Monday

Yeah, I'm pretty excited about it, too. Can't you tell? ☺

Have a great week everyone!

[image © Claudia Steinbrecher]

Keeping Cool

It's been sooo oppressively hot here lately, but these pics by photographer Lisa Sciascia make July in Atlanta seem downright blissful.





These shots above are from a fashion spread in this month's Jezebel Magazine, but when I went to Lisa's web site see she's one talented photographer, adding that carefree touch to much of her work. Here are a few more gorgeous shots:





With a couple more striking images from her Beauty series.



I know it's been just as hot where many of you are, too, so just wanted to share these to hopefully give you at least a momentary mental break from the heat. ☺ Stay cool!

[images © Lisa Sciascia]

* Etsy Edition * Elle Moss Photography *

I am so behind! I was looking back at my last Etsy Edition post and see it was almost three months ago (!). It was then I shared my love for the beautiful paper works offered in the PaperSchmaper Etsy shop of the super-talented Krissy, of whom I've become a pretty big fan, both personally and professionally.


In trying to get caught up with, well, just about everything I've regretfully neglected over the last three weeks or so, I logged on to Flickr tonight to check out new work from my list of contacts, Elle Moss included. Self-portraits are her well-honed specialty, and each one ends up capturing not only her very lovely likeness, but the stories silently spoken from within each frame.


Her Flickr portfolio is expansive, with many of the images also offered in her Etsy shop. While her latest works are particularly fetching, I think this one below, Family Portrait, is absolutely one of my favorites.


Not only for the content and composition, but also because, as Elle explains in response to comments, the beautiful yellow dress she's wearing, so long it drapes the floor, was a $2 Salvation Army find. Two dollars! It has that classic vintage feel, and looks just beautiful on her.

I have never, ever, had any luck finding garments at The Salvation Army, or any other thrift store. It's not that I haven't tried because I have a time or two (usually when Alysha will spontaneously say, "Let's go thrifting," although we haven't done it in years), but I've never found anything I really love, or if I do like something, that fits me properly. I also like to take a concentrated approach to shopping for clothes, taking no prisoners and getting in and out of the store in the least amount of time as possible. I think thrifting requires much more patience than that, and willingness to search through racks and racks for that one perfect piece just waiting to be found. Or maybe you can just walk into the store and there it is, calling your name, but that's never been my luck.

Knowing a little bit of the history behind the dress makes the piece that much more intriguing, as if kismet played some part in it finding its way to Elle, to be worn so gracefully and captured so beautifully. I love it!

Check out her Flickr photostream, or her Etsy store, and prepare to be wowed . . . Thanks, Elle!

[images © Elle Moss]

A Special Piece of Snail Mail

It's nice to come home after a long day at work, open up the mailbox to retrieve the day's deliveries, and find a little something special waiting there. A white, nondescript box with a return address of For the Love of Light. It was vaguely familiar . . .

I'd pre-ordered this book after reading one of The Dailies over at DFM, this one featuring Polaroid luminary Jen Tauritz Gotch. From Jen's blog, I learned about For the Love of Light, to which she is a contributing artist. It's been about two months so I'd completely forgotten about it until it arrived today, so I suppose having a selective memory is sometimes a good thing!


It's a beautiful little book, created by editor and fellow photographer Jenifer Altman, along with 24 other featured artists paying tribute to their love of Polaroid. It came sealed with care in a lovely vellum envelope, and included a print of one of the Polaroid shots from the book, also carefully tucked into cool crisp vellum. Details, details, it's all in the details!


The images are beautiful, all including a healthy dose of that gossamer tincture only found in Polaroids. It's not hard to want to jump on the bandwagon and capture as much of this magic as possible, keeping it safe and sound.

Thanks to Jen Altman, Jen Gotch, and all the other artists for their work on this compilation. You can get yours here.

As as aside, I'm kind of in the weeds again and the days are running together, but I WILL be back to daily posting soon. ☺ Thanks for hanging in there with me!

[images © Jenifer Altman and fortheloveoflight.com]

Deconstructing David Hilliard

Actually, I won't even make an attempt at deconstruction, but to marvel at the seamless construction of these gorgeous panoramic photos by David Hilliard is something I could do for hours on end. Pieces make a whole . . .


