Seeing Red on a Gray Day

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?

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

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

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?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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: