53. Kicker

kick·er [kik-er]
–noun

1. a person or thing that kicks
   
2. disadvantageous point or circumstance, usually concealed or unnoticed
   
3. an added expense or financial incentive
   
4. a card, usually an ace or face card, held with a pair or three of a kind in the hope of drawing a matching card
   
5. a low plinth at the base of a column
   
6. leisure shoes
   
7. an auxiliary engine on a sailing vessel, river steamer, etc
   
8. the alcoholic liquor in a mixed drink
   
9. a short line of copy set in a distinctive type above a headline and intended to call attention to it
   
10. a charge of high-carbon iron that produces a vigorous boil when charged into an open-hearth furnace containing slag and molten metal of lower carbon content
    
11. a light source coming from the back and side of a subject and producing a highlight

My thanks to Dictionary.com... I hope you don't sue me for plagiarism.

52. Gloomy

It was so beautiful for the last couple of days - extraordinary. A day when Papa, my step dad, would say, "Another glorious day in Southern California". But this morning I woke up late, got ready in a rush, and didn't feel great all day. Outside the weather turned from amazing to gloomy over night. It matched my mood and my mood matches this image.

51. Mayhem

Abbey turns eight on Friday. She had a couple of friends over last night for a early celebration. But as a few seven year olds will demonstrate each child increases the energy exponentially - like vibrating atoms. At some point Curtis and I just had to laugh and roll with it. What else are the out numbered adults supposed to do?

50. Love Letter

Dear Mr. Smith,

I am writing this love letter about 22 years later than I should have. At one point in my life you had such control over me - it was overpowering. You dictated my creative vision, the black clothes I wore, the music I listened too, the style of my hair, my vegetarian diet, the sour expression on my face. When I went to college your hold weakened,  and I started to hang with the heavy metal crowd. I eventually found my true love, got married, and now years later I can honestly say I am living a happy life in suburbia with my husband and two beautiful children.

But all of a sudden everywhere I look you are there. The peg legged jeans that are suddenly back in style, the asymmetrical hair-dos, geometric prints, neon colors contrasted with black, the uni-bomber hoodies. While driving with my daughter today all the trauma of high school came rushing back. She was spining tunes on the iPod and decided to play Love Song, by Sarah Bareilles. She wasn't aware you had ever been in my life (or on my iPod) but your Love Song began to play. In an instant I was 17 again speeding through the streets of Los Angeles in my step mom's station wagon in a desperate attempt to meet you in person if only for a second. To have you speak only to me. My girl friends and I broke many laws that night and at the time it was so worth it.

Some how the excitement of that night, the sense of immortality and eternal youth, slowly faded into early hints of arrititis, motherhood, a full-time job at a community college, a 30-year fixed mortgage, weekend soccer games, and Sunday laundry. I was too worried and depressed to ever know how exciting it was when I was 17, how great it was to have such little responsibility, to have such freedom, and your music was the soundtrack that ran along with my teenage years. Of course you knew all along in your Love Song. Thank you Robert.

whenever i'm alone with you you make me feel

like i am young again whenever i'm alone with

you you make me feel like i am fun again

49. Chaos

Chaos - possibly the word for the year, but definitely the word I to apply to my learning community class. For all the thought, planning, and organization, sh*t happens. This weekend was a perfect example. We headed up to a camp in San Bernardino mountains only to find it has been double booked. Half of us ended up staying down the road in a motel and the other half of the students are back at the camp. It is only 6 miles distance, but it did change many of our plans.

The last time we camp up to camp with this same group, we had a major snow storm that kept us from getting out in the field. Again, chaos and major change of plans. I think something great happened that weekend that we didn't expect. With little else to do, the students bonded in a way that they never have before. With this early building of friendship Vince (my team teacher) and I noticed an amazing positive effect on the group projects. The students seem to have a strong sense of responsibility to each other.

Back to this weekend... there was only a limited of number of places to sleep at camp. Those that could not fit at camp were comped a stay at a cute, cozy, and way more comfortable motel down the road. An upgrade so to speak. But, when it came time to dividing up the students, many choose to turn down the motel spot in order to be at camp. The students simply didn't want to be separated from their groups.