I came across an announcement for the opening reception of David's Saturate show held at Jackson Fine Art last year, which reminded me how quietly provocative and movingly depictive I found his work.


It's art like this that makes me wish my wallet and my wall space were without limits. These are beautiful panoramics, worthy of nothing to detract from the stories they tell.


It kind of makes me wonder . . .


Do we really even need furniture? Can't we just live on love, fine art, good books, clean water, and a comfortable sofa alone?!

[images © David Hilliard]

Mouse on the Run

If the mouse for your computer had four legs instead of a clicking mechanism, those little legs would probably be pretty tired. Think of all the miles they would cover on a daily basis, taking you from site to site at all points around the world in a manner of seconds, and opening countless doors along the way.


This really doesn't have anything to do with the work of photographer Lilyan Aloma, but you know sometimes I get a little carried away and like to talk in terms of grand metaphors. ☺


Her site is where my little mouse took me this evening and I just wanted to share. These are a few images from her Billscapes series, and if my little mouse could manage to take me along for more than the virtual ride, they're ones I'd love to see in person.


Thank you, little mouse (guess I need to give him/her a name).

[images © Lilyan Aloma]

The Deep End

On the edge, in the deep end; do I feel a universal theme coming on?

Actually, in this instance The Deep End is the aptly titled fashion spread in this month's issue of Atlanta Magazine, with fantastic photography courtesy of the über talented Alex Martinez.


I love how he's put the fierce face of fashion beneath the menacing gray clouds, which somehow seem to complement each other quite nicely.


If only I could pull it off, you betcha I'd walk around the pool with this cover up donning my curves:


Can you say yowza?!!

[images © Alex Martinez]

A Tale of Two Towels

Sometimes when I see an image I immediately start the mental composition of a short story, and this one is no exception. ☺

[image © Alec Soth]

Воплощение детских рисунков глазами фотографов

Does anyone in my blogosphere read Russian? I have no idea what my post title says, so if it's something anyone finds egregious . . . sorry! If I'm going to be offensive I'll generally do so using languages in which I'm verbally and grammatically fluent. ☺

Thanks to the fabulous Jen for sending me the link to this Russian site, where the animated work of Korean artist Yeondoo Jung is featured (gotta love the Internet for making the exchange between nations so seamless). After a little Googling, I learned these are from the artist's Wonderland series (2004), in which he brings to life scenes from numerous drawings by children. Aren't these great?


While it's been out for a while (where the heck have I been?!), the series was described on Jung's web site (which seems to be down at the moment) as:

Jung's new series of photos, "Wonderland" (2004), presents costumed adolescents posing in sets based as closely as possible on children's drawings. He collaborates with many people to bring to life the boundless imagination in the drawings. For four months, Jung oversaw art classes in four kindergartens in Seoul and collected 1,200 drawings by children between the ages of five and seven. After pouring through them, he carefully selected 17 drawings and interpreted their meanings. Then he recruited 60 high school students by passing out handbills at their schools in which he invited them to act out the scenarios in the children's drawings. In order to recreate faithfully drawing details such as dresses with uneven sleeves or buttons of different sizes, he convinced five fashion designers to custom make the clothing for the photo shoot. He also made props unlike any scale found in reality but similar to those in the drawings.

Wonderland changes fantasy into photographic reality without the aid of computer-generated graphics. The works, entirely made by hand, are a tremendous group effort similar to a stage production that captures the sudden changes in the actors’ forms, in the midst of people going about their lives against the backdrop of the city.

Incredible! I'm not sure which one is my favorite, but you can see a good number of them and pick yours here. Thanks, Jen!

[images © Yeondoo Jung]

Peep Show with Peter Bahouth

"Having a moment." It's become a euphemistic phrase for those times when we perhaps aren't at our best (i.e. meltdown) ☺, or on the other end of the spectrum in the most positive sense (let me enjoy my moment of greatness!), including that instant you introduce yourself to the work of Peter Bahouth.

As an aside (and a very big aside, at that), not only is Peter an incredible artist, he's also the former Executive Director of both Greenpeace (!) and Turner Foundation, Inc., and is now leaving Atlanta to take up the chair as Director of the U.S. Climate Action Network. An artist and a Green Doobie? Be still my heart!

