Wishing You All A Year Filled With Wonder, Passion and Awesome Delights!

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Everything is a Song

Steve breaks into song at least 50 times a day. It’s usually just one or two lines and, although it often is just a song on his brain, it usually pertains to something he’s doing and he almost always changes a word or two to fit. He doesn’t spend anytime thinking about replacing the words … it just springs from his mouth. He’s ingenious and hilarious. He makes me laugh all the time (yes… sometimes I laugh at him, but mostly I laugh with him). I think he knows every song written in the last half of the 20th century and he can tell you who wrote it or sang it. Everything is a song.

My newest obsession - Making flower mandalas out of some of my flower macros...Wheeeee!

Everything is a song… a story … a poem. I’m finding this to be true through the new blog. Stories Without Words is growing rapidly…at least in my perspective. This week it’s had close to 300 hits a couple of times… and it’s only 3 weeks old. AND it now has it’s own Facebook Page. Some of the stories and poems – even captions – that have been contributed are absolutely brilliant. The authors have written me and thanked my for making these images available to them for inspiration. The images are really the most amazing aspect of the site. I have the privilege of finding the images – that can tell a story, inspire a song or a poem. Some of the photographers are very well known, accomplished, award-winning artists. In fact, one Naomi Frost, just won several awards with the The International Aperture Awards  – the “world’s most prestigious international online photography competition”. Her image Washing Day was Stories Without Words first image and has some interesting stories penned for it. It is one of my favorite photographs of all time.

This venture has been an adventure for sure. I love it and so do the artists and writers. I hope you’ll pop in if you haven’t had a chance yet. Maybe you’ll be inspired as well. After all – Everything is a Song… or at lease a story or a poem.

Gifts and Stuff

When I was looking for the Christmas decorations last week I couldn’t find them anywhere. It took 3 attempts – Steve and I, braving the sub-freezing garage – to find the lone box of ornaments, lights and tinsel. Searching through the “rubble” for this box, I was forced to acknowledge how much crap we have. Between the two of us – the garage is chock full of stuff… junk…bikes…tools… boxes and boxes. Most of the stuff is ours, but some of it belongs to his kids, my kids, even an ex-boyfriend of one of his daughters. This past summer, I made a vow that I would get out there and go through the boxes and get rid of two-thirds of it. It didn’t happen and now it’s too cold.

We don't have room for a tree so we put the lights and ornaments up on our fireplace.

Do we really need even half the stuff we have? I’m not talking about items I use all of the time or even items we use occasionally. It’s the things that I hold on to… just in case this happens or that happens. Much of what I have out there is comprised of art or craft supplies. I used to do stained glass and fused glass – so I’ve kept my iron and glass cutter – “just in case”. I used to work with clay, too. I still have some of my clay working tools… “just in case”. Long ago I was a jewelry designer – working primarily in silver, beads, titanium, and niobium. I later dabbled in hand-worked jewelry, so obviously I had kept some of my hand tools “just in case”. I also love doing paper collage. I don’t DO it anymore, but I love it. So… “just in case” I still have collage materials and supplies. When I worked as a product illustrator I used various pens and nibs, had lots of papers, and an electric eraser. Do I still have these things? No!!! I actually got rid of my pens and nibs. I gave them to my scientific illustrator friend, Becky. Thinking about it, I also gave a lot of my collage stuff (but not all of it) to my mixed media artist friend, Marsha, a few years ago. I kept the electric eraser “just in case”. Last month my friend, Alison, really needed it for some interior design work she was doing. Guess what! When I went to look for it I couldn’t’ find it in the midst of all of the junk! My New Years resolution is getting expanded from organizing my photographs to getting rid of stuff and organizing EVERYTHING!

Vintage - Tradition

In celebration of less stuff we are giving our grandkids memories and “in-name” gifts for Christmas. They’ll get something from us in their stockings and certainly our Kiwi grand-babe will get a gift so that she has something to open on Christmas morning. (It’s hard to give memories to someone on the other side of the world.) I am adopting an animal (still haven’t decided what one) for her and I just adopted a penguin for each of my older grandchildren yesterday through Defenders of Wildlife. For the last few Christmas’s I’ve sent girls in Afghanistan to school for a year – in the name of friends – as well as other gifts from The Hunger Site. One year I picked up a list of wants and needs from a foster care organization and went shopping for items for teenagers in foster care. I had a wonderful time choosing items with specific young adults in mind. The gifts were given in the name of my friends, but I had the privilege of doing the shopping. I myself have received beehives, goats, rabbits, and chickens for families in 3rd world countrie – in my name – from friends – via Heifer International. These gifts are not necessarily expensive. Many are very inexpensive, in fact.

