A Treasure from 1947

This fragile diary from 1947 was buried in my memorabilia box.

It belonged to my sister Jo Ann, who was 20 years older than I. When I was born, she was already out of the house and in the convent. I used to say I never knew her "as a real person." Indeed, these pages reveal the life of a Catholic thirteen year old girl in Detroit, Michigan:

John went to 8:15 mass with Irene and I. He sat right behind us. I wonder if he really likes me. I know he sort of likes Virginia who is a giant. But he still likes her. She's going to the convent. I don't know where I'm going anymore. Probably end up in hell. Pardon the expression.

She was a fragile person, both physically and emotionally. While she so desperately needed to be loved and appreciated, her personality made loving her and appreciating her very difficult much of the time. Because I didn't grow up with her in the house we had a safe relationship, one that consisted of letters and phone calls. We didn't have emotional buttons to push as with my other siblings and for that reason there were times she felt very close to me. This made me sad, because I had the benefit of intimacy and trust with family and friends that she would never allow.

In 2004, at the age of 70, she died of pancreatic cancer.

Now I've found this treasure. I want to set up a quiet time to light a candle, pull out some photos of her and read the diary with the sense of respect and honor her memory deserves.

Jo Ann in 8th grade:

Green

My family is visiting over the weekend. Yesterday we played a game called "Chat Pack" which consists only of small cards, each with a question written on it. It's less a game, more a way to induce discussion. We took turns asking a question and each of us offered our answer and, as families often do, expounded enthusiastically. One of the questions was:

If you could wake up every morning, open your bedroom blinds, and look out a huge glass window at the perfect view, what would that view be?

My bed faces our backyard. When my eyes open I see the riches of whatever the season has to offer. For the past few months, with morning haze in my eyes, it is an abstract painting perhaps entitled "Variations on Green." I savor this lush scene, knowing that when I move to New Mexico this is not going to be the case.

When summer dissolves into autumn, I often witness a display of falling carroty leaves taking serendipitous turns before gingerly settling onto the ground.

And winter, my favorite season of all, turns the scene into white upon white upon white.

Anyway, my answer to the question is this: I love seeing whatever there is to see. When I travel it is someone's garden, a body of water, a car parked in the street or even a stark brick wall. It doesn't matter what it is, I'm so grateful to be alive, to take in what I observe and appreciate what life offers every single day.

Hello, yellow!

When my shutter finger gets twitchy and I don't have anything in particular to shoot, it's productive to come up with a theme for myself. During the photo workshop that I taught in Tuscany in 2008, students found it helpful to have a theme to fall back on for their daily photo excursions. It helped them feel less overwhelmed and more focused, so to speak.

And honestly, it's just a whole lotta fun. Here are some ideas:

• Shoot one color or one shape
• Reflections
• Shadows
• Texture
• Grab three disparate things (piece of fruit, your toothbrush, a rusty nail?) and do a still life
• Think of a place that does not inspire you at all - a dying garden, the waiting room at your dentist's office, whatever - and go there to shoot a really beautiful abstract interpretation.
• Find one object and photograph it in a dozen different ways
• For a challenging ongoing project, shoot all the letters in the alphabet as long as it's not literally the letter. Some letters are much easier to find that others. (I personally have a plenty of the letter "M.") Reward yourself when you're done by publishing it with a book from mypublisher.com.

Here are some images from my "yellow" collection. Above, a scene in Acapulco.

This is a photo I like to call "Mona Saves" - to be found on the corner of Paseo de Peralto and Washington in Santa Fe:




Ubiquitous laundry, in Venice, Italy:




A little daisy pail in Madrid, New Mexico:




Rainbow near my house in Santa Fe:




Number 3, number 3, number 3...




Again I've broken the "don't shoot the mannequin" rule:




Escalator at Marshall Fields, Chicago (I refuse to call it Macy's):




Buddha statue in Myanmar:




Fireworks, Detroit:

Playing with Food

Saturday morning, and what better thing to do than visit the Farmer's Market?

Upon entering the market, I was tempted by pies with gooey fruit that spilled over the edges. Next table had walnut filled kolaches, bringing back memories of my Slovak grandmother. Peaches, corn, cucumbers, herbs, raspberries...and flowers, and soaps...even spring rolls, and shrimp. A man said to his wife "It's too early to eat spring rolls" just as I was thinking "too bad I just had breakfast. Spring rolls would be perfect!"

After all was said and done, I behaved very well. Passed up the sweets, bought some peaches, and then found myself looking not for something to eat, but something to photograph.
"Thank you kind sir" I said to the elderly gentleman who sold me okra.
"How can I not buy that?" I said to the man with the mutant eggplant.

So now the only question is....anyone want some okra...?

Above, the mutant eggplant. Quack quack.

Kissing peaches:



Okra antennae:




Okra sundae with cherry (tomato) on top:

Don't Shoot the Mannequins!

When I first went to photography school back in the days of film, chemicals and light sensitive paper, there were some rules. For instance, in almost any class where we were given a shooting assignment, we were told not to photograph:

1. Mannequins
2. Barns
3. Bicycles

It might have been more interesting to be told that if we chose to photograph these ubiquitous subjects, do it in a way they have never been photographed before. Of course, that's an impossible task. But at least it would have encouraged us to consider more carefully how to approach a subject.

In this digital age it's far too easy to see something, think "wow, cool!" and fire off a shot before moving on to the next amazing thing. Snapping a photo can be more of a reflex than an intention. When I'm in that situation, overstimulated perhaps (as in India, almost every moment) it's important to take a breath and remember to be present. This is where my passion for photography intersects with my spirituality. Present moment, wonderful moment. I'm not always successful.

These mannequin's hands were in a window of a shop in the Indian neighborhood on Devon, in Chicago. As I raised my camera I could hear the cautionary voices of my previous teachers. Don't do it! But I did.

Making Art from a Mishap

When a woodchuck beheaded my St. Francis statue, I almost threw out the remains. As I was carrying the body to the trash, my eyes fell upon a newly acquired doll head that was perched on my kitchen shelf.

A body without a head, a head without a body...now, there's a match made in heaven.

Two Janes, Two Canons, Millennium Park

It was so much fun to travel to Chicago by train with my friend Jane a couple weekends ago. Neither of us had much of an agenda; we were just two Janes with our Canons in the Windy City. It's a good thing Chicago is a walkable town, because I needed to pound the pavement after four and a half hours on the train. Just sitting is not my favorite thing to do.

Millennium Park is a treasure trove of photographic opportunities: Crown Fountain with it's video images of faces, reflective Cloud Gate which everyone prefers to call "the bean," Pritzker Pavilion, etc. The people who come to play here are as photo-worthy as the sculptures, fountains and architecture.

Above is a photo of one of the two fountains, with the Santa Fe Building looking a bit conspicuous (at least to me, no surprise!)

Here is part of the Chicago skyline reflected in Cloud Gate:




Three girls danced and danced and danced in the shallow pool:




One girl did a flip...




...and another danced as if no one was watching: