297. Faking it

I have been watching the TV Series "Dexter" this week - Series 1. It is about a serial killer that uses his cravings to right wrongs - a vigilante like you can never imagine. It has been on air for a few years, but heard about it too far into the run and couldn't catch up. Eventually with too much on my plate, I left it behind. But those who know me, know that I love any murder/mystery/serial killer novel/movie/series there is. Recently my husband set up our DVD player to stream movies from Netflix - unbelievable. You don't even have to wait for the rentals in the mail any longer. I push a button and I am watching what I want. And one of the options? Dexter - Season 1.

The main character is pretty interesting. He is an orphan kid who was raised by a cop with great instincts. The cop/father figures out early on that the socially awkward Dexter isn't capable of most of the things that make us human. So he teaches Dexter to fake being human. The show is mostly about Dexter as an adult serial killer who works as a medical examiner. He is a good guy AND a brutal killer. As a character his lack of human qualities is quite extraordinary. His observations of normal human interaction amazing. He finds mimicking normal human qualities exhausting. A very smart show and definitely worth it.

One of Dexter's lines I couldn't get out of my head:
"The inability to feel has its advantages (long pause).....sometimes."

296. Just Listen... please

I have a photography class this semester and the class collectively has a terrible problem just being quiet for 10 minutes at a time so that I can get through a short lesson or announcement. These students are incapable of sitting still and paying attention.

My own kids are on the war path. They are constantly bickering and trying to tattle on each other. I am so sick of asking them to get along and respect each other I am ready to explode.

My mom has lost most reason and memory. She called me several times a day and asks me the same question over and over. I try to patient explain it in the most simple fashion hoping that she will be able to hold onto the thought, but it is again lost.

I am at the point that I feel like it is no longer worth saying anything because nobody is able to listen.

295. But...nothing

I sat on my bottom and graded the whole day. With the end of the semester rapidly approaching there are more similar days ahead then interesting photographs to be taken. I am looking forward to some free time and a little travel over the holidays.

My students are finishing up their final portfolios. And of course with two weeks left of the semester a handful of them are still trying to decided what to shoot - procrastination! As their desperation grows they want me to give them an idea - to tell them what to shoot. Coming up with the "idea" is always the hardest thing to do as an artist. But more experience doesn't help. I don't have all the answers. I struggle just to keep up with this blog.

294.

293. California

It is the end of November and the day after Thanksgiving. It was unusually cold in the San Fernando Valley this week. Even with the chill hanging in the air this morning, my friend Kip convinced me to come hang out with her and her family at Carpenteria Beach. The State campground is located on one of the most beautiful stretches of Southern California beaches and allows campers to backup their motorhomes right onto it. Oddly enough the weather was perfect and the beach was crystal and dry today. A little slice of heaven at the perfect price. Amazing that voters rejected prop 21 to help keep state parks open. It would have only cost $18 more per car.

292. Thanksgiving

Tonight at dinner we sat down to our long prepared meal and I asked everyone to announce one thing that they are faithful for. I asked my niece Ana to start, and with most of her needs rightfully taken care of the concept was beyond her. We went around the table, taking turns, and the theme was consistent. Thank you for the wonderful meal, warm comfortable home, good friends, and caring family. Soon it was my mom's turn and she simply stated that she didn't have much to by thankful for. She's right. It's what I had thinking about all month, but just didn't have the nerve to articulate it as bluntly as she did.

291. It's a Zoo Out There

I went to the zoo the other day and thought I would kill two birds with one stone - spend time with the family and take some photographs for the blog. The day was really unusually cold for Los Angeles. Clouds loomed over head and threatened rain most of the day. The light was flat, making the highlight and shadows almost nil. The sun popped out just for a couple of quick moments and after several hundred shots I only have a couple of photographs that were remotely interesting. It was wonderful to hang out with my family but generally a wasted day of photography.