Again... more chaos. Vince (geologist) and I typically have the students locate a USGS bench marker on the camp property. Much of the snow from 4 weeks ago is still on the ground and we were not able to take the whole class hiking in the area to find it. Instead we gave the students the GPS location of the bench marker, and offered extra credit to the first group that could use those coordinates to find something relevant to the class. We were pleasantly surprised by the dedication of the groups in locating this marker but it was chaos. The marker was buried in snow, the GPS units were having trouble triangulating the coordinated with any precision, once the students found the marker, I could not receive their photographic prove via SMS. Eventually Vince and I drove out their to see if they found it... and got the car stuck in the snow.

The point is, some days are more predictable than others, but generally chaos is always in the mix. Planning, and back-up planning will only go so far and then you have to learn to think on your feet and go with the flow.

48. Hijacked

Yesterday I got home late Curtis and Katie were at each other's throats over a science project gone wrong. I thought it may be a good idea to separate the two, so I decided to bring Katie with me to the mountains this weekend. She is having a blast, playing in the snow, keeping up with the college kids, cracking rocks with a large hammer, and staying up past her bed time. There is a lot more kid and a lot less tween in her all of a sudden. It is amazing that if you get the kid out of the city, they return to their chronologic age.

As you can see, she didn't stay away from technology all day. This evening when we got back to the cabin, she had to get wired. I was able to solicit her participation in creating this portrait only if I allowed her to write my blog tonight. So here you are...

Katie: Tonight I am doing my mom's post or as she calls it, "Hijacked". I am camping [termed applied loosely - we are in a cabin with a kitchenette and a private bathroom]. I was playing on the computer which was very slow [at least the cabin has wireless, we are supposedly camping, remember?] and my mom came up to me and started to take photographs [nothing unusual here]. Until I realized that the lens was special I thought it was going to be an ordinary photograph [please define ordinary - are you calling your mother's photographs ordinary- ouch].When I looked at the photograph it was really cool, because it looks like "Alison and Wonderland" features - like the seven doors in the big open room [I assume  a translation of drug intoxication... I didn't see the movie, but I read the book]. My mom was telling me to keep my head down but look up, but it was kind of hard [torture & child abuse]. But I got through it [because I really do love her and want to please her].  In my mom's blog, does she ever put anything good about me? I read some of her blog, but I have only gotten so far [ADHD], so I don't know if she has ever put anything good in it. [Lots of great stuff but you likely will never appreciate it.]

47. Surprise

Sometimes they surprise you. Katie seems to want to fight with us more than love us. She is asserting her independence at 9 years old in a way that I didn't expect until she was a teenager. It has been exhausting.

After a long day of disagreement and discontent she finally went off to bed. A couple of heavenly quiet hours later she stumbled down the hall into our room. I believe that she was still asleep and gently climbed up into my lap. She snored as though she was still a baby. With all her 75 lbs. on my chest I could hardly breathe, but I loved every minute of it. There was no arguing, or sassiness, vexation, or obnoxious eye rolling, it was just Katie.

The moment lasted for about 45 minutes. She suddenly woke up, bitterly complained to me that I made her too hot and that she had a kink in her neck. She wondered back to her room. Ah... just Katie.

46. Update

I am still obsessed with this oak tree that sits outside the building I work in (see blog post #40: Basics.) Every morning there is more construction activity at its fragile and tentative base. But at the same time, spring has sprung and it seems like the tree is surviving. This may sound ridiculous, but I am starting to sympathize with the tree. Working in education is a struggle right now. It seems so hard... every day I argue, beg, plead, plan, and finagle to get what my program and the students need. I never feel successful, but time marches on and some how we make it through, but I don't feel strong or secure, just beat.

I teach the history of photography and it is helpful to have physical examples of the early photographic processes to share with students. I bought some daguerreotypes a few years back, but because the salted paper based calotypes fade so easily, they are much harder to come by. Many years ago, a student and I decided to make a calotype and had moderate success. It was of this oak tree. With the current increased construction, I feel even more pressure to try document it. So along with all my iPhone snap shots of the tree, a colleague and I decided to reapproach capturing it with the calotype process. Yesterday, after a couple hours of research, mixing chemistry, and hand coating several layers of light sensitive silver nitrate on paper, we ran out of time and light to make an exposure. The last attempt several years ago was a four hour exposure. Tomorrow, we will attempt another calotype exposure... wish us luck. If we are successful you will certainly see the results here.

45. Listen

You need to listen carefully...even a photograph can whisper.

