april in new york

the way I saw myself tumbling down subway steps, every time. knees buckling, bag flying, limbs folding soundlessly beneath me. the reactions of people standing on the platform. the way I might fight to recover balance, pretend it did not happen.

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the way the smallest kindnesses undid me. the man on the train, traveling with his family into the city, lightly tapping me on the shoulder, offering me his seat. earlier, they'd quietly marveled as we passed the brooklyn bridge.  

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the way peter's handcrafted mug felt in my hands as I sat in jen's kitchen, coffee (hot) sweetened with brown sugar. window with a fire escape, whole of the day ahead of me. is there a more beautiful thing?

here's to the why

"it's not when you press the shutter but why you press the shutter."

-mary ellen mark

reprise

new york, may 2016. I keep coming back to this one. never really noticed those little birds before. or the way that man's hands are so precisely folded. or all those shapes. how am I just now noticing these things? how?

the truth is we manage hundreds of photographs now, at any given moment. we deal in volume. which means sometimes details get lost, sometimes entire photographs go missing. I don't know what the answer to this is. we are all already so overwhelmed with everything.

you know what? perfectly fine with pretending certain photographs stay hidden until they are ready to be revealed. totally okay with this. maybe you are too.

august's sixty seconds

ava turned sixteen this summer, friends. sixteen. momentous occasions such as this call for extraordinary adventures so we hopped a train to new york for her first trip to one of my favorite cities in the world.

this here is the little film I made of it for the sixty second photograph project. full disclosure: it was not easy to remember to stop and shoot bits and pieces of footage of our time together. in fact, it really slowed us down. but, wow. I'm so glad I made myself stop, made myself stop and shoot the bits and pieces. because I know I'll treasure this little film forever. forever and ever and ever.

and I think ava will too.

(music by caribou and special thanks to my good friend jen lee for letting us crash on the floor of her sweet brooklyn flat)

new york on film

every time, I think I'll come back with nothing. but every time, she proves me wrong. I'm talking about the camera, not new york. I'm talking about the beautiful tank that is the canon FTb, an old film camera I lucked onto at the thrifts several years ago. every time, I think I'll get nothing. that maybe I'll read the light meter wrong, set the camera wrong, load the film wrong. make no mistake, I have done every single one of these things, several times over. but every time (I mean it, every time), I'm thrilled with what I manage to come away with. an embarrassment of 35mm film riches.

on the other hand, there are no questions with new york.  she is remarkably thankfully beautifully predictably unpredictable, somehow akin to the insides of a game show cash machine, the clear plastic ones with all the cash flying around inside. sixty seconds to grab as many of the dollar bills as you can, go! take what you can, while you can, be happy with it, walk away. that's what new york is like. an over-before-you-know-it, extraordinary whirlwind of riches.

outside the lines

today: originals and outtakes from the impossible project show outside the lines, which opened in new york on september 29th. the top one of ezra hangs giant-sized in the soho space and originals of the third and fifth also found a place in the show. I'm partial to the second one, even though it didn't make the cut. something about the super soft focus, something about the movement and the color. feels like a painting.

the truth is that I had a hard time shooting for this show. I was so completely honored to have been asked to participate that the weight of the whole thing almost pulled me under. and then, somewhere near the middle, my camera lost it-- spit out frame after frame after frame in rapid succession before it sputtered and died. well, and then it came back to life again. long story. I'll tell you, the whole process was an exercise in perseverance, an exercise in not shutting down. because that's what I do sometimes when things go awry. I shut down. and I probably did shut down, just for a minute or two (okay maybe for longer than that) but I did not hurl my camera across the room (so glad I didn't) and I kept shooting (so glad I did). because sometimes you just have to keep shooting. and resist the urge to hurl things.

many thanks to all the folks who've been to the show and reported back (I am living vicariously, you know)-- most especially to my brother von and my good friend jen (who both represented on opening night, huzzah) and to lovely secia, who wrote about her visit to the show here. checkit, the official impossible project opening night recap is here. also, many many many thanks to the impossible project folks for inviting me to participate in the show in the first place and perhaps most importantly, for making crazy ridiculous beautiful instant film.

still sort of holding out hope that I'll make it to new york to see the show before it ends on january 31st. it's a total long shot but you know, a girl can dream.

all my new york people

ridiculously honored to be a part of the impossible project show outside the lines, which opens tonight in new york. you know I'd be there if I could. if I wasn't already getting on a plane early tomorrow morning and flying halfway across the world, I would so be there. I would so be standing in that beautiful impossible project space on broadway tonight, feeling all jittery and nervous and excited. instead, I'll be packing. I'll be folding and tucking and packing but I'll be celebrating a little too.

