PhotoBLOGraphy

Seeing Red on a Gray Day

2010-03-14T13:16:00.009-04:00

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.

Above is a lotus in the Portland Japanese Garden.

Graffiti in Oaxaca, Mexico:

This makes me salivate:

"You can trust your car to the man who wears the star..." Target practice on a Texaco sign:

Autumn in my neighborhood in Michigan:

Waiting for water to spout out of the mouth at Millennium Park, Chicago:

Who is this cranky girl?

2010-03-11T12:11:00.006-05:00

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.

In the meantime, I'm so grateful that my parents kept their legacy in this way.

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.

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 eighty five years later and pose so many unanswerable questions?

Of course she didn't. Maybe she was just having a bad hair day.

Seeing Red

2010-03-06T08:55:00.013-05:00

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..."

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.

With red in mind, I found some favorite red-themed photographs to share.

Above is "The Man with the Red Turban" taken in Rajasthan, India.

"The Red Polka-Dotted Skirt" was taken at Millennium Park, in Chicago:

This house, in Okemos, has been for sale for a very, very, very long time:

Recognize the logo on the left? This was taken outside of Acapulco, Mexico:

This little girl adores her abuela who happens to be artist Josefina Aguilar. This was taken at their home in Octolan, Mexico outside of Oaxaca:

This young monk, in Luang Prabang, Laos, was curious about my red hair:

JoJo, one of my less scary doll photos:

Stigmata, on a statue in Cortona, Italy:

Getting close, really close

2010-03-03T18:23:00.005-05:00

Many 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?

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.

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.

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.

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...)

What's black and white and square all over?

2010-03-01T18:04:00.005-05:00

This past week I've been assembling a body of work for a gallery in Santa Fe called Artistas de Santa Fe. 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.

As I did with images for the No Passport Required exhibit at the Michigan Women's Historical Center, 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...

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.

The Ice Queen

2010-03-01T07:14:00.005-05:00

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 "Making Art from a Mishap" - Tuesday, August 18, 2009). For the past few weeks she has been encased in ice, and as it slowly thaws she reveals her features once again.

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 so love to anticipate!

Let It Snow in Okemos

2010-02-24T11:54:00.006-05:00

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 these winters, from this house, with these views.

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.

Above is a photo of our side yard.
Below are two photos from our neighbors' backyard. A sleeping vegetable garden and an abandoned seating area.

Vote for Three

2010-02-20T16:13:00.021-05:00

Some of the Secret Keepers 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.

I would love your help, and ask that you choose three 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.

Beginning April 1, some of these images will be exhibited at the gallery Artistas de Santa Fe. Who will make the cut?

Thank you so much in advance, and now allow me to introduce you to the contenders...

Stella:

Tammy:

Sherry:

Priscilla:

Mohawk:

Mary:

FiFi:

Curly:

Chantelle:

Lily:

No Passport Required

2010-02-19T14:23:00.007-05:00

On 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!

No Passport Required 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.

Watching the sun set in Pushkar, India:

The old priest crosses the piazza in Cortona, Italy:

Smoking villager on the Irrawaddy River in Myanmar (Burma):

Playing chess in Singapore:

Being resourceful

2010-02-18T10:39:00.005-05:00

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!

It's admirable to be resourceful, but can it go too far?

How my cat helped me return to my blog

2010-02-16T20:07:00.004-05:00

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.
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.

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.

A Treasure from 1947

2009-10-01T14:29:00.005-04:00

This fragile diary from 1947 was buried in my memorabilia box.

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 in the convent. 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:

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.

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.

In 2004, at the age of 70, she died of pancreatic cancer.

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.

Jo Ann in 8th grade:

Green

2009-09-11T21:59:00.007-04:00

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:

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?

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.

When summer dissolves into autumn, I often witness a display of falling carroty leaves taking serendipitous turns before gingerly settling onto the ground.

And winter, my favorite season of all, turns the scene into white upon white upon white.

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.

Hello, yellow!

2009-09-08T13:40:00.013-04:00

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.

And honestly, it's just a whole lotta fun. Here are some ideas:

• Shoot one color or one shape
• Reflections
• Shadows
• Texture
• Grab three disparate things (piece of fruit, your toothbrush, a rusty nail?) and do a still life
• 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.
• Find one object and photograph it in a dozen different ways
• 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.

Here are some images from my "yellow" collection. Above, a scene in Acapulco.

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:

Ubiquitous laundry, in Venice, Italy:

A little daisy pail in Madrid, New Mexico:

Rainbow near my house in Santa Fe:

Number 3, number 3, number 3...

Again I've broken the "don't shoot the mannequin" rule:

Escalator at Marshall Fields, Chicago (I refuse to call it Macy's):

Buddha statue in Myanmar:

Fireworks, Detroit:

Playing with Food

2009-09-05T13:07:00.008-04:00

Saturday morning, and what better thing to do than visit the Farmer's Market?

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!"

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.
"Thank you kind sir" I said to the elderly gentleman who sold me okra.
"How can I not buy that?" I said to the man with the mutant eggplant.

So now the only question is....anyone want some okra...?

Above, the mutant eggplant. Quack quack.

Kissing peaches:

Okra antennae:

Okra sundae with cherry (tomato) on top:

Don't Shoot the Mannequins!

2009-08-28T17:45:00.002-04:00

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 not to photograph:

1. Mannequins
2. Barns
3. Bicycles

It might have been more interesting to be told that if we chose to photograph these ubiquitous subjects, do it in a way they have never been photographed before. Of course, that's an impossible task. But at least it would have encouraged us to consider more carefully how to approach a subject.

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. Present moment, wonderful moment. I'm not always successful.

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. Don't do it! But I did.

Making Art from a Mishap

2009-08-18T11:48:00.006-04:00

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.

A body without a head, a head without a body...now, there's a match made in heaven.

Two Janes, Two Canons, Millennium Park

2009-08-11T12:13:00.009-04:00

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 sitting is not my favorite thing to do.

Millennium Park 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.

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!)

Here is part of the Chicago skyline reflected in Cloud Gate:

Three girls danced and danced and danced in the shallow pool:

One girl did a flip...

...and another danced as if no one was watching:

Into White

2009-08-07T11:32:00.006-04:00

Cat Stevens wrote and sang the gentle Into White 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 version 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.

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.

Of all the photos I took in Chicago that weekend, these are my favorites.

Tree

2009-07-29T10:48:00.005-04:00

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.

And then I noticed this one, segregated tree. Athough alone, it didn't seem lonely. What an honored position to be in, I thought.

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.

Musical Instruments: An Intimate View

2009-07-19T13:18:00.012-04:00

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 The Music Instinct/Science and Song which I highly recommend.

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.

Looking for Decay

2009-07-16T18:20:00.010-04:00

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.

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?

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.

Yesterday Dick accompanied me on my first excursion, to Lyons and Muir, north of Portland.

Above: The building that surrounded it is long gone, but at some point this tile flooring was not exposed to the elements.

Abandoned church "M. E. Church, 1881":

Use Other Door:

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.

Part Three: Meet Blueberry

2009-07-08T15:16:00.007-04:00

At 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? - aggressively modifying their faces.

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.

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.

This was a fun exercise, but it didn't mean 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.

For the first photograph shown here I used the same technique as with the Spirits of the Secret Keepers 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.

Do you like her?
If so, do you like her in color or in black and white?
If you don't like her, why not?

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!

Bali Workshop - Feb. 26–Mar. 5, 2010

2009-07-07T20:50:00.007-04:00

Bali: Beyond the Snapshot

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.

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.

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.

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.

To whet your appetite, here are a few of the places we'll see:

• 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.

• 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.

• 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.

• 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.

Arcangelo Productions 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.

If you have any questions by all means ask me!