In addition to all his environmental do-gooding, he's reintroducing the world to the lost art of stereoscopic photography, creating one-of-a-kind peek-a-boo images meant to be seen through his personally designed stereoscopic viewer. You don't know what's waiting for you, but the surprising and unexpected is what manages to find its way behind the lens.

Peter was part of the click/shift/enter exhibition at Marcia Wood Gallery last year, in which he collaborated with artist Amber Boardman to create this magical stereovideo piece, 'I Shouldn't Be Here,' which is exactly what you start thinking as the frames begin to play. From the floral wonder of the specially designed viewer . . .



. . . to the voyeuristic environment from which you're unable to pull away.




These are definitely pieces you have to see in person to fully appreciate (especially so you can have a moment all your own!).

You can read more about Peter here, and see pictures of his Atlanta house for sale here. (Treehouses, Erin! Let's buy it and start a commune!)

[images © Marcia Wood Gallery]

Yellow and Blue Make . . .

'Yellow Sky'

and 'Blue Head'

make . . . anything and everything. Mix in a little color and composition and the possibilities are endless! ☺

[images © Ryan McGinley]

Little Lamb in the Big Apple

Congrats to Samantha Lamb (you know she's a favorite of mine), who'll be opening her first exhibition in NYC at In Good Company Workspaces on April 25th. Her heart must be skipping a beat at least every hour; I would be excited beyond belief to be showing something (anything, even my boobs, well, maybe not my boobs) in New York. I hope it's going to go great, and send all good wishes out her way for a great show.

[image © Samantha Lamb]

Love and Rockets

Because you can't have one . . . without the other. ☺

[images © Laura Noel]

For Jen

With enough mousse and sculpting gel, you wouldn't even need the headband and could go au naturel! ☺

[image © Laura Noel]

From the Hands of Pam Moxley

I had the complete pleasure today of meeting the fabulous Pam Moxley, busy mother of four and self-taught photographer extraordinaire (how does she do it?). I don't own any of her work (at least not yet!), but this piece, Deep Breath, from her 'In the Hands of Babes' series, is definitely on my wish list, especially as it will fit perfectly amongst the collection of 'Nest' pieces I'm starting to build.

In addition to pursuing her own exceptional talent, Pam is also curator of Grace Gallery in Marietta, where I met her this morning to see the current exhibit of another of my favorite artists, Dorothy O'Connor. I've written more than once about Dorothy's work, but as I'd never seen her wedding dresses in person, it was the perfect opportunity for me to see them firsthand (they really are stunning, and the online pictures I'd seen don't begin to capture their full beauty), as well as to finally meet Pam after we'd exchanged several e-mails.

Grace is a very fitting adjective here, as a quiet grace combined with an unspoken intricacy is what I see in Pam's work. I think I'm secure in singling out Deep Breath as my favorite, but everything she creates is so full of subtle nuances it's hard to not be taken with each and every piece.




Just lovely. Thank you, Pam, for taking time out to meet me, and for gracing us with such splendid works of art.

Post Script 03-31-08: I'm a little behind in reading my magazines, so just spotted Deep Breath in the March issue of Traditional Home magazine, where it's included in the Atlanta Showhouse feature. Congrats, Pam!




[images © Pam Moxley]

A Stitch in Time

What if time was stitched? What if creation was delicately sewn into existence with a needle and thread? So begins "The Sea, The Surge & The Seamstress: A Story About Salt & Morning Light," the new self-publication by artist Samantha Lamb, my signed copy of which arrived today.

I'm a big fan of Sam's work, and when I learned she had a coffee table book ready to roll off the presses, I anxiously pre-ordered my copy. I haven't read it yet, but I have turned every page to see all the beautiful captures she's included, as well as gone a little ga ga over the little metallic print of Needle and Thread she included with my order (she always hits the mark, as the little extras she includes randomly happen to be ones I love upon first sight).


There's lots of color and light here, and when combined with her thoughtful prose makes for a beautiful little book I'll be happy to stack on the coffee table (whenever I get around to actually getting a coffee table!)

Sam's book, and Kerry Pitt-Hart's I Spy, both available on Blurb, really inspire me to do a book of my own one of these days. But of what content? Should I make prints of some of my paintings from days of old and write about their meanings to me? Should I strive to create a collection of incredible photographs? Should I just write and hope it morphs into a story someone would actually want to read? Should I quit my job, sell all my Earthly possessions and adopt a nomadic lifestyle, simply embracing whatever it is each new day would bring? Should I? Should I? So many questions . . . including the one which started it all: "What if time was stitched?" If only my own needle and thread could construct all the answers.