I’m convinced my grandchildren will keep the memories of doing things with us much longer than they’ll keep their toys. We’ll be building a gingerbread house one day (and then after Christmas, we’ll all get to eat it with them), go to see a 3D movie, drive around for our annual Christmas light tour, etc. Jack is a bit young for any of it, although I did buy him a needlepoint stocking just like all of his siblings and cousins have. Oh… and it goes without saying,  a lot of people will be getting photographs from me.

The one gift that I’ve managed to sustain for 15 years now is the annual Christmas/Solstice Caroling party. When I lived in a very cool part of Eugene – the infamous Whiteaker Neighborhood – we caroled in my neighborhood, often with more than 35 -40 people singing together. The neighbors generally new we were coming and would greet us with treats and nog. I always make a huge batch of grog and my wonderful friends gather round to share a potluck dinner, exchange ornaments, sing, sip mulled wine and laugh. There’s always a box for a charity – guests filling it with items needed. This party has become my traditional gift to my friends. This is a communal memory we all have. Unfortunately, due to an ice storm tonight (yes, the party was supposed to be tonight) we have postponed it to Sunday afternoon. It will be different, but it will still allow the wonderful people in our lives to come together for an evening of music and laughter.

It feels good to not be fully participating in the Christmas consumer game. …to really try to purchase whatever we do buy from fair trade organizations, non-profit gift organizations, and local artisans. This is a good year to think about a different way of giving. I fully believe that less is more.

Stories Without Words, Creativity and Birds

Every Picture Tells A Story –Or Does It? I wrote an entry on November 15 about this – images and the stories that they may, or may not, tell. My brain latched onto the whole concept – what do pictures convey to the viewer. My brain – working in overdrive, as it often does – leapt into high gear and less than 2 weeks later I had started another blog – Stories Without Words. An image is posted daily and then visitors are invited to write about what they see… a title, caption, poem, story, quote, song, essay – whatever. I have volumes of images available to me through some of the photographer and artist sites where my work is shown – such as Red Bubble and JPG Magazine. (Of course each artist has given me permission to use their images.) The artists that are participating in this blog are from all over the world, their communities reach around the globe. We’re all very excited to see this site launched and are anticipating its growth.

Sputnik - heart of a Dogwood bloom

(Thanks to amazing photographic Nancy Polanski for the name – Sputnik.)

Finding writers is another “story” (no pun intended). For me to find an image and post it with the relevant data takes about an hour a week, whereas letting the image speak to someone and for that person to then write a palatable piece can take a long time. Oh… AND ‘tis the season that everyone is uber (I LOVE that word) busy. I’ve been contacting writing blogs and groups, stirring up some interest in the process. Many artists are announcing this on their Facebook pages and Twitter. If you know anyone who loves creative writing or may be inspired by some amazing images, please share this site with them.

The creative process is always an amazing thing to watch unfold. It’s like the onion metaphor. I see layer upon layer peeled back as a particular technique is absorbed by a student. That’s when I see the “flash cards” of possibilities light up in their eyes. I worked with an awesome portrait photographer last week – Peggy Iileen Johnson. Wow… her work is amazing. Not only are her portraits beautifully crafted… they are unique and very personal. She wanted to learn more about Adobe Photoshop so that she could put a creative spin on her portraiture. Taking what is already art – her portraits – and deleting and adding elements and backgrounds to create something new. She already knew how to use many aspects of Photoshop (which can be a rather intimidating application). We spent two hours working with some of the tools and she “got” it. The next day she sent me a piece that she had created. It was beautiful.  Ooooh… I love my job.

