Friday, August 30, 2013

The Only One

My father is an only child who's mother passed away when he was twelve. Her name was Marie and she died 23 years before I was born but my parents gave me her name as my middle name. There aren't many photos from my dad's side of the family, but I treasure the ones we have.

Years ago I was looking through some of the photos and I came across an unusual one. It was a small photo of my father sitting in between my grandparents holding the family dog. The frame was very old and seemed heavy and awkward. I asked my father about it and he told me that it wasn't actually a picture frame at all. It was an old clock that had stopped working. Rather than repair it, my grandfather took out all the internal mechanisms and inserted the photograph. I feel in love with it right then and there. Not only was it a beautiful photo but it resided in a frame that my grandfather had made. He loved the clock so much that he wanted to use it to hold a family photo.

The last time I saw my grandfather was when I was twelve years old. He lived in Wisconsin and his house seemed like it was filled with magic. The two story house was old and it was stuffed with relics from the past. I had never seen so many antiques packed into one place before. It was interesting because they belonged to him and everything had a story.

I remember when we visited I stayed in the room in the attic, which had been my father’s old bedroom. It was hot because there was little air circulation from the rest of the house. I found a box with a desk fan from the 60's which had never been opened. I pulled out the fan - it had these bright blue translucent blades and it was in perfect condition. I plugged it in and worked flawlessly. I also found one of the purses my grandmother used to have. My grandfather had kept it all those years. When I opened it I found a tube of her lipstick that was half used. The tip was shaped by the angle she held it at her mouth when she applied it. I also found her emergency card with instructions on how to take care of her diabetes if she every became ill while she was out. I remember sitting in the attic with tears rolling down my cheeks. The only thing I ever had from my grandmother was her name. To sit there and hold something that she had with her everyday was beautiful. I never felt so close to my grandmother.

I felt the same way when I held the old clock that my grandfather had turned into a picture frame. He passed away a few years after we had visited him. His house was sold and we only had a few things left that belonged to him. The most meaningful one to me was the clock he loved enough to re-purpose into a frame for a family photo. I loved the photo of my family but I also loved it even more because it was in something that he worked on.

For years I had it proudly displayed my room. When I moved to Orlando it moved with me. Eight moves in under ten years and that photo has always been in a place of honor.

Recently my parents came to visit me and my father noticed the photo. He hadn't seen it in years. He held it in his hands and said "Take good care of this. It is the only photo of me and my parents together."

"Really?" I was shocked "This is the only photo of you, grandma, and grandpa together?"
"Yes" He said "This is the only one."

I guess it was hard for me to believe at first. Cameras are so pervasive today but they were far less common and much more expensive when my father was a child. I had loved this photo all these years and I am still finding out how unique and special that it truly is.


The photo of my grandfather, father, and grandmother from April 1959. Approximately one year before my grandmother passed way. My father, who was eleven at the time, is holding the family dog Terry in his lap. (We love to tease my mother about this because her name is Terri). They are sitting on the couch that was in the living room in their house in Wisconsin. The photo was taken by family friends and you can see their reflection in the mirror above my grandparents heads as well as the flash that went off when the photo was taken.

I chose to shoot this photograph on the sidewalk outside of my apartment. To me it has become a beautiful symbol of the passing of time. The photo was taken in black and white in Wisconsin in 1959, placed in an antique clock by my grandfather and kept all these years. It was taken down to Florida and it now kept by me - the oldest grandchild the one who is named after my grandmother.

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

The Cicada

I stumbled across this unusual sight when I arrived home from work. Just to the right of my door was a cicada. Most of the time I have only seen the shed exoskeletons that they leave behind. This was the first time I had ever seen one newly emerged as an adult. 


It was still clinging to its old skin and had not yet achieved its true darker color. Its soft and vulnerable body was still shiny in the flash of the camera. Its long, iridescent wings building strength before it takes its first flight to the trees to sing.

Monday, August 12, 2013

Electric Storm

I took this photo while riding with my friend in the car. We were coming back from Wekiwa Springs after being rained out. At this point it was no longer raining, however, the sky was still buzzing with activity. 


I love the way the frenetic energy of the sky is mirrored by the blurred lights as we drove by. The short bursts of neon yellow in contrast to the cosmic swirls of blue and gray. Most dusk skies are full of serenity, but this sky looked like a beautifully chaotic electric storm.

Monday, July 29, 2013

Grecian

I recently came across this sketch I had made a while back while waiting for some repairs to be done on my car. I find that my need to create and fill time has lead to the production of some unexpected and beautiful pieces. 



Thursday, July 11, 2013

More Battle Scars For The Warrior Queen

On June 27th I managed to fall twelve feet off a ladder. I landed in relative safety only to have the ladder come crashing down on my face. I had to pull myself out from under the ladder and find my coworkers for assistance. They took me to the nearest emergency room where I received a tetanus shot, two rounds of X-rays, and eight stitches. Turns out I had a broken nose.

I still consider myself lucky. I had managed to break the bone, not the cartilage, so nothing needed to be reset. I just had to wait for the bone to heal. As I laid there getting stitched I realized that this was the first time in my life I had broken a bone. I also remembered that my grandfather had broken his nose when he was a young man, however, he had broken the cartilage. He nose was never the same after that but it did give him a slightly more rugged appearance that was very reminiscent of Clint Eastwood. That little thought brought me a lot of comfort as I stared up at the hospital ceiling. 

