in DUMBO, Brooklyn, NYC

]]> http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/local-sights/walking-the-line/feed/ 0 http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/vision-and-verb/assume-the-position/ http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/vision-and-verb/assume-the-position/#comments Fri, 18 May 2012 11:56:04 +0000 gotham girl http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/?p=15719

The last time I opened my chakra so I could feel my peace, I got thrown right out of the pub.

  ~Terri Guillemets, creator of The Quote Garden

(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.)

A generous heart, kind speech, and compassion are the things which renew humanity.

- Buddha

‘If we fail this time, it will be a failure of imagination…

And then she placed the world, gently, in the palm of my hand.’

Brian Andreas

  (closing poem of the welcoming talk by Robert Sarly)

All ages and all walks of life came out to applaud the efforts of two visionaries whose mission is to share their passion for the contemporary arts. In a small town in southern Vermont, Robert Sarly and Abby Raeder have opened their hearts (and their wallets!) to build a venue that will not only showcase their love, but provide a gathering place in their community.  The Vermont Institute of Contemporary Art (VTica) will eventually be part gallery, part museum, part school along with a special-events venue to bring thought-provoking and out-of-the box programming to the south central Vermont arts community.

Based on the turnout, my guess is these two have an incredible start in fulfilling their vision.  Bravo Abby and Robert!  So proud of what you’ve accomplished and there’s no doubt that you hold the contemporary art world in the palm of your hands in Chester, Vermont!

It was a pleasure to photograph their event and on that note let me share with you some of my favorites from the community of Chester…

Ruth Gruber

“My only regret is not doing enough.”  That answer not only floored me, but totally inspired me.  The question was proposed by a young woman in the audience.  “Mrs. Gruber, If you’d look back over your life…do you have any regrets?”  I can’t get that response out of my head, nor do I want to.

Here’s a woman that’s 101 years old that experienced and accomplished more by the time she was in her mid-twenties than so many of us in an entire lifetime.  She became the youngest PhD in the world (accomplished in one year) before going on to become an international foreign correspondent at the age of 24.  And she was just getting started!

A famed journalist, photographer, author of 19 books, humanitarian and a former U.S. government official, she was born in Brooklyn with the love of adventure.  Add that to fearlessness and powerful intellect!   In her thirties she escorted Holocaust refugees to America, covered the Nuremberg trials, and documented the ship Exodus while making an attempt to deliver 4,500 Jewish refugees first to Cyprus, then to Britain and then to France before heading back to Germany.  While aboard the prison ship, she photographed the refugees confined in wire cages.  (Which by the way is currently being exhibited at Soho Photo here in NYC this month!)

I was fortunate to attend the screening of the documentary “Ahead of Time” of Gruber’s life from 1911 to 1947.  Held at the Shearith Israel, home to the first Jewish congregation in the United States, now 350 years old. (Just an added bonus!)  She answered questions for thirty minutes or so before her book signing, “Witness,” an account of what she witnessed up close and personal on her assignments.

Asked if she was working on any new projects and Gruber was quick to answer, “Yes, just yesterday I met with someone who wants to work on a project in Haiti….”  (Really??? At 101??) When asked the best piece of advice she ever received?  “Take photographs with your heart…”

It’s been a few days since the screening, but I just can’t forget those words…“My only regret is not doing enough.”  Oh, how we all can do so much more.  So much more…

Mom, I am because of you. 

I love you dearly.

  Happy Mother’s Day!

This week’s wabi-sabi sighting was definitely in Vermont, specifically Chester, Vermont.  Even more specific?  How about an old run down building that used to be a community gathering venue, the American Legion.

But then two people came along with a vision.  They could visualize a space made of natural materials, sensitive to texture, light and color.  A space where people could come and allow their creativity and imagination to soar.

I remember walking into this old building a year or so ago…the smell of stale beer and cigarettes…an old seasoned bar…knowing with just the right imagination and creativity this dream could soar.  Soar?  What an understatement!

More to come on the spectacular grand opening of the Vermont Institute of Contemporary Arts, often referred to as VTica.

This is an ongoing series on Saturdays showcasing my wabi-sabi find of the week. 

What is wabi-sabi? 

Learn about it here or here.

There’s more solitude and silence than one can ever imagine here.  Every so often during the day a chime or a soleri bell would produce an ever so gentle sound…reminding you there’s more than just the sound of your own heartbeat, your own breathing.

Still somewhat dormant from the winter, an occasional jonquil is in bloom…but one can feel the forest is readying for a saturation of all shades of green imaginable.

So speaking of the difficulty in finding the words to describe…this post will be a little more show than tell.

Let’s begin outside…

prayer flags - nature made

Now let me bring you inside…

I’ll leave you with my favorite portion of a poem found inside the cabin that describes this spectacular place far better than I would ever be able to with my words.

Written by a French Buddhist friend who had visited when tan-y-garth had been completed…

Brings peace and joy to the wonderer who visits…

~~~

Open to the stars, and welcoming the elements…

~~~

A balcony to contemplate and address the inner space…

~~~

One’s space and dream come together in architecture…

~~~

Where mind and spirit will find their true home…

I hope this has given you a small glimpse of the enchantment that exists at tan-y-garth!

tan-y-garth, vermont

It is raining and you can hear the pattern of the drops. You can hear it with your ears, or you can hear it out of that deep silence. If you hear it with complete silence of the mind, then the beauty of it is such that cannot be put into words or onto canvas, because that beauty is something beyond self-expression. – Jiddu Krishnamurti

MORE TO COME…

How does one describe the wonder and mystery of nature?

In Celtic mythology the birch tree is a protector of evil and in Welsh folklore it’s associated with love…

so it was no surprise to see firsthand the natural embrace the birch trees had over this incredible structure surrounding the outdoor labyrinth…

(Just had to give you a sneak preview of the weekend in the wilds of Vermont…stay tuned as I process my photos and gather my thoughts. There’s so much to share!)

PEZ!  Who knew the infamous candy was first introduced in 1927 in Vienna, Austria as a breath mint for adults and the name was created from the first, middle and last letter in the German word for peppermint, PfeffErminZ!

Fun to just stumble upon this place while looking for a rest stop on the road trip this weekend.  So if you’re ever in the area, and you are a PEZ connoisseur and have about an hour to spare, head to the PEZ Visitor Center in Orange, Connecticut.

Lots to share, so stay tuned for more updates this week on the adventures in the wilds of Vermont!

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!

Let the Sunshine In is this week’s prompt for Bella’s 52 photos project…It could be light, seeping into the dark…shadows…still life…lines…as it dapples and fades…golden or bright…capture the sun shining in your life…even in our darkest moments, the sun – the light, can find its way through the cracks.  This also leads me into my Unravelling class this week as well.  We were asked to notice treasures in our life.  Something that has meaning and an emotional value, taking the focus off ourselves and taking a look at the inanimate objects that hold stories about ourselves.  Something that will catch our eye and perhaps bring a smile. As I read both of their posts there was a touch of shininess that caught my eye and it immediately provided the answer to both prompts.