290. Furry

One is an animal and one is a girl. One has manicured toes and wears fashionable sandals. The other has never seen the inside of a salon, but might end up contributing to a top of the line sweater. They both have furry legs and got along famously.

289. Jack

Talked a lot about abstract expressionism again today. It kind of gets stuck in my head and it is hard to think of anything else.




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

288. Fodder

I was away for Curtis' birthday so we chose to celebrate tonight, a couple days late. I intended to just post one photograph of the night, but my family is just such great photographic fodder.

287.

I am up at camp this weekend and it is very cold and very wet. I had little time to take any photographs without risking the camera being drenched by water. The few images I did take rendered an odd effect from the blurry water drops on my lens. Otherwise the day was a loss for artistic endeavors.

I can't help but think about my time up here at Camp Tahquitz. I have been teaching classes up at the camp for the past 2 1/2 years. My twentieth post for this blog was up at camp last February. I remember sitting here after a long day of teaching wondering how long I would be able to keep this up. Wondering if it was possible to photograph and post everyday for a year. I am now just a little over two months away from a year of continual daily postings and it feels unreal. The next time I come to camp in March the project will be complete. When I started this project I didn't know if I could do it. Now I know I can - so much more is behind me than in front.

286. Past

I was out in the middle of the woods this afternoon. A storm was rolling in and it was getting really, really cold. As the light was fleeting, I started to snap some shots before my chances of natural light were gone. In display on the LCD, the images looked like there were headed for deletion but my fingers were too numb to care.

We hiked back to the lodge, warmed up, and ate dinner - and after the hours passed finally sat down to take a second look. This digital image, although in full color and up manipulated in post, looks almost identical to one of the first photographic processes, the calotype. Hard to believe that the top of the line piece of technology would take the image back to where it started. The happy accident, the unexpected... the best part of photography.

William Henry Fox-Talbot 1842

285. Diva

I have created a monster. Every time she knows the camera is out she poses. It's at the point where I have to sneak up on her in order to create the candid style of images that I like. It must be the age. A girl on the edge of becoming a teenager. All of a sudden she is aware of her beauty and self conscious of her appearance at the same time.

284. Point and shoot

I have a friend who is a bit of a photography elitest. His elite status is grounded - he's got chops. In the last ten years with the development of digital SLRs he feels that the profession is being water down by people who think they are photographers. Yes, I agree. But where he feels this may lead to the end of the profession, I don't.

I teach history of photography and I have heard this argument before. Around 1890 George Eastman's company Kodak developed the Brownie camera and revolutionized photography. Before this time there were no snapshots or candids. The Brownie was the first camera that allowed for laymen to take photographs. In the last 100 plus photography has only exploded in popularity and frequency - not decreased.

283. Fear

When you have children you realize that you love someone so much that you fear losing them. When Abbey was about 2 years we took her on a Metro ride to downtown. As we got off the Metro her foot got caught in the gap between the subway and the platform. It was only a few seconds, but I really had to work at freeing her foot. As the doors on the car closed I was terrified the train would start to pull away from the platform and drag my child with her. In the end, nothing happened. She was fine, not even hurt, but I still have crystal clear nightmares about that day. A few years before my daughter Katie choked on a tortilla. If I think about the blue color of her face before we were able to dislodge the food mass from her airway my heart starts to pound, my breathe becomes erratic, and my eyes water. I feel the absolute panic just thinking about what happened 10 years ago.