This was taken on the walk down the hill:

Just outside the gates of our villas I saw this fisherboy:

Rice paddies up the hill:

How Did I Get Here? (Part Two: If I Had a Hammer)

2009-07-02T14:22:00.005-04:00

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.

The bin of yet-to-be-photographed doll heads is in my studio. They are all looking at me expectantly. Is it my turn yet? 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.

Get over it and choose you big wuss!

Ah, there's a candidate.

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.

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."

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.

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.)

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 Michael DeMeng's 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.

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.

How Did I Get Here? (Part One, Let's Get Dark)

2009-06-30T10:43:00.005-04:00

The Secret Keepers series of old, decaying dolls comes in a couple of different flavors. The first is the color series; what you see is what you get.

The second is entitled Spirits of the Secret Keepers because they are more haunting in black and white and with a solarization effect. (I've removed the color version from my website, at least for awhile.)

When the Spirits portfolio was reviewed by Tony Brannon of George Eastman House (the world's preeminent museum of photography) at the Review Santa Fe event, he didn't think they were dark enough. He wasn't referring to how they are printed, he meant I didn't dig deep enough to the dark side. That surprised me. Considering how many people can't even bear to look at them, how much darker can they be?

A lot darker, apparently, according to Tony who was obviously projecting his own shadows. "Of course, then...." He flipped over the image of Miguel, one of the scariest of the bunch to reveal the next print, Jacob, who is even scarier. "...then...they wouldn't be very sellable." Believe me, they're not moving like hotcakes as it is.

"Do you do this to them?" he asked, wondering if I am responsible for the cracks and splits, stains, etc. on the dolls. "No" I said, and explained that the point of the series is to find those that have aged naturally, or damaged by the previous owner from too much loving and handling or from lack of love, even abuse. Hence the name. They keep secrets (how did they come to look like this?) and I think they are provocative.

But Tony thought I should damage them, break them, smash them, inflict my own dark side onto these little non-humans. "I don't think I'm angry enough" I mumbled but realized that I should consider doing what he said.

As with all of the suggestions I received from reviewers at RSF, I thought it through and in this case decided to give it a try. Off I went to find a doll not yet photographed. Am I to smash her face? Burn it? Stain it or...?

Part two of this entry, detailing the results of my experiment, will appear in a few days. In the meantime, here is the newest "Spirit" photograph. Her name is Lakshmi, found in the dirt in Pushkar, India.

Finding Inspiration in the "Mundane"

2009-06-27T11:23:00.007-04:00

Self Portrait with Teapot

There is never "nothing to shoot." Even when we are in our most familiar surroundings, it is possible to see with a fresh eye. This is particularly difficult for me. I'm just not inspired to shoot around the house or yard or even the town where I live and that's a shame. It's only mundane because I make it so. It's up to each of us to recognize the extraordinary in what is familiar. If we don't see it, we're not trying hard enough.

Scott Kelby has put a spark in my butt by instituting The Second Annual Worldwide Photo Walk which will occur on Saturday, July 18.

Kelby, who has authored many books about Photoshop, Lightroom and digital photography in general, invites people all over the world to go out and shoot in their hometown. Each city has a leader who designates an area to shoot and the two hour time slot. Since I participated in the Lansing shoot last year, I am opting for East Lansing and am looking forward to walking around a familiar neighborhood from 5pm-7pm with the sole purpose of exercising my imagination. Afterward, participants will gather at a local watering hole and look at the results. After we upload selected images to a website, the leader chooses what he or she deems to be the best shot and sends it to Scott who, in turn, chooses the best of the bunch. Prizes are involved, but mostly it's a way for photographers in any given area to get together, shoot and socialize.

You certainly don't need to be a great photographer to do this. If you're intrigued by the idea then by all means, do it! At the very least it's a fun and productive way to spend a couple of hours.

These two images are from last year's Photo Walk. Both are taken looking into a shop window in Old Town, a burgeoning neighborhood in Lansing, Michigan.

Plant in the Window

Barf Bag Story

2009-06-22T12:30:00.008-04:00

"Everything is amazing right now and nobody's happy."

Louis CK made this statement on the Conan O'Brien show in an insightful monologue about what a bunch of whiners we have become as technology makes everything too easy. We want what we want when we want it - usually instantly. He uses air travel as an analogy for how freakishly amazing life is and yet we still complain. Well worth watching the clip.

I love to fly. It is still amazing to me what we can do while we're several miles above the planet earth. We can eat a meal, go to the bathroom, write a short story, catalog shop, sleep or even make a friend.

Still, there are some preparations I must make to ensure that all goes well.

After experiencing severe vertigo a few times, I make it a point to take Antivert and ginger. And even though I've never actually thrown up on a plane, it is imperative to have an "air sickness bag" handy. As soon as I stash my overloaded knapsack under the seat, I check to see if the bag is there, tucked neatly in between the instructions on what to do in case of a water landing and the magazine that tells me where to shop and eat if I only have three days in Kuala Lumpur.

On my way from Alburquerque to Minneapolis on Saturday, I was fortunate to be upgraded to first class. The knapsack wasn't such a squeeze, I had a blanket and a pillow, lots of room to slump and....wait, what's this?....no "air sickness bag"?!?!? Does this mean....uh-oh...I look around my ample seat for unsightly stains and sniff the air for any hint of what the previous occupant of 3A might have done. But it's clean.

OK, now I panic. I don't want to call attention to myself, so I wait until most of the passengers have boarded then casually stroll to the front and whisper "Hello, I'm in 3A. I don't have an 'air sickness bag' and although I feel fine, I would just really like it if there were one handy."
The airline attendant looks concerned. "Every seat needs an 'air sickness bag.' I will be sure to find you one."

I return to my seat and watch as she looks through all the tiny little cupboards, making sure each one is slammed shut. A few more people were boarding and she walked among them, her hands down by her side because, I was sure of it, she was trying to be discreet about my request. She came closer and I could see that her hands were empty. As she reached my seat she said very loudly "I don't have any air sickness bags in the front so I'll go get one from an unoccupied seat."

3 B and C look over at me and lo and behold I recognize them from Lansing! The people in front of her look at me and nod sympathetically because they think I'm feeling queasy. For some reason all of this matters very much to me and I reply "I'm fine, really, I'm fine" but then make the "shhhhh" gesture to indicate I'd really like it if she didn't make a big deal out of this. Which is interesting considering who is making a big deal out of this.

When the attendant returned a few moments later, she held out the "air sickness bag" like a prize then ceremoniously placed it in my seat pocket. My acquaintances across the aisle looked at me and ask if I'm really OK.

YES, I'M FINE, I'm just being FINICKY about wanting a FRIGGING BARF BAG.

The flight was smooth and uneventful other than I was served a delicious (really!) Greek pasta salad, bread sticks and a chocolate cookie. Six miles above the planet earth.

If the next passenger sits there, he or she will check the pocket and find that, alas, there is no "air sickness bag." Why? Because I purloined it. And here is a photograph of said pilfered item. I just can't help myself.

This begs the question, what happened to the one that wasn't there?

Memories of My Dad, Victor Fabian

2009-06-19T21:42:00.008-04:00

In early February, 1999, my dad was dying. We didn't know if he would die sooner or later and I asked him if he thought he'd live to see the year 2000. "I don't know" he said, and his eyes looked off into the future for a moment before adding "That would really be something, wouldn't it?" He died two weeks later on February 15.

Victor Fabian was born in 1909 in the coal mining town of Barnesboro, Pennsylvania. His father, Matthew, was a coal miner who died in the mines when Victor was a young teenager. He quit school to help support his struggling family. Eventually he got his high school diploma but college was not in his future. He met a nurse who stole his heart - my mother, Grace - from the nearby town of Carrolltown and they were married in 1930.