This hand blown glass paper weight captured my attention some 50 plus years ago.  You see my parents bought this paperweight early in their marriage as they passed through Natural Bridge, a huge gorge in the mountainous terrain in Virginia. An area famous for honeymooners back in the day.  I can remember being a very little girl and climbing up in the desk chair in my parents bedroom and turning it, rubbing it and thinking about what it would be like to run around in that magical kaleidoscopic forest inside.  How elated I was when my mom gave it to me a few years ago.  It’s so precious to me.

Before signing off for today, as mentioned in my previous post it was incredible to be in the thick of the protests on Tuesday.  It gives me the opportunity to play in my fantasy world of being a photojournalist, ha!  But in all seriousness, these opportunities are a dream for photographers as there’s absolutely no concerns from people about taking their photograph. Finishing up the afternoon with “occupy” and all the chaos,  afterwards I attended my first weekly dharma gathering at the Shambhala Meditation Center.  What a change from all the megaphones, the pushing and shoving into a tranquil meditative paradise.   A perfect ending to my evening.  I had the privilege of hearing Sangyum Agness Au talk on “The Pain of Pain: Not Leaving Well Enough Alone.”  But that’s a story for another time…

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?

I think he’s new.  I’m almost positive I didn’t see him last year.

Surely I would’ve remembered him from last year.  So he must be new too.

Now Batman is definitely new!

And I know, absolutely positively that he’s new.  I would’ve remembered that skirt.

But, thank goodness I can always count on Ms. Columbia being there.  Remember from last year’s Easter parade and the Halloween Skate party?  If not, have an introduction here.

But you know, I am getting just a little tired of this outfit.

The Road goes ever on and on down from the door where it began. 

Now far ahead the Road has gone, and I must follow, if I can,

pursuing it with eager feet, until it joins some larger way where many paths and errands meet. 

And whither then?  I cannot say.

J.R.R. Tolkien, author of the epic fantasy, The Lord of the Rings.

~~~~

(This is a series of posts on Jan Phillips’ book, God is at Eye Level, Photography as a Healing Art.

For an intro check out the first post here.)

~~~~

New Images for a New World

Chapter eight of Jan Phillip’s book talks about how our images are teaching tools.  Honestly, I hadn’t really thought about the root meaning of the word document (docere) is “to teach” so this is a timely chapter as I continue my quest to document my father’s battle with Alzheimer’s.  Often when I tell people that I’m working on this project the immediate question is “How do you photograph something that’s happening inside their brain?” The above photo was captured on one of our walks on the farm, and when I saw the gravelled road laid out in front of him through my lens, the thoughts of his life ahead of him spoke volumes to me. What does he think as he walks on the land that he’s loved and tilled for over sixty years?  Or when he sits in the sun in the living room and looks out the window for hours in total quietness?  Or at night when he sits in his lazy-boy chair and says…Can we go home tomorrow?

To me this is the true meaning of photography; the ability to create an emotion.  An image that can change the way we think, move us to tears or laughter, or to action.  Jan phrased it perfectly for me. “When we set out to document something, we are tasked with revealing the essence, the true spirit of it, as we see it and feel it in our bones; for the more truth a photo contains, the more potential it has to touch the heart.”

She closes the chapter with a profound statement that all of us can use in our photography… “Every time we ‘load a roll of film into our cameras’ we can choose to contribute something valuable to the global family album or add to the stockpile of meaningless imagery.“  Wow.

Next up:  Chapter Nine – Life Seeking Life

Joining in for the very first time?  Catch up on the previous chapters!
Chapter One – Through the Eyes of a Child

Chapter Two – Seeing Our Way Clear

Chapter Three – Shifting the Focus

Chapter Four -  Looking Like No Other

Chapter Five – Portrait of a Soul

Chapter Six – Speaking our Peace

Chapter Seven – Mindful Seeing, Mindful Being

After a good portion of a day having my head buried in the computer learning a new software program, a break outside was a must.  I left my apartment building and on a whim turned left instead of my planned right, walked to Central Park instead of Riverside Park. My nose led me right to Lilac Walk.  I could’ve stayed for hours. If only my camera could capture that sweet powdery scent. Heavenly…

I picked up a ham and gruyere baguette from a small stand in the park and sat down to watch the world go by.  But the world came to me.  Within minutes little children appeared with all sizes of violins.  Then a clarinet showed up and then a cello and a tambourine. For an hour I was serenaded by Moon River, When the Saints Go Marching In, Happy Trails to You…some in tune, some not. The beautiful sounds of violins, quiet sounds full of emotions.  From the sound of sadness, whispering like the wind and then higher and higher (and every once in awhile a painful screeeeech!) and then it would stop and the whisper would start all over again.

And of course like good little buskers they were constantly checking on their earnings!  Priceless!

(No wabi-sabi sightings this week…but I’m heading to the flea market today so stay tuned for next Saturday!)

I hate my feet.  Ever since I remember my feet, they’ve been ugly to me. My guess is this all started around those teenage years when you really start caring about those kinds of things… But anyway, several years ago, my dad and I were chatting about who got what in the family and so the discussion ensued about our feet.  If there’s one trait that I received from my father, it’s his feet.  Wide feet + Hereditary Bunions = Ugly Feet, in my opinion.  (Now don’t start thinking…oh your feet aren’t that ugly…I know, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, ha!)

But let me back up so you understand why I’m posting about feet.  Recently, I signed up for an on-line course Unravelling with Susannah Conway.  A way to use journaling and photography to get to know the “me” that is hidden inside, a way to reconnect with “myself.”  I love these kind of exercises because I think we can all learn something about ourselves that will help us as we move along in life.  So here we go.  Assignment – Week One:  FEET.  Oh god, I’m down before I even get out the gate!  But then I think how lucky am I?  I could have missing toes, a club foot, or no feet at all!!  Your feet have carried you through all these years! Stop your whining!  But then I easily return to…I hate my feet.

This past week was quality time on the farm in Virginia with my parents. Bingo! For my first assignment, I’ll take photos with my dad’s 86 year old feet beside of mine.  My dad thought this was so funny and couldn’t understand why someone would want photos of their feet!  Of course he doesn’t remember that discussion years ago because he now has Alzheimer’s.  But when I looked at this photograph, both the stair steps and our feet really spoke to me.   It made me realize how special my feet are because I do have my dad’s feet.  I’ll be able to take this with me until I can no longer remember…and what a wonderful thing that is!  Now when I look at my feet, I’ll think about him and all the long days he spent working the farm and standing to sell our fruits and vegetables to make our family a living.

Will I ever hate my feet again?  Probably so, but I do know this exercise has given me a new outlook and now when I look at my feet, I’ll think of him and how proud I am to be the owners of these feet…a symbol of an incredible legacy within my family.  Thank you Dad!♥

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.

Dias y Flores Community Garden, NYC

Always up for a challenge, I’m joining in on Bella Cirovic’s 52 photo projects.  For 52 weeks, she provides a photo prompt and we display our work and meet others with the same shared passion.  So this week is week 1 of 52!  And here we go!

Her first prompt of the “new year” is about beginnings…What are you beginning right now?, she asked.  I’ve been thinking a lot lately about printing my photographs.  I love creating and sharing (posting to my blog) but I find that most of my work is hoarded and buried deep into my hard-drive.   I recently read an article and kept a portion of it as a reminder.  Unfortunately the author’s name escaped me, but what was said really opened my eyes to the importance of printing. “We need to print it, look at it, live with it, and react to it. And we need to share it. The downfall of the digital revolution is that so much of our work never makes it past the pixels.”