On the creative process….I’ve been watching two of my closest friends – Becky Uhler and Marsha Barr -find their artistic voices for the past couple of years. As I’ve watched their creativity grow – each in their own art – I’ve realized that I, too, have been feeling my own creativity emerging – again. I’ve worked in various media over the years… clay, jewelry, photography, graphic design, illustration, writing, glass - stained and fused, paper craft, and the list goes on. I’ve even made my living with some of these endeavors – specifically jewelry design, illustration and graphic art, but what I’m feeling now is much more visceral and powerful and I know that the issues and energy that blocked it in the past are gone… long gone. I am surrounded with loving support. I know that this time the process has staying power. Now I watch Becky emerge as an amazingly talented and applauded scientific illustrator and Marsha – figuratively, yet literallly – find her voice as a vivid story-teller with her mixed media assemblage pieces. They both participated in holiday studio/art shows this weekend. I spent time with them both at their shows. I am so inspired by them. That’s not really news though. They’ve inspired me – and each other – for the many, many years that our friendships have grown. I am so very blessed to have these two amazing women in my life… I am honored to call them my friends…my sisters… my family.

Corn-Goddess by Marsha Barr - Addressing genetically engineered food.

As I was writing this I had to tear myself away and go see about all the commotion I heard outside. Hundreds of birds had decided to take their lunch break in our maple trees. They sang their songs loudly as they flitted from branch to branch, pecking at the wood for whatever speck of food they could find. It wasn’t deafening, but pretty close to it. Such a gathering of birds – always an amazing thing to see and hear….and what a gift it was.

Watercolour of Guinea Hen Feather by Rebecca Uhler

I saw a bald eagle yesterday. It flew over our car as we drove to Portland. I claimed it was a good omen and it proved to be. It was a very healing weekend for a lot of people that are dear to me. I’m working on a post about this. You’ll get to read it soon… it’s still in it’s infancy. It’s about what makes family family. Stay tuned.

Tradition and Being Grateful

I’m grateful for so many things, the first being the love of family and friends and my sweet man, our health, a warm home and food (and wine) a plenty. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I love putting the feast together. It’s our gift to our guests. I’m not generally a control freak, but this is one thing I tend to reign over. I’ve been wondering why I hold on so tightly to this holiday and I’ve come to the conclusion that its’ because it represents tradition. I don’t have a lot of tradition in my life and creating a wonderful – and predictable – feast for my family and friends has become tradition.

Thanksgiving Day – the grand-kids had a lot of fun with some magnifying glasses.

Over the years I’ve “got it down” as far as what I’m making. It’s basically a traditional Thanksgiving meal with a few twists. There’s always the turkey, gravy and semi-traditional stuffing. The potatoes are mashed with a lot of roasted garlic and feta cheese. The yams are spicy with an orange-hazelnut butter. The cranberries are cooked with ginger and orange. I leave green veggies, salad, appetizers to the guests. My “traditional” dessert is a pumpkin cheesecake drizzled with a caramel sauce and sweet roasted pumpkin seeds. I was banned, this year, from making the cheesecake because I was still recovering from a long drawn out lo-grade flu and Steve knew that I would be too burned out to enjoy the day, so he gently put his foot down. He (with a lot of interference from me) made pineapple-upside-down-cake. Yummm! Family came for dinner and more family came for dessert. A wonderful time had by all. Except for the extremely slow cooking turkey everything went smoothly and tasted great.

I think one of my favorite things about the day is when at the table we all hold hands each person speaks of what they’re grateful for. It’s been fun to see how the grand-kids idea of what they’re grateful for has changed over the years. I was brought to tears by them when they each spoke, at length, of how grateful they are for their family. Of course wee Jack just sat at the table and cooed. Not having the New Zealand contingency here is always difficult and painful. I look forward to the day that wee Isabella (and her parents of course) is here to have Thanksgiving dinner with Nana and Steve, her Aunt and Uncle and cousins. Skyping always helps.