[images © Samantha Lamb]

Project Beauty

Some great pics here at Project Beauty, and worth the quick visit to see all of them.

I still need to come up with a name for my little Atlanta beautification photo project, and searching for something not already taken is how I stumbled upon this site. Maybe Project Beautiful? I think I need something making a more cryptic statement, so people will have to think!

[image © Vicky Ming]

The 'Art' of Emotion

I'll come back to this later, because I like what it says about art in this month's 'How To' edition of Atlanta Magazine.

Earlier this week Erin over at Design for Mankind (one of my favorite reads; she does all the leg work and all I have to do is kick back and enjoy) posted about a first for her; discovering a piece of art that brought tears to her eyes. This has to be speaking volumes for someone who spends her day looking at art in all its many forms.


This photo by artist Angela West (a fellow Atlantan, via her hometown of Dahlonega) is, at least up to this point in my life, that one piece for me. Angela is represented by Jackson Fine Art, where my friend Linda and I spent a good bit of our lunch hour one day a couple of years ago. Linda has been collecting photography for years, and Anna Walker Skillman, Owner and Executive Director of Jackson, has helped her build a really fantastic collection. We walked around the gallery that day, absorbing the latest exhibit and eyeing one of Linda's new acquisitions, when I turned the corner into the front room and found myself face to face with this piece. It moved me in that one instant and I really had to fight back the tears, especially when Anna came over and explained the subject matter to me.

The image, Gracie #1, is part of a series called "My Father" Angela shot in 2002 and featuring her father involved in various daily tasks at their home in Dahlonega. This particular shot was taken when their cat, Gracie, was dying, and her father was there to comfort her in the process. When we went to the gallery that day, it hadn't been too long since my Mother had passed away. I don't know if I would have been so attracted to this if she'd still been alive; honestly, probably not, but in that moment so many of its elements reminded me of her, a woman who'd grown up in a small town much like Dahlonega. I saw the country bedroom of a house in a little town in Georgia, complete with chenille bedspread, the doilie pillows, porcelain plates on the wall and simple valence curtain over the window; it was all so familiar. And then there's Gracie curled up there, just as my Mother laid in her bed in those final days before she passed. I certainly know she would have thought I was crazy that day, becoming tearful over and remembering some little piece of her in a photo depicting a dying cat. But, that's kind of the point, as there's so much more there than what is obvious. This one picture there on the wall of the gallery, taken by someone I had never met and didn't know, had somehow captured the essence of a very personal experience for me. And that, is the art of emotion.

In this little blurb in Atlanta Magazine Annette Cone-Skelton, cofounder, president, and CEO of the Museum of Contemporary Art of Georgia says:

"No one expects you to come in an expert." She suggests approaching art with less chatter and more attention. "Art can talk about social issues, our times. It can be enriching. It can cause you to think," she says. "Be quiet with it and let the art speak to you. Let yourself experience it. Drop your preconceived notions." Get introspective. What does this art say to you? Are you scared, angry, bored, amused? Ask yourself why you're reacting this way. Be really honest. Now you're ready to talk, and the best way isn't to make erudite statements about form or color theory. "Ask questions," she suggests. "Turn to the person next to you and ask them what their response is."

'Be quiet with it and let the art speak to you.' I like that! And even though in our quietness none of the conversations we'll each have with art will ever be the same, that's okay. It's what makes us different. And though I think I've mentioned more than one weepy episode recently, I'd like to think it's a reflection of me growing older and wiser and entrenching myself even further into the human experience, and feeling more of what I couldn't have recognized twenty years ago (at least that sounds a lot more elegant than the alternative!). So, Erin, let those tears flow, as it's just you and that piece of art communicating what words fail to express (and I'll keep crying over everything else!). ☺

[images © Atlanta Magazine and Angela West]

A Site Named Shorpy

April 22, 1912. Our second look at Lolo (Michel) and Edmond Navratil, survivors of the Titanic disaster whose father went down with the ship. Lolo, the last remaining male survivor of the Titanic sinking, died in 2001.