So with that reminder and Bella’s prompt this week, I WILL PRINT!  I’m looking forward to sharing the other 51 prompts with you as well, so I hope you’ll follow along!  Have you started doing something new lately?  Would love to hear about it!

Looking to draw attention?  Yep, three thousand blue and silver pinwheels got mine!  The pinwheel gardens at a local community college here in Roanoke, Virgina are simply a visual reminder that celebrates healthy happy children in an effort to draw attention to Child Abuse Prevention Month!  Clever and impactful!

My dad and I took several walks on the farm…looking at his apple trees he can no longer take care of due to his Alzheimer’s…but still able to admire the beauty of a newborn apple…

We stopped in to visit at a neighbor’s farm…

And of course a visit to the nearby Happy Hollow Gardens Park was in order to see all the azaleas in bloom…

And the big thrill of the week was seeing a wild turkey puff up and spread his tail feathers which I’ve never seen in the wild…(albeit not the best photo, but the best I could capture!)  My dad and I both were very excited over this sighting!

Love you mom and dad!  Will miss you terribly! Tomorrow it’s back to MY city, NYC!

Just as treasures are uncovered from the earth, so virtue appears from good deeds, and wisdom appears from a pure and peaceful mind. To walk safely through the maze of human life, one needs the light of wisdom and the guidance of virtue.
Buddha

Cross-posted (in color!) 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.

]]> http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/buddha-quote/virtue-and-wisdom/feed/ 11 http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/travel/wabi-sabi-saturday-the-eastern-state-pen/ http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/travel/wabi-sabi-saturday-the-eastern-state-pen/#comments Sat, 21 Apr 2012 14:46:56 +0000 gotham girl http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/?p=15049

This prison was the world’s first true Penitentiary, a building designed to inspire

penitence (or true regret) in the hearts of criminals.

Its vaulted, sky-lit cells held many of America’s most notorious criminals, including bank robber

“Slick Willie” Sutton and “Scarface” Al Capone. 

The prison stands today in ruin, a haunting world of crumbling cellblocks and a surprising, eerie beauty.

Those are the words direct from their brochure, and to me it’s the perfect summary.  But first, how does one end up in Philadelphia visiting the Eastern State Penitentiary?  A wonderful opportunity coordinated by PWP, Professional Women Photographers, headquartered in NYC.  Their outings never disappoint.  It was a rise and shine morning on a gorgeous spring day, a brisk walk across Central Park to the East Side of Manhattan to hop a bus headed to Philly!

If you’re a lover of creepy, decrepit, and historic buildings this is an absolute must-see and an overabundance of wabi-sabi.  Since there were so many incredible captures (no pun intended), I’ll just showcase some of my favorites!

Every day prisoners at Eastern State would spend every hour except for one in a cell with a toilet, a table, a bunk bed and a Bible.  When the prisoners did leave their cells, a black hood would be placed over their head so they couldn’t see others as they were guided through the hallways.   They lived a life in solitude and would only get a glimpse of sunlight, known as “The Eye of God” which came through a slit in the prison ceiling.

Walking through the hallways and in and out of cells was it the peeling paint on the walls, or a ray of light showcasing an old bench or a broken commode, or reflections caught when least expected…perhaps it was a combination that brought a feel of eeriness, abandonment and pain.

Only seen by joining in on a five minute tour called Leaving Their Mark, a guide showed me inmates’ graffiti that would have otherwise been missed. In cellblock 8, layers of paint have chipped away to reveal an eye. A way for prisoners to deal with confinement, this particular drawing was completed above the cell door, the only place a guard wouldn’t be able to see.  Probably drawn by pencil, a single teardrop drips from the eye.  Was this a sketch of the prisoner’s eye? Was it of someone on the outside? Perhaps a loved one?  Or was it depicting the guards watchful eye?  Was it the “Eye of God?” Was the person in the tear drop crawling out or trying to crawl in?  Whatever the answer, it was powerful.

One of the most infamous inmates of all time was Al Capone.  He was allowed comforts not granted to other inmates…fine furniture, oriental rugs, oil paintings and a fancy radio.  This room was one of only a few cells that has been restored, taking you back in time to the days of the early 1900′s.

Of course a photography outing is never complete without a little abstract thrown in!

Many people have claimed to see ghostly images roaming the hallways and many people have claimed to hear strange sounds, perhaps this is why Time magazine included the penitentiary in their Top 10 Most Haunted Places in the World!  All I know is this trip will be one of several back to Philly to continue to capture (and improve on) those haunting images!

There are two mistakes one can make along the road
to truth – not going all the way, and not starting.

Buddha

For those not as familiar with the neighborhoods of Manhattan, in the lower east part of the island is an area called the East Village.  To me, and many others, it’s the real New York.  Within the East Village is a smaller neighborhood called Alphabet City. (Its name comes from Avenues A, B, C, and D, the only avenues in Manhattan to have single-letter names.) It’s an area that I’ve chosen to get to know at a more intimate level by spending hours walking and discovering the many treasures it has to offer.  A little funk, a little grunge, sometimes gritty, but real neighborhoods with diversity galore…and a plethora of beautiful small community gardens, many the oldest in New York City.

It wasn’t until the purchase of Grace Tankersely’s guide book on the Community Gardens of the East Village and my own conversations with garden members did I begin to understand the history and the meaning of these gardens.

Looking back, during the 70′s when NYC was on the verge of bankruptcy, there were budget cuts (police, sanitation, fire departments) and building owners abandoned their properties left and right.  By default, these areas became city owned and because of their own financial issues they were unable to care for them.  Eventually torn down, these areas attracted the homeless, drug addicts, rats, along with increased violence.  But what it also brought was a sense of community with neighbors coming together to clean up these abandoned areas.  A neighborhood group, the Green Guerrillas, created their own garden and began helping others who wanted to do the same.

With community gardens on the rise, gardeners worked with the city and in the late 70′s an organization was formed called Operation GreenThumb.  One year leases were then drawn up for the gardens on city-owned land.  Over the years the gardens brought a sense of community; a place for neighbors to meet, for children to play, for weddings, birthday parties and celebrations.

But then came the 1990′s, real estate boomed and gardens were sold.  Neighborhoods exploded with public meetings, movements, lawsuits, and according to Tankersely’s book, even chaining themselves to bulldozers to preserve their gardens.  In 1999, 114 community gardens all over New York City were put on the auction block.  Imagine the intensity when at the very last minute the gardens were purchased by two groups, the Trust for Public Land and Bette Midler’s New York Restoration Project. A few years later an agreement was reached resulting in the Department of Parks and Recreation taking ownership as long as the gardens remained active.

Of course there’s way more to this story and Tankersely does an excellent job providing the details in her book. But the bottom line to keep a garden active requires time, energy and money…all from volunteers. If you’ve been part of a volunteer group you know that brings its own set of problems.  People come and go, often leaving a few to do all the work.  There’s varying opinions, cultural differences, struggles to raise funds to keep the gardens going…and time needed, lots and lots of time.  (If you’ve ever had a backyard or a vegetable garden you know.)  I don’t have a full understanding of the leases that are held with these gardens, but I’m sure as I explore and chat with gardeners during the summer months, I’ll walk away with increased knowledge of how these treasures will (hopefully) continue to bring that sense of community for generations to come.

