June 16

I have decided to make a kind of calendar using grave stones. They are meant to remind you of the past, remind you of the departed, and remind you it could happen any day.

Cameras and Mothers

I had noticed a tiny 'light leak' in my dearest possession in the process of scanning my images. Not in every frame, but many, and going back many months. This morning, I shot a roll through both film backs, on mostly white walls to test this theory. I went out to shoot, came home to pick up the negatives, and then camped out in the basement to scan samples from each set. Alas. It is a real leak.

I was on the phone with my mother at the same time and decided to tell her about this, because it made me so suddenly sad. Somehow it came up that, yes, this was a camera my dad had given me, and yes, he would have bought it when they were together. I could feel the ground slipping out from under me, and I was going to tumble down that muddy filthy cliff no matter what I did.

But I still tried to save myself, to stop it.

As she began to try to reiterate whatever wrong in her marriage was associated with this camera, I spoke more loudly about how sad it was and it was rebuilt, and yes, I looked up the serial number and the camera was from 1967 after all, but still...

I don't think she heard me.
"It was after you were born, and I was working at the bank..."

"The camera was used, mom; it was made in 1967. Now I have to decide if I will buy another one for $2K along with the $2.5k for the scanner..."

"I don't know if it was used, but he bought it in 1980..."

I couldn't seem to sway her. She was determined to go there. I just couldn't take it.

What I would have liked to have said, I didn't. I hope you believe me when I say I have managed to say such things to her in the past with excellent results, but the energy was beyond me.

I wanted to say, "Look, mom, I get it. You hate my dad. You had a terrible marriage and you are going to hate him forever and ever and you have no intention whatsoever to get over it. I get it. But you know what? I am related to him and I always will be and you just have to deal with it. Now will you actually listen to what I am talking about or do I need to hang up?"

Instead I changed the subject and hurried to the end of the call.

I'm still sad about the camera.

This song by OK Go shuffled onto my iTunes as I typed this post. Serendipity.

Mount Hope Cemetery

I went on a tour of the Mount Hope Cemetery this morning. In the rain. Seemed like the best thing to do on a Saturday morning, for a follow-up post to yesterday! I couldn't help being distracted by the group of school teachers also on the tour, who giggled and talked the whole time, then asked questions the guide already answered. Every time we saw a grave of someone remotely young (my age and younger, really), whether the guide said, "died of typhoid" or just "died suddenly," they would chorus together, "ohhhhh, that's soooo saaaaaaddddd!!!!" Later they mocked the Victorians for thinking about death so much as to plan their monuments and grave sites.

On the walk back, I asked the tour guide if we were passing the Ironic section of the cemetery. The group looked over to see what I did:What do you want to bet he adds that to the tour from here on out?

We must shrink from being fully alive

Untitled from the Landscape sequence of "Rapt in the Nameless Reverie"
30" x 30" lambda print, 2008

I want to put a few lines here, but not go on too long. Far greater writers have written far more numerous accounts of what I want to say. I acknowledge them. But for a moment, a few lines, I want to speak of death, of knowing of its existence. Any moment, any time-- it can come. And mostly we fight it. We fight the illness, the attacker, the elements. For the most part, we avoid direct confrontation when possible (we are passive aggressive that way), except in rare cases. Occasionally, one looks out over the rushing river and sees someone drowning, losing the fight. One sees them giving up, and makes the choice to fight the dark specter on their behalf. Sometimes, you fight when you don't want to, and other times you get to choose your battles. Many times we win, but alas. Eventually, a day will come when we have expended all our strength to our cause, and we will choose to lay down our weapons in search of peace.

Then there are other kinds of death, sneaky, conniving, stab-in-the-back types. Those types do not give us the dignity to fight or choose. These deaths aren't at all fair (if any are). Some are accidents. But others... well, I leave to your imagination.

So to you, Driver, who decided to run a red light at 50 mph (in a 35 zone), when opposing traffic was already in the intersection, as was my fragile pedestrian body (missed by a mere two feet), to you I curse with seven terrible attacks this week, at least one of which will be VD.

Subject line quoted from Ernest Becker.

New title

I have often thought if the minds of men were laid open, we should see but little difference between that of the wise man and that of the fool. There are infinite reveries, numberless extravagancies, and a perpetual train of vanities which pass through both. The great difference is, that the first knows how to pick and cull his thoughts for conversation, by suppressing some, and communicating others ; whereas the other lets them all indifferently fly out in words. This sort of discretion, however has no place in private conversation between intimate friends. On such occasions the wisest men very often talk like the weakest; ffor indeed the talking with a friend is nothing else but thinking aloud. (Joseph Addison, "The Spectator," 1711)

I have been using a "working title" for my photo series for some time now. I basically have been in denial of its flaws, even though every time I say that title, I myself cringe. It's high time I change it. I cannot tell if that makes me wise or the fool to admit I am revising and editing a series in what seems to be such a foundational way, but when it came time to decide today whether or not to put it in print... well, denial can only swim you so far down that river!