When I was doing some research about the 'Lady in the Water' photo by Toni Frissell, I discovered the 100-Year-Old Photo Blog known as Shorpy. This is one solid example of how the virtual landscape of the Internet can be so wondrous, as you never know what unexpected surprises are waiting there, just around the corner. I love this site and just wanted to share as I'm sure at least a few of you will be instant admirers as well. I liken spending time on its pages to going through the old photo albums of my relatives, but without the musty smell and curling and cracked edges. ☺

I hope those behind the scenes of and contributing to Shorpy keep the "mug after steaming mug of Taster's Choice" coming so all of us can continue to reap the benefit of their caffeine consumption (really, though, Taster's Choice?! I'll be happy to send you a couple bags of the good stuff, if you'd like!).

[image © Shorpy and G.G. Bain]

In Praise of Women

I ordered the book 'Against the Odds: Women Pioneers in the First Hundred Years of Photography' by Martin Sandler some time ago and last week it finally made its way to my door. If you’re someone with any level of appreciation for photography, it’s definitely one I’d recommend for purchase, or at least check-out at the local library if they have a copy (it's no longer in print so Alibris is probably your best bet). The cover image, 'Lady in the Water' was taken by photographer Toni Frisell at Weeki Wachee Springs, Florida in 1947 (I've actually been to Weeki Wachee but was a child at the time and honestly don't remember much of it other than the mermaids). It's amazing to me this image was taken sixty years ago, yet seems so timeless. I love how she's floating there with her hands grazing the water, seemingly so peacefully . . .

I’m sure documenting the full role women have played in the history of photography is somewhat incomplete, but this book brings much-deserved attention to female photographers who did, as well as those who didn’t, receive recognition for their work. I can only imagine what it was like for a woman living in America a hundred years ago to be toting around what was then incredibly bulky equipment. They really must have had a strong love for what they were doing, and that same adoration certainly must have compelled those following them into the early and mid-19th century.

Collecting photography is a fairly new endeavor for me, and while it hasn’t been intentional it’s just worked out that so far, the pieces I’ve acquired are the works of women artists, with many of the subjects being women. I think if I psychoanalyze myself (because isn’t that such fun!) I’d have to admit to living a little vicariously through ‘my girls.’ I am drawn to pieces which portray women who live in beauty, who reflect intelligently, who speak softly yet whose words are strong, who always have something to say but who also know silence is sometimes the best thing you can contribute to a conversation. I certainly admire these traits when I recognize them in others, so hope I possess at least one or two of them myself.

I’ve yet to touch on the rest of my art collection, in which women artists and subjects, including a few nudes, are also pretty prominent (hmmm; if I wasn’t so secure in being a hopeless hetero I might wonder if the work to which I’m drawn is trying to tell me something!).

These two charcoal drawings are by artist Elizabeth Moretz-Britt (unfortunately she doesn’t have a web site, and excuse all these incredibly poor photographs which do these pieces absolutely no justice and will definitely be replaced at some point):



It’s obvious her subjects are naked, but the pieces are imbued with such a soft subtlety the nudity is secondary to the pose.

Here’s an oil and wax on wood by Steve Webb (ditto for no web site):


and another piece on wood by Melissa Sims (no web site, either!):


Again, each of the females here are sans clothing, but, at least for me, the eye is drawn to everything other than the lack of external accoutrements. They each maintain a specific brand of composure and self-assurance and their nakedness is very matter of fact (and wholeheartedly support the concept of 'real women have curves!').

Playing the self-analyst once more, I admit to some more vicarious living through these works. We all have our issues and I am certainly no exception, but if there would be one thing I could change about myself (gee, where to start?) it would be reaching a place where self-inhibition had no home, much like I think it’s absent in the lives of these subjects. Sometimes, though, it's just so hard to change!

Women. What complex creatures we are, capable of fierce insight and even fiercer emotion regardless of whatever baggage we may continue to throw over our shoulders. So, as long as I'm able, I'll continue to keep 'the girls' around to always remind me to keep looking, and to always move forward. ☺


[images © Toni Frissell, Elizabeth Moretz-Britt, Steve Webb and Melissa Sims, respectively]

Crazy for Camellias

I really do love camellias. Before I left Snow Hill yesterday I cut a bunch of them with beautiful variegated pink and white blooms from my Grandmother's old garden (and they look especially nice in these little bottles made out of recycled windshield glass). I think I can safely point out the striking similarities between a camellia bush and a strong and independent woman. She thrives on care and attention, but even when she doesn't receive either she still continues to produce bloom after bloom after bloom. ☺