Dad had always worked hard and wasn't afraid of a challenge. He moved his young family from Pennsylvania to Detroit, Michigan where there was promise of jobs in the auto industry. While working he studied a new technology, air conditioning, and eventually started his own business called Square Deal Heating and Cooling ("Let us control your temper - ature."). For many years he was a successful business man and was able to retire comfortably. Good thing, because he and Grace needed to support their eight children!

What I remember most about my dad is that he balanced his love of and commitment to his company with his undying love and dedication to his family. In the evenings I would help him with his work by sharpening pencils. After his golf game on Sunday, he would take me to the playground, the one with the "wiggly waggly sliding board." I remember him planting flowers in our yard in the spring, and shoveling snow in the winter. He was hard-working and a tad strict, but he often had a sparkle in his eyes, a song in his throat and an occasional dance in his feet.

There are so many precious memories of my dad. As I write this, though, one in particular comes to mind. When I was very young, I'd cuddle in his lap before going to bed and pretend to fall asleep so that he'd have to carry me upstairs to bed. And he did just that, while softly singing lullabies to me. He later told me that he knew I was pretending but was happy to play along.

Even after all these years, my eyes fill up when I think of how tender he was, how passionate he was in all aspects of his life and how absolutely devoted he was to our family.

He was never too self conscious of his aging process to discourage me from taking photos of him. Posing for me was such a great gift. I'm so proud to call this man my daddy; my heart is bursting.

Happy Father's Day!

Calm After the Storm

2009-06-15T00:01:00.003-04:00

A gallery opening is in some ways like a wedding. There are a lot of people, you don't remember who you spoke to and later, all of it is a blur.

Most who came to the opening knew what to expect from the exhibit and wanted to see it. But for many who have subsequently wandered in from the street, the pieces are disconcerting. No big surprise, many people simply aren't interested in seeing the Secret Keepers series otherwise known as "creepy dolls." This is not news to me. These are larger-than-life images of faces almost-but-not-quite real. They show damage, wear and perhaps abuse. They remind us of the aging process and maybe even death. Or they can remind us of lost innocence. I actually enjoy observing people quickly turn their heads away from those pieces as much as I enjoy watching those who scrutinize them. OK, so the former doesn't ensure a sale, but it indicates something more important - an emotional reaction to the work.

The Plastic Relatives are much more playful, less threatening. With a 4" x 6" image area, they're easier to dismiss as caricature.

Today was a quiet day at the gallery as Jennie had predicted. The weather was moody, supplying few moments of sunshine, some strong gusts of wind but mostly rain and scattered storms. The long periods of rolling thunder made me giddy. When I got home, this was the view of The Cross of the Martyrs from my back deck.

The Night Before

2009-06-11T19:05:00.006-04:00

Tomorrow night is the artist reception for my five day exhibit at the Jennie Cooley Gallery. My friend Kris, visiting from Michigan, helped me hang the pieces this afternoon. The one thing I really don't like about the process of being a photographer/artist is hanging a show. Kris made it go quickly with her critical eye and sense of balance. It was much less painful than past shows. It didn't hurt, either, that the nails went into the walls like butter. Thank you, Kris!

She snapped these photos for me. Here I am with Jennie Cooley, printmaker extraordinaire.

These are the "Plastic Relatives"

And these are the "Secret Keepers"

Madrid, pronounced MADrid

2009-06-09T22:51:00.013-04:00

About fifteen miles south of Santa Fe on Highway 14 is the small artful town of Madrid, pronounced MADrid. It was a mining town for the first half of the twentieth century until 1954 when the mines closed. It was a ghost town for about twenty years, then resurrected as an art community. It's quite the tourist destination now, but few venture beyond the shops and galleries on the main street.

My friend Kris and I drove there today and stopped by a gallery to see a friend. I remembered that he had directed me to the cemetery on the mesa last year but it was scorching hot that day and at high noon the heat and shadows rendered it impossible to shoot. Today was overcast and pleasant so he drew a map and off we went. It's not easy to find.

Part of the cemetery consists of individualized monuments of scrap metal, furniture and personal effects. Apparently the characters in Madrid retain their character even in death.

It wasn't clear which magazines were on "Little Mike's" grave near his shoes. They had been rained on and were faded from the sun. I loved that two pages were flapping in the wind.
The following close-up reminds me of an abstract painting.

Burst of Energy

2009-06-08T13:51:00.005-04:00

As you well know, this past weekend was taxing. So on Sunday, after attending an insightful lecture at the New Mexico Museum of Fine Art, I did little else but run errands and do chores. Every time my thoughts turned to analysis I banished them and returned to more banal concerns.

Today I awoke feeling the passion for photography that makes me pretty much all that I have become. While making the bed in the guest room (for my friend Kris who is visiting from Michigan for a few days) I felt I must take at least one photograph or I would burst.

Here it is, an abstract from the antique birthing chair I have in our dining room. I had a little fun with it. A little fun seemed appropriate since it's too early to have a margarita.

Last Day of Review Santa Fe

2009-06-06T20:21:00.007-04:00

Last night, the Center for Contemporary Arts hosted the public viewing of our portfolios. Above is a snapshot of my table when we were setting up. The photographs hanging on boards were part of yet another event, the 8th CCA Annual Photography Auction which took place this evening.

Today was a long day. My schedule included eight reviews. The reviewers were an interesting array of characters. There was the woman who reached out to hold my hands and told me, in a soft and loving tone, not to be so nervous. There was the man who wouldn't look me in the eyes and fidgeted for twenty minutes. One woman felt like a long time girlfriend, another was an ice princess. Someone criticized A, B and C in my portfolio and someone else thought A, B and C made my work strong. This day was a roller coaster ride of emotions.

The best advice we were given at the onset of this event was that immediately after our last consultation we should forget about everything for a few days. Then, revisit the experience and weigh all the things that were said. Most of us want to hear constructive criticism. How else can we grow as artists? But art is subjective, so we need to decide what advice to heed and when to stay true to our vision.

It is imperative to follow up with our reviewers via email in a week or two. We thank them and send them information they have asked for. We read through the list of reviewers and put together packets of promo materials for those we didn't have a chance to meet. The hard work continues.

Has it been worth it? Absolutely!

This evening, after spending an hour at the Photo Auction, I went to a neighbor's house for dinner. A delicious meal, equally delicious conversation and, I know this sounds hokey but...I just felt loved. Boy did I need that.

Review Santa Fe, Session One

2009-06-05T13:56:00.007-04:00

It's exhilarating to be around so many exceptional photographers. Except for the one or two individuals who deem themselves better than the rest of us (letting us know with snide remarks and noses to the ceiling) we are not feeling so competitive but rather like we are commiserating with each other. Lovely people, many who I'd love to talk with for more than three minutes before we are swept away to a consultation.

I had two consults this morning, both filled with helpful advice and exciting, promising leads. Although I was accepted on the basis of the Timeless India portfolio, I brought the very different Spirits of the Secret Keepers portfolio as well. It is of course a pleasure to have someone gush over the work, but in this forum it's even better to hear an honest critique. Fortunately the advice has not been to stop taking photographs.

We have twenty minutes with each individual and it sure felt like five. Is this like speed dating? Where was the candle? And the rose? And chocolate? I want chocolate!

This afternoon I have one meeting, and then later on there is a public viewing of portfolios at the Center for Contemporary Art from 5pm – 8pm. If the public event is anything like last years, which I attended as an observer, it will be crazy wonderful.

Tomorrow will be grueling, with seven or eight meetings during the day and then the Eighth CCA Annual Photography Auction from 6:30pm – 9:30pm.

Photograph: "Katie John" from Spirits of the Secret Keepers series.