That said, the series formerly known as "Retroreflections" is being edited/changed to be "Rapt in Nameless Reverie." Let me know what you think.

Yes, yes, it all ends too soon.

Self-Portrait of an Artist in Defiance of Her Aging

Regrets

This morning, I was going about my business in my little apartment, eating my breakfast, packing my briefcase, getting ready to head into the lab for a long day of scanning and digital drudgery. I opened the front door, and saw a little white fuzzy. It looked just like the cat's toy with the exception of a rather life-like (though short) tail.

And then I realize it is a real mouse, not a simulated mouse, and I am looking at his little white belly, which is slightly flattened from being under the door.

I didn't know what to do, so I closed the door back on it.

Obviously, not a solution. Once I realized that, I opened the door again and considered my options (running and finding a person who worked here to get it, was my first thought, but that seemed lame). Little dead mousie went into a grocery sack (another use for the terrible things!) and was carried directly to the dumpster.

Only an hour or so later did I think, "Man, that would have made a cool scan-o-gram."

Saatchi Online Gallery

Vote for me! Starting the 16th!!

Inspirations

Blogging is back-seated

Blessedly, I have been spending time with locals this weekend and feeling more like a human than a metaphor. There was a delightful art walk type thing on Friday, followed by late night conversations in parking lot and hidden workrooms, a gallery shopping spree on Saturday followed by live music at the pub. It seems like the right amount of distraction for the weekend and I am ready to get back to work!

Here are links to the awesome folks I have recently met:
Kris
Lisa
Robyn
Kirby

There are more, but I haven't found them on the internet yet.

Room Escape

Here is the slide show of the apartment. Make sure you read the descriptions and look at them in order! (Click on the little picture to the right to move on, not the arrow. Not an easy interface, I know.)

Blogging

To be clear, there are some posts I feel belong here, and some on my website blog. It's confusing to decide what goes where, but if you check both places, you should see some awesomeness.

I have received requests for pictures of the apartment. I am working on them now!An organized desk is a thing of beauty. Everything in its place!

Scanning

My laptop and I are in the computer lab, hooked up to a Nikon Super Coolscan 9000. It is diligently scanning away. I think each one takes about ten minutes. Yes, I have 25 to do. It's OK. What's funny is I am on my laptop in my spare time too. And when I upload pictures or the blog. Basically, it's my only friend right now.

It's not sad, I promise. Just a sign of the times. The device to make images, sort them, communicate, entertain, etc. is all under my hands as I type this. Do you see these words? Straight from the tips of my fingers pressing these beautiful silver keys.

I added a little slide show thing in the side bar (to the right). I have not downloaded my latest images from the camera yet, but these are some from the weekend. Sorry I couldn't figure out how to make them in the entry. I have a headache and that problem-solving challenge isn't compelling enough!

What it's like in my head.

Right brain: "Oh, new negatives!! Let's go scan them right NOW!"

Left brain: "Don't you think we should unload the car first?
The bed isn't going to make itself."

Right brain: "But I have NEW NEGATIVES!!
I HAVE TO LOOK AT THEM RIGHT NOW!!"

Left brain: "Why don't we unload the car first, then have some dinner,
then you can look at them?"

Right brain: Oh, that would be prudent, but we are an ARTIST, not a PRUDE!!
Come on, I can't even remember what is on these negatives!

Left brain: "But we took those last week."

Right brain: "I have a short attention span."

Left brain: "And you're a little OCD.
Why don't you take a nice, deep breath, count to five until the
compulsion passes, then go empty the car and have some dinner.
Doesn't that sound nice?"

Right brain: "NO IT DOESN'T! This month is about ME, not YOU.
I don't have to be logical, or prudent, or go to bed on time or ANYTHING but MAKE ART! Negatives first!"

Left brain: "Do you want to sleep on the dirty sheets again?"

Right brain: hesitates. "No. OK, ONE trip only. Then negatives. Maybe the sandwich."

Left brain: "Deal."

VSW in Rochester, NY

I am living in a two room corner of the laboratory/studio building of the Visual Studies Workshop. I do mean two room, and not two bedroom. But I am not here for a vacation, I am here to work. True, I had kind of hoped to have access to a pool and a gym, but no matter! And true, I realized I am completely addicted to the internet, but I do not have a signal in my sitting room. I have a little signal in the eating area (notice I didn't say kitchen), but it is not comfortable to type. So I am practicing writing without the instant gratification of seeing it online immediately as I edit it. Didn't know I did that, did you!

I have done 'shopping' since arriving last night. It's getting expensive, but cé la vie.

The grocery store is a chain called Wegman's, a regional store. I would like to their site and history (if it's online) but again, no internet as I type. Wegman's is a claustrophobic place, the facade of which has a distinctly 1970s look. Inside, I found myself in a different store than I have ever been in. Perhaps it is also reminiscent of a 1970s store, but I wouldn't know. The aisles were hardly wide enough for one person and were packed with more varieties of things than I could imagine.