[image © Run4istRun]

A Little Town Named Bowdon

I spent most of my day out in Bowdon, visiting with my Aunt Ellie (shown here in front of the old home place with one of the many VW Bugs she owned over the years). Some of you know exactly where Bowdon is (especially Amy!), but for those of you with no such knowledge it’s a little town in West Georgia known as “The Friendly City” (population just under 2,000) about an hour and a quarter outside of Atlanta. This is the town in which my Mother and her siblings were raised, where the property known as ‘Snow Hill’ (named after my Great Uncle George) is located and where the house he built well over 100 years ago still continues to stand. It’s also the house my Aunt calls home, which I did as well during the countless summers I spent there with her (and where I met my friend, Amy, who grew up in Bowdon). I definitely consider myself a ‘city girl,’ but Bowdon and Snow Hill inhabit many of my ‘small town’ memories and are a huge part of my life.

In addition to paying an overdue visit to my Aunt, I went out there today with a specific purpose: to find the old garbage ditch about which I’ve written before (enter Green Girl on a mission), and take some pictures of whatever trash hasn’t been completely covered with nature's debris. My first photo op presented itself sooner than expected, though, as I had to stop and take a picture of these cable spools, doubling as oversized reward posters, because they help to put into perspective just how small Bowdon really is.




Only in a small community like this could someone specify ‘Bill Harvell’s old safe,’ and probably 99% of the passersby know who Bill Harvell is (including me!)? I don’t know the story about the ‘old safe’ (other than it was stolen), but I do have a vague memory of Bill Harvell, who ran a little grocery store there on College Street. When I’d visit in the summers I used to run in there every now and then to pick something up.

Traipsing through the woods probably wasn’t the best thing for me to be doing, but my Aunt and I headed out and made our way down to the ditch. I don’t know that she completely understood why I wanted to do this, but she has such a great love for the land I think I could have asked her to help me search the forest there for prehistoric poop and she would have happily accompanied me. Any time there’s any opportunity to walk in those woods, she is either the initiator of solo expeditions or a willing participant in any joint ventures.

It’s very overgrown so our trek involved a lot of working our way through branches and vines, but we managed to reach our destination. While I didn’t see the volume of objects I remember finding as a child, there’s still evidence of the garbage discarded many years ago: some plastic objects I can't identify, an old ironing board frame, bed springs, a Styrofoam cup and plastic water bottle (probably thrown away more recently than the other objects), in addition to an old mayonnaise jar. And, just as I remember from my other excursions into those woods, all the discarded objects, each lifeless and inanimate, just sit there with nature doing the best it can to continue flourishing around them.







As we were heading back towards the edge of the tree line, I spied two bright spots of cobalt blue out of the corner of my eye, which turned out to be old Milk of Magnesia bottles. Ellie told me the only person in the house who 'd ever used that was my Grandfather, and as he’d passed away in 1952 they must have been out there at least 50 years. 50 years! And still as solid and blue as they day they’d been purchased (now you know why I'm such a freak about recycling!). I dug them out of their resting spot and brought them back with me, hoping a good scrubbing and run through the dishwasher will bring them back to their former glory.


When we went back into the house and sat down in the front room I noticed a huge stack of photographs on the table. My Aunt has been ‘going through things’ (just like I need to do!) and this stack contained at least 100 letter-size prints my Aunt Charlsie had sent her, including this promo shot from the filming of ‘Close Encounters of the Third Kind’ in which she is shown next to Richard Dreyfuss, Melinda Dillon and Steven Spielberg. I’d never seen this or any of the other photos in the stack so it was an unexpected surprise to go through them. Most are promo shots from a movie Charlsie worked on probably back in the late ‘60’s (?). Ellie told me it was ‘Joseph and His Brothers,’ but I don’t see that title on her IMDB profile, nor that movie listed with a Dieterle as its director (Jen, maybe you can do some research for me?). Doesn’t the actor shown in these solo shots look like a young Omar Sharif? I hope to learn where and when the filming took place so I can confirm the details for these, but in the meantime I have a big job in scanning all of them.






