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Hey! I'm the one on the left having some fun on a trip to Morocco! Thanks for stopping by! Having retired from the corporate world, my days are now packed with photography, blogging and seeing the world around me. My photography is varied...a reflection of who I am...my love of people...experiencing different lifestyles and cultures...with a little abstract thrown in!
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Category Archives: Misc.
on the road…
Escaping the rain here in the city and heading north for a few days!
Stay tuned for tales of a grand opening of a Gallery-Museum-School of Contemporary Arts
in the wilds of Vermont!
my fantasy role
As part of getting to know our “true” selves, one of the exercises in my Unravelling class is writing about our roles in life. How many roles we play, our favorites, least favorites, etc. as well as a role we’d like to play. I call it my fantasy role.
Ever since I was a little girl I’ve always wanted to work at a big newspaper. I thought it would be so exciting to research topics for articles, type them up and generally scurry around the office when a big story hits – like you see on TV. Well perhaps part of that dream came true, but I scurried around in the corporate world instead. Anyway, several years ago when I fell in love with photography again, I have to admit that I’ve fantasized about becoming a photojournalist. Visiting remote places in the world, spending time with people, learning about their culture and their lives, photographing, compiling briefs, so forth and so on.
Then after I thought about it, I had to laugh. Robin, it is what you’re kinda doing in a very small way with your blog. But my fantasy would be on a much larger scale. The ability to help in a bigger way. To bring attention to issues within the world, to have a bigger impact. So for now, I’ll continue with my little blog and put my fantasy out to the universe. I know I don’t have the qualifications of these big time photojournalists, but I’ve got the spirit and the passion behind it and who knows what life will bring? Do you have a fantasy that you’re willing to share?
Tagged Unravelling
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a weekend of traditions
captured at the upper west side community garden, nyc
Growing up I really don’t recall any Jewish acquaintances in our family, at school or at work, so there’s never been a real understanding of the various traditions during Passover. However, I’ve always been interested in all religions and have the desire to better understand the various beliefs.
As mentioned several posts earlier, I recently was adopted into a blogging community of women called Vision and Verb spearheaded by my blogger friend, Marcie Scudder. She writes, photographs and posts daily on her blog, Marcie Scudder Photography.
I’ve read and reread Marcie’s post for Passover and for the first time I get it. I mean I really get the meaning of Passover in the simplest of terms. No one has been able to put it into words like Marcie has, at least for me.
WHY IS THIS NIGHT?
Why is this night different from all others?
Because – the story tells us – this is the night we celebrate our right to be free. Our exodus from the tyrrany of slavery and bondage. On this night – we gather and sit and re-tell this story. This one that has been told and re-told time and time again.
It is the story of one Pharoah’s attempt to enslave the Jews. It is the story of Moses – born of a Jewish mother and raised by that same Pharoah. How it is that he found himself exiled and in the desert..answering to God’s call to set his people free.
It is the story of the 10 plagues – that began with the all of the waters of Egypt turning to blood..and ended with the killing of the firstborn in every Egyptian family.
It is the story of how – in their hurry to leave – the Jews had only enough time to gather their belongings and bread that had not had time to fully rise. When they arrived at the sea – it magically parted…allowing them to cross over into a land that was safe and free. It was there that it began. The long journey across the desert and search for the promised land.
Why is this night different from all others?
It’s the coming of spring. It’s the passing over. It’s a fresh clean start…a new chapter and a new beginning.
As a young child – I first asked that question…as it is the tradition that the youngest of the children ask.
As an older child – the questions I began to ask were a little different. Yes – I wanted to know ‘why’..but the why’s were less about the story itself. They were more about challenging the tradition and why this annual ritual and meal? Why the cleaning of every closet and cupboard? Why the need to remove every trace of bread? Why all of this effort and fuss? I was no longer wide-eyed..captivated by the magic…young and innocent.
As a young mother – I returned to my roots and my beginnings. What was passed to me..I passed on to my own. I watched proudly – as each of my three – had their turn to ask these same questions…that I had once asked myself.
Why is this night different from all others?
Because – on this night we gather. We celebrate. We tell the story of how it is we came to be here on this day. We eat matzo – to remind us of the unleavened bread. We dip our spring greens in water that is salted with our ancestor’s tears. We eat bitter herbs so as to never forget. We drink four cups of wine. We recline..because we are free.
