3uJeMnThmHH0GB1XwkZu7-Ys2euwqW6jzDBvDlS9GgB6q5vueCz7kAJ-vlNQ4i6KUTGPkK_STHuG0_eh6valznezm88YZk8jqPnT2DI/s400/CurlSQa.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440441041511225106" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /></a></div><div>Chantelle:</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGdXuIiXqw3tpPFCE5GWkrxa-BfofeK0iwVanZ0jPA8SHiavnRtQbL0_zYDVsT7QU5djkMC7FUrwOVJlzxZ1PfWqCbWHeBi_bBxASqbnmDhyphenhyphenmsVQghDHRYZauXR63L3o2IOjFI1u2yY6s/s1600-h/ChantelleSQa.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGdXuIiXqw3tpPFCE5GWkrxa-BfofeK0iwVanZ0jPA8SHiavnRtQbL0_zYDVsT7QU5djkMC7FUrwOVJlzxZ1PfWqCbWHeBi_bBxASqbnmDhyphenhyphenmsVQghDHRYZauXR63L3o2IOjFI1u2yY6s/s400/ChantelleSQa.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440440979336483922" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /></a></div><div>Lily:</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwkMuaKXF8Ary_DLnRmNob7EpeX9-XqKvK9qXU_LvyYEquLMxfER8NY48cMmnrk5dIdd8HX7NmmTyeqW8aFfh7Z7uMzMtCs03XrGEXXD0aG203vn89sOedqi1Fc7OKetoxCvkcc8udb9Y/s1600-h/AnnieSQa.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwkMuaKXF8Ary_DLnRmNob7EpeX9-XqKvK9qXU_LvyYEquLMxfER8NY48cMmnrk5dIdd8HX7NmmTyeqW8aFfh7Z7uMzMtCs03XrGEXXD0aG203vn89sOedqi1Fc7OKetoxCvkcc8udb9Y/s400/AnnieSQa.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440443586872331938" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><div><br /></div></div>Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-33101322637086657592010-02-19T14:23:00.007-05:002010-02-19T14:52:51.880-05:00No Passport RequiredOn Sunday, Feb. 21, there will be an opening exhibit for my penultimate exhibit in Michigan - (at least for now!) - at the Belen Gallery, Michigan Women's Historical Center. What an honor to show at this venue!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">No Passport Required </span>showcases photographs from Myanmar, Laos, Singapore, Mexico, Italy, India and Bali. For years I've been working with these images in color, but for this exhibit I decided to present some in black and white as well. It's always a challenge to determine which images work well in black and white versus color. Here is a sneak peek at a few of them.<br /><br />Watching the sun set in Pushkar, India:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN9lztQmbvPmOuQRdCSzx9exWIwvcfmeaJ0h-QzICoqWLpW9Mr5kJ99e8o-dsvhQqAHldUkmDXMnZOosQuDaKRIC_gulxvwRDnhWy2vYIITyWQzFutP6C3UNfP24cXoehIU1hh9kRG3j0/s1600-h/TurbanCamels_0441SQ.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN9lztQmbvPmOuQRdCSzx9exWIwvcfmeaJ0h-QzICoqWLpW9Mr5kJ99e8o-dsvhQqAHldUkmDXMnZOosQuDaKRIC_gulxvwRDnhWy2vYIITyWQzFutP6C3UNfP24cXoehIU1hh9kRG3j0/s400/TurbanCamels_0441SQ.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440043872620685106" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />The old priest crosses the piazza in Cortona, Italy:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRxK4fRjMtbXDGQXGBEbr2LqqDV_Zx4NNeZDVI9yGULV1918XbDEfCseQPJXRtdoubsKHl4d_yCvh5bmGRuu0rLOyuo7rh3__ZRmfKWEfiJqOFAQxw1uWinvWFKW0Og-vp7-GObRRcvD8/s1600-h/MenCortonaSQ.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRxK4fRjMtbXDGQXGBEbr2LqqDV_Zx4NNeZDVI9yGULV1918XbDEfCseQPJXRtdoubsKHl4d_yCvh5bmGRuu0rLOyuo7rh3__ZRmfKWEfiJqOFAQxw1uWinvWFKW0Og-vp7-GObRRcvD8/s400/MenCortonaSQ.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440043806355055650" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Smoking villager on the Irrawaddy River in Myanmar (Burma):<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWwQXsK0QrRda_HbzpX70tTFiKSC1biIp5LVJ08NVm0DSYTmJNlrkgjlD0jNRh348aS2rNIr3IItuEFMlyzHuAIXQPDAHYKqb-vwJJg-E8J1ZyZUCWKJRfWRzXAk_lX6GFIEfv517hdLY/s1600-h/IrrawSmokeMan_7788SQ.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWwQXsK0QrRda_HbzpX70tTFiKSC1biIp5LVJ08NVm0DSYTmJNlrkgjlD0jNRh348aS2rNIr3IItuEFMlyzHuAIXQPDAHYKqb-vwJJg-E8J1ZyZUCWKJRfWRzXAk_lX6GFIEfv517hdLY/s400/IrrawSmokeMan_7788SQ.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440043733184110002" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Playing chess in Singapore:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjibTBD75FAD57eTyr00e8_A2Nj33OHLxSN3d87njT27E8JOXXILeom2jGGQ_n0GS5WSbErCncVjBPG-CqK57Vfo6OHVTSFvb_c4zYU3HL7d3xpFltuqT8n_JFTWA7UCfm7s6smOa-oMk/s1600-h/ChessB_1880SQ.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjibTBD75FAD57eTyr00e8_A2Nj33OHLxSN3d87njT27E8JOXXILeom2jGGQ_n0GS5WSbErCncVjBPG-CqK57Vfo6OHVTSFvb_c4zYU3HL7d3xpFltuqT8n_JFTWA7UCfm7s6smOa-oMk/s400/ChessB_1880SQ.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440043666174075890" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;font-family:Times New Roman;" ><span lang="en-us"></span></span>Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-82477681928455649162010-02-18T10:39:00.005-05:002010-02-18T10:56:34.611-05:00Being resourceful<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg48Pg4jF2CCfihcwsMUaRnrBCU2P_7ArLIe0B-H668txmVRxtoiWJIcEMT-rkk8BpE4gl5bDwAi5oVLhUe_ciR4P7e9S-cVJDhQB1FsiMfsWzaIfYqZVBnEJ4-A-RJQ5ub2B5-BWKRKi4/s1600-h/Gum_MG_3583a.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg48Pg4jF2CCfihcwsMUaRnrBCU2P_7ArLIe0B-H668txmVRxtoiWJIcEMT-rkk8BpE4gl5bDwAi5oVLhUe_ciR4P7e9S-cVJDhQB1FsiMfsWzaIfYqZVBnEJ4-A-RJQ5ub2B5-BWKRKi4/s400/Gum_MG_3583a.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439612209843740450" /></a><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg48Pg4jF2CCfihcwsMUaRnrBCU2P_7ArLIe0B-H668txmVRxtoiWJIcEMT-rkk8BpE4gl5bDwAi5oVLhUe_ciR4P7e9S-cVJDhQB1FsiMfsWzaIfYqZVBnEJ4-A-RJQ5ub2B5-BWKRKi4/s1600-h/Gum_MG_3583a.jpg"></a><br />The Santuario de Chimayo, in Chimayo, New Mexico draws pilgrims, devotees and curiosity seekers from all over the world. At the site of the Santuario, crosses appear everywhere as visitors leave a bit of themselves and a prayer. Crosses come from rosaries but are also fashioned from twigs, garbage bag ties, clothespins, etc. They are found on fences, rocks, trees, ledges, statues and walls. At a glance, this is such a lovely photograph of someone's devotion. Look closely. The crosses are fashioned from chewing gum!</div><div><br /></div><div>It's admirable to be resourceful, but can it go too far?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-19550438004646887822010-02-16T20:07:00.004-05:002010-02-16T20:20:51.072-05:00How my cat helped me return to my blog<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-MfJ6xFIigq6KKb0YJNi0gkQzKtY8m_LokVe9_yzA8bKF1w7ipkO2H5UgqcQpELkBXv90h1Nbb9lSMu5R-Djg0CyYnvrRnxgt5IGjlWtEhXEGQbGIhHOjAyIHWl5Tagu2uZhkfbLunJw/s1600-h/BedKubaba_6499a.