We also went through several stacks of photos she has on the dining room table, which she’s pulled out of her old albums. Included was this shot of my Mother, one I’d never seen before and taken exactly three years (well, two years and 364 days) before I was born. I wonder if she had any inkling then I’d be making my way into the world? I already know the answer to that as she and others told me several times I was an ‘unexpected bundle of joy,’ but I sure wish I knew what she was thinking that day, there in her pretty suit with matching gloves and pocketbook (as she would have called her purse) and at that point in her life.


I also brought back these two pics of Ellie, just to help show some of the spirit possessed by this incredible little lady I call my Aunt. She is, of course, literally a ‘little’ lady, as she was born with hypochondroplastic dwarfism. Her physique, however, is the only small thing about her. She’s led an adventurous life, probably the most memorable time of which she'd tell you being when she served in the Peace Corps and lived in Iran. Every now and then she’ll say something in Farsi, which I think she does just to keep up her skill of the Persian language. While there are many facets to her personality, she really is the most selfless person I know. If there were any one person I could name who represents the concept of 'serving others,' it would have to be her. There’s so much I could write about all the memories I hold of my times with her and of Snow Hill, and one of these days I’ll get around to recording everything I can manage to pull out of my head.



We had a really good visit and I ended my trip to Bowdon with a stop at the city cemetery and my Mother’s place of rest. I always say “Hi, Mommy” when I’m pulling up to the family plot there, even though I always called her ‘Mom.’ I don’t know why I do this, other than it being comforting and taking me back to the time when ‘Mommy’ was the norm. I stayed for a little while then took off, stopping for a few minutes to talk to Jackie (yes, Amy, your Aunt Jackie!) who was there at the time doing her power-walking up and down each of the little driveways.

I’m not sure what it was, whether it was Jackie telling me about her own Mother (another great lady I’m privileged to know) who’s not in the best of health and who’s now requiring pretty much constant care, or the sight of the boarded up fireplaces at Snow Hill, signaling the physical decline of Ellie and her inability to continue lugging firewood in and out of the house, but as I drove away tears welled up in my eyes and I began to cry. I’m not someone you would characterize as ‘emotional,’ and while I can be moody (maybe an understatement!) it’s never to the point of tears. I wondered if my Mom was trying to tell me something, or if I’m just turning into nothing but a big bunch of hormones? I still get a little weepy thinking about it, how that wave of whatever it was came over me, that something I just can’t articulate. Whatever it is, the little town of Bowdon and the history it holds is part of its complex structure, and one I'm constantly trying to interpret . . .

[images © Run4istRun]

A Sunday Speck of Spring

I finally pulled my camera out today to play around with taking some still lifes. Nursing of the hip continues (think I overdid it yesterday) so non-strenous activity seemed to be in order for an overcast and now rainy Sunday afternoon. Plus, the camellias in my backyard are blooming like crazy (despite the drought we experienced last year) and I couldn't resist cutting a bunch of them to add little vignettes of color throughout the house. I've decided that on my 'Things I Love' list, gardening should be somewhere up towards the top, and the pursuit of creating of a backyard retreat needs to be something I try and work on this year. Unfortunately, digging holes for plants, pruning, fertilizing, etc., all that fun stuff, requires a lot of bending. I hate having to hire someone to do chores of which I'm perfectly capable (or used to be perfectly capable), but other parts of the yard have had some professional help and there's probably no reason not to do the same with the back.

Are there still professional gardeners around? When I think of a 'gardener' books and movies in which an affluent family has a full-time gardener on staff always come to mind, with them living in the little apartment above the 'carriage house.' I could hardly afford to have a full-time anything around here, but wish I could find someone with a love and knowledge of plants and horticulture to come maybe once a month, to see the existing landscape, have a vision about it and slowly but surely make it a reality. I know that's what landscapers are for, and it is nice to come home one day and it's just done, but having a gardener sounds and feels much more glamorous, doesn't it? Plus, what if he's extra cute and I could have stories to tell about my fling with the gardener?


This Cymbidium orchid is also in bloom, and I liked this shot with the focus on it and 'The Wall' I've mentioned before in the background. Yes, all my Molly Jey paper sculptures and lovingly-framed Raydel Shanks prints are finally nestled into their spots within the overlapping squares. I'll be taking some better pics of this to share (it's turned out really nice), but right now I have two sofas in there (argh!) so getting a proper shot of the whole thing without including the superfluous stuff soon (hopefully) to be gone is a bit tricky.


