From the NYTimes
“Objects have their own integrity and energy, which is something people who live among objects understand,” Ms. Greenberg Rohatyn said. “They speak to each other, creating a dialogue, which is what personally gets my heart beating.”
I couldn't have said it better myself.
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Amid the frustrations, the strife, and all the harder complexities of family life, I wish peace and happiness for one and all, an end to hunger, irrational conflicts, greed and inhumanity. It all comes down to the basics in the end.
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
I am not the admirer in question- rather my friend Max who makes an effort at least once a year to shoot the 20x24" Polaroid camera which has captivated photographers and artists alike since the first one was built and put to use use in 1977. I've had the opportunity to both create images with the camera as well as have my portrait taken and it's a remarkable experience both ways. Yesterday, Max was working with the camera to make some nudes. The photographic prints are always fascinating for their size, detail and uniqueness. Still, each piece of paper you expose comes with a hefty price tag ($200.00 per piece along with the studio rental time and the talents of two technicians to create an exposure) so this very special camera is for a very select few. Using my digital camera- which "captures" visual information via pixels electronically made me aware of how the present intersects with the past. Still a compelling image is a compelling image, no matter how it is created.
Monday, November 25, 2013
An image of mine from 1977 with me as the model - taken by my dad with my camera. Seeking the message in a gesture is something that has captivated me for as long as I can remember. I wonder where that comes from and all the many people, places, objects, films, words and images that have inspired me along the way.
Sunday, November 24, 2013
I am the mother of three able bodied children- and like many other parents, fortunate enough to (mostly) maintain a level of middle class life, my progeny can often appear to me like the laziest human beings alive.
Something about empathizing with another's feelings who is not their peer in age can cause a kind of hypnotic glaze to fix itself on my teenager's face. As a parent you can demand, request, command or cajole participation in household chores- with all methods producing strikingly similar outcomes. Very little (or worse, lackluster) participation on the part of the same crowd you call on better days "my offspring." So, I try to seek my higher power as I once again clean the fireplace, cinders and all.
Saturday, November 23, 2013
It turns out I am not a fan of living with someone when they are a senior in high school. (At least in my experience having been a rocky period both with Daughter #1 and now Daughter #2.)
The bottom line is having to stay parental even as they see themselves as young adults seeking all the freedoms they desire. No one said it was easy. (understatement of the day.)
Sometimes it hard to know what to make of things- too much clutter and dissent leads me to retreat and examine. It's a sunny Saturday morning- best to push whatever I can't control to an outer mental orbit and focus on what is.
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
(And Max's fried green tomatoes were delectable. Something I will have to learn how to make for sure.)
Sunday, November 17, 2013
Just across the street from Andrea's establishment, The Artist Baker, in Morristown, NJ is Tuxton, a formal wear store for men. Its design reminds me of my childhood, my excursions to downtown Cleveland via the Rapid Transit and the stores I passed en route to my father's office to meet him for a ride back to our house in Cleveland Heights at the end of an afternoon of exploring. Funny the nostalgia certain associations call forth, often in a blink of an eye.
Friday, November 15, 2013
You never know when and where the next marvel will appear. This morning, making eggs for my high school senior, I cracked the first of her two eggs for breakfast in to the buttered pan, and there it was. A double yolk. So I take that as a sign of double goodness on this Friday a.m. and I wish you all the same.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
|from this morning's stat counter on my blog|
Thanks to all of you who took the time to look, read my posts, and comment when you had something to share. I appreciate your interest!!
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
A photo from the opening of the artist's current exhibition "Everything was sleeping as if the universe was a mistake"" at the Hauser-Wirth Gallery in New York.
"Do you desire what you imagine?" or "Do you imagine what you desire?"
Monday, November 11, 2013
I am always happy to cross paths again with interesting individuals that I have met before- and when I heard that Conner Ives was going to be showing one of his dresses at an annual local event call Project Greenway, I knew I wanted to see what he has been up to. A few years back I photographed an amazing dress he made out of coffee filters and doilies (over dyed with coffee) and this year he brought a whole new set of elements to his creation, working with a vintage lace tablecloth he found at a flea market, crocheted pieces made by his grandmother and horse hair purchased from Montana. I was intrigued to see the originality that flows through him and into his work. Next year he is off to college to study fashion design and I know the world will be just as fascinated by his talent as I.
Saturday, November 9, 2013
Lately, there's been a flurry of yard sales and church rummage sales and like a bee to a flower I am drawn (despite the fact that I don't need a thing). Maybe it's the opportunity to see how other people live and examine the possessions no longer desired. Stores have a kind of magic, yet I am far more fascinated by the many items of all description arranged on tables or in piles, hoping for a buyer and priced to sell.
And yesterday, at an estate sale held at a majestic home of a wealthy homeowner who had amassed a major doll collection- there in the living room, a marlin was mounted above the fireplace as though it was pushing its way out of the wall.
Quite a decoration to grace an elegant living room. You know there is a story there.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
My better half and I made a recent excursion to Glen Cove on Long Island to see a designer showcase, called "Home is Where the Heart Is". This Gold Coast mansion, built in 1890 by Charles Pratt (who founded Standard Oil with John D. Rockefeller In 1874) was a wedding present from Pratt to his daughter Lydia. (John D Rockefeller is one of my village's most significant residents having at one time controlled most of the available land. You can find my post about my visit to his property Kykuit here.)
It was your usual extravaganza of designer bells and whistles including a lot of great light fixtures. It was fun to take it all in and see how much (and how little) we simpler folk have in common with the 1%.
Saturday, November 2, 2013
In the spirit of looking backward, I wanted to gather some of our more personal and prosaic Halloween 2013 moments. (with a nod to my very talented husband who spent a
And many thanks to the fun visitors who came to our door!
Friday, November 1, 2013
I thought everything was going according to plan. Pumpkins carved. Sufficient candy. Dinner prepared in advance. And then a phone call from my son to come to a nearby street where he was sitting in an ambulance. Perfect fodder for parental anxiety.
I'll spare any one who is interested the details (they are not gory). My son, the passenger, with his good friend, the driver, had a single car accident from which they emerged with no physical injuries whatsoever. (Their mothers, however, after spending three hours with said sons in the emergency room, found lots of opportunity to contemplate what could have happened.)
So I am thankful for the good fates that protect. And the driver in the vehicle pictured above, was someone I encountered on my way to meet the ambulance ferrying the boys in the hospital parking lot. Another kind individual who agreed to share his special something with me on a less than typical day.