In future posts, I’m excited to share with you my photography and my discussions with the interesting and ever so eclectic group of garden members in this little community of Alphabet City.

Take a big deep breath and think about the aroma from lots of tulips.  Perhaps you’re thinking…but tulips don’t really have much of a fragrance!  True, but…did I happen to mention 15,000 tulips?  Yes, it’s that time of year again for the annual tulip festival at the West Side Community Garden.  Beautiful, warm, overcast day…picture perfect for photography and that aroma! Pure heaven!

Tomorrow I head for the farm and by the time I return all of these lovelies will be gone, but quickly followed by irises, bleeding hearts and more peonies.  It’s one huge candyland with a never ending supply of beauty all summer long!

This week be looking for a couple of updates…one, my discoveries of some very unique community gardens in the East Village AND two, my adventure to Philly to photograph in the Eastern State Penitentiary!  Plus I’m starting a new course this week about becoming best friends…with…guess who?  MYSELF!  Combined with photography, we’ll be honoring our memories, seeing our own beauty, thinking about our hidden dreams, and seeing where we are in the world.  Susannah Conway promises eight weeks of unravelling (and who doesn’t need a bit of unravelling once in a while?) and it would be my pleasure if you’d follow along with me!

Sharing just a taste of an unforgettable day…

Stay tuned for more on the Eastern State Penitentiary!

Today is truly a wabi-sabi Saturday! 

I’m off for a day of photo shooting at the Eastern State Penitentiary in Philadelphia! 

Stay tuned for more!

The thing that is really hard, and really amazing,

is giving up on being perfect

and beginning the work of becoming yourself.

Anna Quindlen

de colores, east village, nyc

In Spanish, de colores simply means “the colors.”  It’s also the name of a song that praises the beauty of the diversity and simplicity of God’s creation.  How perfect!  More to come on these little treasures in the East Village!  There’s so much there…not only the plantings, but the art and oh…the people of this community!

cafe vurma, stockholm

 (This is a series of posts on Jan Phillips’ book, God is at Eye Level, Photography as a Healing Art.  For an intro check out the first post here.)

de colores community yard and cultural center

I need 72 hours in a day to do all I want to do.

Stay tuned for more on this topic!

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.

captured in stockholm, sweden

]]> http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/travel/happy-easter/feed/ 5 http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/local-sights/mesmerizing-and-seductive/ http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/local-sights/mesmerizing-and-seductive/#comments Sat, 07 Apr 2012 14:38:59 +0000 gotham girl http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/?p=14815

How the Orchid Show was described in the brochure

for The New York Botanical Garden located in the Bronx of New York.

 Couldn’t agree more!  A must see. 

]]> http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/local-sights/mesmerizing-and-seductive/feed/ 3 http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/wabi-sabi-saturday/wabi-sabi-saturday-6/ http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/wabi-sabi-saturday/wabi-sabi-saturday-6/#comments Sat, 07 Apr 2012 01:13:41 +0000 gotham girl http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/?p=14802 This is an ongoing series on Saturdays showcasing my wabi-sabi find of the week. 

What is wabi-sabi? 

Learn about it here and here.

Window of Kruser-Finley House

Historic Richmond Town, Staten Island, NYC

Built in 1790

destination?  yep, staten island.

the ferry ride took 30 minutes.  waiting for the s74 bus took another 20 minutes.

the s74 bus ride took another hour.  jammed packed with school kids.  lots of hoodies.

a short walk to the final destination – jacques marchais museum of tibetan art.

afterwards, a quick tour of the nearby town, a couple of bus stops away. i walked.

of course the day to walk around old town of richmond there’s filming going on.

stopped by a cute staten islander asking me if i was part of the film crew – because of my camera.

yes, he looked at me like i was from outer space being clueless about boardwalk empire.  i tried to explain i watch tv slim to none.  nevermind.

waited for the s74 bus for 45 minutes.  the bus driver didn’t bother to stop for me.  picture me pissed.

waited another 25 minutes and this time stood in the street.  that worked.

the 45 minute bus ride was terrifying, jarring and exhilarating.   very aggressive bus driver.  lots of holes in the roads (yep, back in the usa), almost an accident (not the bus driver’s fault) and screaming between bus driver and more hoodies.  they were being disrespectful. (no disrespect in the hoodie department, it’s just what they were wearing.)

back on the ferry to manhattan.  on time, yeah!

all of that just to see a bunch of prayer flags, buddha statues and people and smokey old cars from the 1920′s.

i wouldn’t have missed this adventure for the world.  and yes, only minutes from manhattan!

captured at the Upper West Side Community Garden, NYC

But not lonely…

And I’m sure they could say the same about me!

Until next time!

Gannarsons in Stockholm, Sweden

A semla is a round wheat bun with cardamom that is filled with almond paste and whipped cream and decorated with powder sugar.  Combine that with a black coffee and a Swedish meringue cookie from Gunnarsons on Götgatan Street, and you’ve got yourself one helluva caffeine sugar buzz for the afternoon!  Great primer for happy hour!

on the subway in stockholm, sweden

Besides providing many wonderful photo opportunities, Stockholm also offers one of the largest contemporary photography museums in the world.  Located in the beautiful Stockholm harbor, Fotografiska focuses only on photography as an art form.  Even the building, originally a custom service house, kept its original Art Noveau style during the renovation.  Four major exhibits, along with 15 to 20 minor exhibits are featured each year.

Approaching the square at the main entrance is the interesting and controversial bronze sculpture by Dan Wolgers, a well known Swedish artist.

Controversial?  I’ll let you decide.  I love his imagination!

captured on the docks of Stadsgården in Stockholm, Sweden

Is there anything better than to be longing for something,

when you know it is within reach?

                                Greta Garbo

Speaking our Peace

Find something you like to do.  Learn to do it well, and do it in the service of the people.  Karlene Faith

Many of us want to make a difference in the world, we want our lives to matter, right?  As photographers we want our images to stand for our beliefs, and showcase what matters to us, right?  The emphasis of chapter six is how photographs can have an impact beyond the personal level.  As an example, since I’m not much of a TV person, I enjoy receiving the news on my computer through visual journalism, specifically the photo blogs associated with MSNBC and the Lens of the New York Times.  It’s the emotional impact from the photo that words often don’t come close to describing.

The following two photos are not mine, but I wanted to share them as they had much more impact than had I just read the words that accompanied them.

In the village of Wadia in the western state of Gujarat in India, prostitution has been a tradition for ages and very much a normal way of life.  But developments of late have aimed at breaking this tradition by marrying and engaging the girls, thus taking them out of the profession.  OK, but how much more of an impact this story has when you see the image that photographer Amit Dave captured of a veiled girl waiting for her engagement ceremony to start…

So young, only a baby herself.