What am I grateful for? Worthy of repeating -  my family and friends… which as far as I’m concerned is one and the same. I am grateful for our nice warm (most of the time) home. I’m grateful that there’s always good food on the table. I’m grateful that I am able to work for myself (even though some days go by that I wish I could just go punch a time-clock and forget about it). I’m grateful that I’ve re-discovered my love for photography, after a 20 plus year absence, and am finding success in it. I’m grateful that (with the exception of having just had the flu) we’re all healthy. I’m especially grateful that my youngest daughter, after a struggle with a lengthy illness, is once again healthy. I’m grateful for my newest grand-babe, Jack. I’m grateful that my daughters are both happily married to wonderful men, who love and respect them. I’m grateful that Steve’s daughters and I have been developing sweet relationships and that we’re growing closer. I’m grateful that at least one of my daughters lives in Eugene so we can be near them. I’m grateful for our fluffy canine family member, m’Lady (yes… another chapter in the Lady/Woman debate). Looking at what I am grateful for… I see that everything is part of the tradition that is being newly created every year when November rolls around.

I am so truly blessed and extremely grateful.

On Woman Strong

“…Trina takes her paints and her threads
And she weaves a pattern all her own
Annie bakes her cakes and her breads
And she gathers flowers for her home
For her home she gathers flowers
And Estrella dear companion
Colors up the sunshine hours
Pouring music down the canyon
Coloring the sunshine hours
They are the ladies of the canyon” – Ladies of the Canyon – by Joni Mitchell

It’s 1975 and I’m sitting in my tiny little house on Opera Drive in Bisbee, Arizona. I’m listening to one of my favorite albums of all time – Joni Mitchell’s, Ladies of the Canyon – listening to the title song. I’m kneading rye bread dough (triticale was my favorite bread to bake, but I baked a lot of rye as well), looking out my kitchen window at the little houses and shops that line the canyon walls. An ideal setting? Yes, it was. At times it felt like perfection. I related deeply to this song, living in this beautiful, tiny town on the border of Mexico. This picturesque community was filled (and filling) with artisans of all kinds – people who created with cameras, paint, cloth, clay, herbs, turquoise, silver, flowers, glass, food…smiles. Many people would simply pass-off the new occupants of this town as hippies… a blanket term that barely offered a glimpse into the spirit of these people. I was raised on the east coast – in a suburb of D.C, but Bisbee is my “hometown” because this is where I was able to shut out all of the “shoulds” and “supposed-tos” that I (and most of us) had been fed all my life. This is where I found my voice… not even realizing that it had been missing. This is where I discovered me. This is where I discovered that my family did not only consist of my parents and my siblings. My family has grown with every dear friend I’ve made. My family is huge.

I was then, and am now, surrounded by strong, capable, independent, and talented women. Back then many of us were single mothers – struggling to raise our children alone and committed to instilling them with a sense of community and an obligation to give back in whatever way they could. Many of these “children” are now living in and with community. They are integral parts of many peoples’ lives – lending their foresight, intelligence, compassion and strength.

I have witnessed some of my friends lives take horrific turns that would bring me to my knees. Many of us have lost a marriage, but how many of us have lost a child? I supported two very close friends through this unthinkable, twisted curse – watched them grieve. And then I watched them come back to life with a greater appreciation for what is still here. I lost my best friend to cancer almost 8 years ago and watched her adult children suffer with unspeakable grief. I recently held the hand of another dear friend as she passed on – also from cancer. These women passed with graceful courage. And although their stories were vastly different – I learned much from watching each of them. Having strength didn’t mean that they weren’t afraid, that they didn’t feel weak. It just meant that they faced what was coming and they knew they had the loving support of their families, friends, and community. We, their families and friends, grieved together – gaining strength from each other and helping one another to move on.

When I first moved to Bisbee, I went to weekly meetings for a women’s group. I went religiously. Talk about some powerful women! So, as we’re putting together a small women’s health clinic and a daycare co-op we were trying to knock down a lot of walls – walls built by men and the “powers that be” (yes, we were an energetic group). This is where I really came face-to-face with feminism. I’ve never really defined myself as a feminist (I’ve used the word “humanist” to describe myself many times), but I do ascribe to the principles and I worked for and fought for women to have equal footing just like the women who fought before us. Even though we’re still not there, I am proud that I am part of that process. It was during these meetings that I learned that the term “lady” or “ladies” was considered insulting to women. I immediately “got it”. Having been raised to “act like a lady” and “be ladylike” – the idea of denouncing the term thrilled me. I felt validated. In my upbringing a lady was a girl or woman who knew her place, never spoke her mind and often smiled through clinched teeth. She was primped and proper and never disagreed with anyone – especially a man. Anyone who knows me knows that this comes nowhere near describing me, or any of my friends. I spent much of the 70’s trying to unlearn everything that had to do with “being a lady”.