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-MfJ6xFIigq6KKb0YJNi0gkQzKtY8m_LokVe9_yzA8bKF1w7ipkO2H5UgqcQpELkBXv90h1Nbb9lSMu5R-Djg0CyYnvrRnxgt5IGjlWtEhXEGQbGIhHOjAyIHWl5Tagu2uZhkfbLunJw/s400/BedKubaba_6499a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439015655660406434" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Last December, when we bought the house that will soon be our full time home in Santa Fe, my creative juices dried up. My blog was deserted, my website unattended and my camera languished in its bag. The prospect of moving overwhelms me, and the process has become a full time job. When in Santa Fe, there is work to be done on the new house. When in Michigan, Dick and I go through every piece of paper, every precious artifact from our families, every nook and cranny (or as we like to say "crook and nanny") in our home for nearly twenty years. It's a time of extreme emotions, and I savor all of them. Whether it's the ecstatic feeling I get when I take it all in, or the grief of leaving family, friends and home I remember that this is what it means to be fully alive.<br />So here I am returning to PhotoBLOGraphy, not really sure how my mixed feelings will translate. I want to share the adventure with those who care and return little by little to photography and art in general.<br /><br />This photograph of Kubaba was the first photo I'd taken in over two months that wasn't simply to document something. She rolls around on the bed like this every single day, an expression of sheer contentedness. Photographing her made me feel playful as well, and thus the lesson was learned. I definitely feel better when I take time out to lift my camera to my eye and capture an elusive moment.Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-88317817994936100872009-10-01T14:29:00.005-04:002009-10-01T15:17:11.293-04:00A Treasure from 1947<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2mU9PcI9CGX9xGiiq-2bUoS3ZaEfA6ip29lCWFYQsUuCioFMZF0VTQz2-tJ3cIUSxXHm6_X94NrhgmEcVe_l2ot8PiTXmQtv0JMDIQZYcXzFo_pwQ58qhGlbVUDtAZAg_15zdE7ppBZo/s1600-h/JOAnnPage.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2mU9PcI9CGX9xGiiq-2bUoS3ZaEfA6ip29lCWFYQsUuCioFMZF0VTQz2-tJ3cIUSxXHm6_X94NrhgmEcVe_l2ot8PiTXmQtv0JMDIQZYcXzFo_pwQ58qhGlbVUDtAZAg_15zdE7ppBZo/s400/JOAnnPage.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387700527271846994" border="0" /></a><br /><br />This fragile diary from 1947 was buried in my memorabilia box.<br /><br />It belonged to my sister Jo Ann, who was 20 years older than I. When I was born, she was already out of the house and <span style="font-style: italic;">in the convent.</span> I used to say I never knew her "as a real person." Indeed, these pages reveal the life of a Catholic thirteen year old girl in Detroit, Michigan:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">John went to 8:15 mass with Irene and I. He sat right behind us. I wonder if he really likes me. I know he sort of likes Virginia who is a giant. But he still likes her. She's going to the convent. I don't know where I'm going anymore. Probably end up in hell. Pardon the expression.</span><br /><br />She was a fragile person, both physically and emotionally. While she so desperately needed to be loved and appreciated, her personality made loving her and appreciating her very difficult much of the time. Because I didn't grow up with her in the house we had a safe relationship, one that consisted of letters and phone calls. We didn't have emotional buttons to push as with my other siblings and for that reason there were times she felt very close to me. This made me sad, because I had the benefit of intimacy and trust with family and friends that she would never allow.<br /><br />In 2004, at the age of 70, she died of pancreatic cancer.<br /><br />Now I've found this treasure. I want to set up a quiet time to light a candle, pull out some photos of her and read the diary with the sense of respect and honor her memory deserves.<br /><br />Jo Ann in 8th grade:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdeFXOh4tUBVft7YFzGlhfc_nWdfChbC5ysPuQe1EZ3Z5xPaOORgBoRmdM3TiD2A8NbIsmyoo_d0JZyjlgZjqjKiuuSfkgaRLv1WVkwioGsc0ZIosOr_y8lc7TKhyCJ64GV5qFV2RXiwc/s1600-h/JOAnnDiaryCover.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdeFXOh4tUBVft7YFzGlhfc_nWdfChbC5ysPuQe1EZ3Z5xPaOORgBoRmdM3TiD2A8NbIsmyoo_d0JZyjlgZjqjKiuuSfkgaRLv1WVkwioGsc0ZIosOr_y8lc7TKhyCJ64GV5qFV2RXiwc/s400/JOAnnDiaryCover.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387707419660957074" border="0" /></a>Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-174749136543615322009-09-11T21:59:00.007-04:002009-09-13T14:30:33.204-04:00Green<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5tU4ZAk53S3kBdC_549xx67FGuNSbxAl5ROqMTmiTYm7WgenVUtr_U0pQdfEecgyrhwV9bimNixYywkqbcAgtrUjh03EkWxZlT0MyV_gHuEurb8Buh8bX0OQ0ZOUhwXvX0sucFwxn5k4/s1600-h/Green.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5tU4ZAk53S3kBdC_549xx67FGuNSbxAl5ROqMTmiTYm7WgenVUtr_U0pQdfEecgyrhwV9bimNixYywkqbcAgtrUjh03EkWxZlT0MyV_gHuEurb8Buh8bX0OQ0ZOUhwXvX0sucFwxn5k4/s400/Green.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381017584227235698" border="0" /></a><br /><br />My family is visiting over the weekend. Yesterday we played a game called "Chat Pack" which consists only of small cards, each with a question written on it. It's less a game, more a way to induce discussion. We took turns asking a question and each of us offered our answer and, as families often do, expounded enthusiastically. One of the questions was:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">If you could wake up every morning, open your bedroom blinds, and look out a huge glass window at the perfect view, what would that view be?</span><br /><br />My bed faces our backyard. When my eyes open I see the riches of whatever the season has to offer. For the past few months, with morning haze in my eyes, it is an abstract painting perhaps entitled "Variations on Green." I savor this lush scene, knowing that when I move to New Mexico this is not going to be the case.<br /><br />When summer dissolves into autumn, I often witness a display of falling carroty leaves taking serendipitous turns before gingerly settling onto the ground.<br /><br />And winter, my favorite season of all, turns the scene into white upon white upon white.<br /><br />Anyway, my answer to the question is this: I love seeing whatever there is to see. When I travel it is someone's garden, a body of water, a car parked in the street or even a stark brick wall. It doesn't matter what it is, I'm so grateful to be alive, to take in what I observe and appreciate what life offers every single day.Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-17874465351689873882009-09-08T13:40:00.013-04:002009-09-08T19:27:38.625-04:00Hello, yellow!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidGJB_5a_-LMdxZuOqk_rtH3xTvQsehiPPp8pkF64t4mXuOLqvZCePw8CDcPbOlT-6IMPjav-CU_ytc2wULfIIiTBtRKa_U-mQYHMRoQQ1ipYo-JJ6vMied5CKO6XodBhNPQd_17HXdG8/s1600-h/WallsAcapulco.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidGJB_5a_-LMdxZuOqk_rtH3xTvQsehiPPp8pkF64t4mXuOLqvZCePw8CDcPbOlT-6IMPjav-CU_ytc2wULfIIiTBtRKa_U-mQYHMRoQQ1ipYo-JJ6vMied5CKO6XodBhNPQd_17HXdG8/s400/WallsAcapulco.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379159154457861026" border="0" /></a><br /><br />When my shutter finger gets twitchy and I don't have anything in particular to shoot, it's productive to come up with a theme for myself. During the photo workshop that I taught in Tuscany in 2008, students found it helpful to have a theme to fall back on for their daily photo excursions. It helped them feel less overwhelmed and more focused, so to speak.