I also remembered my grandfather saying things like "Don't use up all your tears now. You've got to save some for later."

After the doctor was done giving me my stitches Mariko asked if I wanted her to take a photo. I said yes. 

Thursday , June 27 at the Dr. Phillips Hospital - Photo by Mariko.

I know most people would never dream of having their photo taken right after they get stitches, but being the kind of photographer that I am I thought it would be a great opportunity. I was glad she was there to take pictures. 

Even though I had never broken a bone before I still have many cuts and scrapes on my body. I never bought into the idea that the only way for me to be pretty is to have perfectly smooth skin. Being an artist has made given me the knowledge that it is more important to create. My hands will have many cuts and my legs will have many bruises. The scars are a reminder of what you have survived and overcome. I never wanted to hide my face because I was never ashamed of what happened. On the contrary - I am very proud of my body's ability to heal and what I have been able to do. 

Thursday, June 27th - Photo by Mariko. 

I decided to continue with the photographs until my stitches were removed. 

Friday, June 28th

Day one: I sat by the computer with my "breakfast" admiring how bad the bruise had gotten. I'm wondering if my red lipstick is going to clash with these raccoon eyes. 

Saturday, June 29th

My mother and sister came to visit over the weekend to make sure I was ok. I was a little surprised to see the bruising had reached both sides of my face. 

Saturday, June 29th

That very same night I performed in the show at DRIP. Most people expected me to take the day off. I certainly would have had a good reason, but I am much tougher than that. I love the defiance in my eyes and the satisfaction I achieved from doing my job. 

Sunday, June 30th

Going to the Lake Eola Farmers Market with my mother and sister. This was the first attempt I made at looking decent since I broke my nose. 

Monday, July 1st

The puffiness in my face was finally starting to subside, however, I still wanted a close up shot of all the extra color around my eye. 

Monday, July 1st

I took this photo after one of my shifts at Starbucks. Most customers would stare at my face but were too afraid to ask about it. I am sure most people assumed it was the result of domestic violence. I was never ashamed of my face or tried to cover it up in any way. Frankly, I preferred to make jokes about it. I often replied to customers stares with "I was in a cage fight." 

Tuesday, July 2nd

Wednesday, July 3rd

Thursday, July 4th

Red lips, white skin, and blue stitches... Happy 4th of July! 

Friday, July 5th

And finally - the stitches are out! I can scratch my nose in peace.

Monday, July 1, 2013

Penelope

This is a persona poem written from the perspective of Odysseus's wife Penelope from Homer's famous epic The Odyssey.


My husband fought many monsters, but so did I. People honor his tales of adventure but no one cares about the mundane life of a glorified housewife. And if you asked me twenty years ago what I wanted to be, I would have said just your average housewife.

But that was not my fate.

My husband's curse became my curse. I didn't have the luxury of committing a multitude of sins while visiting the forbidden corners of the ocean. I just got to pay a heavy price for his mistakes. Although I am a queen it hardly matters in a society that likes to tell me that I still have no value. My palace became my prison, overrun with suitors who wanted to marry me only for possessions, land and title.

I thought up tricks to stall the suitors as long as I could. They stayed anyway and invaded my home. I was undermined and betrayed by those closest to me. And I loved my husband so much that I wanted nothing but for him to return safely.

I saw my home crumble around me and I watched my son grow up without a father. Do you know how many times I wanted to just pick up and leave? Take my son and never look back. Start fresh somewhere else and let my past just vanish. But I was a good wife and I fulfilled my duty by staying.

No one ever asked me what I wanted because they assumed that this was all I could ever want. A palace, servants, men chasing after me. Maybe I wanted to travel and see the world too. But the only corner of the world I ever saw was the ocean outside of my window. The same ocean I saw in the morning and at night.

I was so jealous of the birds I saw coming and going as they pleased. What a beautiful feeling it must be to simply spread your wings and be anywhere you want to be. No one knows how many nights I sat at that window praying to any god that would listen to take this burden from me. But even the gods thought that these walls and this view are all I could ever want.

And when my husband finally did return he disguised himself to test my loyalty. After twenty years I passed every test that was given to me. And as much as I love him I know he did not afford me the same kind of loyalty. I wonder if I ever crossed his mind while he laid with all the others. I wonder if he ever missed watching his son grow up.

Now he sits by the fire retelling stories of his adventures. I am reminded of the sad truth that those who make mistakes receive celebrations while those who fulfill duties must keep going strong.

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Miami

Miami marked my second business trip with DRIP. We booked a private performance and I was excited because even though I am born and raised in Florida this was my first visit to Miami. 


Dimitri doing some last minute repairs before packing the van. 


As we headed into Miami I was astonished by the tangled mass of concrete highways. I had never seen so many overlapping layers of traffic. 


A view of the sprawling city skyline. 


Angel looking at Miami through the rain splattered window of the van. 


I spotted this lovely insect by the pool of our hotel. I was never able to figure out what kind of bug it was but I was amazed by its shiny, iridescent abdomen with a flash of red at the tip. 


Our lovely dancers playing on the beach. 


Dimitri applying some sunscreen. 


A peachy sunset on the way home back to Orlando.