Now – as an older mother..and with grown kids of my own. I get to sit back and watch. I’m looking forward to that someday when my children will sit with theirs as I did with mine. To their passing along the telling of this story. That this night will always be a one that is celebrated as different.
It is on this night that we not only honor and celebrate the Passover holiday..but every person’s right to be free. No matter the race or religion or nationality or language. We eat and we sing and we honor the tradition.
Year after year. Time after time again. We ask the questions. We answer with the telling of the same story.
Once – it is said – we were slaves in Egypt. Now – we are free.
Every time I’ve read this post (and it’s been several) …it’s brought tears to my eyes. What resonates with me so is the passing of tradition from generation to generation. Living in a Jewish community here in the Upper West Side of NYC, it’s been so enjoyable to see all the family gatherings and the importance they place on gathering for Seder.
So all of this has made me think more about the importance of traditions and my hopes are for more Marcie’s of the world who are keeping those traditions alive for our future generations.
acceptance…
Thousands of hours…thousands of dollars…
Yep, for fifty years I’d love to know how many hours were spent drying my hair straight and how much money went towards products to tame the wild.
Let’s start at the beginning. I’ve tried to remember when I first realized my hair wasn’t “normal.” Looking back at baby photos and childhood school pictures it seemed manageable. At least I don’t remember screaming and crying that my hair wouldn’t behave. (Now perhaps my mom has a different story, Mom?) And yes, some photos appeared to have a touch of being out of control, but in general I looked pretty “normal.” But high school was a totally different story.
During those high school years, I was faced with out of control, curly, bushy hair. I can remember sleeping on huge curlers, large enough to remind me of those Minute Maid Premium frozen lemonade cans. I had to go to bed with them as it’d take at least eight hours for my hair to dry. Should I even write about getting up even earlier so I could go by my girlfriend’s house to have her iron my hair? Yes, iron my hair with an iron…on an ironing board. Ahhh, but then came the hard bonnet dryer. Can’t remember how many of those I had in my lifetime. That would take at least 45 minutes to an hour to dry my hair, but much better than eight. And…I didn’t have to sleep in them! And yes, if I went anywhere, guess what had to come along? Yep, even when I went with my boyfriend and his parents to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina when I was seventeen, my trusty bonnet was my best friend and it tagged along. Oh and the beach….unless you have curly hair you have no idea how horrific it is to take vacations near and on water. Oh, and the taming (not tanning) products. I can’t even go there…to much post traumatic stress.
As I worked my way up the corporate ladder and worked tons of hours like good corporate lackeys do… the juice cans had to go. Not even enough hours in the day, and certainly not enough to spend time on hair. So somewhere along the way, I had it cut. Cut short. I mean real short. Viola…I went from one hour to ten minutes in nothing flat. It also helped that by then, blowdryers went from 600 to 1,000 watts. Major progress! BTW, after my first trip to Europe, I was tired of blowing circuits in the hotel rooms with my dryer, so from then on a blow dryer was purchased upon arrival. Yes, I have several from various countries. Hair stylists ruled the world, because when it’s very short, there’s less curl…but that also means lots of hair cuts. You get the drill. Lots of money. I lived in Scottsdale you see. So let’s just fast forward.
Years later and no corporate, I decided to embrace my natural curly hair. Yes, it was time to accept and love myself as I am at age 50. So here I am a few (ok five) years later, my hair as long as it was when I was a teenager and I’m finally accepting my curls. There are good hair days and there are not so good hair days. But I have to say, I’ve never felt more liberated than I do today with the status of my hair. The ocean, the rain, the humidity…I say…bring it on!
Now if I could just learn to accept my natural color… Hmm, NO. Been there, done that and not ready to go back there, but that’s another story. So now I get my hair colored in Soho, NYC. Ching-a-ling.
Cross-posted over at Vision and Verb -
where a collaborative group of like-minded women from all over the world
share their passion for photography and the written word.