But, where then, did that leave the Ladies of the Canyon? I mean, here I was living in this haven with these wonderful women and men and when I heard Joni say the word – it was different. These women of the canyon that she sings about sounded lovely, sweet, independent, creative and free. They didn’t sound oppressed. They sounded like the women of Bisbee. When I think of the term “woman” I think of strength, integrity and substance. I think of the “ladies of the canyon”. It was during this time that I came to define my female friends and myself as women. It’s an ageless thing… not bound by young or old.

Painted Rose

Now, fast-forward 35 years later. I still have a visceral reaction to the term “ladies” much of the time. And it’s not only in the usual context where it’s used in a negative way – such as a stranger calling “Hey, Lady”. Perfectly well meaning, respectful woman can use the term and my hackles go up. I’ve been trying to figure out why it happens with certain references and not others. I am a business owner and it must have escaped me before, but I’ve just recently been hearing the term more and more. I did a poll on email and Facebook and asked women friends how they react to the term. I am amazed at the variety of responses. A couple of the women really didn’t care one way or the other. Most didn’t mind if it was used in conjunction with gentlemen. Of the women under 50 years old, most said that it was dependent on the context that it was used in and who was using it (some didn’t like it when a man used the term), but most preferred WOMAN. There were a few women who added their distain for the terms MA’AM and GIRL. GIRL was acceptable at times – when used by a group of women referring to themselves. Interestingly most of the woman over 50 had a very negative reaction to it and many of them are counselors or psychologists. One counselor referred to clients who felt powerless in a world where they were expected to behave in a prescribed manner… no voice, no power – “ladylike”.

When I consider my history in reference to this word and add to that my connection to some wonderful strong, yet gentle, women who speak for themselves and do for themselves, it’s no wonder I have a reaction to hearing a professional woman refer to her peers as “ladies”. Without experiencing the negative effects of the term, they would never consider that some of the women they are speaking to feel insulted. Most men who refer to their wife, partner, lover, friend as their lady – would never dream of insulting her. And if she doesn’t mind then there isn’t an issue. I’ve realized that when it becomes an issue for me is when I hear the word in context with “business ladies” or with the idea of “empowering ladies”. For me – and a whole generation of women and men – this is an oxymoron. How can one be empowered when one is behaving in a prescribed manner? It became obvious in the poll that this is a generational thing. The most preferred term seems to be woman, while many felt lady was okay in closed company. It was a landslide for women over 50 – for counselors, teachers, therapists, business owners, artists, chefs, designers, doctors, writers, moms, and grand moms – most of them found it insulting and some found it derogatory. It’s not that I can’t accept that this term is being used so freely – without an understanding of it’s potential harm. I’m actually relieved that the meaning seems to have changed over the years. I can only assume that this younger generation of women was not raised being told to be lady-like or to act like a lady. I did make a bad faux pas when my older daughter was younger (as she so recently reminded me) and scolded her a few times using the term “now, young lady”. I guess we can’t always escape the way we were parented – I certainly didn’t, much as I tried. Maybe a new definition really has been created for this old term that has branded so many women with inappropriate labels. Still… it brings me sadness to see so many complacent young women who are clueless about the road that was paved for them by us, by our mothers, and their mothers and on and on.

Lisa Macdonald pointed out in her article on the subject in Green Left Weekly that language reflects rather than shapes reality. But the reason the women’s movement struggles against sexist language is that language also reinforces reality.

Barbara White – Different Cultures and Languages – List of offensive words to be avoided
Lady: Avoid using this in place of “woman” unless you intend shadings of meanings that describe someone who is elegant, “refined”, and conscious of propriety and correct behavior. In most contexts this word is condescending. It also often serves to trivialize.

Common dictionary definitions for Lady:
1.  A well-mannered and considerate woman with high standards of proper behavior.
2. A woman regarded as proper and virtuous.
3. A well-behaved young girl.
4. A woman who is refined.