<br /><br />And honestly, it's just a whole lotta fun. Here are some ideas:<br /><br />• Shoot one color or one shape<br />• Reflections<br />• Shadows<br />• Texture<br />• Grab three disparate things (piece of fruit, your toothbrush, a rusty nail?) and do a still life<br />• Think of a place that does not inspire you at all - a dying garden, the waiting room at your dentist's office, whatever - and go there to shoot a really beautiful abstract interpretation.<br />• Find one object and photograph it in a dozen different ways<br />• For a challenging ongoing project, shoot all the letters in the alphabet as long as it's not literally the letter. Some letters are much easier to find that others. (I personally have a plenty of the letter "M.") Reward yourself when you're done by publishing it with a book from mypublisher.com.<br /><br />Here are some images from my "yellow" collection. Above, a scene in Acapulco.<br /><br />This is a photo I like to call "Mona Saves" - to be found on the corner of Paseo de Peralto and Washington in Santa Fe:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPq3UlzlLdfYOaxzJavuaz2_exNID1iIU6-g1QJ5b88yDZXuiYArzYSMzTvkKGVsl5uzvYoG2RAmrWaUQfiFKQguQmlcczbT4tINedWMsYtZUB-627yF2jHbhGf9ktD3c9WSjbfUliRXA/s1600-h/Mona_Saves.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPq3UlzlLdfYOaxzJavuaz2_exNID1iIU6-g1QJ5b88yDZXuiYArzYSMzTvkKGVsl5uzvYoG2RAmrWaUQfiFKQguQmlcczbT4tINedWMsYtZUB-627yF2jHbhGf9ktD3c9WSjbfUliRXA/s400/Mona_Saves.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379159298362318706" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Ubiquitous laundry, in Venice, Italy:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcfZ4OBdrgk8CiKiNi7UO39XJFhX7Jlwn8XSxc2pPASJa0wTbLq8zKe2CGVfmnDnktXJO3s8Crb13YjoH3f9gK_g2ymvRSxDLZinXHqcv-SzXYI51HC85vArQ-9BRo11w-zV_Rwuc5QCU/s1600-h/LaundryVenice01.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcfZ4OBdrgk8CiKiNi7UO39XJFhX7Jlwn8XSxc2pPASJa0wTbLq8zKe2CGVfmnDnktXJO3s8Crb13YjoH3f9gK_g2ymvRSxDLZinXHqcv-SzXYI51HC85vArQ-9BRo11w-zV_Rwuc5QCU/s400/LaundryVenice01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379160271205178626" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />A little daisy pail in Madrid, New Mexico:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcGE0Gd8aXeVdGuxIsVzswMvfWhKRNNkQbxEfiP1F8lTmb-me-9XA-BypvQk619P3hvtPLiaIkaa_e1AOjLd-iU2FT5MFS34Ex6a2Ha6yYatnlgfy4tj8Dm4TPIsORgg8UGvgPkMSByyE/s1600-h/Bucket.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcGE0Gd8aXeVdGuxIsVzswMvfWhKRNNkQbxEfiP1F8lTmb-me-9XA-BypvQk619P3hvtPLiaIkaa_e1AOjLd-iU2FT5MFS34Ex6a2Ha6yYatnlgfy4tj8Dm4TPIsORgg8UGvgPkMSByyE/s400/Bucket.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379160170768435714" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Rainbow near my house in Santa Fe:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipgo145xxQMluzPiejLWzB_NAAojIbX5Q-RRzLysODvXJT5PQLsNo1Lq1VtPj8bIqBbi9aT9FJbrbVozHXEtZW0AYPQWIg3LMMNIK3m9mLT6EgaDaMcsPmeRD64WVAlR1e175eqFDWfzg/s1600-h/Rainbow.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipgo145xxQMluzPiejLWzB_NAAojIbX5Q-RRzLysODvXJT5PQLsNo1Lq1VtPj8bIqBbi9aT9FJbrbVozHXEtZW0AYPQWIg3LMMNIK3m9mLT6EgaDaMcsPmeRD64WVAlR1e175eqFDWfzg/s400/Rainbow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379160081797323842" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Number 3, number 3, number 3...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcfuKnRmjQ9fi1aUD8G3hcjo7BBWX5t6iqLHRhnPQkJRY__71L4lDKqOhDs5kUamABWyOKQEBMwzDKvOcwTpCRUzm_yw7HKaqM6Fe9gJEBTbKwBeORnuVTGrotQA5p22uB0KFAru7k69w/s1600-h/Number.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcfuKnRmjQ9fi1aUD8G3hcjo7BBWX5t6iqLHRhnPQkJRY__71L4lDKqOhDs5kUamABWyOKQEBMwzDKvOcwTpCRUzm_yw7HKaqM6Fe9gJEBTbKwBeORnuVTGrotQA5p22uB0KFAru7k69w/s400/Number.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379159221637574770" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Again I've broken the "don't shoot the mannequin" rule:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzqMy3fX7mc489KHjDLqxkUC9xhreiTQ4UCpm6ajnjtAL5FJiGKfjpK15eeuGRjnUBOsKbShdid-QoYNLtAL9ej58r_nUz1_vNAdS_aMcGPu4pkwS5xhP0ZeCKdT7H166kuRyb4uCAEEE/s1600-h/HandYellow.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzqMy3fX7mc489KHjDLqxkUC9xhreiTQ4UCpm6ajnjtAL5FJiGKfjpK15eeuGRjnUBOsKbShdid-QoYNLtAL9ej58r_nUz1_vNAdS_aMcGPu4pkwS5xhP0ZeCKdT7H166kuRyb4uCAEEE/s400/HandYellow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379160789041326562" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Escalator at Marshall Fields, Chicago (I refuse to call it Macy's):<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifG3jREeiMkHiO-kBvwzq_0W0ScVEVIolCUuL4EBNEQd0cVZJPfKZO3rNN5XSWHh400CliOd-5aetRvD6G_W7hHjz5a2Fald4kjj9h3CPekXx_kvzAbTh6yI9LCyIUZTE9DSEbtPzJ1ME/s1600-h/+Escalator.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifG3jREeiMkHiO-kBvwzq_0W0ScVEVIolCUuL4EBNEQd0cVZJPfKZO3rNN5XSWHh400CliOd-5aetRvD6G_W7hHjz5a2Fald4kjj9h3CPekXx_kvzAbTh6yI9LCyIUZTE9DSEbtPzJ1ME/s400/+Escalator.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379162459991439266" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Buddha statue in Myanmar:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcUJyDqYhi6aghI_Gfl4mau-TBB1dBBjafxo9vUyMvVkTWgRk7UidVRfY6-pTiWhGRBhoP46uFWTR7nDoOuOTSD-X7chog3kyVc2W8lRpMqsjqb5U9UsMjicFhf1wNNNZ8LsFDfUGoGWQ/s1600-h/Hand.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcUJyDqYhi6aghI_Gfl4mau-TBB1dBBjafxo9vUyMvVkTWgRk7UidVRfY6-pTiWhGRBhoP46uFWTR7nDoOuOTSD-X7chog3kyVc2W8lRpMqsjqb5U9UsMjicFhf1wNNNZ8LsFDfUGoGWQ/s400/Hand.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379166406783627122" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Fireworks, Detroit:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTnlrxdl70VNs3T98EzquITIgOStwNRgyZ83Icu5vOdQER32EmelkoYF-L6sb21INNj6VPJe6H4oqsFJkNtVxQ2mc0EXxCpOsfgMCcU53SE6nVLmF0ZEedXK4LL6FG31VNFp9BFJyWd3M/s1600-h/Fireworks.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTnlrxdl70VNs3T98EzquITIgOStwNRgyZ83Icu5vOdQER32EmelkoYF-L6sb21INNj6VPJe6H4oqsFJkNtVxQ2mc0EXxCpOsfgMCcU53SE6nVLmF0ZEedXK4LL6FG31VNFp9BFJyWd3M/s400/Fireworks.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379166332861674754" border="0" /></a>Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-17891802215491712742009-09-05T13:07:00.008-04:002009-09-05T13:31:11.475-04:00Playing with Food<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVFRLEZMZkxAIUIDkYr2Ez4rf8dtHDI1QhXc0CwS4OpavFOVSF1H80P0Cqu_fsiw85vnBDR_MRyrvXm_eddFVLz7OOShCVgvfn146W00sujTrmgXV3Az4pawEhRI_ErzviporliUmPvBg/s1600-h/Eggplant.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 282px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVFRLEZMZkxAIUIDkYr2Ez4rf8dtHDI1QhXc0CwS4OpavFOVSF1H80P0Cqu_fsiw85vnBDR_MRyrvXm_eddFVLz7OOShCVgvfn146W00sujTrmgXV3Az4pawEhRI_ErzviporliUmPvBg/s400/Eggplant.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378035484445215298" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Saturday morning, and what better thing to do than visit the Farmer's Market?