Review Santa Fe

2009-06-04T10:26:00.013-04:00

Review Santa Fe is a portfolio review event for photographers. It is a gathering of gallery owners, museum curators, publishers, consultants, etc. who are selected for their experience, involvement and commitment to advancing the work of emerging and mid-career artists. There are a couple dozen portfolio review events around the world including Photolucida in Portland, Oregon, Encuentros Abiertos in Buenos Aires and Mois de la Photo in Paris. Review Santa Fe is unique in that it is the only juried event. I understand there were about 600 applicants and 100 were chosen. Knowing the caliber of work that was sent in, I feel honored to be included.

Since being notified a couple of months ago of acceptance based on the Timeless India portfolio, I've spent my time in preparation researching the 42 reviewers, re-printing my portfolio to the standards expected, developing and creating various promotional materials (for my website, blog, the workshops I'll be teaching, and for specific portfolios) and considering how to articulate my own creative process.

This afternoon the participants will gather at The Lodge in Santa Fe to register and have orientation about how the event will unfold in the next three very intense days. I have so many questions! For instance, we have each been assigned 9 reviewers. Can we try to sneak in a meeting with another two or three we'd like to see? Is there any food to be had in this place? I'm already a bit nervous, don't want to pass out from overstimulation and hunger!

I've considered all the angles to this weekend including getting a manicure. Since I'll be flipping through photographs for three days, I don't want my ripped up cuticles to distract from the art. And in these dry desert conditions, they really are ripped to shreds.

Stay tuned for daily reports.

Photograph: Curious Family in Jodhpur, India

Rust in Peace, Tiny Town! (Part Two)

2009-05-31T10:19:00.011-04:00

Here are more photos from the now defunct roadside attraction near Santa Fe called Tiny Town featuring "the art that dies to live."

Remembering how shy I was about putting myself deep into the experience of shooting there, I am reminded of an important lesson. When it comes to getting the right shot, being shy is counterproductive. So what if you have to lay on the ground, stand on a rock, walk through junk/mosquitoes/a crowd/whatever it is that might make you hesitant? Do it anyway because, like what happened with Tiny Town, the opportunity may never come again.

Rust in Peace, Tiny Town!

2009-05-29T11:19:00.015-04:00

It was over a decade ago that artist Tammy Lange (AKA Tatt2 Tammy) began building her fantasy village south of Santa Fe near the funky art town of Madrid. Tammy collected bones, rusted objects, broken anything and pulled it all together to create an obscure tourist's delight and a photographer's paradise. This roadside attraction was called Tiny Town. Tammy's motto was "If it isn't dead, broken or rusted I just can't use it." There were the remains of roadkill, of dolls, of religious artifacts, furniture, cigarette machines, musical instruments...

I am sorry to say that a few months ago the land was cleared. Apparently the landlord and neighbors thought it had become more of a dump than a piece of art. The more of a dump it became, the more enticing it was to me!

Too bad I discovered Tiny Town in time to photograph it but too late to do it justice. Because the desert sun creates such harsh shadows, I wished for cloudy days so photographing it would be less of a challenge.

Here are but a few images from Tiny Town, the place that is not only abandoned, but non-existent.

Let this last photo remind you about what happens when you don't wear sunscreen:

7am - Not Early Enough in Santa Fe

2009-05-23T11:31:00.015-04:00

It's easier for me to fly half way across the globe to shoot than to walk around my own neighborhood, and that sad fact has got to stop. Photography great Jay Maisel, among others (including Paris Parfait), is an inspiration in that regard. The trick of course is to be able to practice my art without having the camera in front of my eyes so often that I don't actually see anything. If my excuse is that I don't want to lug my Canon 5D around, there is always the Canon PowerShot. There are no real excuses!

This morning I set out to the Plaza at 7am. Next time, I'd like to start an hour earlier.

The Palace of the Governors is the oldest continuously occupied public building in the U.S. It is beneath the portal here that Indians (and yes, "Indians" is an acceptable term here) have been selling their wares since 1909. In 1957, at age 3, I was here with my family. I remember being enamored with their dress; at that time, they wore more traditional Indian garb.
This morning, before the Indians sat at their assigned spots, they threw their blankets down and went out for breakfast:

Up the street one block is another portal with lots of fun shops and restaurants:

At this store, you can buy anything typical of the area - ristras (chile peppers strung together), ladders, skulls, coyboy hats, broom skirts, etc:

Sure, there are touristy shops in and around the Plaza. But there are plenty of interesting, unique places as well. Shop with confidence indeed...shop with confidence that you'll spend way too much money:

You can find some nice cowboy boots:

You'll need a hat to go with those:

And who doesn't need some tricked-out Pez dispensers?

"Our Lady of Guadalupe" is everywhere. Whether it's devotional or campy, there is something for everyone as far as she is concerned. The motto here is "In Guad We Trust."

Day One in Santa Fe

2009-05-22T10:53:00.013-04:00

For the next four or five weeks, I'll be immersed in various artistic endeavors in Santa Fe, sometimes nicknamed "The City Different." I hate that moniker, so I'll just call it....Santa Fe. The state of New Mexico, on the other hand, is often referred to as "The Land of Enchantment" and boy is it ever!

Funny that in Michigan right now it is hot and sunny, the weather most people think Santa Fe experiences all year 'round. They don't realize that at 7,000 feet, Santa Fe has four distinct seasons including cold winters, often in the teens at night. But it is overcast and nippy this May morning, with an occasional drizzle.

Arriving at our home yesterday made me giddy. Pinch me! The house is actually an old adobe home that was refurbished a few decades ago. It's part of a small compound of 6 houses now. When we aren't here, we do short term rentals and for that purpose our home is called Casa Rosemont. However, nothing about it feels like a rental. When you walk in, you are entering a cozy, arty, well-stocked home (thanks to Dick, tons of CDs and videos.) You can tell this isn't Grandma's house. And to think I toned it down a little so as not to frighten potential renters!

Here are a couple of photos for today. As I venture out I'll make sure I take my camera with me, even if it's my little Canon PowerShot.

Exposed adobe, just above the dining room cupboard:

This is where I hang my hat, with Georgia O'Keeffe smiling above (and hiding the circuit breaker box.)

A few years ago I found this antique stool...someone thought it was a birthing chair!?!

Even the bathroom is fun:

On My Way to Santa Fe

2009-05-19T07:34:00.012-04:00

On Thursday, I leave for New Mexico for one month.

In 2002, thanks to the generosity of Dick's mom, we bought a second home in Santa Fe. We plan to relocate there permanently next year. Our house is a five minute walk to the Plaza, a little longer to gallery-rich Canyon Road. When I'm doing dishes and look out over the city, while the setting sun tosses brilliant colors into the sky, I have to pinch myself. I am deeply grateful to Toddie Rosemont for helping us buy the home, thus putting me on a professional and creative course that I would never have imagined for my life.

The first and second weekends in June, I'll be involved in some exhibits and a portfolio event. I'll also be entertaining two different guests during that time. I love having guests because it forces me to go out and enjoy the rich New Mexico landscape. My promise to myself is to shoot more of New Mexico during this trip. One idea is to get up before dawn and drive to Plaza Blanca, The White Place, and photograph these magnificence geological formations as dawn breaks.

Assignment: Shoot something everyday, no matter how seemingly insignificant. Plan at least a couple of major photo excursions. Post the results on PhotoBLOGraphy.

Here are a few images from New Mexico, taken at various times throughout the past few years.

But first let me share a photograph of Toddie Rosemont. Not sure how old she is here, perhaps around 20, and it may have been when she went to Texas to recuperate from tuberculosis. This is the woman pretty much responsible for transforming my artistic life. It gave her so much pleasure to help us get our Santa Fe house, and we bought her a ticket to come see it in late 2003. She never made it. Just after Christmas, she died from the flu.

