Thursday, February 5, 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
Snow Praying
I used Google Earth to try to find a field in the area near my work that is a crossroads of major highways. A huge field showed up on the screen, less than two miles from the office. When I arrived at the "field" I discovered it was actually a memorial garden. These prayer posed hands were my only stop as the snow turned to rain and then rained as hard as it could.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Annapolis, First Snow
The WWII Memorial and the Naval Academy Bridge with Annapolis in the background.
hOpe....
January 19th was a holiday - Martin Luther King day. The wind was icy and the streets of Baltimore were quiet - virtually deserted. But on the corner of Lombard and Commerce, vendors were busy setting up their stands.A hot chocolate vendor nodded at me and shivered against the cold.
"What time is Obama supposed to get here?"
He smiled broadly and rubbed his hands together, "I think around four. There is already a line a couple thousand deep a few blocks over."
I checked my watch. 9:43 am.
"Wow. Well, good luck today."
"Thanks. You too."
Temperatures that day wouldn't get above freezing. The crowd was estimated to be 40,000.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
"oh oh it's MAGIC...."
Along the old slave road route from Lake Tanganyika to Zanzibar, Tanzania, 2007.Remember the days when everyone crowded around the camera to wait while the picture magically appeared? There are still times and places where that happens, and they don't have to be in a far away land.
*
I have to develop the film from my grandfather’s old Brownies. Each "click" of the camera is thoughtful. Valuable. There are only 12 exposures. I debate whether I should try to develop them myself. I can't send a picture to the digital "trashcan" if the exposure is wrong. I can't show my nephew anything on the screen when pulls the camera towards him and says, "Let me see." We have to wait. And anticipate. And hope. And there is a kind of Christmas Eve magic in that.
*
That word - "magic" - is part of wonder and joy of photography. The "magic" that happens when you place the paper in developing solution, or lean against the counter and pull the prints out of the envelope, or stand with family and friends and watch an image appear. Solidified in time and space as is. No “delete” option next to an LCD screen. No Photoshop or Apple laptop within the walls of one's clay and wattle made home.
The "hope" that this one turns out alright. The satisfaction when it finally does. The acceptance when it isn't perfect and it still has a place in a photo album or on the refrigerator door.
*
The "magic" and "hope" of photography is somehow linked to the chance encounter with a meaningful moment. It is the difference between listening to your favorite song on your iPod, vs. hearing it on the radio. One is choreographed gratification. The other: kismet.
Along the old slave road route from Lake Tanganyika to Zanzibar, Tanzania, 2007.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
How It All Starts (or "How Sibling Love is a Contact Sport")
You just want a nice family picture...
...something is said...
...it takes a moment to sink in...
...someone says something back... and....
...contact.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Sunday, November 16, 2008
This Little Kitten Lost Her...
This little kitten lost more than her mitten.
Yowling shadow darting under the parked cars at the New Carrolton Metro stop last night. It took several minutes of trying to pinpoint her echoing cries and peeking under vehicles to finally spot her in the wheel well of a car, crouched on top of a tire. As soon as she spotted me moving in her direction, she jumped down from her spot and ran under the rows of cars.
After 10 minutes of her running back and forth among cars, and me kneeling on the ground next to various vehicles calling "here kittykittykitty," I changed tactics. Simultaneously summoning two dusty years of acting training and setting aside personal dignity, I attempted to "be the mother cat" by yowling back and shrugging off the sideways glaces if passersby with a weak "there's a kitten" explaination. She actually responded fairly quickly to the noises I made, allowing me to momentarily feel like Caesar Molly, Cat Whisperer. Her meows sounded almost hopeful as she crept out from under a station wagon. But one look at me and she realized I certainly was not her mommy, and ran off yowling again.
One lady passing by gave me a bag of left over french fries to use in an effort to tempt her out from below the cars (note for anyone who finds herself in a similar situation: lost cats are not endeared by having cold potato products chucked in their general direction). Sadly, she said,"There is a black and white one around here too."
After 30 minutes, I was very late for dinner, my pant knees and hands were wet and dirty, and I was on the verge of convincing myself that maybe Kitten was better off were she was. I got down on my hands and knees one last time and caught sight of her two cars over hoisting herself up into the wheel well of a black SUV. I snuck behind the vehicle, flattened myself against the rear passenger side and slide along it until I could just see the top of the tire and her tail laying across it. I reached around for a one-handed grab, and she hissed and gave me four paws worth of claws and a couple of good bites across my knuckles in return, but I soon had her safely tucked inside my jacket. Within a few minutes she was calm and letting me pet her. After a few more minutes, she was happily perched on the car headrest and watching traffic as we drove to DC.
*These pictures are from my cell phone from this morning -an impromptu Take Your Cat to Work Day. At least she likes car rides. We looked for "the black and white" sibling but couldn't find him. We hope to get back and look again soon.