Speaking of Molly Jey, I sent some pictures to her earlier today and she let me know her work is going to be sold out of a shop in Ohio and also at Moss in Savannah. This is huge and I'm so happy for her. She was featured on Holly Becker's decor8 a couple of weeks ago and as the volume of Holly's readership is incredible and her blog is the launching pad to great things for so many, I know Molly is going to be one busy lady! I'm so glad she was able to create all those sculptures for me just before she hits it big (Jen, take care of that frog! It's a Molly Jey original!).

How better could I start my week than with fresh flowers filling the house and a beloved artist wearing the smile of success? The only thing to put the icing on the cake would be a gardener living over the garage (even though I only have a carport). ☺

[image © Run4istRun]

The Lovely Lush Bella

The very lovely Lush Bella (a/k/a Kerry Pitt-Hart), at that! Her photo is included on the right inside fold of the dust jacket for her newly released self-publication “I Spy,” a hardcover copy of which I received today. After exchanging several e-mails with Kerry last year and ordering a handful of prints from her Lush Bella Etsy storefront, I can now finally see the beautiful face behind the creative tour de force.

I Spy is an elegant little book (it’s just so pretty!) and I’m sure a project of which Kerry is (and how could she not be?) extremely proud. I admire her for being someone who keeps following her heart, cultivating beauty along the way and sharing that gift with others. Congrats, Kerry! It's really something special.

Kerry published her book through Blurb. I haven't seen any other end-products of a self-publication site so don't have anything with which to compare it, but I could absolutely see this being amongst the art books at any of the big retail book stores. The Blurb Bookstore is definitely one to which I'd recommend paying a visit.

This is one of the first prints I purchased from Kerry. I love the image, but am even more partial to its title, "Without You I Am Nothing." To be the 'you' in that sentence is an incredible feeling, and to harvest that in some shape and form is no easy task, yet Kerry's image is a soft and comforting interpretation.



She's also continued the thought with the just as graceful "Without You I Am Nothing II."



This has me thinking . . . and contemplating perhaps publishing a little something of my own to document my Shadowbox Collage project (still working on it but all the details will eventually fill an upcoming blog entry). Some of you made submissions to this so you know to what I'm referring. It might be a nice way to thank everyone who sent me something, being able to read the page I'll be writing about each of them in a nice little book, with their names in print and properly memorialized for posterity. It's not something which would have any mass appeal or meaning to anyone other than the participants (maybe, who knows?), but I think the one-of-a-kind quality would be pretty exceptional. Contributors, what do you think?

See Kerry, you do inspire . . . more than you know!

[images © Kerry Pitt-Hart]

The Elegant Iridescence of Irene Suchocki

Another wonderfully talented artist I recently discovered is photographer Irene Suchocki.



Her Follow Your Bliss and This Bird Has Flown pieces are now amongst those hanging in the Appletini Green den, and blend in perfectly with the grouping of other works (yes, I think this wall is finally finished!).


I'm also completely enamored with these pieces from her Infrared Series, Possible Worlds, The Surreal Life and Awake to Dream.




I like the soft splash of color the blue sky holds in Awake to Dream. I can clearly imagine spreading out a large cashmere blanket under those two trees (I say imagine as a cashmere blanket really isn't in the budget, but if it were it would be an ivory color to blend in with the landscape), wearing an equally elegant Rochas dress by Olivier Theyskens (also not in the budget and I could never get away with wearing this, but can't you just see it being worn by the dreamer in this picture?) and laying down to watch the clouds roll by. There are countless other scenarios I can envision under that sky and beneath those trees, but that's what makes it so special.

The Possible Worlds piece is printed on gorgeous metallic paper, adding a beautiful layer of phosphorescent dimension. The pieces I ordered are 8x10s, but after seeing how dramatic the paper is I also ordered Awake and Surreal in 11x14. I'm running out of wall space so am not sure where they'll go, but I'll certainly find a proper place for them to reside.

I'm really becoming a photography junkie these days, but when presented with such talent as Irene's, how can I not form an addiction? I'm constantly amazed by the end result of a gifted eye's peek through the viewfinder, and her vision is no exception. Merci!

[artist images © Irene Suchocki]

Winter Without a Coat

These naked branches seemed to be calling out for their picture to be taken . . .