On the road from Galisteo:

I'm such a sucker for anything that is decaying, peeling, etc.

Taken in Cerrillos. Remember these brands? Viceroy...Tareyton...

This was in "Tiny Town" just outside Madrid which, sadly, no longer exists:

This doesn't exist anymore either! "Fridgehenge" duplicated Stonehenge. With no ancient bluestones in sight, artist Adam Jonas Horowitz used refrigerators instead. Of course!

Shooting, not shopping

2009-05-14T07:25:00.011-04:00

While traveling in other countries it's the people, the culture and the landscape that capture my attention. It's more fulfilling for me to meet the villagers, learn a few words of their language, ask questions, take notes and shoot with wild abandon.

There are places to shop, little businesses that sell local crafts, and I always have the intent to investigate but I rarely follow through. Only later, when I look at some of the photographs in the comfort of my own office do I wish I had made the time.

Of course I do end up picking up a piece here and there - (and I've been known to literally pick things off the street - friends Michael deMeng, Stacey Mattraw and the gang from Cortona...you know what I'm talking about!) - but to spend time shopping means less time shooting.

Now that I've shot these images, now I want to shop these images!

In Bali, the markets have a colorful array of ceremonial supplies. I really wanted to know what each piece was used for, watch how they are made, etc.

I don't recall what was in this shop...never got past the window!

Fabric! So tactile!

Sure, those are postcards. But shooting the feathers in the foreground (intentionally using shallow depth of field) was more interesting:

An antique store in Singapore:

There's always time for a cold drink on a hot day in Bali:

Spirits of the Secret Keepers

2009-05-08T08:13:00.009-04:00

Above, Katie John

Oh, those crumbling, crackling, aging, molding doll faces! What does my love of them say about me? I'm still trying to come up with a concise "artists statement" about that. I suspect that it has more to do with rejecting perfection than embracing decomposition but perhaps there is no difference between the two.

My Secret Keepers series has been a way to look intimately into the faces of characters I've met along the way, literally if not figuratively. They are so named because these particular inanimate beings hold countless secrets. These dolls were loved, coddled, thrown, lost. They overheard quiet giggles, jubilant birthday parties, arguments and pillow-muffled sobs. They witnessed unspeakable pain and unconditional love.

Recently I began processing the photos in a different way. Converting them to black and white, save for a feature or two, brings a haunting interpretation. Solarizing them accentuates the crevices and gives surreal outlines to what has become more a personality than a doll. The reaction is immediate; Are you repulsed? Feeling maternal? Are you yearning for your own innocence or you do you simply wonder what the story is behind each creature? Because these images are more haunting than the original series, I call them Spirits of the Secret Keepers.

I've worked on this series for about two and a half years now and still love it. I'm always looking for dolls to add to the series, so please let me know if you have any you think might be appropriate. They will of course be returned unscathed, so to speak. One woman brought me a doll that she was holding in her arms like a baby. "Will you take good care of her?" she asked as if it were an infant. They are extensions of ourselves. At least extension of aspects of ourselves. For this reason I consider each one to be a portrait rather than a still life.

Henry:

Gwen:

Elizabeth:

Annie's Doll:

Mom

2009-05-05T17:25:00.007-04:00

Grace Kelly Fabian
May 20, 1911 – July 4, 2004

Mother's Day is fast approaching so of course I'm thinking about Mom more than usual. She was 93 when she died five years ago.

Grace was a kind, loving, affectionate, playful, funny and dignified woman. She raised eight kids with my wonderful dad and even outlived three of them. She showed us how to grow old gracefully. She had pride in how she looked up until her last day on earth, but never whined about wrinkles which, I have to admit, she didn't have in excess. Even on her death bed she looked better than many 65 year old men and women.

Here is a short story that I wrote five years ago for her memorial.

When we were children, Mom used to bless us before we went to bed. She would gently caress our heads with her hands and while making the sign of the cross on our forehead with her thumb would pray:

May the blessings of almighty God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit descend upon you now and forever and ever. Amen.

Then she would kiss us. As time went on, the blessing evolved. In the past few years it became more elaborate.

May the blessings of Almighty God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit descend upon you and all those you love, with alert minds, good memories and the wisdom and love of God in your mind, your heart, your soul and your body. Amen.

But Mom added more than just verbiage. She would, in good humor, hold our heads firmly in her hands like a vise, impress the sign of the cross hard on our foreheads, grab and squeeze our ears as she said Amen and plant a huge, noisy kiss on our crowns. Sometimes, when a few of us were together, one of us was elected to be the "victim" while the rest of us stood close by to receive the blessing through osmosis.

At Dinner with Mom on Sunday, June 27 [this was exactly one week before her sudden death] my brother Jack generously volunteered to be the recipient. Mom began the blessing as usual:

May the blessing of Almighty God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit descend upon you and all those you love, with alert minds...and...

She forgot the rest of the words. She paused a moment, chucked softly to herself, and with her eyes still closed in prayer reverently continued:

...and stuff.

I miss the feel of her hands on my head. I do feel so very blessed.

2009-05-03T14:10:00.003-04:00

My battered Garden Venus is smelling store-bought flowers because spring is taking her time coming to Michigan. It's a bit chilly, but when the sun is shining I have no reason to complain.

Passion for Photography

2009-04-28T12:47:00.008-04:00

What are you passionate about? Not counting family, what makes your heart sing, makes you smile when no one is looking?

These thoughts crossed my mind while I was processing my Timeless India portfolio for the Review Santa Fe event in June. It was so exciting for me to convert the colorful images to black and white, exciting to tweak the sliders to give them the look of an antique plate. And looking at these people once again on my screen excited me. I touched the screen where the little girl's face looked up at me and I recalled being in her village in Rajasthan. I fell back into my chair and grinned from ear to ear remembering an exchange with the Gujurati Hijaras.

What I love about travel photography is that is gathers all the things I feel most passionate about: experiencing something new, meeting people from cultures very different from mine, making photographs and later processing them, then sharing the experience with others. This is my raison d'etre'.

Let me tell you a little bit about the hijaras of India. For the most part they are eunuchs, but some are transvestites who have opted into this way of life. The hijaras in the photograph below (I have posted both the color photo and the black and white version from Timeless India) had low voices so we assumed that they fell into the latter category. They are considered to be auspicious people and are welcome at weddings and births to offer their powerful blessings - for a fee, of course. Lisl Dennis and I offered these two hijaras twice their normal fee to sit and pose for us - 40 cents! - for the honor to have them sit for a moment on the stoop of a shop in a small village in Gujarat. I love their gestures and the intense eye contact. The moment we finished photographing them, the Muslim call to prayer wafted through the village and I realized...I am living my dream; this is such a glorious moment.

Tell me one of your glorious moments!

Plastic Relatives Have Names!

2009-04-24T08:46:00.007-04:00

Thanks for the suggestions of names. These are but a few; a dozen or more will be exhibited at the Jennie Cooley Gallery in Santa Fe from June 12 through June 16.

Ora Belle:

Hubert:

Hubert's (not identical) twin sister Hazel:

Maude:

Agnes:

2009-04-22T09:57:00.009-04:00

It's Earth Day! I plan to participate in the Earth Mosaic project and urge you to do so, as well.

One of the things I love about New Mexico is that it is impossible to be unaware of the beauty of our planet Earth. While looking through my photos from the Land of Enchantment, I came across images of one of my favorite structures which happens to have been built from scratch using sun dried mud bricks.

Every artist and their relatives and neighbors have photographed/painted/sketched this adobe church in Ranchos de Taos, New Mexico. In fact, it is said that no other public building in the U.S. has been depicted as often. Built between 1772 and 1816, its official name is the Church of San Francisco de Asis.