The origins of Lady?
f. hlāf LOAF + *-diġ- knead (cf. OE. dǣġe kneader of bread, female (farm) servant, dairy-woman; also DOUGH);

How ironic! The word was derived from the kneader of bread. And there I am kneading rye bread. I guess I’m a Lady of the Canyon after all. But I am not properly dressed nor well behaved, I am not refined and I am certainly not considered virtuous. Oh, maybe  “the lady doth protest too much”.

 

Veil

 

A Women, Her Coffee and Her Pictures

Oh…this dang cold. I guess I’m lucky to be old (older) because I may be more resistant to the swine flu – having been born before 1957… apparently I’ve been exposed to it twice. I spent two days sounding like Minnie Mouse. No husky “cigarettes and whiskey” voice for me. I just squeaked my requests to Steve to “please get me that” or “please do this” sounding like I was on helium. He has been a saint – a very good nurse. … except that I’m still waiting on him to go get some milk for my coffee (we’re out)… it’s just nasty without something dairy-like in it. While I wait for my morning-joe I watch the Food Network. Many new and different recipes for Thanksgiving. I watch and think about trying something new, but I know exactly what I’m cooking for that day. I’m not generally a control freak, but I do want ultimate control of what we have for dinner that day. It’s my favorite holiday and my dinner is our gift to our family and friends. Turkey, stuffing (a take-off from my mom’s recipe), yummy gravy, garlic-cheese chunky roasted mashed potatoes (with peel), ginger-orange cranberries, spicey yams and pumpkin cheesecake drizzled with caramel sauce and sweet roasted pumpkin seeds. Our guests are left to bring drinkables and green veggies.

Aaaah… got my adulterated coffee now. (Thank you, Sweet Steve). Coffee in hand… with my blog page in front of me, I write. Ah… but first check email. Oh… then peek at Facebook. I sure am easily distracted. I start writing and I’m reminded of a recent conversation about the use of the terms woman vs. lady. I want to do a blog-post about it and, knowing my own take on the distinction, I decided to post the question to my Facebook friends and also pose the question to email friends for different viewpoints and material. The responses have been wildly varied and extremely interesting. I’m posting the email responses on Facebook as they come in – if it’s okay with each responder. Curious, curious, curious. I hope to write the post by the next entry… .if not at least the one after.

Mine Eye - Selective Color

As I attempt to write this post… I’m distracted by the email beep calling me to see new comments on the afore mentioned subject. …The beep – again. This time though, it’s a notice that my amazingly talented artist friend, Jan, has updated her blog. Wouldn’t you know it? Synchronicity at play again. In trying to write without distraction herself, she has discovered and posted a link to Write Room – a Mac application strictly for writing without distraction. A black screen with a bright font (gold, green or blue – sort of like the old mono-tone monitors), it’s easy to – read with no bells or whistles (good thing – THAT would be distracting), no spell correction, no margins, etc… just word flow. Of course it may be necessary to turn off your email or at least the sound.

This is day four of this bug. Just hanging out with my laptop and remote control. I want so badly to go for a walk, but it’s too wet and cold. Getting a bit of work done, but mostly looking for open-source photo galleries on the web (any recommendations?) and plunking away in Photoshop – playing with textures. I love taking a photograph a few steps further – editing color, texture, combining photos, but I don’t often have the time. As I’ve said many times – I really can get lost playing here. I took this photo last summer at a friend’s home and edited with textures and overlays of colors.

Textured Blossom

I’m mentally organizing my photographs. Seriously – I need to sort and organize the thousands upon thousands of photos and photographic art – both digital and print (the negatives, too) – over 25 years of accumulated photos PLUS family photos. I looked on-line for some organizing software and decided that I just need to do it manually with my folders and preview. Although I’m a huge Mac fan – I’m not a fan of iPhoto and I want a bit more control – so manual organization is where it’s at for me. This is my New Year’s resolution. I just wrote that as I thought it. Now it’s in writing – so it shall be my resolution for the new year. Oh… do I have my work cut out for me! Any organizational ideas?

Every Picture Tells a Story…. Or Does It?

I’ve been thinking about the saying (or song, for that matter) “every picture tells a story” and I ask the question…does it really?

I believe some photos are simply admired for their beauty – say a close-up photo of a particularly beautiful flower after the rain, a magnificent landscape or the perfect light on a sand dune. These images can certainly hold a viewers attention, bringing to the eye details not seen before or give a new perspective on something quite familiar. Mat it and frame it and it can compliment and bring beauty to a room. Pictures that tell a story can spark curiosity and different stories can be conjured by each viewer.