For some reason in the middle of the night while I was trying to comfort my mom I remember an event that happened in childhood. I was so young that thinking about it doesn't bother me in anyway. But I realized it likely still terrifies my mom even though it happened 30 years ago. One night I walked into my room and discovered my parakeet, Chirpy, was dead. I screamed and ran into my brother's room to tell him about it and he was already asleep. I looked inside his bird's cage and Tweetie was also dead. I let out a second scream which oddly didn't wait my brother up. My mom came running and quickly thought about the canary in the coal mine. She got everyone out of the house and had to carry my brother outside. The heater had a crack in it and it was spilling carbon monoxide into our home. Had we not had the birds we would have all died that night. My grandparents would have discovered the tragic scene the next morning when we all failed to report to school and work. We all survived, except the bird. And thanks to the birds everything was just fine. As a child I didn't realize how close we came to death - I was a child I was immortal. No fear. But now I am a mother I realize that my mom must think of this event from time to time and feel sheer terror even though it happened so many years ago. So when she wakes up in the middle of the night full of paranoia that her family is in danger, at some point in her life her paranoia was not unfounded.

And she has had a pet bird ever since.

282. 36 hours

Up for 36 hours and I just can't write tonight. 

281. Paranoia

Today was an extraordinarily beautiful day and it was also my mom's 70th birthday party. Most of the family came into town and we gathered at my brother's house for brunch. My mom truly enjoyed having everyone around. I haven't seen her smile like that in a long time. 

After the days festivities, she went home with her care worker and I went home to grade student work. About 11:30 pm I started searching through the days photographs for the day's post. I was so elated to find this photograph of my mom. She looks relaxed and confident - she looks like my mom. She doesn't have the blank stare that dementia has caused her face to have.

As I was processing this photograph tonight she called. Scared and confused. Begging me to come over to her house. Of course I said, "yes." So here I sit tonight writing this post in my mom's bed. Where my stepdad used to sleep. With her snoring next to me. As soon as I arrived her fears and paranoia diminished. She asked me to stay all night and of course I can't. I have other responsibilities. I wish I could be there all the time, but it is impossible.

Her fear reminds me of my own as a child. I use to have trouble sleeping through the night. I woke her up for years past my toddler years. She eventually locked her bedroom door and pretended not to hear me begging to let me in. I wanted to curl up with her but I couldn't get in. I was sure a monster or serial killer would be coming down the hall to dismember me any second. I guess I grew out of it at some point. It is not likely that my mom will grow out of hers... I think she is just starting to grow into it. 

280. Stress Relief

This hike is called the Butt Burner. Others call it the Twisted Sister. It is straight up for 1 mile. A couple years ago I was too out of shape to try it and now I go up it for fun - more than fun, for sanity. By the time I reach the top I actually feel so exhausted I feel better.

This photograph was a quick snap on the way up the hill. I didn't give it much time or care, but looking back this photograph makes it look even worse than the trail really is. I try not to look up and know that once I start up, it is too steep to turn around and go back down. It is all or nothing.

279. Tale of Two Sisters

My stepmom, Jane and her sister, Aunt Linda.  As a child I remember once I began to study their faces, I realized the basic structure of their faces was very similar.  They are both smart. Both deep thinkers. Both good at conversation. But oh so different. Jane is a stylish world traveler. She exercises regularly. Her hair, make-up, and clothing are perfect - like out of a magazine. Bleach blonde and thin. Linda is much of a homebody that explores the world through text and research. Her style is casual and a bit unkept. Her hair is naturally dark and curly, and she is fuller figured. I don't think exercise is part of her vocabulary. The seem to tolerate each other more than love each other. 

When I see them together I can't help but think of my own two girls - sisters. What will Katie and Abbey be like in their 50s. 

278. Short

Tonight my sister premiered her short that she both acted in and wrote. It was impressive and I am proud of her. My creative process allows me to think one dimensionally, one image at a time. Her process was lengthly... writing, rewriting, finding collaboratives in front of and behind the camera, post production and even a great venue to have a screening party. I really don't think I could have put that all together. Well done Sarah.

277. Friends

Curtis kicked me out the door tonight. I was moping around the house worrying about my mom and not sure if I was going to attend a friend's 50th birthday bash. I had decided that I wouldn't be good company and I would be doing everyone a favor if I stayed home. Curtis convinced me that even though this had been one of the hardest weeks in my life, if I indeed put the effort into freshening up, and changing clothes I would probably be glad I went. I was too depressed to argue and followed instructions - I threw on jeans and a little mascara and off I went.