44. Teacher

Vince is my friend and colleague. He is part mad scientist and part genius. We team teach in a learning community - Vince in geology and me in photography (obviously). The cool part is with two people in control of the class you never end up where you think you are going. The experience has been amazing.

Today, Vince and I had a planning meeting about our class. Of course you put two teachers in proximity and they start to bitch about students. (If you put two students together they probably complain about their instructors.) Vince started with explaining that after 22 years of teaching he realizes there is always an abundance of ignorance, but never stupidity. Students just need to be cured of their stupidity. I mention that I loved his positive attitude, but I don't know if I completely agree. Vince had an answer for that - quantum physics. What?

Well it went something like this. There is a scientist Schrödinger and he had a theoretical experiment about a cat in a box and whether it is either dead or alive. Our perception (thought) about whether the cat was still alive was an important part to predicting its lively out come. That we could essentially change reality based on our own observation. It seemed to make perfect sense when Vince described it... but after I got home, not so much. And Wikipedia didn't seem to help much.  I think Oprah's "The Secret" is more on my comprehension level. But it all made sense when Vince was explaining it. That what makes the mad scientist part genius.

The bottom line? No matter how frustrated we get with the next generation of students, the mismanaged state budget, or education in general, with a positive attitude anything is possible, one atom at a time.

43. Whoops

Today I went on a beautiful hike full of red sandstone cliffs.

Today I saw a giant rattle snake.

Today I watched an amazing soccer game of 8 year old girls.

Today Abbey had her first book club.

Tonight... I am sitting in front of this laptop for hours trying to come up with my daily blog posting. It would have helped if I took some photographs during my day. But no photographs of the snake, canyon, club, or soccer. Not one. I have a ton of interesting shots in my head... but I didn't actually record them. So you are all stuck with what I am stuck with staring at tonight. Sorry.

42. Shape

It is one of those nights tonight. A night when if I hadn't made a commitment to this blog to participate on a daily level that I wouldn't have posted at all. It's late, the day was full. I was sick most of the week. As an artist I feel that I have ample excuses not to make art.

When it is hard to be creative I always fall back on the rules. Most compositions are built out of basic geometry. And by stripping down the world that I view through the lens into those simple geometric shapes I can try to create a formal composition. Whether it is stellar or not... that's another question. But alas... the blog continues.

Early modernist paved the way. They left representation behind and allowed simple formalism to be enough in the photograph. My favorite of them being Paul Strand who's early work was aligned with in the pictorialist style, quite opposite his later contrasty bold patterns & forms in his modernist work. The pictorialist aesthetic was soft, and due to the photographic process used (platinum or gum bichromate) suggestive in appearance resembling more of a charcoal drawing than a photograph. Strand's mentor at the time was Lewis Hine, the social documentary photographer - his work was full of narrative bias that pulled on each heart string. I often wondered how all these styles were reconciled. A young pictorialist photographer taught by a social documentary photographer than ends up being one of the first modernist photographers. The answer? Although Strand is best known for the sharp modernist images that emphasize shapes, he simultaneously continue to photograph people on the street in his own documentary style. Many were even printed in the warm and soft platinum process - a nod to one of the pictorials' favorites.

As an artist that works in the photographic medium the question that I am asked the most? What is your subject matter. It is a question that I fail to answer in any articulate manner. I don't have one style or one favorite subject. May be that is my down fall? If my work was more consistent it may be more recognizable and more marketable. But at as a artist (and film maker) Strand was not pigeoned-holed into one style or even one subject matter. I am not trying to equate my work with Strand's, but I do feel because he paved the way it is OK to entertain different styles and subject matter.

Paul Strand

41. Irish Eyes

The first year I moved into my own house, my grandma came by and helped me plant flowers. We choose to plant one of her favorites, a small blue flower called lobelia. Every spring I have planted this flower in my yard in honor of her. Last spring with my step dad being so sick, I just didn't really tend to the garden much at all and it was clear into July before I planted any flowers. It was too hot for lobelia.

Recently, Abbey has been working on a heritage project for school and of the melting pot of countries that make up her lineage she choose Ireland to research. My Grandma was half Irish and I wish I could just grab the phone and ask her so many questions. Questions I never thought to ask when she was with us. Today, while playing with the kids out back I noticed a little blue flower peeking through the neglected garden dirt...lobelia! Grandma's favorite. My Grandma passed away in 2003, but it is nice to know that she is still with us in so many ways. When Irish eyes are smiling...