While at one time it loomed large among the dwellings in the village, the distractions of traffic, businesses, parking lots and power lines now make it easy to miss. If you're driving north on NM68 towards Taos, it's on your right just before the intersection of NM518. It will take your breath away.

The massive bulk seen from the road is actually the back of the church. I have photographed it a few times and noted, as countless artists have, that it offers as many different looks as there are moments that the sun skims across it's earthy skin. What strikes me most is that the lines and curves are quite sensuous. The photo above, which I shot in 2004, looks like woman's curves, don't you think? Considering its patriarchal history and intent, I see this is a quiet victory for matriarchy.

One of Ansel Adam's photograph of the back of the church:

An O'Keeffe painting:

This is an old photograph of the front of the church:

A painting I began a few years ago and never finished:

Two photographs that I've taken, with a solarized effect:

And the occasional pretty thing...

2009-04-20T10:20:00.006-04:00

Michigan is trying so hard to embrace spring. For a few days we were blessed with sun, warm temperatures and subsequent uplifted spirits. But now it's cloudy and cool again. This, too, shall pass. Soon spring will be (figuratively and literally) in full bloom. In honor of the season, I am posting the "occasional pretty thing" that my blog byline indicates I am capable of producing.

These were taken at a Buddhist temple in Singapore. Such a peaceful rooftop garden with the chanting of monks adding to the magic.

We have a title, now we need first names!

2009-04-18T12:51:00.008-04:00

The names that some of you suggested for this series of altered antique portraits were all enticing, but I decided to go with "Plastic Relatives." About ten of these will be included in an exhibit at Jennie Cooley Gallery in Santa Fe, New Mexico, in mid June. Here are three of the portraits; I'll post more in a couple of days.

Now that the series itself has a name, the characters need good, old fashioned first names. Any ideas? A few come to mind: Ida, Mildred, Vera....I'd love to hear some more! I'll need a couple of boys names, too.

These will be exhibited with some of the Secret Keepers images. I thought an appropriate title for the show was "The Secret Keepers and Their Ancestors" but it's a little too long. If you're in New Mexico, I hope you can stop by. Detailed information about that exhibit will be posted later on the blog, or check the news link on my website.

Running With Scissors

2009-04-14T11:01:00.007-04:00

By nature, parents are protective of their children. We don't want them to be hurt by a person or circumstance, or to get hurt by sharp things, things that fall or doors that slam.

In my travels, I have seen small children using tools that my parents would never have allowed me to touch. In Oaxaca, Mexico, a little boy was pounding away at a piece of wood with a knife that was larger than his head. His father, who carves exquisitely shaped animals out of wood, looked on with pride. In Bali I met little Wayan, pictured here, while he chopped shallots with his uncle. That sickle was awfully sharp! To borrow a phrase from my mom, he "sure as shootin'" cut his finger in the process.

His mother kissed the wound and I could see that, although there was some blood, he wasn't seriously hurt. He kept his attention on the camera as I documented his tears while mom looked on, unfazed by the accident. All in a day's work for the Balinese who work hard in the field just to get by. We saw a lot of villagers while we were there and I never saw someone without a digit.

Perhaps it's not a good idea to run with scissors, but I am up for taking risks now and then. Especially emotional risks and risks that challenge how I think, even what I think. If we don't push ourselves outside our comfort zone, how can we learn? If we shed a few tears in the process, then we're doing it right.

An Easter Image

2009-04-11T15:26:00.003-04:00

Chimayo, New Mexico, is located on Highway 76, about 25 miles northeast of Santa Fe. It is famous for its chile, weavings, and the Santuario de Chimayo (sometimes referred to by locals as the "Lourdes of America.") During the week before Easter, pilgrims from all over the state of New Mexico come to the Santuario to pray and be healed.

There are many crosses dotting the area and this large one is located just a few miles from Chimayo. I photographed it after Easter with a backdrop of a beautiful New Mexico sky and the "shroud", leftover from the celebrations, flapping in the breeze.

Faces of Bunutan, Bali

2009-04-08T20:31:00.015-04:00

My brother Jim and I used to leaf through National Geographic magazine and fixate on images of people with rings around their necks, women baring their breasts, tribes who paint their faces, etc. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine myself coming face to face with someone so culturally different. And although it was never my goal to do so, getting off my complacent butt and seeing the world for myself was a natural progression of my growing curiosity and eagerness to challenge my comfort zone.

Here are but a few of the wonderful characters that I came upon during my walks up and down the river road in the tiny village of Bunutan.

Above is a photo of a couple in a nearby village further up the road. I kept thinking how nice it would be if my brother were able experience this with me now that we're adults!

Here is a fisherman walking home with his catch:

Loved this woman. She stopped to pose for me but made sure her mouth was covered:

This man was trying to sell Dick some picture postcards earlier and now he has become our own:

Another wonderful woman, feeding oranges to the pigs:

There are endless opportunities to photograph children:

This little boy's mother was so proud of her son and her home. She waved me into her kitchen, which was a tiny windowless room with dirt floors and bamboo walls. It was tidy and wonderful and I was so overwhelmed it didn't even occur to me to photograph it! Doh!

Last but not least, here is a "faceless portrait" of a little fisherboy. This was taken in front of Apa Kabar, where we stayed.

Allow me to interrupt...

2009-04-08T14:56:00.004-04:00

I'd like to take a quick break from posting Bali photos and stories by thanking The Marmelade Gypsy for honoring me with a blog award. Be sure to check out her blog, too, at themarmeladegypsy.blogspot.com. She is one of the most energetic and inspiring women I know. Thanks, Jeanie!

The Roadkill Bra - Grab One Now! (Plus a secret revealed)

2009-04-05T19:06:00.019-04:00

Sifting through the Bali photos, I came across a few lighthearted snapshots and thought I would feature them today. There are always images that present themselves that I am compelled to take but really have no use for other than to chuckle about them later. Maybe I should call it "Low Art" - thanks to the suggestion above.

On the river road in Bunutan I found the sexiest road kill ever:

A shop window in Amlapura. Yeah, I want to fly with this airline:

Talk about being torn!

An image from Chinatown in Singapore. Looks like someone got grabbed, all right!

Tomorrow I'll feature some of the locals I had the honor to meet in Bali, including "Honda Woman" and "Fisherboy." With that in mind, I am going to reveal something very personal that few people know.

When I come home from a trip and settle down to process photos, there always comes a singular moment when I become overwhelmed with emotion. That moment blindsides me, and always happens when I'm looking at a portrait. The memory of the connection made with one of the locals and how profound it is to share a simple smile with someone who is literally and figuratively worlds away, brings me to tears.

So there you have it. I cry. My hands pull back from the keyboard, I sit back in my chair, and take a minute offer thanks. First I thank the person whose image sparked that reaction and then I thank this magnificent universe for diversity and opportunity.

"Fish heads, fish heads, roly poly fish heads...eat them up, yum"*

2009-04-05T03:25:00.016-04:00

* "Fish Heads" by Barnes and Barnes, 1978.

The market at Amlapura in Bali is not like any farmer's market we see here in the States. This is where the locals go to do their shopping for: very freshly killed chickens (do I want to know what the chicken feet are for?), fish heads (eat them up, yum), neon pink and orange sweets, ceremony supplies (great gifts for friends!), a dizzying array of sarong material, rows of udeng (hats that men wear for ceremonies)...

We went on a day so crowded that our bodies were pushed up and down the narrow walkways by the throngs of local shoppers. Sweat was pouring out of me and at times the smell of fish reeked but this was real Bali. My only frustration was that it wasn't easy to take photos because there was no place to stand without being in the way. I wished I had my flash, although then I would have been too intrusive. I'll have to consider how to approach this particular photo destination next time. First thought: go when it's not as crowded. That day, it turns out, people were preparing for yet another ceremony.