<br /><br />Upon entering the market, I was tempted by pies with gooey fruit that spilled over the edges. Next table had walnut filled kolaches, bringing back memories of my Slovak grandmother. Peaches, corn, cucumbers, herbs, raspberries...and flowers, and soaps...even spring rolls, and shrimp. A man said to his wife "It's too early to eat spring rolls" just as I was thinking "too bad I just had breakfast. Spring rolls would be perfect!"<br /><br />After all was said and done, I behaved very well. Passed up the sweets, bought some peaches, and then found myself looking not for something to eat, but something to photograph.<br />"Thank you kind sir" I said to the elderly gentleman who sold me okra.<br />"How can I not buy that?" I said to the man with the mutant eggplant.<br /><br />So now the only question is....anyone want some okra...?<br /><br />Above, the mutant eggplant. Quack quack.<br /><br />Kissing peaches:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjF3MftHGiFuvzxL4XPmgY7faNrNmw4cliyBKYmGrmJBB8gr00Nm-7saXM-tjlWrs5KN6ME8fX5WwtW4N5v1oz7MpM9qFAbc7BNPWvgzCqtcL6y3gjCDPGMSjMJpx00k854D60U6GqT-s/s1600-h/PeachKiss.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 282px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjF3MftHGiFuvzxL4XPmgY7faNrNmw4cliyBKYmGrmJBB8gr00Nm-7saXM-tjlWrs5KN6ME8fX5WwtW4N5v1oz7MpM9qFAbc7BNPWvgzCqtcL6y3gjCDPGMSjMJpx00k854D60U6GqT-s/s400/PeachKiss.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378035747581313378" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Okra antennae:<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzIO8pH6OYH_NxaYhKs47VofSfpMKfB0KzscnhwpV2fi-t-rvaHxpUMy0x2ynsRriDBjHGUVynaFXM2Tcf1TSyu8JSNYVm1_GLSEwpkaNnRU60SnIXoqwkFnPpKPjUZuUZF6YiSJuvq88/s1600-h/Okra.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 282px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzIO8pH6OYH_NxaYhKs47VofSfpMKfB0KzscnhwpV2fi-t-rvaHxpUMy0x2ynsRriDBjHGUVynaFXM2Tcf1TSyu8JSNYVm1_GLSEwpkaNnRU60SnIXoqwkFnPpKPjUZuUZF6YiSJuvq88/s400/Okra.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378035662202578882" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Okra sundae with cherry (tomato) on top:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_XMPb6m3TeG8S9RwOxGVN7DKF6ACXajHGZw0adVGv1iIvEKfr23c5ax6fn6FpHt1RPohvdOT414O7sQKV3V4NqkDN3GgH-dS96rDU2SZ_6nFKFx8xDZ5W86KoO5n1EFNmQBG5Gh4Nglk/s1600-h/OkraCherry.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 282px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_XMPb6m3TeG8S9RwOxGVN7DKF6ACXajHGZw0adVGv1iIvEKfr23c5ax6fn6FpHt1RPohvdOT414O7sQKV3V4NqkDN3GgH-dS96rDU2SZ_6nFKFx8xDZ5W86KoO5n1EFNmQBG5Gh4Nglk/s400/OkraCherry.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378035809466950290" border="0" /></a>Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-63636786218654762692009-08-28T17:45:00.002-04:002009-08-29T22:16:40.464-04:00Don't Shoot the Mannequins!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY0ZoUty_q4ykNTkMxkgPZt6Hxe5uMQbv2GnK_0y_nXUdvZ5m6TLsZno0z96CxjtaFmSpw_rn-pLd7drclY2mtPlXabbe66EAL6Bx1-ppODvGXeL3EixsH3XSNAeLE9hRs5ABVoMkL9OU/s1600-h/Hands02_5485.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY0ZoUty_q4ykNTkMxkgPZt6Hxe5uMQbv2GnK_0y_nXUdvZ5m6TLsZno0z96CxjtaFmSpw_rn-pLd7drclY2mtPlXabbe66EAL6Bx1-ppODvGXeL3EixsH3XSNAeLE9hRs5ABVoMkL9OU/s400/Hands02_5485.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375570041292601474" border="0" /></a><br /><br />When I first went to photography school back in the days of film, chemicals and light sensitive paper, there were some rules. For instance, in almost any class where we were given a shooting assignment, we were told <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">not</span> to photograph:<br /><br />1. Mannequins<br />2. Barns<br />3. Bicycles<br /><br />It might have been more interesting to be told that if we chose to photograph these ubiquitous subjects, do it<span style="font-style: italic;"> in a way they have never been photographed before.</span> Of course, that's an impossible task. But at least it would have encouraged us to consider more carefully how to approach a subject.<br /><br />In this digital age it's far too easy to see something, think "wow, cool!" and fire off a shot before moving on to the next amazing thing. Snapping a photo can be more of a reflex than an intention. When I'm in that situation, overstimulated perhaps (as in India, almost every moment) it's important to take a breath and remember to be present. This is where my passion for photography intersects with my spirituality.<span style="font-style: italic;"> Present moment, wonderful moment. </span>I'm not always successful.<br /><br />These mannequin's hands were in a window of a shop in the Indian neighborhood on Devon, in Chicago. As I raised my camera I could hear the cautionary voices of my previous teachers.<span style="font-style: italic;"> Don't do it! </span>But I did.Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-24257170530823000252009-08-18T11:48:00.006-04:002009-08-18T12:12:45.626-04:00Making Art from a Mishap<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb6jUErkoBDomjGVYjhzyEUuevdNSM3t9nY1Ej0mdHwGDGhpyytInkhN5NPAvuqcnLcb45m_9yuZY51n99Hxxt7eAmUUr4bcgfc8ZHXBuDjh-QuRLHI-2y3KRxIsNwV_8CGrxzqC3aZN8/s1600-h/StFran01.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb6jUErkoBDomjGVYjhzyEUuevdNSM3t9nY1Ej0mdHwGDGhpyytInkhN5NPAvuqcnLcb45m_9yuZY51n99Hxxt7eAmUUr4bcgfc8ZHXBuDjh-QuRLHI-2y3KRxIsNwV_8CGrxzqC3aZN8/s400/StFran01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371336843565013394" border="0" /></a><br /><br />When a woodchuck beheaded my St. Francis statue, I almost threw out the remains. As I was carrying the body to the trash, my eyes fell upon a newly acquired doll head that was perched on my kitchen shelf.<br /><br />A body without a head, a head without a body...now, there's a match made in heaven.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghZuxVb0JgbM8JJCS_7t94hqkk_t0FzYFLyEATqitwqLZFkrEamV95TW_4hOavPLOID4yjd3r5Mlb5vSWh9qS-qFifKulLv0JPTgYXvkFxzqoFl8NjyQd-XVtE9mBrBwdbBq6pjpwwxFw/s1600-h/StFran02.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghZuxVb0JgbM8JJCS_7t94hqkk_t0FzYFLyEATqitwqLZFkrEamV95TW_4hOavPLOID4yjd3r5Mlb5vSWh9qS-qFifKulLv0JPTgYXvkFxzqoFl8NjyQd-XVtE9mBrBwdbBq6pjpwwxFw/s400/StFran02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371336939345429058" border="0" /></a>Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-24718718628549469912009-08-11T12:13:00.009-04:002009-08-11T15:04:40.004-04:00Two Janes, Two Canons, Millennium Park<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcoNM1_b3Wz1tVwlRbTwarU4_qjBmbE9kU7avqkQdBEqUcxtfmXf7bZfrbU23MDA5b4TCvwoV0GdEb2s7zZTR5l9Yl2dxXP5eHIzDD0-bfhLf_4bSOf4efnUft-rmS5_Y4T80ifNJvCh4/s1600-h/SantaFe01_5151.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcoNM1_b3Wz1tVwlRbTwarU4_qjBmbE9kU7avqkQdBEqUcxtfmXf7bZfrbU23MDA5b4TCvwoV0GdEb2s7zZTR5l9Yl2dxXP5eHIzDD0-bfhLf_4bSOf4efnUft-rmS5_Y4T80ifNJvCh4/s400/SantaFe01_5151.