40. Basics

There is a beautiful oak tree that sits between two sections in the building in which I teach. When the building was being designed one faculty member worked hard to ensure the safety and livelihood of this tree - our state tree, a protected tree.  A few years after the building was complete, students began to cut across the space and the tree was again threatened. A local non-profit organization was called, stanchions to block the students' path were installed, and landscaping was put in to again help preserve the old oak.

The building is now being remodeled and a staircase is being added near the base of the tree. The construction crew seems to show little concern for it by piling construction materials and rebar around its base. Last week a pick up truck was even parked next to the tree. I have been watching with concern all winter hoping that it will make it. Today, with the warm and beautiful weather the leafs have started to bud. I still don't know if it will survive the abuse, but let's hope it does.

In order to create the above image I decided to go back to the basics. Photography is simply the record of light and the simplest photograph can be made with a pinhole camera - a small black box with literally a pin hole at one end and light sensitive material at the other. There is no focusing mechanism, no lens and the pinhole is equivalent to F360 (Ansel Adams has nothing on this $20 camera.) The image rendered has an amazing amount of depth from the chain link inches from the camera to the parking lot far behind. It was recorded on fiber paper coated with gelatin silver and processed in our wet lab. Kind of fun after all the iPhone images that I have been taking lately. It is not my best composition, but did I mention that there is no viewfinder on the camera?

This second image was taken a couple weeks ago with a little digital Nikon that I am not too fond of (see post 24. Technology.) I think the pinhole camera even beats out this model of Nikon. Yikes!

39. OTC

I wrote a total different entry tonight and decided not to use it. I am nursing a nasty cold and after wrestling with this blog for a couple hours I took a shot (or two) Nyquil. So as the creative juices are not flowing and my fine motor skills are truly slowing... I think I should make this quick before I post something really embarrassing. I am hopefully off to dream and not cough all night.

38. Waiting

This child (not my own) was at a three-hour long educational event jammed packed with activities that I took my girls to. Her father dropped her off at 9:30 AM like he did most Saturdays, and came back at 12:30 PM when the class ended. The event was not intended as childcare or camp, but the organizer of it didn't seem to mind and it worked for the father, so its a win-win right?

I watched her for sometime stare out the window clueless to the wondrous crafts, events, and activities that were happening around her. I asked her a few questions and she didn't seem unhappy or depressed, but was just waiting until her father came to get her. She entertained herself with a small blue plastic gem  by placing it in the sunlight and watching it make rainbows on the floors. She was positive it was a real diamond.

She may not have been sad, but I sure felt down after three hours of watching her stare out the window.

37. Tears

I am breaking a promise to Abbey that I wouldn't post this photograph. It has such raw emotion that I can't help myself. I spend most my time with my kids, so the subject will be repeat offender.

Abbey was overly tired from a sleepover birthday party followed by the first soccer game of the spring season. She lost it over a Slurpee - I still don't understand what happened. I got the cruel (and some what neglectful) idea to decide to photograph her when all she wanted was mom. The more I tried to solicit her cooperation the more angry she became. I think her exact words were, "You are torturing me". The whole process didn't take longer than a couple of minutes, but I am sure that it will cost me a bundle in psychology bills later in life. As a mother I felt enormously guilty, but as a photographer it was like watching a train wreck... I couldn't help myself.

No one would question Sally Mann's work as a photographer, but her photographs do ask us to question her competency as a mother. She uses a large format film camera that takes several minutes to set up, focus, and compose. Each of her photographs is a precisely crafted image, not a quick snapshot with an iPhone. The lengthy picture taking process has a lot to do with this accusation of possible maternal neglect. Her images include a daughter laying on a urine soaked bedsheet, a son with a bloody nose, another prepubescent daughter nude on display in front of a male neighbor. Most mothers would first choose to help their children, but Sally Mann instead reached for the large, slow to set up camera to first document the experience before (if ever) she intervened.

So where I love the above image of Abbey, as a mother, I think it would be difficult to come anywhere near the working process of Sally Mann's. Although this weekend, I did come closer to her working methods than I ever thought I would.

Sally Mann

36. Migraine

Sorry. Migraine. No post.