Or if you read the statement, Nepalese women carry bricks to a brick factory in Bungmati on the outskirts of Katmandu, Nepal… But what an impact when you see the image that photographer Niranjan Shrestha captured…

It’s as if you can feel the weight of those bricks.  Can you only imagine?

The author, Jan Phillips, says photographs can change the course of things, turn one’s head, alter one’s thoughts, enlighten one’s darkness.  To shoot with that awareness, to know our images, made of light, can contribute light – that is the joy of photography. How profound are those words… Our images made of light, can contribute light…

That’s exactly my goal and mission with bringing awareness to Alzheimer’s.

my daddy

When I tell you my dad has Alzheimer’s doesn’t it have much more of an impact when you see this photo? How alone he must feel?  Uncertain to what is happening in his mind…not knowing what is next?

Next week:  Chapter Seven – Mindful Seeing, Mindful Being

Joining in for the first time?  Catch up on the previous chapters!

Chapter One – Through the Eyes of a Child

Chapter Two – Seeing Our Way Clear

Chapter Three – Shifting the Focus

Chapter Four -  Looking Like No Other

Chapter Five – Portrait of a Soul

Huh?  Feathers on twigs?

Outdoor markets here in Stockholm, Sweden are filled with dyed feathers wired to bunches of twigs…vases of feathers on twigs in the windows and at the entrances of boutiques…even a sighting at a dinner party this week…

So what’s up with this?  Direct from google and of course confirmed by the locals…

During Lent, when trees are still bare and the ground often covered with ice and snow, it is customary to cut birch branches and decorate them with feathers that have been dyed a variety of colors. As the weeks advance the twigs gradually produce feathery green shoots. The unique decoration of the green branches with their fluffy colored feathers adds gaiety and charm to many an indoor window ledge.

Chatting it up with a flower shop owner in the old town of Stockholm, she mentioned that in early times people switched one another (too funny!) with birch branches as part of spring purification rites. Today the branches serve only as picturesque symbols of awakening spring.

Love, love, love traditions!  Happy Spring from Stockholm, Sweden!

  We have no forks or sheets, but Carl always has enough to buy columns. — Olga Milles

Birgit's flat in stockholm

And cocktail hours….

Bodil's flat in uppsala

And more dinner parties…

M and E's house in uppsala

And lots and lots of laughter and chatter!

captured outside sidewalk at covo trattoria

Tucked away in Harlem,  Covo Trattoria and wine bar is housed in an old railroad station under the rumbling Henry Hudson Parkway.  An easy 25 minute bike ride from the apartment with nice views of the Hudson River…spring has definitely sprung!

**Will be reporting in from Stockholm, Sweden for the next ten days so stay tuned!**

san remo on central park west, nyc

The San Remo apartment building in the Upper West Side

overlooking Central Park is probably one of THE most photographed buildings in NYC.

So I thought perhaps a different perspective was needed!

captured at grant's tomb, upper west side, nyc

 ”There are many little ways to enlarge your child’s world. Love of books is the best of all.”

Jacqueline Kennedy

Nothing like a night at the Beacon Theater listening to ABB!

As if you’re entering a bordello…the decor is sultry, sensual, intoxicating…intimate and small…oh yes, very small.

But behind the bar another story unfolds as this is no ordinary restaurant.  There is no kitchen, just a popcorn popper, a hot plate, small fridge, toaster oven and microwave scattered throughout the work space.  Oh and the bong.

Chef Christian Zammas reminds me of a street artist.  He brings his performance art up close and personal for his audience.

the master (chef zammas) at desnuda in the east village

Right at the bar he prepares his bong with some kind of tea leaves and peppercorns, lights it on fire and then catches the smoke in small glasses and seals it over each individual raw oyster.  While waiting a minute for the smoke to permeate the oyster…popcorn, direct from the popcorn popper, appears.   Not just any popcorn.  This is popcorn drizzled in truffle oil.  Yes, you read it right.  Drizzled in truffle oil.  You lift the glass, inhale as the small stream of smoke is released and then slurp the oyster down.

Simple instructions: Inhale, shoot and enjoy.

Yes, popcorn drizzled in truffle oil.  I’m still lusting over it…

This tiny cevicheria located in the East Village will entice you, seduce you and make you want more.  So many ceviche dishes to come back and try…and it doesn’t hurt to have Butter Lane cupcakes on the same street especially when boxes of cupcakes are given out as they closed their doors for the night!

Then there was a stop a few blocks over at Via della Pace….but that’s a gastronomic story for another day…

(This is a series of posts on Jan Phillips’ book, God is at Eye Level, Photography as a Healing Art.  For an intro check out the first post here.)

Still reflecting on the importance of the connection or relationship in photography, the author takes it a step further in chapter five by discussing the body language that speaks our inner voice, conversing through the language of eyes and smiles.  “My portraits grew out of this closeness and expressed the intimacy from which they emerged.”

For me, taking portraits of people that I don’t know is challenging, particularly street photography. I’m not the “in your face” type photographer.  Don’t get me wrong, with a fabulous zoom lens I do use it occasionally for capturing people, but it lacks the connection for me, it lacks the soul connection.

A few days ago while exploring the East Village here in NYC,  my eyes always constantly looking at locations and evaluating their potential for a portrait capture, I came across a street with some incredible murals.  Sitting there in front of this work of art was a man just hanging out, minding his own business and voila – the PERFECT scenario for a portrait shot.

But as mentioned, it’s very difficult for me to just shove my camera in his face.  So by using “the language of eyes and smiles” we exchanged pleasantries and ended up sitting together for a half hour or so while I learned that Ron is a street person and has lived all over the boroughs of New York City.

Ron

He was quite the talker and we chatted for a while about my passion for photography.  He was so intrigued about digital photography and just couldn’t grasp the fact that you didn’t need film and a dark room to view the finished product. When preparing to leave, he was quick to invite me back…”Oh, I’m always in the hood, come back and see me…you’ll find me…”

As Phillips’ states, “I wanted to interact with them, and I wanted my images to reflect some connection, no matter how brief or limited.  That connection was the healing part, the place where I learned time and again that it is not language or custom or creed that unites us, but the spirit within that’s common to us all.“

Well said, Ms. Phillips, well said.

Ron in the east village, nyc

Next week:  Chapter Six – Speaking our Peace

Joining in for the first time?  Catch up on the previous chapters!

Chapter One – Through the Eyes of a Child

Chapter Two – Seeing Our Way Clear

Chapter Three – Shifting the Focus

Chapter Four -  Looking Like No Other

painting…music….painting…music…wine…painting…music…painting…music…wine…painting…music…wine…

captured at bethesda terrace in central park, nyc

We are Forget

by Gary Glazner
Founder and Executive Director of Alzheimer’s Poetry Project

We are the words we have forgotten.
We are shifting and pacing.
We wrote this poem.
It’s a pretty poem.

Can you bake a cherry pie?
Never more, never more.
We have no horizon.
We don’t recall washing or eating
or what you just said.

Ask me my name.
Ask me if I have children?
You’re a pretty lady.
You have beautiful eyes.

Wash me, put me to bed clean,
hold me as I fall asleep.
Give me a kiss, brush my hair.
You are my daughter?

Light washing over us moment, moment.
You’re a handsome man.
Our hand writing is beautiful
twists and loops of letters
we can’t remember our hands.