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368753929786841362" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It was so much fun to travel to Chicago by train with my friend Jane a couple weekends ago. Neither of us had much of an agenda; we were just two Janes with our Canons in the Windy City. It's a good thing Chicago is a walkable town, because I needed to pound the pavement after four and a half hours on the train. Just <span style="font-style: italic;">sitting</span> is not my favorite thing to do.<br /><br /><a href="http://search.creativecommons.org/?q=millennium+park+chicago&sourceid=Mozilla-search">Millennium Park</a> is a treasure trove of photographic opportunities: Crown Fountain with it's video images of faces, reflective Cloud Gate which everyone prefers to call "the bean," Pritzker Pavilion, etc. The people who come to play here are as photo-worthy as the sculptures, fountains and architecture.<br /><br />Above is a photo of one of the two fountains, with the Santa Fe Building looking a bit conspicuous (at least to me, no surprise!)<br /><br />Here is part of the Chicago skyline reflected in Cloud Gate:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIwkeBNFk9f0plcm6M_jI-tAEVge8xo-AF-TF8zjOviCEWaa0UbYu_E8e3KKMBgrgSViH9sxNG7OIL8t7xKHNn-EER89pLAOlW0jEF3d0bTeWCFCfhCpcc-_d7lkxo4Cx_TZOYoI-Iisw/s1600-h/Bean.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIwkeBNFk9f0plcm6M_jI-tAEVge8xo-AF-TF8zjOviCEWaa0UbYu_E8e3KKMBgrgSViH9sxNG7OIL8t7xKHNn-EER89pLAOlW0jEF3d0bTeWCFCfhCpcc-_d7lkxo4Cx_TZOYoI-Iisw/s400/Bean.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368754183065507010" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Three girls danced and danced and danced in the shallow pool:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXUXtRUaWqzMJcodmEbsUO1bPOWU3pbaGaLu-UUFEcvIiJOKJElayRYnvot31BfAHi82moGJEyRNzX-neaPijsgBu0FWLEuWfjVtj2hZYBjC-D80W591hKRd2SpxDQbrGqLutybPKbdL4/s1600-h/Girls.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXUXtRUaWqzMJcodmEbsUO1bPOWU3pbaGaLu-UUFEcvIiJOKJElayRYnvot31BfAHi82moGJEyRNzX-neaPijsgBu0FWLEuWfjVtj2hZYBjC-D80W591hKRd2SpxDQbrGqLutybPKbdL4/s400/Girls.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368760341950988866" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />One girl did a flip...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRMR3sHtq39amCNHAeI24e3qyRkBf4_18iVU5ZXSrtSk9AgkjVn0rdjtju1IFqWAOugMSx1e64xApNP58tGg22cMGk3p3050v4aTIyX6cU13_OAK5spkLUHaSnt-xlHs8yUR3ZZjzQ7IA/s1600-h/Dancer02_5266.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRMR3sHtq39amCNHAeI24e3qyRkBf4_18iVU5ZXSrtSk9AgkjVn0rdjtju1IFqWAOugMSx1e64xApNP58tGg22cMGk3p3050v4aTIyX6cU13_OAK5spkLUHaSnt-xlHs8yUR3ZZjzQ7IA/s400/Dancer02_5266.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368760194508860210" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />...and another danced as if no one was watching:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxPXo8PGZfF-pJ5pSw2WXnM2hdvGYF37_c5wqBjTvHyPipUZkZqsOLfn2oZe22RYWRqASd_B7qS5WIuzYdv05ECkT69Cal6PPeXoZxVVIoDUFWjQ1ORLErIYfO9RNOppYVa_OkrIL4Stc/s1600-h/Dancer_5238BW.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxPXo8PGZfF-pJ5pSw2WXnM2hdvGYF37_c5wqBjTvHyPipUZkZqsOLfn2oZe22RYWRqASd_B7qS5WIuzYdv05ECkT69Cal6PPeXoZxVVIoDUFWjQ1ORLErIYfO9RNOppYVa_OkrIL4Stc/s400/Dancer_5238BW.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368759967650115954" border="0" /></a>Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-83043704116796569392009-08-07T11:32:00.006-04:002009-08-07T11:38:11.835-04:00Into White<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ir4VjkW6POGjNg4qSPUcznlMxirSv_GKG95FVBXyIvLGisfx7cbDymBGTIxgrFxHDlIf_cT4twjRMfi0uL6ODeegTY5yyfLIXTMAtUwXhvn9PAfa468pLzIYXfz6yiSW3bN2bzhoPWM/s1600-h/White_5304.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ir4VjkW6POGjNg4qSPUcznlMxirSv_GKG95FVBXyIvLGisfx7cbDymBGTIxgrFxHDlIf_cT4twjRMfi0uL6ODeegTY5yyfLIXTMAtUwXhvn9PAfa468pLzIYXfz6yiSW3bN2bzhoPWM/s400/White_5304.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367245332169869266" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Cat Stevens wrote and sang the gentle<a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UjextdlX0HI"> Into White </a> nearly forty years ago. While listening to it in a darkened room, as I was wont to do with his music doing nothing other than absorbing the sound, I felt as if I were swaddled in a cozy blanket. In 2006, Carly Simon recorded a<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cr6nJzvcuQk">version </a>of the song, rendering it even more soothing. When she dips into the low notes, I'm transported back to that dark room with that comforting blanket, with the addition of being given a piece of dark chocolate dusted with gold.<br /><br />On Chase Promenade South, in Millennium Park in Chicago, there is a curvy white structure. I walked into it and squinted my eyes, trying to see only shades of white rather than this curve, that curve, this side of the structure or the other. I walked into white.<br /><br />Of all the photos I took in Chicago that weekend, these are my favorites.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhApbA2xeyqt57GjMGBuxr0zh7foeIVjMpi_6Uo51cpmPhM_KE-ycrpRumtLVzJntmE27kWha9VlB7zWxOuGd9CZAzVf6M-sqohLbWvdNQtU6-Qv30vBJt0RFP9MyRcE4FoxrxWU12NgOk/s1600-h/White_5305.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhApbA2xeyqt57GjMGBuxr0zh7foeIVjMpi_6Uo51cpmPhM_KE-ycrpRumtLVzJntmE27kWha9VlB7zWxOuGd9CZAzVf6M-sqohLbWvdNQtU6-Qv30vBJt0RFP9MyRcE4FoxrxWU12NgOk/s400/White_5305.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367245430349486546" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizAbSIzdFWGFNPs5Y8xyWx5dc0R2xs28-PDORovV6dkCv1W9oxLo8nByaT1DiU9yXSMxh-91qUx-ps7q-60sUK1Jgz1x3pjqVJibutE8uLmliC92ozTR-csx2r3YXicGQkd0QWIk_1HHU/s1600-h/White_5309.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizAbSIzdFWGFNPs5Y8xyWx5dc0R2xs28-PDORovV6dkCv1W9oxLo8nByaT1DiU9yXSMxh-91qUx-ps7q-60sUK1Jgz1x3pjqVJibutE8uLmliC92ozTR-csx2r3YXicGQkd0QWIk_1HHU/s400/White_5309.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367245532464250706" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOnyNF1K29y0d9gDDK4CXR91cHjxS_MxJ4cRGEf7G-UGBLkWlEX2M_gQbi3ZnIWqkHloxF67fL11BLb_MtKxQuHhpo5gHMm1Yqs0MZsMsD92QzgC7IC0a4LPutS8gbrDoUqfoao5dU42Y/s1600-h/White_5306.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOnyNF1K29y0d9gDDK4CXR91cHjxS_MxJ4cRGEf7G-UGBLkWlEX2M_gQbi3ZnIWqkHloxF67fL11BLb_MtKxQuHhpo5gHMm1Yqs0MZsMsD92QzgC7IC0a4LPutS8gbrDoUqfoao5dU42Y/s400/White_5306.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367245484242784898" border="0" /></a>Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-44412886885454767662009-07-29T10:48:00.005-04:002009-07-29T11:12:11.319-04:00Tree<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMJtlPmOkWARVrWfTvhEABIDqyq-th0kwPQiiasSE-ziS5DrqTnqn-fj2-XvpaCemaAkUR4JpHx6uSBcXotXwX0BTm8vkHElxRskwvxT3Cy4JmMJz9ro-VyFGXD8VX_rHjv50vD_83BJk/s1600-h/TreeSky_1000.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMJtlPmOkWARVrWfTvhEABIDqyq-th0kwPQiiasSE-ziS5DrqTnqn-fj2-XvpaCemaAkUR4JpHx6uSBcXotXwX0BTm8vkHElxRskwvxT3Cy4JmMJz9ro-VyFGXD8VX_rHjv50vD_83BJk/s400/TreeSky_1000.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363897472095712786" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Yesterday while driving to Mason, the quaint little county seat about ten miles south of where I live, I soaked up the agrarian landscape. Vast fields of swaying corn were interrupted by an occasional silo, farmhouse or barn. The sky was moody; the sun would shine brightly for awhile then hide behind clouds that warned of stormy weather.<br /><br />And then I noticed this one, segregated tree. Athough alone, it didn't seem lonely. What an honored position to be in, I thought.<br /><br />Perhaps I'll go back there often, at different times of day, various weather conditions and in each season to document this tree until I leave beautiful Michigan.Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-20765227888931094472009-07-19T13:18:00.012-04:002009-07-20T11:36:45.580-04:00Musical Instruments: An Intimate View<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyTsihpLLG8hzXrHTgwCiiKw3KuAi6PalCJbLY7_lsi-toANCjuddAGqF3fV31ejRDcMjnzE-NDEviHkh9lJG4A_cdYoJphLlS47dhRXKM3LDVySgcCizCl2J-p7Rro4ZQ2xpxqcPCBSw/s1600-h/Instr_Bari_4704.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyTsihpLLG8hzXrHTgwCiiKw3KuAi6PalCJbLY7_lsi-toANCjuddAGqF3fV31ejRDcMjnzE-NDEviHkh9lJG4A_cdYoJphLlS47dhRXKM3LDVySgcCizCl2J-p7Rro4ZQ2xpxqcPCBSw/s400/Instr_Bari_4704.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360223560670317202" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />When I was a little girl, my older brother Joe played jazz recordings for me and taught me how to identify each instrument by sound. Because of these basement lessons I learned how to distinguish an alto sax from a tenor sax, an oboe from a bassoon, brass from reeds, etc. Later, I played tenor saxophone in the Dominican High School (Detroit) band and orchestra. All of the musical instruments were visually intriguing. While we sat listening to our maestro, Larry Egan, talk about how he wanted us to interpret a piece or while he was guiding the mischievous and somewhat inept percussionist, I would look at the instruments around me; the sensual curves of the French horn, the playful slide of a trombone. Music still offers great joy and intrigue for me today not only aesthetically, but intellectually as well. PBS recently aired a compelling exposé entitled<a href="http://www.pbs.org/wnet/musicinstinct/"> The Music Instinct/Science and Song</a> which I highly recommend.<br /><br />Until this year, it never occurred to me to combine my love of music with photography. Since I have a few friends in the instrument repair business, I decided to prevail upon them to loan me some of the junk pieces floating around their studios. Gary K. offered me some trombones, sousaphones and saxophones, and here are a few photos from today's shoot.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEishDBhX8aZdLnXCZq-nvXbGUKpWywM1ot84xBOIg2r7pZ3Y_HYysYVlWtQ1a9_qMnLw1GGqKRNvPLvO5b1qmXRcrGLnp-Y43M7SMIWpuRqxJwk0hkcqV2SQnO9K49UyFUXG-jxMj2WYCE/s1600-h/Instr_Tro_4688.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEishDBhX8aZdLnXCZq-nvXbGUKpWywM1ot84xBOIg2r7pZ3Y_HYysYVlWtQ1a9_qMnLw1GGqKRNvPLvO5b1qmXRcrGLnp-Y43M7SMIWpuRqxJwk0hkcqV2SQnO9K49UyFUXG-jxMj2WYCE/s400/Instr_Tro_4688.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360222872430039570" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3QHefzLVDS18gS6FcI2a9gkWBb0XE85t_Qv6y6Fu9g6K6Q2h1r6PgyjKHazeHF-9Wq6HJKnDEkO-5z1fMXb-KZVntOz2TIcYtd0id84vWxs4pim7JhsiQUgNvss2WPkrYqKpsnZFmbA8/s1600-h/Instr_Tro_4670.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3QHefzLVDS18gS6FcI2a9gkWBb0XE85t_Qv6y6Fu9g6K6Q2h1r6PgyjKHazeHF-9Wq6HJKnDEkO-5z1fMXb-KZVntOz2TIcYtd0id84vWxs4pim7JhsiQUgNvss2WPkrYqKpsnZFmbA8/s400/Instr_Tro_4670.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360222782123419634" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5wcgpHROaCIsNPWiZsHW7C4ArZM51U7ZEZbgUIfvnIS8cFcZUxCVKIFGIhqrmaAlm4DYZHz9UafrdhbhLqMSFkNcYn1WcRQnDjH3TRshJBmo5k9Js4LrHLFfmO0Rivjld0Sq-m_RIqE8/s1600-h/Instr_Tro_4641.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5wcgpHROaCIsNPWiZsHW7C4ArZM51U7ZEZbgUIfvnIS8cFcZUxCVKIFGIhqrmaAlm4DYZHz9UafrdhbhLqMSFkNcYn1WcRQnDjH3TRshJBmo5k9Js4LrHLFfmO0Rivjld0Sq-m_RIqE8/s400/Instr_Tro_4641.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360547195848456930" border="0" /></a>Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-1739957775116893862009-07-16T18:20:00.010-04:002009-07-17T10:02:29.269-04:00Looking for Decay<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYWW00ieVMDM0OooeqtIzRBibSwFqEPFS_yROn61dclFIVQE8GV4Zoo8gldM63cxOXYFqYRI0GaWbfwrxkU-QEeMlb9MYjsG22jzIwdqncN1TV5bf9W7oYg3SlONX08hkAJqWAqf-2xrg/s1600-h/MI_Mui_4429.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYWW00ieVMDM0OooeqtIzRBibSwFqEPFS_yROn61dclFIVQE8GV4Zoo8gldM63cxOXYFqYRI0GaWbfwrxkU-QEeMlb9MYjsG22jzIwdqncN1TV5bf9W7oYg3SlONX08hkAJqWAqf-2xrg/s400/MI_Mui_4429.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359423070216947810" border="0" /></a><br /><br />One year from now we'll be in the throes of moving from Michigan to New Mexico, a process that will take several months. With that in mind I'm treating this as my last "conscious" summer in Michigan. Once we put our Okemos house up for sale, half of my heart will have already left the Great Lakes State.<br /><br />I try to imagine what I'll miss. Friends and family, obviously. But when I'm looking out at the Jemez, Sandia or Sangre de Cristo Mountains or enjoying the flora and fauna of high desert living including road runners and sage brush, what will suddenly come to mind that will put a lump in my throat?<br /><br />When we are familiar with something, we tend to overlook it. This is a time for me not only to pay attention, but to savor deeply. So I've given myself an assignment for the next year, and that is to visit many of the small towns that surround our area and photograph them. I'm not interested in renovated train depots and spiffed up diners, I'm talking about small towns, ghost towns, decay. I want to see peeling walls and abandoned buildings. Rusty bicycles and broken signs. Tidiness is highly overrated.<br /><br />Yesterday Dick accompanied me on my first excursion, to Lyons and Muir, north of Portland.<br /><br />Above: The building that surrounded it is long gone, but at some point this tile flooring was not exposed to the elements.<br /><br />Abandoned church "M. E. Church, 1881":<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyVo1nAfuT1cRUQ498_HMBkPERVum8YvYOeavNVDckMaMQciQNrK1Ugu77J0xZW02i3L2jNZWSslV_uhZ_94PAUP6yxOPHg767pk6ol_AUD6374k4crkG2bc4ZS1eaEqMA1BDRHYvs3_Q/s1600-h/MI_Lyo_4406.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyVo1nAfuT1cRUQ498_HMBkPERVum8YvYOeavNVDckMaMQciQNrK1Ugu77J0xZW02i3L2jNZWSslV_uhZ_94PAUP6yxOPHg767pk6ol_AUD6374k4crkG2bc4ZS1eaEqMA1BDRHYvs3_Q/s400/MI_Lyo_4406.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359423357061296914" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Use Other Door:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhviR5DqqRTenrgp0c1KtZhBgzsWOgWYOPhikz-G-fk8M6ageoY0FLzm48n_R9AJw03GuPb1FCdgpsPJwLsm1RJrArLICrqtpcYprMU_oBorfsdhlAw9WLOXErhTVFAYVNssChQmihHLY/s1600-h/MI_Mui_4424.