- excuse the typos...posted via Windo's iPhone

35. Poison

The symbol of the owl, in the tradition of western art, is the bearer of knowledge and the messenger of death.

Today I visited the Mountains Restoration Trust with my daughters to learn how the Chumash Indians lived off of the mountain surrounding the San Fernando Valley.

Supposedly the Chumash believed that every member of the tribe should contribute to the daily work that needed to be accomplished in order for the tribe to flourish. On average this amounted to 4 hours and then the rest of the day could be spent at rest or play. Sounds like a wonderful way to live.

Any member of the tribe had the right to refuse to participate in contributing to the greater good however they would also be subject to retaliation from other members of the tribe. This was often done by slipping them a deadly tea made from the wild nightshade plant that is indigenous to the area. It was potent... it usually did the trick. No slackers.

Poison oak is also indigenous to the area. Supposedly a wonderful dye could be made from the plant for the finely crafted Chumash woven baskets. The problem was collecting the poison oak a plant that causes nasty allergic reactions in most people.  The Chumash people figured out that by ingesting very small amounts of young poison oak leaves one could develop a resistant to the poison and hence become immune.

The Chumash considered the elderberry bush a musical bush. The trunk could be hollowed out to create flutes and the branches were smacked together as percussion sticks. The berries once ripened to a deep purple or black were eaten or used as a dye. However the plant contained high levels of cyanide. Small children who sucked on the flutes made of elderberry wood were be poisoned. The unripened berries were also highly toxic if eaten before they developed the rich color.

Easy to see how, yes the bearer of knowledge could indeed be the messenger of death.

34. Love

It is so nice to feel loved. I started writing this blog 34 days ago... and by suggestion of my brother-in-law I posted a script to record how many hits I received a day. From days 1 to 15 there was a steady increase in readers and I was on a roll. But then after day 15 a sharp decrease in readers that continued until it bottomed out this week at three steady days of NO hits at all. Ug! Definitely not feeling the love and I was near tears when Curtis, my husband said that it couldn't be correct because he promised that he read every post, every day. (What a great guy...biggest fan...best supporter.) He was right. I hit upon my own blog, so why wasn't my hit showing up on the counter. I love myself right?

It turns out for once I was a bit technology challenged. I forgot to include the script language on any posts after day 15. After adding the hit counter to last nights posting it turns out you all love me! Well, may be you don't love me, but at least you are checking in now and then. Thank you!

So I need another round of ideas. Please send the assignments I could use them.

33. Crack

The word crack... its an onomatopoeia - sounds like its literal definition. It also looks like what it sounds like - one can almost hear the photograph. The idea that a photograph could stimulate more than your visual sense might have begun with Andy Warhol's Saturday Disaster series. It is artwork that could physically draw you up to the work and then simultaneously repel you.  He appropriated photographic images from the tabloids of people dying terrible deaths. One image was repeated at nauseam over and over in a grid like pattern via photographic silk screen on canvas. The result looked like a colorful pattern at a distance. The blood and guts were only visible when the viewer approached the canvas up close up. At the moment the brain recognizes the gore, the viewer stubbles backwards in disgust. Such a wonderful metaphor for how as Americans would become desensitized to violence in the media through repetition.

32. Just is

Today a trip to the Getty with my students followed by an afternoon of errands with the kids. This evening a fantastic bowl of homemade chili on a deceptively cold night. As I sat down to work on my blog early for once I ended up running an unexpectant trip to the pharmacy for my mom. Now off to bed instead of staying up late to try and be insightful.

Tomorrow is a new day.

31. Critique

I took this photograph about 6 years ago and it hangs in my dining room. I am clearly ahead on my project requirement of one photo per day, so I can spend one posting on one of my favorite past images.

I decided to talk about it today because it was the focus of our dinner conversation. It all started when Abbey, our 7 year old, asked what I thought about her latest sketch of a cat. I replied that I particularly like the face, but that I thought the feet of the cat could be better rendered - they were kind of flat for feet. This of course started a heated battle, major disagreement, and ended in tears. The whole time I was trying to calm her down and have her listen to my comment. As an artist you have to have a tough skin. All viewers have opinions, some valid, some not so much. But you need to shut up and listen if you want to understand at what level your work is communicating. It is one of the hardest lessons to learn and not one that I expect Abbey to get for a while.