It only took one friend to ask, "I heard about your mom." and I started to cry. So much for the mascara. As one friend after another walked into the party my mood began to shift. Not really improve, but shift. The party and friends became a unexpected diversion - a pleasant diversion. A needed break from the stress and focus of the last few days. It was nice to see many of my friends in one place celebrating.

Yes, Curtis is right. I am glad I went.

276. Influence

I find it truly creepy and insulting when biographies about artists try to over simplify influence. Watching a program tonight on Jeff Koons, the king of kitch in Postmodernism who appropriates everyday household items, did so because his father owned a furniture store. Really?

275. Blew it

I made it two hundred seventy four days in a row consecutively posting but forgot to post last night. So technically I blew it. Ug. Now what?

274. Transforming, again

I continue to think about collecting those photographic images that show our ordinary world transformed by the media. At the same time I beginning to realize that changes in my life have transformed it to the point that I am not sure what is ordinary any more.

273. Homecoming

I never realized that the cousins looked alike before tonight.





- Posted using BlogPress for iPad (now that it is available for iPad!)

272. Mom

It is 2:30 am and technically I missed posting yesterday. The last 40 hours I have been so focused and worried about my mom that I only thought about my blog once. As the clock passed midnight and I was waiting for her to be discharged from the ER I realized I didn't take one photograph all day.

Last night she was up most the night, agitated and in pain. She only calmed down if I rested my hand on her. I sat next to her much of the night and I realized that since my step-dad died she must long for simple physical touch. Sure we give her hugs and kisses, but after all those years of having someone sleep next to her, rub her feet, squeeze like a bear, and cover her face with kisses, she must be starving. A mate touches you in a way that is hard to substitute. But simply resting my hand on her shoulder was comforting. I eventually grew so tired I had to try to sleep myself. I would try to leave her and she would wake back up in an agitated state.

As my mom's health wanes we hold out hope (pray it is not false hope), hope that her decline is only temporary and she will ultimately improved. I think it is human nature to believe this way, or else it is too painful to face the present.

Cheesy as it may sound... I have had this Thompson Twins song in my head all day:

I have a picture,


pinned to my wall.


An image of you and of me and we're laughing and loving it all.


Look at our life now, tattered and torn.


We fuss and we fight and delight in the tears that we cry until dawn



Hold me now, warm my heart


stay with me, let loving start

271.

270. Adventure

My daughter had the opportunity to visit an overnight science camp for a couple of days. She was so excited this morning that she had trouble containing herself. Of course the buses were late and this made her chew on her finger nails for and hour. Finally when it arrived she was first in line to jump on. I love her enthusiasm. She blew me lots of kisses as the bus pulled away but no tears and I doubt she is missing me that much. She is growing up so fast it scares me.

- Posted using BlogPress for iPad (now that it is available for iPad!)

269. Home

I drove to my parent's house this morning. My dad and mom bought it 42 years ago. My mom has lived in the home for those past 42 years, but only recently by herself. Either my dad, or step-dad, or her 5 children have lived with her.

Today I went to pick her up and help her run some errands. She opened the door, said,"Good morning," and then asked me, "Please take me home."

I responded by asking her, "Isn't this your home?"

She looked around and said, "No."

It was heart breaking and all I could do is change the subject.

268. Assignment: Transforming the Ordinary

I gave my students a new assignment this week. The idea is to take something very ordinary and through the art of picture taking (composition, exposure, and RAW processing) they need to transform that ordinary world into another world. I am always surprise that how the simplicity of this assignment becomes so difficult. This simple idea is the basis for every photographer to become a great photographer - to have a unique way of seeing the world and communicating it through the photograph. Hopefully it is not just an assignment, but a way of practice.