nablopomo, done. for the first time ever, done. I am maybe not cut out for this daily posting thing but I love how it pushes me. maybe I'll ride this habit a lil longer. maybe I'll see what comes of it.
december is calling, friends. 2014 is not far behind.
29 November 2013
am now home from yurtsgiving 2013. am tired but happy and my hair smells like smoky campfire deliciousness. am happy to report copious amounts of mashed potatoes were consumed (as was a piece of joy's sour apple pie). I remembered my coat but did not need it. surprise of all surprises, the sun came out and we all ran around willy nilly, coatless. well, until the sun went down. thankfully, we did not forget the jiffy pop or the stevie wonder record. the twinkly lights did not make it. next time, maybe. I did not get that late afternoon walk in but I did stare wide-eyed at starry, starry night skies. I could not get over all the stars, I just could not. and I thought about my mom so much. she would have been so proud of our humble little thanksgiving picnic table. she probably would not have understood a thanksgiving yurt camping trip but she would have loved that table. and she would have loved hearing all the stories. and I would have loved telling her.
28 November 2013
it means I'm crossing number four off the list. I'm hunkered down in a yurt somewhere, with no internet access. and miraculously, had the foresight to schedule this to post. because I am winning at nablopomo, I tell you. winning.
come thursday night, I hope I am looking up at a wide open sky full of stars. that I am full of mashed potatoes. I hope I got a piece of joy's sour apple pie before it got snatched up and I hope I remembered my coat. I hope we remembered the jiffy pop and the stevie wonder record and the twinkly lights. I hope that I didn't talk myself out of a late afternoon walk. because I am really, really going to need that walk. I hope the kids are having the best time, the kind they'll talk about for decades to come. I hope I am feeling my mom all around me. I hope I am comforted by that. I hope I hope I hope.
27 November 2013
26 November 2013
sunday, august the 4th: fleamarket sky (my kind of sky), jenny (with one heck of a vintage dress), alix (with one heck of a vintage pennant), a few lamps I wanted to take home (but didn't), jenny! at the alameda flea! also, fleamarket donuts! followed by a barbeque at greg and alix's house featuring: jenny's pretty salad, alix's sweet drinks, wolfie/henry/ezra (plus one iphone) and mah girls. not pictured: the rest of the crew (aka greg, ward, ava) plus mildly sunburnt skin, piles of really really good things. (really really good things= stellar fleamarket scores).
back story: jenny. after all these years, jenny. whom I've been following online since 2005 and then somewhere along the way, we became friends. then she introduced me to alix and dang it if I didn't love her too. 2013 will be our year, jenny told me. just you wait and see. 2013 is when we will meet. and dang it if that's not how it played out. one whirlwind road trip to oakland and there we all were. and it was so good I can barely even stand to talk about it. so good I wanted to cry.
(sundays, sundays, sundays)
25 November 2013
taking pictures. pictures of people taking pictures. this is something I like to do, this is something that makes me happy.
in other news, a few workshops are in the works. I might be coming to a city near you, 2014 might be a busy year. I am excited.
24 November 2013
celebrated mister wardomatic's birthday today with the spreading of a little bit of confetti downtown portland. because you only turn forty-five once. and a little confetti never hurt anyone.
23 November 2013
as it turns out, I have finite amounts of optimism. it has not always been this way. in my younger years, the optimism was overflowing, limitless in supply. but now, each day provides me with a specific amount and when it runs out, that's it. everything starts to look a little differently around eight p.m., every idea, every project, everything in life, in the world. everything takes a hit. I used to fight it, used to push back with epic force until I realized the best thing I could do was to give in. let it wash over me like sleep. come morning, a fresh supply is waiting. I'm ready to take on the world again and everything in life looks a little brighter. everything (well, almost everything) seems possible.
22 November 2013
(san francisco, musee mecanique, june 2008)
(san francisco, rayko photo center, june 2013)
five years, just like that. there are differences, yes, but the big one: I did not have to pay a nine year-old ezra to sit still in the booth. I did not have to ply him with money. progress, people.
21 November 2013
20 November 2013
sunday, july the 7th: sunday shift at lodekka (folks, it gets hot on that bus in july)
sunday, july the 14th: fresh-picked blueberries (not pictured: blueberry stained fingers)
sunday, july the 21st: homemade marionberry cobbler (first one!) plus ezra, ava and the moon
sunday, july the 30th: birthday party aftermath (the day after my girl turned thirteen)
19 November 2013
today, on the greyest of days, the deepest and darkest, most blustery of days, when the sky turned dark around 4:30, I wanted to climb inside this photograph. and live for just a little bit.
18 November 2013
(a few parisian street shots that mean a little something to me)
16 November 2013
sunday, june the 30th: bob and jen's sweet stove, succulent perfection, vacation cereal, backyard shenanigans, coffee before talkie, family portrait (kind of/sort of), treasure island flea (with lisa and lil f), best view of san francisco (best), an oakland bus named lola, a few small fleamarket finds, a little garden-tending/chicken coop-loving, an epic neighborhood concrete slide (which we flew down again and again and again), california pride, sunset in butchertown.
back story: end of june found us in san francisco for the teaching of my instant noun workshop and a little house-sitting for bob and jen in butchertown. spent the last of what was left in our sad little bank account on gas to get there and back. totally worth it. totally.
(if you're ever looking for a place to stay in san francisco, bob and jen have the best little room up for grabs on airbnb-- check it)
15 November 2013
borrowed from my friend shari, who had the brilliant idea of documenting a week in this particular way:
seen: bits of yellow in my hood, a mountain of clean laundry to fold, leaves scattered like starfish on the sidewalk
heard: the playing of records, the howling of wind, too many beard jokes
smelled: movie theatre popcorn, orange slices in my water, the insides of library books
tasted: avocado on toast, honey crisp apples, leftover halloween candy
felt: the weight of the yashica-d in my hands, the sinking of my body into the beautiful abyss that is The Big Green Couch
14 November 2013
this is a photograph of ava, taken the day before she turned thirteen.
this is a photograph of a man named ray, taken as a train was passing in cairo, illinois.
this is a photograph of ava and ezra, at the edge of the columbia river in astoria, oregon.
each one of these was taken with a polaroid pack film land camera using the incomparable fuji FP-3000b film. which, sadly, fuji has decided to discontinue. this is no bueno, folks. no bueno at all. this is the film I took with me to kosovo, the film I used in my workshops, it's what I used to take portraits of the high school kids I met there, portraits I left with them to thank them for the time we spent together. this is the film I use in my middle school instant photography classes, the film they shoot with, the film they ooh and aah over as they peel those images apart. this film is a staple. it's the red beans and rice of the instant photography world. and so I won't let it go without a fight.
if you have a minute, please sign this petition to save fuji FP-3000b film. what will a petition do? I don't know. nothing, maybe. but it's something. there has to be something.