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.

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:

Madrid, pronounced MADrid

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.

Rust in Peace, Tiny Town!

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

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."