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhviR5DqqRTenrgp0c1KtZhBgzsWOgWYOPhikz-G-fk8M6ageoY0FLzm48n_R9AJw03GuPb1FCdgpsPJwLsm1RJrArLICrqtpcYprMU_oBorfsdhlAw9WLOXErhTVFAYVNssChQmihHLY/s400/MI_Mui_4424.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359423910788218690" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />The tiny sign at the top right reads "I have found the perfect woman. I could want no more. She's deaf and dumb and oversexed..." I shudder to think of the last line.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkgl66YTEZLB4fW_2keIbbaFzEbgXVue-h9S_1JZRI9WhLhf4tAfZO1PerSHkwvDe362lCYkeob3x9bPd0oQFB5Nng9lqeJwbUw9wm1ZtDZk7MfGUq8ilGr7HAC69HycpHU3mi9OQ4o3M/s1600-h/MI_Lyo_4382a.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkgl66YTEZLB4fW_2keIbbaFzEbgXVue-h9S_1JZRI9WhLhf4tAfZO1PerSHkwvDe362lCYkeob3x9bPd0oQFB5Nng9lqeJwbUw9wm1ZtDZk7MfGUq8ilGr7HAC69HycpHU3mi9OQ4o3M/s400/MI_Lyo_4382a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359424078934704658" border="0" /></a>Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-9017753544418543062009-07-08T15:16:00.007-04:002009-07-10T15:38:26.246-04:00Part Three: Meet BlueberryAt Review Santa Fe, Tony Bannon from the George Eastman House suggested I get "darker" with my doll photos. He thought maybe I should remove the dash of color in their faces. Maybe I should consider inflicting my own dark side by - oh, how shall I say it? -<span style="font-style: italic;"> aggressively modifying</span> their faces.<br /><br />For this experiment I used a doll's head to which I never emotionally connected. It had never been loved. It may have been old but it was pristine, blank; it didn't belong to a body. It didn't have eyes.<br /><br />Poor Blueberry. First, I smashed and burned her. Then I meticulously placed the fruit after which she was named onto strategic parts of her face and let them sit overnight. Finally I applied oil crayons as if I were a five year old trying to negotiate lipstick and eyeliner.<br /><br />This was a fun exercise, but it didn't <span style="font-style: italic;">mean</span> anything to me. Maybe I would do it again, but only if a doll's face strikes me as being more of a palette than a character, as Blueberry's did.<br /><br />For the first photograph shown here I used the same technique as with the <a href="http://janerosemontphoto.com/portfolio.cfm?nK=8554&nS=6&nL=1">Spirits of the Secret Keepers </a>but like many dolls before her, the process doesn't work at all. It is so ineffective, in fact, that I considered not posting it. Howevert, it's nice to illustrate how things work - or not - and to give the whole picture. The second photo is straight color, and the third is black and white.<br /><br />Do you like her?<br />If so, do you like her in color or in black and white?<br />If you don't like her, why not?<br /><br />What should I do with Blueberry now? Maybe I'll prop her up somewhere in my studio to remind me to challenge myself, not just in my art but in every aspect of my life. Thanks, Tony!<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjojnpx81aRjCOM6GoBAz7g6JhveIfjg6VGpzn5GE2Jzffh9IjJ0hOQ_lp0qZvEIdeCVZb_A5h9jMMwKZH6kFcQU-1JzfyrcTT4ieKaIkevaPr4VlZRliJilW8mrq5QyCJZ638zJ5pjZks/s1600-h/Blueberry_fx.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjojnpx81aRjCOM6GoBAz7g6JhveIfjg6VGpzn5GE2Jzffh9IjJ0hOQ_lp0qZvEIdeCVZb_A5h9jMMwKZH6kFcQU-1JzfyrcTT4ieKaIkevaPr4VlZRliJilW8mrq5QyCJZ638zJ5pjZks/s400/Blueberry_fx.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356184802513264850" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEiUSqK_TuHKyudDLgaiQh6s93yzfC-1a5MHKWEpPUkTn656pyEIfCcBfO-KhmnkYryNFYjQLW5uS18aYj5P7k2ZupMotIfPlKRrr_1gdNBMsJI1AlaB4Tn9w8gwMn6XoM-jBjAkIlTOc/s1600-h/Blueberry_4361c.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEiUSqK_TuHKyudDLgaiQh6s93yzfC-1a5MHKWEpPUkTn656pyEIfCcBfO-KhmnkYryNFYjQLW5uS18aYj5P7k2ZupMotIfPlKRrr_1gdNBMsJI1AlaB4Tn9w8gwMn6XoM-jBjAkIlTOc/s400/Blueberry_4361c.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356175942949326018" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZrQOqa7NdSLcqj-gwI-05VCZnGW7JzEVqtY5I-JTX7mx-iBmo9qFjxbTzIOO8FBiIPj27N0k6pThV7o9TrQbOQvnuG3E96jRPlMjvN0FF9-846IchnBLUVnuvMqwRvG2TyLw2dDTlXMA/s1600-h/Blueberry_BW.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZrQOqa7NdSLcqj-gwI-05VCZnGW7JzEVqtY5I-JTX7mx-iBmo9qFjxbTzIOO8FBiIPj27N0k6pThV7o9TrQbOQvnuG3E96jRPlMjvN0FF9-846IchnBLUVnuvMqwRvG2TyLw2dDTlXMA/s400/Blueberry_BW.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356176077202809394" border="0" /></a>Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-3823338619869633692009-07-07T20:50:00.007-04:002009-07-08T11:36:35.645-04:00Bali Workshop - Feb. 26–Mar. 5, 2010<span style="font-weight: bold;">Bali: Beyond the Snapshot</span><br /><br />Are you ready to grab your camera and spend a week on the magical island of Bali? For our photo adventure we will settle in the small village of Amed on the east coast. This is real life in rural Bali, tiny settlements of poor but happy people who live off the land and sea. Every activity that the Balinese people engage in is infused with artistic expression, so inspiration will surround us every moment of the day.<br /><br />As a group we will have the opportunity to see and photograph verdant rice paddies, enchanted temples, bustling markets. There is also plenty to discover just a few steps from our villas. On one of my walks I observed a family going about their chores outside their bamboo hut. The smiling mother welcomed me in, excited to show off her tiny, windowless, dirt-floor kitchen. This kind of experience is our reward for staying off the beaten path.<br /><br />The week is tailored to every level of expertise. We will have discussions on how to take better photos, and demonstrations of how to process the photos in Photoshop. There are group activities and plenty of opportunity to venture out on your own.<br /><br />You'll return home knowing how to elevate your pictures to fine art status. Your portfolios - as well as your mind and your heart - will be filled with colorful impressions of this magnificent place.<br /><br />To whet your appetite, here are a few of the places we'll see:<br /><br />• The market at Amlapura is where the locals go for food and clothing. You can shop for exotic fruit, grains, sarong material, temple decorations, even fish heads. It's an intense experience for sure, and for those who can't stand the heat (literally) there is plenty of action on the street as well.<br /><br />• Lush Tirtaganga Water Palace. Such a treasure trove of photo opportunities here, in addition to simply being a very refreshing place to spend some time. There is a tiny little village nearby also worthy of photographing.<br /><br />• The Temple of A Thousand Steps. Because it is such a strenuous climb, we won't be negotiating the thousand steps, but the temple at it's base is beautiful. On a clear day, you can see across the valley to the commanding volcanoes hovering over the land.