In order to make a point, I asked her what she thought of the above image that hangs in our dinning room. I don't think she knew I took it and quickly replied that the image would be better if the sign was right side up. I agreed that could be one approach. That was it, she was done with her critique and then Katie piped in...

Katie commented that I didn't follow my own rule about NOT putting the main subject of the photograph in the center of the frame. Before I could respond she continued with... "may be you did that on purpose because of course you know the rules".Yes, of course I know the rules, and I love to break them.

Oddly the conversation continued with another image also hanging in the dining room. Katie couldn't identify the subject of the photograph. It is a mostly blue rectangle with a diagonal white line through the middle. I asked her if she ever heard the word "abstract" before. Abbey jumped back in... "Isn't that something I heard about in art class?". Back to Katie..."Abstract is when you can't tell what it is supposed to be". Of course, yes again Katie.

So I am wondering, does she have an affinity for discussing art already, or is she just hanging out with her mother too much?

30. Decisive Moment

One of the most well-known and influential photographers of all time is Henri Cartier-Bresson. He was known for defining his style of photography called the "decisive moment". Cartier-Bresson defined it as a split second in time when the compositional forms in the scene are arranged for the optimal photograph. These forms are based on geometry and a repetition of this geometry.  The decisive moment is not the height of action or climax, instead it captures the pregnant pause right before climax. The photographer only need to place himself in the right space and wait long enough for the planets to align in the frame rendering the perfect photographic image. Additionally, he championed the small and portable 35 mm film camera (considered inferior by many) in order to be flexible and fast enough to capture this moment in a fraction of a second.

Why is the decisive moment so on my mind? As an educator in, and resident of, the state of California I feel that we are in a decisive moment. We are all sitting patiently waiting for the planets to align, waiting for the economy to turn around, waiting for education to fix itself. That is the problem with the decisive moment - it is passive. I went into education because I love to teach. I am not the best advocate, politician, or organizer of reforms, most educators aren't. But at some point, this insanity isn't going to solve itself. There are two things that need to change in California... one, Prop 13's control of property taxes, and two, teacher tenure. (Duck as the arrows fly above my head.) So how do we fix this? We need to be flexible, like a 35 mm camera, but not as outdated as one.

 

Henri Cartier-Bresson

29. Dry

For all the rain, I feel like I am in a dry spell.  Creativity is about having time to think and I admit I often don't have time to think. I know that I take on a lot - teaching, volunteering, motherhood, girl scouts, field studies, etc. but I like to be busy. Actually, I like keep busy with things that are interesting to me - mentally challenging and stimulating. If I am not doing something I am bored.

This weekend required many menial tasks - neither challenging nor stimulating but necessary. It was raining much of the weekend. Both girls weren't feeling well. Tonight with the laundry done, the house relatively organized (minus Abbey's room, see yesterday's post), kids in bed, grading up-to-date, I finally get time to concentrate on my blog. But I have the same problem I have had for the last week... I haven't thought all day, so how I am supposed to think now?

If you don't know what to write, read what you already wrote, right? I reviewed the last 28 postings in 28 days of my blog. First, I realize I am way ahead of this one photograph a day requirement. Today's image is photograph number 52. I know, pretty good - at least in quantity. Second, I realized when I have more time to think and write,  I have had much more involved and insightful posts.  

I have to remind myself that this blog is about practice and an artist practices to be perfect.  I have to keep the critic at bay long enough to keep posting even if the day, art, and practice is far from perfect.

28. Over & Over

I often think I may be insane. I spent several hours straightening up the house on Friday so that it would look nice for our friends that were coming over for dinner. The bulk of the cleaning was spent on Abbey's room. It looked like an editorial layout from a magazine when I was done. 24 hours later she and a few friends returned it to it's original state.

As a seven year old she is just playing and enjoying her own space but the result insults my core sense of organization and aesthetics. Why do I bother? It's her room. Why not let it go? If I keep cleaning it will some OCD genes magically turn on in her body? Will she simply follow my example? Or am I doomed to repeat the same pattern and always hope for a different outcome? May be some elves will take over...keep dreaming.


- excuse the typos...posted via Windo's iPhone

27. Camping

All snug in my sleeping bag and almost asleep and I just remembered the blog at the very last second. Good night.