For me, the task of capturing a story in a photograph is much more challenging than shooting a wet rose in perfect light and shadow. More challenging, even, than capturing a rose refraction through a dangling raindrop. Not to say that there aren’t stories in these images… but I believe they aren’t as deep as “story” photos. By a story, I mean that when I look at say my Hoop Dreams photo (Sept 25 post) I see a young man who discovered a new perspective on the world after climbing up on top of a basketball hoop at sunset. I was there. I know the story. I saw him transform. It was Zen-like. When other people see the image, they see a different story. Many people have told me that they see a young man who dreams of playing basketball with the NBA. I’m sure there as many ideas and tales as there are people who see the photo.

Many stories unfold in front of each of us everyday. Although I generally take my camera with me when I leave the house for any length of time, I do sometimes forget it. Even when I have it in my hands and I see a story in the making, I’m not always fast enough to capture it. Sometimes it happens and is over in an instant. Thankfully, other times the story evolves and I am able to get several shots, changing perspective, focus, aperture setting, etc.

Taking pictures of my grand-kiddos is always fun, but can also be a challenge. When Oona sees the camera she looks straight into it and poses. It takes awhile for her to look away, continue with what she was doing and forget that I’m there. Aidan likes to make a face at the camera, a tough guy kinda look. He will (as with Oona – and most kids) eventually forget the camera is there. When Jack sees the camera he won’t look away. He’s only 7 months old so in time, he will also tune it out, but for now I have to be very sneaky. Then there’s Bella – far off in Kiwi Land. I have to rely on photos taken by my daughter and son-in-law. Thankfully they are both very good photographers and they capture my grand-babe beautifully. My daughters – both of them – have a very keen eye when looking through a camera lens. I’m amazed at their gift and hope that at some point they can both spend more time in that creative place.

Meanwhile, I’ll continue to hunt flowers and raindrops because it is something I absolutely love to do. It’s magical. And I will also keep my camera handy – in the event that I am fortunate enough to tell you a story with it.

Brainstorming and Roger and Me

Amazing -  the energy that happens when you take a small group of people, stir them up and then ask them for ideas on – whatever – marketing, designing, time management, organizing. I had two back-to-back meetings Thursday night and both of them turned into energetic and brilliant brainstorms. This happens often with the first meeting group of four, but the next meeting usually three times as many people, which makes that kind of intimacy impossible. Due to a conflicting meeting and a lot of sick people – we had a mere 8 attendees. The generosity of thought was amazing. Most everyone there walked away with new ideas for marketing their product or service or ideas for new design concepts. These people – sheer brilliance!

One of the things that came up was my online presence with Harbinger and my blog. Trying to gauge the success at this point is difficult… time will tell. The subscription rate is growing for both and I can see blog traffic is growing, but most people don’t leave comments. (BTW… comments are goooood.) Ellen Adams mentioned my blog and how much she loved my photo Hoop Dreams which was posted on September 26th with Southern Moon. I’ve had a very good response to this photo. I was lucky to be in the right place at the right time with my camera in hand. It’s one of those unexpected surprises… a picture worth a thousand words, telling a story to each of it’s viewers. I named it Hoop Dreams for obvious reasons – having seen the inspiring and powerful film by the same name years ago.

Hoop Dreams

Well, as it turns out, it was fortunate that I named the image Hoop Dreams because when Roger Ebert was looking for an image to represent the film searched for an image online and found my photo on my Red Bubble site and followed it here to my blog. Hoop Dreams, my photograph, is now on Roger’s page in the Chicago Sun Times The Great American Documentary – – celebrating the 15-year anniversary of the film.  I’m honored that he chose to use my image. There’s a lot of hoopla (pardon the pun) going on about the anniversary of this extremely powerful movie. This of course, has upped the traffic to my blog – which has been very nice. I am honored, Roger.

Steve and I took the grandkiddos to see Michael Jackson’s THIS IS IT! movie yesterday. Extremely well done – fun to watch, but so sad in so many ways. I really felt for all of the dancers and singers who had lived their whole lives for the oppotunity to perform with their idol and never got to fulful it. I highly recommend it. The kids liked it a lot. We had planned to take them on a hike to Finley Wildlife Refuge after the film but it started raining so we went for bagels instead with a stop at the top of Skinner’s Butte for a view of the city in the rain.

Aidan and Oona checking out The City of Eugene

Woo Hoo Oona!

Breathing, Life and Death

Starting to breathe. The second edition of Harbinger went out on Tuesday. I’m getting some good feedback on it, which is really quite helpful. It looks like people are enjoying the desktop images and tips. That’s what I’m aiming for… making everybody happy! I would love to hear any ideas that you might have about what tricks or tips you would like – anything from the basics to Photoshop to InDesign. It’s all fun! You can subscribe to it here.

Speaking of fun, I went back out into the rain with camera in hand a few times this week. I just love Oregon. The beauty here is astounding – from the gorgeous vistas to the tiniest raindrop on a leaf. I’m so fortunate to live here.

Gold Leaf

We’re having a small gathering tonight – a pumpkin carving party. This is a group of people we usually share Game Night with, but hey… the pumpkins are screaming – “Carve me, Carve me”, so Game Night will have to wait. There’ll be usual finger food potluck fare and plenty of wine… and of course I’ll take plenty of pictures. Pumpkin carving has become quite an art. No more simple Jack-O-Lanterns. Ray Villafane is an amazing pumpkin carving artist.

The photos of the leaves here signify – for me – a piece of the life cyle – the dying – and the beauty that is found in it… if we can only open our eyes to it.

A friend died last week. Completely unexpected. Kevin Dougherty – he was the art editor at the Eugene Weekly (yes – that’s him on the cover). Very sweet, funny, engaging human being. I met him in the early ‘90’s when he was going to school in graphic art. I was teaching at Lane Community College and working in the Mac Lab part-time. He would come in and use the lab and I would help him on the software. He called the lab his “office”. It wasn’t long after that he began at The Weekly. He was immensely talented. I never really got to know him as well as I would have liked, but we had a lot of friends in common, and I’m friends with the mother of his youngest child, Jack. He left behind his 3 children – Daniel and Sarah are college age and Jack is 13. He also left a community that is reeling from his passing. Sad beyond belief. I remember when Jack was just a wee thing. Now he’s getting ready to enter high school and his Dad won’t be there with him.

Last night was his memorial celebration. It was held at the WOW Hall in Eugene. More than 300 people crammed into the hall. Sort of a typical Eugene scene – not enough tables to hold all of the incredible potluck dishes and people of ages ranging from tiny babies and toddlers to people well into their golden years. Family members and dear friends all spoke of his fun and loving spirit. Each of his children contributed in their own special way. Jack put together a movie of Kevin’s artwork, Sarah read a beautifully touching poem, Daniel spoke of the love he has for his father – about how they sometimes faltered with each other (especially when Daniel was an adolescent) and how Kevin was always – always there for him. He apologized for rambling, but he wasn’t. He was simply speaking of his love for his father. It was beautiful and heart-wrenching. Three women – Elizabeth Cable and Friends sang an astounding three-part harmony. I don’t know the song, but it was a mesmerizing tribute. Marti Chilla also sang a heartfelt song – through his tears. Again, I don’t know the song – but it brought everyone else to tears, as well.  The evening ended with dancing to the Sugarbeets. Celebration and merriment – that’s exactly what Kevin would have wanted.

Isn’t that what most of us want? I know I want my family and friends to celebrate my life and whatever I may have accomplished during my brief time here. I’ve lost many friends over the years – most of them when I was much younger (a most unusual and unfortunate thing – which I’ll write about in the future). This made for some extremely difficult years. Most recently, however, I lost my best friend, Liza (we were friends for 27 years) to cancer 7 years ago and my dear friend, Sid – also to cancer – 1 1/2 years ago. Again – experiences I’ll write about later. Last night’s memorial brought tears I haven’t cried in awhile. I miss my friends terribly. And while I know they want me to celebrate their lives – and I do – I still miss their everyday presence in my life. I miss their laughter. I miss Liza’s giggle, although if I listen hard enough… I can still hear it and I can even see her glorious smile!

Dancing Leaf