Selling the freshly prepared chickens:

A sacred offering nestled in the bananas (moments later someone through money on it and it didn't look quite as sacred...):

Rows of udeng:
(I asked a local dude if they wore this head gear any other time than during ceremony, and he replied "No. If they did they would look crazy."

Ceremony trims:

Stay tuned...tomorrow I'm going to post some goofy photos that really have no other outlet than here.

Balinese New Year (or, Happy Nyepi from an American in Bali)

2009-04-04T12:45:00.016-04:00

The last two weeks have been a delicious adventure in Bali, thanks to our hosts Rob and Stacey from Arcangelo Productions. "Hosts" is too formal of a word; they have become family and part of our bonding occurred on the Balinese New Year called Nyepi (pronounced Nippy). This is the day when Bali shuts down - even the airport! - and all are confined to their homes where quiet prevails and no lights are permitted.

There were many ceremonies leading up to this day, and one of them is Melasti or Mekiyis. For this occasion there is a long procession to the sea, populated by a gamelin orchestra and members of nearby villages who carry their temple accessories. Once they get to the beach, there is some playful running with the shrines before prayers are offered to the sea. Because we are used to saying "Happy New Year" or "Merry Christmas" we asked locals what they say to each other on that day. They would laugh, not quite sure why that was so important to us. They don't share our need to acknowledge a special day with a special greeting. So we took it upon ourselves to say "Happy Nyepi" to each other and jokingly wonder what gifts were under our non-existent Nyepi Tree.

Here are a few photos from this event. I am grateful to the Balinese for not feeling threatened or imposed upon by cameras on this sacred day.

Hello from Bali!

2009-03-28T05:20:00.002-04:00

Well hello, Bali! This will be short because the internet connection is sporadic. But wanted you to know I am here in beautiful Bali, and we (Arcangelo Productions and I) are planning a photographic workshop here in March, 2010. Details as they unfold. In the meantime, I'm amassing photos and stories and look forward to sharing them with you soon.

A Massage Story, or, "Does this panty make my butt look fat?"

2009-03-21T16:49:00.003-04:00

Massages can be so very many things, but let me state at the onset here that if it weren't for regular massages, my shoulders would be above my neck. Dick and I have a massage therapist that comes to our home, sets up in a quiet room in our house and does her magic. She is very intuitive and never does the same massage twice. She can feel her way around aching muscles and know exactly how much or how little pressure they need. We also chit-chat throughout most of the massage although I've also been known to fall asleep. She gives advice about stretches that would be beneficial and also has ideas about what herbs or vitamins help with one thing or another. She is an exceptional human being and a cherished friend.
When I'm in Santa Fe, I have a particular massage therapist that I request when I book at Ten Thousand Waves. She is also intuitive with her touch, and is a breath therapist and naturopath.
Early on, I was shy and didn't know what the protocol is for massages. Mainly I wondered: do I have to get bare naked? But massage therapists are discreet and respectful, so now I'm perfectly comfortable with getting naked on the table. Good M.T.s are like doctors in that respect...they do this for a living, they're good at it, I don't have anything that they haven't seen before - a bold comment to make considering that for 16 years I didn't have a left breast and for the past 4 I've had a fake one.
But I digress...
Because we are staying at the Hilton here in Kuala Lumpur, I trust their choices of massage therapists so I booked a massage. But still, I don't know what massages are like here in Malaysia. Everywhere I go things are a little different. The young Asian woman led me into the room and pointed out a robe and some towels and then left me, saying she'd be back in 3 minutes. What am I supposed to do with the robe? Does she want me to wear it? And what about the towels? Should I wrap one around my waist? And what's this weightless little bundle she handed me, slippers? I opened it up...no, it must be something for me to cover my hair to protect it from the oils....no, it's....it's....disposable underwear! I put them on and they looked like a diaper. That was full. On both sides. Not a good look. I decided forget the robe and the towels, this diaper/panty will be my nod to modesty and I laid face down on the table. She returned and with a tiny little voice asked if the pressure was too much, and did I like the fragrance - yes and yes! I had chosen lemon grass which is supposed to be refreshing. I nixed peppermint because mom used to chew peppermint gum when we went on road trips when I was a kid and I associate it with throwing up in the car.
OK, anyway, other than her checking in with me a few times we didn't converse. My brain is tired from trying to understand accents and I just want feel better. She worked efficiently and thoroughly...she probably executes the exact same massage for everyone but it didn't feel like she wasn't fully present. Even though the pressure was deep, there was enough gentleness so that I didn't feel tortured. The best massage therapists will never make sudden moves or whip the sheets or towels around. Everything is fluid, nothing is startling. But suddenly she hopped up on the table in one fell swoop, sat down, hard, on my legs and yanked my diaper/panties down about six inches and bulldozed my back. From the middle of my butt to my neck, back down and up, back down and up, back down and up, it felt like giant arms were ironing out every last bit of tightness. It felt so good I might have even let out a little gasp. Except for that butt crack thing. Will she pull them back up? Does she always do this?
"Does this panty make my butt look fat?" I wanted to ask that but there was that language barrier...
In the end, if you'll pardon that expression, I'm not sure why I had to put that thing on in the first place.
When she was done she left the room so I could get ready to leave. Is this when I wear the robe? I put it on because it was just too pretty not to use. But then I took it right off. Because I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to leave with my own clothes on. I removed the diaper/panty and put them on the floor. That didn't seem right, so so I picked them up and put them on the table near the brush. No, that's tacky, so I put them on the massage table. I guess I'm kind of sorry I didn't keep them so Dick could see for himself I'm not making this up.

P.S. She did pull the diaper/panty back up when she was finished with my back. Doesn't that just.........crack you up?

Greetings froom Kuala Lumpur, and a glimpse of Singapore

2009-03-20T23:37:00.015-04:00

Greetings from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, en route to Bali. We should be out exploring the city, or at the very least the gardens nearby our hotel but I can't bring myself to budge. Any efforts I make today will be to eat or have a massage. At the moment I don't even want to do either of those things; it's great to relax after some hectic travel days and just "be." I night feel differently if I didn't have such a remarkable view of both the city and the hillside from the 23rd floor of the Hilton. Thanks to Expedia - cheap price, amazing room. Paris won't be buying any Gucci handbags with what we paid!
I assume that this will be the last blog entry for a week or two, since internet access in Bali will be sporatic. So I'm just going to post some snapshots from our walk to Singapore's Chinatown - was that really only yesterday? My favorite moment of the day was late dinner at a Thai restaurant noting the sounds: The Carpenters on the radio barely audible beneath the chatter of many languages in the dining room, and night prayers wafting from the mosque across the street.

Gods and goddesses at the Sri Mariamman Temple
(So far, three people have suggested that I Photoshop my head into this photo and have it be my holiday card this year):

A tense game of Chinese chess...at least for two out of three guys:

Legs and a cigarette:

A few of the 10,000 Buddhas in the Buddha Tooth Relic Temple (Really!):

Incence at the Buddhist temple:

Singapore Explorer:

Bali-bound, and an homage to travel in the 50s

2009-03-18T06:23:00.012-04:00

Today begins another adventure in travel, a photographic expedition to Bali. On the way, we have overnight stops in Singapore and Kuala Lumpur with enough time to explore a neighborhood or two in each place. I've packed my camera gear many times for trips such as this, but each time I do I start the process from scratch. How many photo cards should I bring? How many photos, realistically, will I take? What lenses do I really need? Should I take my tripod?

Can never have too many

Thousands

Wide angle, zoom and macro

Yes

We will be visiting our friends Stacey and Rob from Arcangelo Productions. It's always an adventure spending time with Stacey. Although Ive only known her for a couple of years, she could easily have been that grade school friend who made me laugh uncontrollably in church and hiked her uniform skirt up an inch when the nuns weren't looking.

