Hamlet

Damian and I did some quick headshots for his BFA application to UC Fullerton. Of course he was accepted, anyone who has seen him perform knows how dynamic he is on stage. He is exceptionally talented, I loved watching his performance of Hamlet this year in the black box. 

Hamlet in the Black Box

Scarlet Slippers

Ruby slippers. Glass slippers-the stuff of fairy tales. I'll admit I'm fascinated by those stories; Hans Christian Anderson's dark story about vanity causing a girl to dance herself almost to death easily matches Grim's grimmest fairy tales. 

In the story, an orphaned girl makes herself a pair of red shoes from scraps she's found. (In some versions a cobblers wife makes them for her) But either way, she loves them and is pleased with what she's been able to craft for herself. She is later adopted by a rich woman who is tricked by the girl into buying her much fancier red dancing shoes-shoes that put the coarse, hand-made ones to shame. These shoes fuel the girls vanity; the girl begins to dance. And dance. And dance without ceasing. After days of dancing, the girl begs a man to chop her feet off (and yes, remember it's a children's story). He cuts off her feet and carves wooden feet and crutches for her. She is finally forgiven for her vanity, but she's paid a high price. The story gets darker, actually, but I don't want anyone to have nightmares. 

Anyway, I'd read several versions of this story, so I suppose it wasn't surprising that when I saw these dancers performing last weekend at Balboa park I was mostly fascinated with their shoes. I probably should've been photographing my sister and nephew that I only see a few times a year, but I was distracted by the the shiny red boots. Aren't they lovely?

So perhaps after my last post it goes without saying, but I do like the idea that vanity is born of things that are perceived as "perfect" and that we save ourselves with humble, handmade things. 

The Hand-Made Thing

Hand made. I adore this phrase. It speaks to love.

I can't help but believe if you made me something you must love me. You took your time, your energy, and your talents to CREATE something.

My friend Andrea Smith made these wonderful bowls for Dave and I. And this is what I love: Dave and Andrea, sitting in the backyard discussing the shape and size of these bowls and how the foot would be turned. When we unwrapped them I knew immediately that the texture on the outside was designed especially for me---the person most compelled to touch. Perfectly custom made. And perfect.

Andrea also designed these mugs for us. The texture on the bottom intended to mimic the underside of a mushroom and the size and shape to accommodate our morning lattes. Every time I pick them up it's like a little hug from Andr. 

Andrea has a show opening this Friday night at The Logan Arthouse & Cinema; the show's name is "Entwined" and her work is of vessels bound together-echoing what binds us together as humans, all those intricate relationships that become difficult to articulate.

I'm too many miles away to make it to the opening, but on Friday morning I'll pour my cereal and coffee and enjoy those beautiful little pieces of art that I get to use everyday.

And I Said Your Name

This is my mother, Jean. She died four years ago after a (second) battle with breast cancer. She was an amazing and strong spirit. At her funeral I spoke about how she had volunteered at the same elementary school from 1979 until the fall before she died. 32 years. Long after her own children left Bountiful Elementary she read to children who struggled to read; and listened while children tried on their own. She led scout troops and science expeditions. She taught us to love to read and to love to learn and above all to be curious.

So when she was dying (and it was something we knew was happening-no words were left unsaid) we talked about it. And it was hard. I lived 800 miles away (and god bless the administrators who looked the other way when I was "sick" every fourth week of school) and there was no way to be as present as I wanted to be.

And how do you deal with that? How can you even breathe when you are losing your mother? And this is what I did....I said your name.

I said, "Dave, Amy, Andria, Matt, Kami, Audra, Ryan, Dad, Neil, Shar, Bob, Russ, Madi, Joy" and then I said, " Sister Welch, Sister Turner, Judy, Margot" and then I said, "Siobhan, Jane, John, Nate, Jaci, Mike, Darren" and "Jen, Rob, Lil, Debbie, Mary, Lynne, Melanie, Lisa, Laura"  and then "Christina, Leanne, Nate, Velvet, Sarah, Trish, Eric...." and the list went on. And on. I said every name that gave me strength.

I mean that literally. I said your name. I said the name of the friends that I went to elementary school with, and Junior High, and High School, and College. I said the name of school teachers and primary teachers. I said the names of friends and students and collegues. Literally. Driving from here to Utah- I said your names. And I have so wanted to tell you. I have so wanted to say how much it meant just to be able to say your name.

Crystal

 Crystal is a colleague and friend of mine. She's also a talented musician-so we met to get some promotional photos. We wanted the bassoon to be a part of the image, but not to dominate the portrait (which it could easily do considering it is about the size of small human being.)

I love this one with the lip ring and the coy glance. Very Crystal. She told me that she was known in musical circles as "the bassoonist with the lip ring." Gotta' say, I like the idea of a classical musician with an edge.

Secret Insides

Ok. I'll admit it. I am fascinated with other peoples spaces. You know this if I've ever been over to your house. I feel compelled to touch everything. To look at every book you have. To examine every piece of art you've put on your wall. And thus began "Secret Insides"- a quick little study of other peoples spaces. I remember being surprised at how many people still have "sitting rooms" and "parlors" and also how many bathrooms I went in that could easily have qualified as "powder rooms."  

This photo was taken in Ogden when I was photographing my fathers close friends, Ella and Ellen. Ella and her husband were like a second set of parents to my father. Richard worked at Hill Air Force Base with Dad, he died the same month I was born. Ella said she remembered driving by the base at lunch and crying when she saw Dad eating alone after Richard died. Ellen is a devout Jehovah's Witness, and has committed her life to service-especially to her mother, who now requires round-the-clock care. When she moved in there wasn't room for her bedroom set in the bedroom. So she set it up in the living room. 

This was in a narrow little back staircase in a bed and breakfast in Redlands. I was on my way up to photograph a bride getting ready for the ceremony when I noticed the reflection off these frames had essentially erased the portraits.

Oliva

 Olivia is the kind of kid you want to brag about, even if she's not yours. She's incredibly bright-one of those kids that is as eager to discuss the book she's reading as the science project she'd worked on.  (And she seemed quite interested in my explanation of how light was measured in stops, which, of course, I found endearing.)

 She's also an amazing singer and has recently begun songwriting. (Don't you get the sense that she's going to take the world by storm?) Olivia auditioned Saturday for a local production of "Hairspray." The director had asked for b/w headshots (unusual these days) but I think it really works for Olivia and that gorgeous hair.

Ok...one more, just because the whole family is so cute. Olivia and sister Calla with their puppies this last December.....