<br /><br />• My personal favorite: On one evening, we'll be driven up a hill and then have a leisurely walk down. There are incredible views of rice terraces, more quaint settlements (look closely or you'll miss them!) and lots of curious villagers who are happy to pose.<br /><br /><a href="http://arcangeloproductions.com/">Arcangelo Productions</a> is hosting this workshop, and we will stay at their incomparable Apa Kabar villas. Although this information will not be posted to their website for another few weeks, you can contact them directly to register for the workshop and to take a peek at the villas. The cost of the workshop is $2750 and includes accommodations, food and the workshop fees. It does not cover the cost of your flight to Indonesia.<br /><br />If you have any questions by all means ask me!<br /><br />This was taken on the walk down the hill:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrLFi_UBNccfwH88bEUXeoIkcZJGqTZsTsR6jiiNBn8VImTpoac39SBWUIQRJEqnyM92SCw2VS2KDFMiawDNPdjX_-N6CUA11lyBicG3nvp54m4zcgYUxnmILpFJ53mjc1jvNTW6rIFRU/s1600-h/Hike01IMG_2510a.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrLFi_UBNccfwH88bEUXeoIkcZJGqTZsTsR6jiiNBn8VImTpoac39SBWUIQRJEqnyM92SCw2VS2KDFMiawDNPdjX_-N6CUA11lyBicG3nvp54m4zcgYUxnmILpFJ53mjc1jvNTW6rIFRU/s400/Hike01IMG_2510a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355887404486498738" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Just outside the gates of our villas I saw this fisherboy:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiklUfCPNC894ou49_KNqCPNPXwCu_JdbQbePBerw8I7psEgoF2wVJZO7TVy-FS5Ul17xzrNdDfxsCZFAUzRVKyC4COd2JtqbQ8Ak7HQQQF_pV2Gr0uq40skd-Rx1K4d_ILyc2-TJd9Uj4/s1600-h/Fisherboy.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiklUfCPNC894ou49_KNqCPNPXwCu_JdbQbePBerw8I7psEgoF2wVJZO7TVy-FS5Ul17xzrNdDfxsCZFAUzRVKyC4COd2JtqbQ8Ak7HQQQF_pV2Gr0uq40skd-Rx1K4d_ILyc2-TJd9Uj4/s400/Fisherboy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355887246738586018" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Rice paddies up the hill:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtagdGc2MeA-O6LniKgzBSjj4cNYsE_KUByhZP6wqWvs6c20FeCGykW97LPOc7Lp2LN9OTGIFe0CZQ7_fjZwOY2aRydISPMWBdb06Fyn3NuQL6BRsDKGobkHxLaK17Y5i4R_53yXFNeno/s1600-h/Green.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtagdGc2MeA-O6LniKgzBSjj4cNYsE_KUByhZP6wqWvs6c20FeCGykW97LPOc7Lp2LN9OTGIFe0CZQ7_fjZwOY2aRydISPMWBdb06Fyn3NuQL6BRsDKGobkHxLaK17Y5i4R_53yXFNeno/s400/Green.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355887311455793330" border="0" /></a>Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146326800256940366.post-68926023510599631952009-07-02T14:22:00.005-04:002009-07-02T17:35:22.636-04:00How Did I Get Here? (Part Two: If I Had a Hammer)Tony Bannon of George Eastman House challenged me to dig deeper into my dark side with the Spirits of the Secret Keepers series. He suggested I inflict damage on the dolls, and although that defeats the purpose of the series, or at least how I've thought of the series, I decided to give it a try.<br /><br />The bin of yet-to-be-photographed doll heads is in my studio. They are all looking at me expectantly.<span style="font-style: italic;"> Is it my turn yet? </span>Try as I might, I cannot view them as inanimate objects but rather as personalities with various levels of worthiness. Usually some are more worthy than others of being photographed but now I'm having to decide: who is worthy of being abused? With hammer in hand, here I am choosing whose head to smash and it feels really unnatural.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> Get over it and choose you big wuss! </span><br /><br />Ah, there's a candidate.<br /><br />The head is placed between a folded towel on the coffee table in my living room. This is a safer way to hammer, right? Don't want any pieces of her skull flying around the room and putting someone's eye out. (Plus, I won't be able to see her face as I strike.) I'm wanting to feel angry about something but can't conjure anything. I turn on the television thinking that some Law & Order or Cops episode will put me in the mood and Farrah's Story is about to start. As a cancer survivor, perhaps I can get pissed off that I got cancer and had to endure chemotherapy. But I was never pissed off in the first place, just frightened. Besides, that was nineteen years ago and I'm a survivor, how angry can I be? Still, watching the needle go into her arm reminds me of how sick I felt whenever the chemo drugs flowed into my veins and I use this as an excuse to smash the doll.<br /><br />Boy, what a wimp. I'm hitting her but she's not breaking. Peeking into the towel I see her cheerful little smile and the glint in her eyes. It takes several times, but the only thing that breaks is the back of her head, and her eyes fall out. That's it. I'm done. If I were living a Twilight Zone episode her smile would have turned into a frown and she would have been whimpering "Mama, mamaaaaaaaaa."<br /><br />A couple of days later I catch a glimpse of a recent Ebay purchase. What was I thinking? It's one of those porcelain bisque doll heads that looks fresh out of the factory. She never had a body, if indeed it's even a she, and was surely never loved. I hate it.<br /><br />A towel isn't necessary here, I just smash her head for instant success. Big pieces of her skull break off and I get slightly giddy. The flicker of a candle catches my eye so I hold her face down over the flame. A steel brush, some blueberries thawing in a bowl, a red crayon...time to get painterly! (Still undecided how I feel about that word.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnQIYxOQtQlfCFq6DA1vre1WRguJnG81JBj-r605vZZN1clop2e43CXNoHLHGfNqcKTZ69achKN-COcHPVHcFFg9zgGD41j6oJ8tePJH2oHDAu8n55IF-Ncg0XV4gzfiA9Xxu-FcFb3-0/s1600-h/Blueberry.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnQIYxOQtQlfCFq6DA1vre1WRguJnG81JBj-r605vZZN1clop2e43CXNoHLHGfNqcKTZ69achKN-COcHPVHcFFg9zgGD41j6oJ8tePJH2oHDAu8n55IF-Ncg0XV4gzfiA9Xxu-FcFb3-0/s400/Blueberry.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353966083005505186" border="0" /></a><br /><br />My fascination with the dolls I choose to photograph has as much to do with the mystery behind them as the way they look. Momentary giddiness aside, nothing felt particularly satisfying about altering them for photographic purposes. There are no kept secrets here; I know a blueberry stain when I see one. That being said, I love <a href="http://www.michaeldemeng.blogspot.com/">Michael DeMeng's</a> approach to altering dolls for assemblages, and I do have some dolls set aside for that purpose. What's the difference? Still pondering that question.<br /><br />Blueberry (this is what I've nicknamed the porcelain doll) is still "cooking." When she's done I'll photograph her as I've done the others, turning her head this way and that, chin up, chin down, from above and from below, and see if she holds a candle to my other pieces, if you catch my drift.Jane Rosemonthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02328379714769369656noreply@blogger.com1