Today I'm going to post some photos that I stumbled across yesterday. These were taken near Pie Town in New Mexico, and are an homage to a very different era of travel.

Timeless India

2009-03-14T15:35:00.011-04:00

Just last night, I found out that my photographic series "Timeless India" was accepted into Review Santa Fe. I was thrilled! RSF is a prestigious portfolio review event that involves meeting with influential people such as gallery owners, museum curators, publishers, etc. This event will occur the first weekend in June, so I have plenty of time to gather promotional materials and organize my thoughts.

India is such a colorful place that I was surprised to find certain images worked better in black and white or sepia. I sifted through hundreds of images to experiment. Here are a few of my favorites. In the case of the photo of women stooping to sweep leaves, I think color and black and white work equally well. What do you think? The beggar in front of the wall turned away from me when he saw my camera, but I love that he is looking perhaps wistfully at adverts for places he could never go. Or maybe he wasn't really looking at them at all. The musician, the weaver, the little girl with such intense eyes...without color, there is nothing to distract from the essence of these images.

Reflections on the Taj Mahal and What Is and Isn't Awesome

2009-03-10T08:44:00.009-04:00

The Taj Mahal is one of the most beautiful structures in the world by pretty much anyone's standards. Although it is dramatic to see it from the vantage point that provides the typical frontal view, I was most in awe standing close to this famous mausoleum that combines Persian, Ottoman, Indian and Islamic architecture. Dwarfed by it's massive walls and gliding my hand across the cool marble surface, it occurred to me that the word "awesome" gets overused. The Taj Mahal is awesome. That latest electronic gadget or the fact that I am going to Bali next week is not awesome.

While I was strolling the grounds and finding interesting views, I was often approached by Indian men who would want to guide me to the best places from which to take a photo. Of course, they were the typical places where crowds of people gathered so they could all snap the same photo. Most Indians speak English, but these men did not. They just couldn't understand why I would want to be crouched in the dirt under the tree at the side, or standing directly beneath the Taj Mahal looking up. I kept repeating "but I don't want to take a photo from there." They wanted to be paid for their ineffectual efforts and eventually left me alone.

As you can see I most certainly did take a typical photograph of the Taj Mahal. I overheard someone complaining that it was too misty that morning, but I relished the opportunity to see it any light. You can see in one of the photos that the mist is rising from the Yamuna River which flows behind the Taj..

What to name the antique doll portraits?!?

2009-03-09T08:36:00.004-04:00

Coming up with a name for this series has been quite a challenge for me. I absolutely love the suggestion Poupee Tete ("doll head", en francais). Crazed Ancestors and Doll Face are both appropriate and fun. Not incidentally, these doll heads are a subgroup of my ongoing photographic series Secret Keepers. Since large (18" x 24") framed photos of the Secret Keepers will be the focus of the June exhibit at Jennie Cooley Gallery in Santa Fe, I will simply call the show "The Secret Keepers and Their Ancestors." It's all about using what is familiar to the art community there, building on the foundation that has already been laid.

However, I do want them to grow their own legs, so to speak, and will continue to consider names. I've added "All Dolled Up" and "Plastic Relatives" to my list. My plan is to have a greeting card line of these images. You'll be the first to know!

Postcards from the Edge

2009-03-07T09:04:00.011-05:00

Working with photographs never gets boring for me because I balance the sometimes urgent work of preparing for exhibitions with the playfulness that constantly exists in my head. If I'm feeling too bogged down with any given project, I sift through my images and find ideas for levity, even silliness. These postcards have come from some of those welcome intrusions.

Framed versions of "Greetings from Valley of the Dolls" and "The Weather is Here, Wish You Were Beautiful" exhibited at the Jennie Cooley Gallery in Santa Fe last year.

Color, for a change

2009-03-06T07:14:00.010-05:00

Spring in is the air (sort of, I'm in Michigan at the moment) so let's bring in some color!

My photographic expedition to India in November 2009 introduced me to a riot of colors and smells and sounds, oh my, all of which can easily overwhelm a westerner like me. It was by far the most intense experience of my life.

I took over 2500 photos in India. That seems outrageous, but let me explain one of my methods of capturing the right moment. If I see a background that I like, for instance this painted Sai Baba wall, I find a good vantage point. then I stand there, frame the scene the way I like it, and wait for passers-by. It takes patience and intent. Plenty of people walked past that wall one direction and the other, and I have about a dozen different photos to document that fact. This one stands out. The balance of colors and movement work well. The wall by itself is only mildly interesting, and the men are much more so in this context. And of course I'm wondering...are they going to go to the gypsy dance?

One of my favorite scenes to stumble upon was the swarm of saris (I just made that up, but it works) at a village market. These young women were buying shoes, laughing, talking, trying them on. One on the far left turned to regard me, but I didn't see her at the time. When I saw the image I realize that it is her gesture that makes the photo come alive.

The flower vendor at the market has such a sweet face, a contast to the sadness in the gypsy boy's eyes.

Another "Crazed Ancestor" photo

2009-03-05T09:02:00.000-05:00

Here is another "crazed ancestor." They don't have a name, I've only produced a couple, and yet I'm already thinking ahead to framing. What sort of frame should these characters have? Something old fashioned? Something campy?

Assemblage

2009-03-05T08:36:00.000-05:00

I love the ideas submitted for the name of my antique portraits. Haven't decided on one yet, still walking around saying them out loud to hear what feels and sounds good. anything in French in high on the list, by the way.

What a pleasure it was for me to meet with friends Kate and Jeanie (themarmeladegypsy.blogspot.com) last night to talk about shrine-making and assemblages. It seems as though I've worked nonstop on photography since going to Burma in 2006. Using real scissors, hearing papers rattle and knowing that the smell of gel medium is not far behind was a thrill for me.

I've made shrines of one sort or another all of my life. I grew up Catholic, after all. But now, whether a shrine honors a deceased loved one, a Hindu goddess, our precious earth or a piece of chocolate makes no difference to me. The best ones are rarely in a church or temple, but on the side of the road, a niche in a tree, above the kitchen sink, hanging on a wall or sitting on a nightstand. They are unique and wonderful and infused with the personality of its creator.

Michael deMeng's name came up. How could it not? He is the assemblage king (www.michaeldemeng.com) and the inspiration for countless other assemblage and shrine makers around the country. Around the world, even, since he's spreading the word - and the gesso - in Italy, Australia and Bali. I think of assemblages as shrines with all of it's components glued together. Here is a photo of one of the assemblages I made while attending his workshop in Italy in 2007. In 2009, Michael and I taught workshops in Tuscany during the same week through Arcangelo Productions. My group was out and about taking photographs in Florence, Orvieto and Cortona, which wasn't too shabby. But part of me wanted to hang out in Michael's classroom and see what was rising from the fingers and hearts of the participants. It's all so delicious.

Still trying to perfect my Blogspot

2009-03-04T13:41:00.000-05:00

Wait, I can't perfect my Blogspot since I've already professed I don't like perfection! But I am trying to learn my way around here which, ultimately, should be easier than the previous blog space I used.

It's difficult to focus on any one project these days. One of those projects is preparing for an upcoming three-day exhibition at the Jennie Cooley Gallery in Santa Fe. I want to showcase some of my doll photos (the Secret Keepers series) and would love to introduce yet another take on them. So here is a work-in-progress, wherein I combine an antique portrait with a doll's head. Aunt Betsy never looked this good! Not sure what I'm going to call this collection. Ideas welcome - if I use your idea, I'll send you a print!

2009-02-26T16:39:00.000-05:00

PhotoBLOGraphy joins Blogspot

2009-02-26T16:31:00.001-05:00

What else can I do with the thousands of photographs that I take? Exhibiting is great, website is nice, but it's so much more fun to share on a regular basis.