Our ears are wishful
we can’t remember our ears.
We can speak every language,
we can’t remember our mouths.

We are porous.
We are the past.
We are forget.

captured at the antiques garage in chelsea, nyc

This is an ongoing series on Saturdays showcasing my wabi-sabi find of the week. 

What is wabi-sabi? 

Learn about it here and here.

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.

Pulled directly from my January post of intentions for 2012…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.  

Ask…and you shall receive!  How exciting to be asked to join as the 20th contributor (score!) in a group of extraordinary, diverse women from all over the world who share their creative skills and imagination in a place called Vision and Verb! How wonderful to be in an era that through the universe of the world wide web, kindred souls meet and relationships develop.  I’ve watched for a while now as these 19 women from all over the world (the Netherlands, Tanzania, Italy, Sweden, Slovenia, the UK, Canada as well as various areas of the USA) have gathered together to support each other and share life’s lessons, challenges and wisdom.

So thank you Vision and Verb for taking in a newbie, trusting that she’ll be a good fit, and your willingness to share with yet another woman of this mid-life age!  I promise not to disappoint!

A warm spring like afternoon couldn’t have been more perfect to ramble around and explore this grungy, hip and oh so fascinating area of the city. Walking along East 12th street between Avenue A and Avenue B, she caught my eye.  The lighting, the hat, the suppleness of the skin, the eye lashes, the lips. She immediately had me under her spell.

artikal boutique in the east village, nyc

It was if I could feel my grandmother’s presence.  You see my grandmother was a buyer for yarns and crafts at a large department store in my hometown of Roanoke, Virginia.

my grandmother

She loved to knit, crochet, create and was an expert in her field.  She had style, a presence, a couture look about her. When visiting her, I would often be at the bus stop when she arrived home from work watching for those long slender legs to step down those steps to the curb.  The shoes, the knit skirts and coordinating tops and oh…the hats.  I would always be mesmerized, regardless of how many times I saw her getting off that bus.

Seeing that hat in the East Village brought me right back to those moments.  As I was photographing a voice behind me…That’s my studio, would you like my card?  A brief chat and we were both on our way.  Hours later I researched Artikal, the studio, and learned the owner grew up in northern Virginia and from a young age was inspired to create.  She had been influenced by her grandmother, an award-winning dressmaker who loved to crochet.  Years later here she is in the East Village having mastered millinery techniques and now ships hats all over the world.

Now, if I can just get inside of her “by appointment only” boutique to take more photos of those incredible hats.

Stay tuned.

captured in central park

You cannot travel the path until you have become the path itself.

Buddha

Is it too early to say those words?  With warm temperatures here in the city we’re already spoiled with spring like days.  Before we know it this wall of ivy on West 89th Street here in the neighborhood of the Upper West Side will be splattered with green.  But is it just a tease?  Are there more winter days ahead?

(This is a series of posts on Jan Phillips’ book, God is at Eye Level, Photography as a Healing Art.  For an intro check out the first post here.)

Phillips’ chapter four showcases the importance of the relationship between the photographer and the person on the other side of the lens. Well the “relationship” or “connecting” has certainly come full circle in my life.

When I think back to my corporate days, part of my success was my awareness and my ability to relate to all kinds and all levels of people.  It didn’t matter if the person was an entry level clerk or the president of a fortune 500 company, or if the person was white, black, hispanic, christian or a muslim…I had the innate ability to connect with them.  I know this “gift” of mine began at age six when I would go with my father to sell our farm produce at the city market.  Our customer could be the president of the local bank who wanted an apple for lunch, a mother who wanted fresh produce to prepare meals for her family for the week or a wino wanting to buy a tomato to go with his bottle.  It was during those years that this gift was developed and honed and later became a key ingredient to my corporate success.  And it makes so much sense to what a critical role it plays in photography.

As photographers we all can have the exact same subject matter, but our captured images be totally different.  It all has to do with connections, feelings and trust. During my first year or two of photographing this wasn’t obvious to me.  I would shoot quickly (and often still do – working on that!) not wanting to take up their time or bring attention to myself.  Now I’m learning to feel what Phillips explains…it’s that decisive moment, that whole that contains all the parts and nothing else….waiting for the moment when heart and mind and eye comes together on the same axis. What shows up in the photographs could not have existed without me.  What shows up in those faces is there because of who I am, because of how I revered them and how they perceived and responded to that reverence.

Creating art could not exist without us.  Whether we probe deeply or just skim the surface.  The results stems from the passion of our uniqueness and interactions in the world.   Phillips’ ends the chapter with this heartfelt sentence…All we have to do is let it go, give it voice, have it be the source of all our seeing.  Now that is key to healing in my book.

captured in central park

 Next week:  Chapter Five – Portrait of a Soul

Joining in for the first time?  Catch up on the previous chapters!

Chapter One – Through the Eyes of a Child

Chapter Two – Seeing Our Way Clear

Chapter Three – Shifting the Focus

magnolias in central park

Time for crocus, daffodils, tulips, and magnolias!

winter cabbage on west 89th street, nyc

Professional Women’s Photography (PWP) hosts an annual event (it’s 8th year!) that’s open to New York metropolitan area high school students. (Girls only of course!)  An opportunity to see first hand what’s in the heads of teenagers these days when it comes to abstract photography.  They didn’t disappoint!

Helping with the exhibit set-up was an opportunity to “give back” by sharing my time and there’s nothing like working in a committee to get to know others and learn the dynamics of the group.  It always takes a village to pull these events off and afterward there’s such a good feeling when you know you’ve been a small part of it and not just showing up for the event even though that’s important too.  All good stuff!

Now back to why my faith was renewed.  These kids were nice.  They had manners.  They were gracious. Their parents were present.  They were supportive and excited for their child.  They spent time.  There was no feeling they were in a hurry.  They hung out.   When I would join in and ask them about their photo, both the teenager and their parents were ecstatic.  Their eyes would light up.  Smiles would reach from ear to ear.  Words would flow.  Their enthusiasm and confidence took center stage.  And yes, at home the teenagers could be little monsters, worrying their parents silly and the parents may often be disengaged…but on Saturday someone had taught them all something and what a pleasure to experience it firsthand!

Such a warm, feel good afternoon.  I can’t wait for next year!

a future PWP member

mother and daughter - you gotta love it!

a proud family!

First place!

What is wabi-sabi? 

Learn about it here and here.

For some strange reason I’ve always been intrigued with locks…so it’s no surprise that I’m totally taken with the locks of love that you often see throughout the world of couples and friends expressing their love.  I read that the tradition may have originated in China long the paths leading to sacred peaks.  The tradition seems to be spreading…have you seen them in your city?

But today is even more special since it’s International Women’s Day, and I just want all the women in my life to know how much you’re appreciated, how much I’m inspired by all of you and how my life is so much richer today because of each and every one of you!

From me to you…and you know who you are!

wintry light in central park

A year or so ago, Eva Polak’s impressionist photography captured my heart. In our quest for tack sharp photos, often a lack of focus better captures a feeling or experience rather than the reality. At least to a few of us.  I realize not everyone likes this type of photography and that’s OK.  That’s what makes our art world go round, right?