- excuse the typos...posted via Windo's iPhone

26. Thoughts before coffee

This blog topic idea is from Kip Leland. "Thoughts before I had my coffee," was really a comment she made at the end of a string of suggestions for photographs, but I really liked it as a phrase. It got me thinking about everything I have to do in the morning before I have my coffee. First, I feel that I am in a cloud before I have any caffeine. So I am often surprised the first moment of true consciousness is hours after I physically wake up. There are 2 hour morning lectures that I am not sure I delivered.

My daughter Katie has ADHD and she takes Ritalin to help her focus and stay on task. The medicine is a stimulant and ADHD is likely hereditary. Ever since she was diagnosed five years ago my husband and I have argued who it came from. But tonight while we were discussing the benefits (and side effects) the medicine provides her, I realized that anybody is more focused on stimulants. I tried to find the exact statistics for how many Americans consume caffeine on a daily basis. I couldn't find consensus on the internet, but I am sure it is close to 80%. May be we are all so distracted by modern life that we have become a nation of people with ADHD.

So may be it came from me, or may be it is a side effect of my iPhone... who knows. All I know is that I don't have many, if any, thoughts before coffee, but at least caffeine is the cure.

25. Change

So much has changed in the last year for me and my family I feel like I am living someone else's life. It was March when my step dad really started declining from prostate cancer. I knew he wasn't going to make it. But of course we were trying to go on like life was normal.

Today, I was ordering tickets for my daughters' play production performance and a flood of memories came rushing back. The first day that Ken could not continue as normal was on the morning of last year's play production performance. My mom called me, obviously stressed out. She tried to sound calm and nonchalant. She said Ken must just have a little cold or something because he couldn't get out of bed. It was like that for the next two months. My mom always hoping that he just didn't feel well and the next day he would be just fine. We all wanted that, but knew differently. He died two months later, one day after his 78th birthday.

Of course we all miss him so terribly it is physically painful, but it is this feeling of living in a dream world that is hard to comprehend. My mother called today and wanted to know if she should reorder UCLA season football tickets. My parents would go to all the games together, and have for years. Nobody really used them this last fall, so should she order them again? How about the season opera tickets? Nobody liked the opera but Ken. There are 20 cans of mushrooms in my mom's kitchen cabinet. She hates mushrooms but can't seem to throw them out. Christmas was just plain surreal. I feel like I should just order him a play production ticket so he is always with us.

None of us will ever be the same, but my mom has particularly changed. Without her soul mate of 30 plus years I think she is often lost in this alternative world that we are all stuck in. Whether we are ready for change, or not, it will happen often during our life time. Eventually over time, the new becomes the norm and hopefully this life will once again feel like it belongs to us. Hopefully...

24. Technology

I am not a photophile. I like making images and enjoy technology, but I am a person that has trouble keeping track of which Canon dSLR is the latest and greatest... 5D or 7D. I am totally lost when it comes to Nikons. But generally I shoot with at minimum a SLR that is capable of manual exposure. But this blog has changed everything. I simply can't drag around a Canon 5D all day long. First, I would look like a nerd (i.e. photophile) and second, it makes people nervous. Why do you have such a large camera? Are you staking out the place?

So recently, to keep up with this project everyday it is practical to shoot with a smaller camera. And what has been in my hand non-stop for the last 3 months... yes my iPhone. I am surprised it takes darn good snaps.  But unfortunately, there is nothing to control, all auto focus & all auto exposure. Today I borrowed a Nikon Coolpix P6000 from school. It is a range viewfinder digital camera but it still qualifies as a pocket camera. For a smaller camera it has adjustable ISO, F-stops, and shutter speeds. Limited, but adjustable. So I set out today to make some more controlled and beautiful images. Well, the camera sucks! I can't even use the images. I ended up reshooting my favorites with, you guessed it, with the iPhone.

Check out the difference: the iPhone image is on the top and the Coolpix on the bottom. If you click on the images to enlarge them you will notice the poor image quality of the Nikon. So I guess I will have to start looking for a decent little camera with manual exposure if I am going to make it through this year of creating photographs.

I think of this photograph as Katie's composition. She creates one every morning on the bathroom floor and I destroy her artwork every afternoon when I pick it up. There was a two hour duration between the photographs and I noticed she hung up her towel before I took the second shot. Why just the towel? Why not pick up the rest? May be she was making improvements to her work and this composition isn't as arbitrary as I originally thought.

23. Bed

The only thing I am capable of today. Good night.