Monday, March 10, 2014

Remembering



When I was little, I remember telling myself occasionally that I would remember "that" particular moment always and forever. While I can't remember the details around any of those times, I have been revisiting that feeling, but with greater cognizance.

I locked myself out of the house one day this winter. Well, not just any day, but one with sub-zero temperatures. My phone, and easy help, was inside the warm house. For the first forty-five minutes, I convinced myself that I just needed to find the right tool of destruction in the garage to jimmy my way back into the warm house. I checked and double-checked every window to see if it was locked. I abandoned that plan when my fingers went numb, and I sat in a wicker chair to create a mental will of who would get my shoes, who might wear my scarves and shawls, and what might happen to my lip balms scattered in various bags. Help eventually arrived, and I can laugh at it now because I still have my fingers, my shoes and shawls, as well as my lips balms.

A small lesson for humanity. When you need help, ask for it. When you have the opportunity to return the favor, return it. And you will remember that moment always and forever.

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Bruce Munro


























I'm late to the show, but I saw Bruce Munro's exhibit at the Franklin Park Conservatory over the weekend. There's something endearing about his simple appreciation of light and color. From his Giant Snowballs to his Light Shower, the spaces just pulse with an energy. The Field of Light reminds me of John Singer Sargent's painting of the Victorian children in the garden with Chinese lanterns.
His artist's statement is the least pretentious one I have ever read. "It's a privilege to exhibit at Franklin Park Conservatory and Botanical Gardens. I hope that work I create, which is but a fleeting intervention in the gardens calendar, leaves those who experience it with a smile and a positive spirit." is his final explanation of why he creates what he creates. "You need a medium to find yourself and to explain things to other people. Mine happens to be light."

The show is open from dusk to 11:00pm until March 30. Do go see it.

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Looking



































I recently took a walk in the neighborhood, and my eye was drawn to a number of things, how even neglected buildings have some beauty to offer in the advanced stages of decay, how frail a dry leaf is on a frozen pond, and how reflections offer a milky veil for an old typewriter.

I'm about to read a book called On Looking (Alexandra Horowitz), a record of walks around her own neighborhood. She admits, before her first walk, that her dog experiences the world in a vastly different way, with his quick eyes and superior nostrils. We have five senses, but if we were to use them each at every waking moment, we'd probably go insane from sensory overload. Our brains protect us by prioritizing our experiences as we make our way through each day, but that doesn't mean we should be numb to the array of colors, textures and sounds around us. If we unplug our devices for a moment, we might find that we still have uses for those senses. Stuff you can't look up on the internet.

Friday, January 17, 2014






 

























I spent New Year's day walking around a beautiful park and found myself marveling at the rich colors and textures to be found in the heart of winter. While the sun was out, there was a richness to the colors that you don't find in warmer seasons.

Christmas in Vermont


















































I know, I know. I've been dreadful at this lately. I'll try to fix that in short order. For now, let me share a few shots from my visit with my family over the holidays. Vermont is cold in Winter, but it is also beautiful. Only then do you se the branches, heavy and glistening with ice, arched over roads. And there's something magical about the smell of baking ginger bread  when the outside world is shrouded in white.

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Elegance


I had the privilege of working with Regina of Bleu & Fig this past weekend for a tour of homes fundraiser with the Susan G. Komen Foundation to raise money for breast cancer awareness and prevention. While I only shot in one home, it was impressive to see the amount of care put into making a house look its finest for visitors. It was nice to see how even small details can make such a nice impression with Regina's talented eyes and hands.


Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Vermont IV


















































One of my favorite places to visit in "the kingdom" is Wheeler Mountain. A large structure made by Mother Nature of solid granite, it is at times a very gentle hike, and at other times a formidable crawl. Trying to figure how to tackle some areas on the way to the top is half the fun of getting there. Two observations that I came up with a long time ago come to mind every time I see Wheeler Mountain. These observations extend far beyond climbing a mountain.
1. When you are walking in the woods, stop and look around. You will almost always find a mushroom nearby if you look hard enough.
2. What I have learned from my camera lens is that something is always in focus, you just have to point it in the right direction.

Friday, September 13, 2013

Vermont III
















These are some shots from my visit to Vermont when a few of us went apple picking. There was an assortment of apple varieties, and some of the trees have been around for decades. It's nice when you can pick an apple from each tree, taste it, and marvel at how very different each tastes. This is obvious, to those who make apple pies regularly. Some apples are best for eating, while others stand up well in pies. Either way, this is one of those moments in the year you wish you could press the pause button for weeks.

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Vermont II



























When you visit Vermont in the summer, there is one thing you must do a lot. Walk. And when you do walk, around every corner waits a small surprise, a little gift. Apple trees punctuate the roadside, weathered barns with rusted hinges can be found on any dirt road, and dandelions are making their last proclamations before the maple leaves turn gold and red. This is summer's last sigh for you to witness. But it's not just in Vermont. It's everywhere, so go, listen to it sigh.

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