Tagged acceptance, curly hair, NYC, Scottsdale, soho
10 Comments
taubman museum of art
Tilted walls that look like layers of rock… Stainless steel that will reflect the yellows in autumn or the deep blue sky of a summer storm brewing…
Welcome to the Taubman Museum of Art in downtown Roanoke, Virginia where the building itself is its own exhibit. Photographing architectural design is a favorite of mine, so after spending an hour walking around the outside of the museum and studying the various angles, I was eager to learn what influenced Randall Stout’s design. Pure and simple. Nature. His design was meant to showcase the natural beauty of Roanoke, including the Blue Ridge Mountains, the Roanoke River and Natural Bridge. In my opinion, Stout nailed it.
The sight of the museum has not been without controversy though. I hear that locals either love it or hate it. But isn’t that what art is all about? I personally LOVE it! The museum jumps out amongst buildings constructed in the late 1800′s, creating the perfect contrast as if to say…Look at Me! The opportunity to sit and have a coffee with the museum’s executive director, David Mickenberg, was a wonderful opportunity. Learning about the museum’s challenges since their opening a few years ago, their successes and his creative plans for upcoming exhibits and future projects made my visit even more special. Thanks David for taking the time!
BTW, it’s only a short walk from the historic City Market and Hotel Roanoke. All are a must see as you make your way through southwestern Virginia!
Also posted in Public Art, Virginia
Tagged David Mickenberg, Hotel Roanoke, Roanoke, Taubman Museum, virginia
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not at home…
Sorry I’m not home right now
I’m walking into spiderwebs…
So leave a message
And I’ll call you back…
A likely story, but leave a message
And I’ll call you back…
(lyrics from Spiderwebs by Gwen Stefani/No Doubt)
On my way to Virginia for a few weeks. Will report from the farm!
2012 intentions
For some reason intentions make more sense to me than resolutions. I intend to do this…I intend to do that…instead of that dreadful word…(ugh)…resolve.
So with that said, what do I intend to do in 2012?
Let’s start with photography. Do I want to grow up and be a famous photographer? No. Do I want my photography to make an impact? Yes.
So my intentions this year continues with my love affair…with improving, learning, experimenting, getting out of my comfort zone…having an impact with my photography.
Let’s start with improving and learning…I intend to continue shooting daily. I’ve learned this is absolutely THE best way to improve. Adding to that is increasing my technical skills by learning lightroom which is a software that organizes photos (I have volumes!) and provides the ability to tweak for change or improvement. After that comes photoshop elements which will assist my desire to experiment.
Experimenting and getting out of my comfort zone…I intend to be diligent in getting my photography out in the world and not just posting on my blog. I’ve joined several groups on Flickr and look forward to feedback from other photographers. I intend to share more of my photography thoughts, challenges, successes as well as failures…as I continue to blog about living in NYC (and the Sonoran desert and the farm!) and traveling the world. Mixed media photography (which is where the photoshop comes in) is an area of interest and even though many people think this hampers the true sense of photography, I feel it’s simply a different way of creating a picture. It’s art. Artists play. I intend to play.
Having an impact…I’m embarking on a huge project. A project that will showcase two very important people in my life. My parents. More details to come, but a portion of this project has to do with Alzheimer’s. My father has this dreadful disease and my mother is the caregiver. Need I say more? I want my photography to have an impact. First, to bring awareness to the disease. It blows my mind to read that every 69 seconds, someone in America develops this disease and by mid-century? Every 33 seconds. Somehow I want to help. I recently came across the term “Reminiscence Therapy” and that’s a perfect description for what I want to do with my art. By using photos from the past it gives the person with Alzheimer’s a sense of value, importance, belonging and peace. How incredible would it be if I am able to help just one person? I intend to do just that.
As important as photography is to me, friendships are right there as well. I intend to surround myself with friends who really care, friends who want to spend quality time with no expectations. Friends who are incredibly passionate about what they’re doing. And I mean passionate. Fired up, excited, can’t wait to wake up and do it type passion. Because when you surround yourself with people like that, you can’t help but get all fired up yourself. Right? But friendships take work, and that’s what I intend to do. Provide that love and attention through shared experiences and moments and common bonds.
You know they always say…write it down, tell people…and it’ll happen. So folks, there you have it. My intentions for 2012. Here’s to an incredible journey!
“Teach this triple truth to all:
A generous heart, kind speech, and a life of service and compassion are the things which renew humanity.”
Buddha