One afternoon in the quest to learn more, the ICP (International Center of Photography) library here in NYC became my research headquarters to find other photographers who also enjoyed this type of photographic creativity.  It was there I “met” Bill Jacobson and Dubi Roman.  Between Polak, Roman and Jacobson’s work, their approach mesmerized me, their ability  to forget rules and concepts of traditional photography when the right setting would bring about the right opportunity.  As Polak mentions…In time and with practice, the technical and creative abilities you develop can ultimately be used intuitively…  Oh, how I agree. After playing around (no filters, no computer manipulation) with impressionist photography for over a year now, there’s an intuitive sense when I run across subject matter ripe for this type of capture. I can’t explain it, but once you get it, you got it and you know it when you see it.

I’m curious how you feel about impressionist photography or how some describe as “soft focus” photography?

A few of my favorites captured over the past year….

overlooking the hudson river

walking in the desert

reflecting in the woods

captured in chelsea, manhattan

]]> http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/local-sights/no-words/feed/ 6 http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/central-park/threads-of-nature/ http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/central-park/threads-of-nature/#comments Wed, 07 Mar 2012 23:58:05 +0000 gotham girl http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/?p=13996

the ramble in central park

]]> http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/central-park/threads-of-nature/feed/ 4 http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/local-sights/art-on-the-streets/ http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/local-sights/art-on-the-streets/#comments Tue, 06 Mar 2012 23:28:08 +0000 gotham girl http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/?p=13970  

west 27th street in chelsea, nyc

Artist – Jordan Betten

Founder – Lost Art and Betten Art

Think about those leather pelts and skins that musicians like to wear…

Lenny Kravitz, Steven Tyler and Sheryl Crow…

Yep, he’s the artist!

(This is a series of posts on Jan Phillips’ book, God is at Eye Level, Photography as a Healing Art.  For an intro check out the first post here.)

The first year in NYC my focus was simply to capture and document the scene whether it was the Aids Walk in Central Park (one of my very first photos below!) or daily events when friends would visit.  During the second year an obsession had started to take place.  I signed up for photography courses,  taking my camera everywhere, living and breathing photography.  And I slowly started to improve.  It became more of a passion, an eagerness to search to locate the hidden treasures of potential images.  I was no longer just looking, but starting to see differently.  And I also started to uncover my new identity.

Knowledge of what you love somehow comes to you; you don’t have to read nor analyze nor study. If you love a thing enough, knowledge of it seeps into you, with particulars more real than any chart can furnish.  Jessamyn West

Now that I read this quote in Phillips’ book, it’s probably one of my biggest lessons learned after retiring from the corporate world.  I didn’t have the patience for it to come to me.  I thought I had to find it.  So I searched and searched only to realize what you love somehow comes to you…

aids walk in central park, may 2009

  Next week:  Chapter Four – Looking Like No Other

My wabi-sabi adventures were a touch limited this week…

So from the archives…

I share with you…

haunted

NYC…I’m home!

rescue mission in roanoke, va

For a long time my mom has wanted to visit the the Rescue Mission in downtown Roanoke, Virginia. She’s often mentioned the wonderful things she’d read in her local paper of how the homeless and the hungry are helped day after day. So off we go to join in on their Monday noon tour. I’m thinking…a quickie tour, you’ve seen one homeless shelter you’ve seen them all kinda tour…well…not so much.

For most of my life, hearing the words homeless people would bring to mind drug addicts, criminals and just plain lazy people who chose not to work. As a child, I grew up with them on the Roanoke City Market when I went with my dad to sell produce from our farm. I stepped over them during the 80′s when I visited New York City. But fast forward and today we have families who have lost their jobs and their homes, women and children who escaped from abusive relationships, the elderly who have run out of money, and the chemically dependent without the means to receive assistance.

We started the tour by passing through the dining room. Standing in the line to be served lunch could have easily been me or my parents, the majority not fitting the stereotype that we often conjure up in our minds. For the next two hours we saw first hand the programs to help people physically, psychologically, socially and spiritually and the facilities – a state of the art medical clinic, a residential recovery program, an adult learning center, a pottery studio, a hair salon, a thrift store…

But there was one small thing that really touched my heart. Every bed at the mission had a handmade quilt. A touch of home.  The symbolism for family, security and warmth.  A touch from the people who made them, a touch from the ones who wash them, a touch from the ones who make the beds…everyone having a part in creating that sense of security and warmth of that someone who curls up and sleeps each night under that handmade quilt.

Thanks mom for the push to see the Rescue Mission. We have all been touched by something very special.

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!

(This is the beginning of a series of posts on Jan Phillips’ book, God is at Eye Level, Photography as a Healing Art.  For an intro check out the first post here.)

I did not come to photography looking for magic.  I came looking for a way to speak my pain.  Words from the author, Jan Phillips  and her intro to chapter two.  Someone asked me…Why do you need healing?  The answer is simple.  After leaving my job in corporate America, I lost my identity.

I hear this quite often from retirees as well as from mothers who have left their jobs to be a stay-at-home mom.  But it never occurred to me that my retirement around the age of fifty would have such a huge impact on me and one that I wasn’t even remotely prepared for.

Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoyed my thirty years in corporate even with all the stress and living in an environment equal to the urgency of an emergency room of a hospital.  But the craziness of travel, being removed from the daily office routine of being with people, and family concerns provided the impetus to retire.  After that I started my own business, co-authored a book and still couldn’t find it.  I still didn’t feel I had an identity and I was miserable.  I needed a big shake up in my life.   It wasn’t until I moved to NYC (just for a year – ha ha!) and started chronicling my daily activities for my family and friends…did I find it.  Photography.

I fell in love with photography.  My lifesaver, my soul mate, the mending of the broken wing as described by Phillips. She’s so eloquent in her description…There’s something holy about this work, something healing about this search for light.  Like the pilgrim’s journey; it’s heaven all the way.  Oh, how true.  Not only was I living the dream of actual day-to-day living in the city, but photographing almost daily as well.  I started out with my trusty Lumix point and shoot and then graduated to an introductory SLR.  Like Phillips says, it isn’t about the sophistication of your camera, what matters is that something intimate and precious and sacred is being brought to life and shared with others.  That is what healing is all about.  I found that to be so true.

It took me a while, but what I have found about my photography is the importance of an emotional component.  The lighting, the time of day, colors, textures, composition…all components to representing my emotions.

I have found my identity in photography and I couldn’t be happier.

tulip tree ready to burst

Every creative person has a second date of birth, and one which is more important than the first:

that on which he discovers what his true vocation is.

Brassai

Next week:  Chapter Three – Shifting the Focus

pigeon talk in downtown Roanoke, Virginia

Here in my little city of Roanoke, Virginia where I grew up, a star has watched over the valley since 1949.  Not just any star, but one that holds the claim to the world’s largest illuminated man-made free-standing star.  Made of steel and concrete, the star has been considered a beacon of the city and on a clear night, the glow can be seen some fifty miles away.

So how did this come about?  Back in the 1940′s, someone with a great sense of marketing proposed erecting the star to serve as a seasonal, Christmas decoration to shine over the city during the brisk holiday season.  One assumes that people must’ve liked it as it still stands today, brightly lit every night since.