Kitten found a home on Saturday, November 31. She will be living with Sarah Bowes, Tim Frush, and James the cattledog mix (originally a stray from New Orleans who was hit by a car) in their home on Lombard Street in Baltimore. And "she" is actually a "he."
Yowling shadow darting under the parked cars at the New Carrolton Metro stop last night. It took several minutes of trying to pinpoint her echoing cries and peeking under vehicles to finally spot her in the wheel well of a car, crouched on top of a tire. As soon as she spotted me moving in her direction, she jumped down from her spot and ran under the rows of cars.
After 10 minutes of her running back and forth among cars, and me kneeling on the ground next to various vehicles calling "here kittykittykitty," I changed tactics. Simultaneously summoning two dusty years of acting training and setting aside personal dignity, I attempted to "be the mother cat" by yowling back and shrugging off the sideways glaces if passersby with a weak "there's a kitten" explaination. She actually responded fairly quickly to the noises I made, allowing me to momentarily feel like Caesar Molly, Cat Whisperer. Her meows sounded almost hopeful as she crept out from under a station wagon. But one look at me and she realized I certainly was not her mommy, and ran off yowling again.
One lady passing by gave me a bag of left over french fries to use in an effort to tempt her out from below the cars (note for anyone who finds herself in a similar situation: lost cats are not endeared by having cold potato products chucked in their general direction). Sadly, she said,"There is a black and white one around here too."
After 30 minutes, I was very late for dinner, my pant knees and hands were wet and dirty, and I was on the verge of convincing myself that maybe Kitten was better off were she was. I got down on my hands and knees one last time and caught sight of her two cars over hoisting herself up into the wheel well of a black SUV. I snuck behind the vehicle, flattened myself against the rear passenger side and slide along it until I could just see the top of the tire and her tail laying across it. I reached around for a one-handed grab, and she hissed and gave me four paws worth of claws and a couple of good bites across my knuckles in return, but I soon had her safely tucked inside my jacket. Within a few minutes she was calm and letting me pet her. After a few more minutes, she was happily perched on the car headrest and watching traffic as we drove to DC.
*These pictures are from my cell phone from this morning -an impromptu Take Your Cat to Work Day. At least she likes car rides. We looked for "the black and white" sibling but couldn't find him. We hope to get back and look again soon.
Kitten found a home on Saturday, November 31. She will be living with Sarah Bowes, Tim Frush, and James the cattledog mix (originally a stray from New Orleans who was hit by a car) in their home on Lombard Street in Baltimore. And "she" is actually a "he."
Marion Warren's Tobacco Photos
While hoping to track down an original of Marion Warren's photo of the waitresses in the surf at Ocean City, I came across theses picture that he took of Maryland tobacco crops. I wanted to post them since it is a subject I like by an artist whose place based subject matter I find very inspirational. 
"34. 1956 circa: For me, a photograph really succeeds if it can explain its subject completely. Here you can see the tobacco plant clearly in the foreground, that it is being harvested by hand and drawn by horses. There's the typical tobacco barn with its slats open for the crop to dry, and there's the farmer's house. Today, of course, there would be a tractor instead of horses. In fact, this particular scene no longer exists; the community of Annapolis Cove on Bay Ridge Avenue is now on the site of this farm. MSA SC 1890-02-14 "
"92. 1968: I rarely get more than two or three good pictures in a day, and sometimes only one. I was driving in Calvert County, on my way to photograph a cypress swamp (93), when I saw this tobacco barn. The lighting was perfect, and I quickly set up the camera. I debated about removing the Nehi bottle, but decided that it added the human element. I almost shot it both ways--with the bottle and without it--but I said, no sir, you don't chicken out, you shoot it the way you see it. MSA SC 1890-05-2500" From The Eye of the Beholder
"34. 1956 circa: For me, a photograph really succeeds if it can explain its subject completely. Here you can see the tobacco plant clearly in the foreground, that it is being harvested by hand and drawn by horses. There's the typical tobacco barn with its slats open for the crop to dry, and there's the farmer's house. Today, of course, there would be a tractor instead of horses. In fact, this particular scene no longer exists; the community of Annapolis Cove on Bay Ridge Avenue is now on the site of this farm. MSA SC 1890-02-14 "
"92. 1968: I rarely get more than two or three good pictures in a day, and sometimes only one. I was driving in Calvert County, on my way to photograph a cypress swamp (93), when I saw this tobacco barn. The lighting was perfect, and I quickly set up the camera. I debated about removing the Nehi bottle, but decided that it added the human element. I almost shot it both ways--with the bottle and without it--but I said, no sir, you don't chicken out, you shoot it the way you see it. MSA SC 1890-05-2500" From The Eye of the Beholder
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
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