There was a Deli section, complete with a service counter for your fresh cut deli meats. Next to that was a meat counter (didn't I just pass meat?), with all sorts of meat. I get nervous around sales people, and there were at least three butchers behind the counter. I didn't want to accidently make eye contact, so I don't know what kind of meat was in there, but it was a long counter. Then was the cheese section. It had a counter too, but no one there. There were three different kinds of fresh mozzarella. Several big rounds of hard cheese. Lots of cute, saran wrapped wedges of yellow and white cheeses. Then the yogurt section. Three different kinds of 'live' varieties, several kinds of soy-based yogurts (not just one!), and goat yogurt. There were two aisles of breads. They had my soy milk in the jumbo size.

I was overwhelmed. I bought some simple things, keeping in mind I would have to carry it through a building and up a flight of stairs, and jam it into a 3 cubic foot fridge.

This morning, I went to Target (oh, how I've missed you). I bought a new rug (to cover the scary-dirty rug in the eating area), new sheets (while sheets were provided, I couldn't help thinking they might splurge to replace them when they have become as stained as these), a new pillow (everything seems dusty), flip flops (didn't have any), a hair dryer (why did I think there would be one? this isn't the Holiday Inn!), and lint/cat hair rollers (I hadn't thought I would need this).

I went to a camera shop, intending to buy a camera bag I had seen online (this is a dealer-- not available in C'ville!), some negative sleeves, and maybe some film. The shop was in a converted fire station, a beautiful little brick building with the engine bay doors converted into windows. I had high hopes in the town that invented photography as we know it.

Alas.

They had no film.
No negative sleeves. ("We can special order them, but it will take three weeks.")
And the camera bag I wanted, was of course not there.

So I drove to Kodak. I needed hope. I thought of it as traveling to Mecca to kneel before my god!

Alas.

Kodak headquarters is a beautiful high rise in the art deco style. Across the street in the hole of what I assume was one of their factories recently torn down (I would link to the article, but I can't. It was a couple months ago). I asked the very nice receptionist about a factory tour. She apologized and said they stopped doing that fifteen years ago.

I left, again defeated.

I headed to the photo lab, Rochester Photographic, to drop off my film for developing. Remember, this is something that was a 120 mile three day epic in C'ville. It turns out the lab is several blocks from where I am staying-- potentially walking distance. I went in with my film. The young man who came to help me (it reassures me that a young man worked there, as opposed to the really old folks at my Indiana lab-- this isn't a dying art yet) even knew I would want "process only" and didn't flinch at the 120 film (I've heard "What's that?") and even said they would sleeve them for me (no three week wait). If that wasn't enough, they will be ready today. In the same day. The same afternoon, even.

This is why I am here, to get these things done, to make the work, to make more work.

I will have to mail order my film, I guess. I have to buy my Kodak film from NYC and have it shipped to Rochester. Do they know how expensive gas is right now??

Green Leaf

Route 90 through New York is a toll road. You get a card when you get on the freeway, with your on ramp marked with "xxx" and a list of subsequent off ramps and their prices. This means: potty-breaks cost money. But the states can offer you "free" off ramps with certain vendors, restrooms, etc. I think I mentioned this in December on the drive to Indiana. In that case, you could only eat at McDonald's.

So I was hungry, had to use the restroom, and was itching to post to 'twitter', when I saw a sign that said, "free exit", "free wifi", and "Greenleafs Grille" restaurant. Don't try to find it online-- it doesn't exist there yet (I know, who would have thought). The exit is in a town called Pembroke. The restaurant sounded like the same one I was in while in Denver (also don't bother searching for it on the internet), introduced to me by a delightful woman named, Angela Faris Belt. It had all kinds of yummy salads, so between that and the WiFi, I was practically forced off the road.

I also acquired a stack of brochures about New York and all the amazing things there are to see and do in the Finger Lakes region. The most hauntingly tempting for me, is of course the George Eastman house.

Niagara Falls

I went to the U.S. side of Niagara Falls last night. A huge, rushing river, then a cliff. No one in the water. This time.

The river is wide

I will re-up-load this soon, as the aspect ratio is wrong.
These are images of the upper rapids I took while walking across the bridge.

Peace and War

Patriots and road trips

Us Americans invented the road trip, right? "Go West, Young Man!"

I had this whole diatribe planned about "dead presidents" and how we normally relate to them as money. The diatribe was really good, I promise, but I am too tired and past my interest in it to write it out.

It was going to climax with "The true American road trip must include a visit to the chapels and bedsides of our great dead presidents." Something like that. Anyway, here we go.

This man served the second shortest term in presidential history. Nothing to brag about (not even the shortest term), and yet I was lucky enough to visit a large monument in his honor.

I was struck by how similar this tomb was to my visit to the Basilica of Saint Francis of Assisi. There was a beautiful alter-type thing, a balcony with an extensive view, and a sign pointing to the basement, toward the tomb and the restrooms.

And sure enough, you walk down the stairs to see the door to the restroom, and to the left, coffins. Right there. Not even encased in protective concrete like Saint Francis.

The decor in the main level was pretty amazing. There are saint like figures for each of the states (not each one-- some random selection of eight or so), and the allegorical figures of "Peace" and "War."