As a child I can remember always looking for the bright white star as nighttime approached. I can also remember the feeling of sadness when it went from white to red indicating a traffic fatality within the city.  Since those days there’s been many changes to when it would be just white, or just red or red, white and blue.  But regardless of the color, the star stands for a symbol of friendliness, industrial and civic progress as well as giving my little city the adopted nickname, Star City of the South.

This weeks wabi-sabi find of the week is an old game hunting stand that I came across on the farm that my dad built back in the day.  The plyboard ceiling even makes for a great example of pareidolia!

Is it the face of a wild boar? an anteater? an aardvark?

What do you see?

This is an ongoing series on Saturdays showcasing my wabi-sabi find of the week.  What is wabi-sabi?  Learn about it here and here.

view from the farm

Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.

Buddha

]]> http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/virginia-2/the-present-moment/feed/ 5 http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/familyfriends/photography-as-a-healing-art-chapter-one/ http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/familyfriends/photography-as-a-healing-art-chapter-one/#comments Wed, 22 Feb 2012 01:38:17 +0000 gotham girl http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/?p=13570 Through the Eyes of a Child

Were you fascinated by photographs as a child? I can remember looking at photo albums time and time again growing up.  There was a certain comfort, a feeling of being safe, the warmth of family.

I’m so thrilled that my mother and grandmother loved to take family photos.  What would I do now without them?  The one above provides so many memories for me now. My twin sisters with their identical clothing, my mom’s sense of fashion, the dinnerware on the bar that I now have today, the violets my mom grew prolifically on the window sill, the bar stools that we sat on for every meal together as a family.  It takes me right back to that time…a time I’ll never forget.

During my corporate years I rarely took photos.  But I did have one picture that went with me to every office I occupied throughout my career.  One of a small sail boat on a body of calm water.  It had a Monet feel to it.  Whenever I had stressful days (and boy there were lots of them!) I would go into my office, close the door and just gaze at that picture.

Now I find myself capturing moments like that with my camera.  Whether it’s a scene in Central Park, dried grasses on the farm, or cacti in the desert, it’s looking through the lens and having similar feelings like I did when I looked at those photographs as a child.  There’s a wave of comfort and warmth that comes over me as I try my best to capture those feelings to share with you.

Next week:  Chapter Two – Seeing Our Way Clear

(This is the beginning of a series of posts on Jan Phillips’ book, God is at Eye Level, Photography as a Healing Art.  You can visit the first post here.)

Someone whipped up a whole bunch of white icing and frosted the farm!

I woke up to this outside my window…

I put on my dad’s size 10 snow boots, headed out and followed the footprints of a deer…

I came across some daffodils that couldn’t raise their adorable little heads…

I busted my ass quite a few times climbing up a ridge…

I sat on a log and soaked it all in…including the smallest of details…

I came across deer pee so fresh it was still steaming…

I played and played with my camera…

I spent an incredible day in winter wonderland…

on the farm

Six inches and still snowing!

An absolute incredible winter wonderland on the farm!

It’s certainly true that not everyone will find beauty in wabi-sabi, but for me personally, I can’t imagine it not being a part of my life. Koren’s chapter A Comparison with Modernism helps one understand what it is and what it isn’t. Both modernism and wabi-sabi apply to all man-made objects, spaces and designs. Both have readily identifiable surface characteristics. Modernism being described as seamless, polished and smooth while wabi-sabi is earthy, imperfect and variegated. One difference listed is modernism romanticizes technology while wabi-sabi romanticizes nature. I had to chuckle as I’ve totally given up on electronic calendars and am very happy with my number 2 pencil and paper calendar. (So tired of sync-up issues and now if there are issues…I can only blame myself!)

Anyway, there isn’t a week that goes by that I don’t find myself enamored with wabi-sabi. I can meander in vintage stores, flea markets, consignment shops, historic neighborhoods for hours lost in the beauty of wabi-sabi. To me the beauty is in the cracks, the weathered spots, the rust, the imperfect lines.

So today is the start of wabi-sabi Saturday postings to share with you the best wabi-sabi find of the week. We’ll start with the door of an old truck, found on a late afternoon walk with my dad. Rusted, bruised and weathered…but simply stunning…in my opinion.

purple nightshade on the farm

]]> http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/virginia-2/the-nonconformist/feed/ 2 http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/photography-2/photography-as-a-healing-art/ http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/photography-2/photography-as-a-healing-art/#comments Thu, 16 Feb 2012 21:16:35 +0000 gotham girl http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/?p=13536  

“Are you a photographer?”  The first question that many people ask when they see my camera.  I’ve always struggled with that question and hesitation creeps in to provide an answer.

So when do you call yourself a photographer?  Anyone with a camera or an iPhone can take photos.  But does that make you a photographer?  I’ve always thought you’d call yourself a photographer when you made money at it, and I’m far from that happening especially in today’s world of thousands of photographers.  Then when I think of “amateur photographer” for some reason it doesn’t seem to represent the seriousness of my passion for photography. To me in today’s world, amateur seems to have more of a meaning like you don’t quite measure up, you don’t qualify as a professional, and in general…you’re not really that good at something.  Thus, my struggle.

So today, while reading one of several new books that I recently ordered, finally someone makes sense with the term amateur photographer.  Jan Phillips’ book, God is at Eye Level, Photography as a Healing Art nails it for me.  I needed to be reminded that the latin root of the word amateur is the verb amare, to love.  An amateur is someone who does something for the pure pleasure of it.  Now here’s another important part.  “For an amateur, the important thing is the experience, not the accomplishment.”  To be totally honest here, I do want my photographs to have impact, to evoke some sort of emotion when someone views them, but the bottom line for me is the experience.

Whether I’m on the farm or in my city or in the desert or on my travels, I enjoy the experience.  I enjoy getting lost in a field of weeds, a section of the woods or the desert, a neighborhood in MY city or a brand new country…and by getting lost I mean, hours go by and it seems like minutes.  It’s getting so excited the moment my eyes lands on the subject…the experience of varying the composition…the capture…then the process of downloading my photos in an eagerness to view the outcome.  Simple, yet thrilling to me.

Just reading this section of Phillips’ book has finally given me the confidence to say, I’m an amateur photographer and feel good about it!  What about you?  Have you ever struggled with this?  I’d love to hear your thoughts.

On a side note, Phillips dedicates her book to “all the photographers who are using their vision in the service of community and compassion, making images that inspire us and remind us of the beauty that is ours to safeguard and honor.”  I’m so struck with her spiritual teachings that I’m going to re-read each chapter, reflect and share my thoughts with you.  So once a week, look for the title of my post, Photography as a Healing Art.  I will welcome your thoughts!

on the farm…

Happy Valentine's Day!

xoxo

]]> http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/virginia-2/lil-snuffers/feed/ 5 http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/virginia-2/simple-yet-complex/ http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/virginia-2/simple-yet-complex/#comments Sun, 12 Feb 2012 23:27:05 +0000 gotham girl http://gothamgirlchronicles.com/?p=13481

It was pure pleasure to meet him twenty years ago and to purchase a pair of his handmade boots.

Rest in peace Mr. Bond and condolences to his family and everyone at the shop in Nogales, Arizona.