but all my new york people, you can go! the opening reception is tonight from 6-9pm at the impossible project space NYC, 425 broadway, 5th floor. featured in the show: beautiful work by adam goldberg, john reuter, brandon long, dustin yager, chloe aftel, sol allen, max wanger, benjamin shuster, parker fitzgerald, rommel pecson, toby hancock, ritchard ton, leah reich and of course, yours truly. read more about it on the impossible project blog and if you go, please report back. I'll be living vicariously and shall require details.

number 26

(nate and von)

number 26 off the list and I sort of can't believe it. because when I put this one on the list I thought, yeah. probably not going to happen. this is because trips to new york feel that much more impossible now that we live on the west coast. but sometimes I put things on the list that feel impossible. like number 12 and number 37. speaking of which, I came so close to crossing number 12 off the list while I was in new york. so. close. I can't even talk about it.

but number 26. that's something. and solid proof that there's power in list-making.

new york new york

spending time in new york is a little like stepping inside one of those tiny glass game show booths. where thousands of dollars blow wildly around you as you grab for all you can in thirty seconds or less. see, it's impossible to get your hands on all that cash. and the sooner you realize this, the better off you are. because pretty soon, you run out of places to put all that cash. pretty soon, you run out of time. so you take what you can and you walk away happy. otherwise, you will lose your mind. I had two days in new york. approximately 48 hours to fit in a thousand things. at some point, I had to let go of about 987 of those things. and once I did, breathing was easier. I made my peace with it early on and so my time in new york unfolded exactly the way it was meant to. naturally and without any unecessary push or pull. twas the last day of summer and the first day of fall. I could not ask for more poetic timing. and I took what I could, I did. and I walked away happy.





I spent the last day of summer on the rooftop of von's building, looking out over long island city, breathless over a miniature manhattan skyline. I spent the last day of summer riding clown bikes with my brothers through the streets of queens, weaving in and out of traffic and underneath subway platforms, the deafening sound of trains overhead.



I spent the last day of summer chasing mister softee trucks down broadway. because a cherry-dipped ice cream cone on the last day of summer is the only way to go.



I spent the last day of summer at washington square park, silently rooting for street performers. eventually, I made my way to the land of pretty toy cameras. I visited my favorite new york door. I stopped in at pearl river, picked up a pair of chinese slippers for ava and a wind-up robot for ezra. I was introduced to coconut water. I was confronted with the endlessness of people.



I spent the first day of fall navigating the streets of lower manhattan, armed with my favorite cameras, aka my starting line-up, my a-list players. I spent the first day of fall squeezing into the tiniest booth at the tiniest cafe where the sweetest bottle of mandarin soda was emptied and the best grilled corn in the world consumed. just outside, I photographed stranger number 21. and she was lovely, she was perfect.



I spent the first day of fall in heavy contemplation. new kicks or no? new york, the epicenter of sneaker culture.



throngs of people make for carnivals of overheard conversation. I stopped to scribble down line after line. I bought cheap jewelry off the street. I feverishly added to my collection of found paper. I listened to my brothers talk about computers. I followed von to chelsea where we wandered in and out of galleries.



when it was all said and done, I made my way to the airport. a slow train to brooklyn led me to jen lee's place. and while my sweet friend lovingly prepared lunch (omg, the most amazing grilled cheese sandwich ever), she patiently listened as I babbled on and on about my metaphorical thirty seconds in the glass cash booth.

as it turns out, I made out like a bandit.

photobooth friday

three years ago, I was in new york with my brother. and while I was there, I bought this little photobooth frame at the 39th street fleamarket. let me tell you, I had to dig through hundreds (and hundreds) of old snapshots to find her. but she was totally worth it. these are the ones that you find at the bottom of the box-- they hide in the cracks, slip in and out of envelopes, piles, fingers. surely it would be easier to dump the box upside down and start my search there. problem is, once I see all those old snapshots, I'm as good as gone. I have to look at every single one of them. yes, I do. and yes, how very OCD of me but I'm sorry, it must be done. I only leave with a few but I have to look at every. last. one. someone needs to. story after story after story, so many stories. they are lost people who need to be seen.

this is what I think:

she was an extraordinary speller and favored the scent of wild violets and coffee.

she kept her valuables in a red shoebox beneath the bathroom sink, behind a stack of mismatched towels.

she had a goldfish named ching ching whom she talked to regularly. though only after she was sure everyone had already gone to bed.

this is what I think. but it could change at any moment. because this is how it is with found photographs. their details are wonderfully mercurial and their stories-- as wide open as the sky.

well hello, photobooth friday. hello there.

photobooth friday

taken on friday, november the 17th at the booth in the basement level of the manhattan mall while I was waiting for h&m to open (lookit, jesC and kristen have both been here). then, while I was switching from the red curtain to the blue one, I discovered the background graffiti. better even than the curtains, I say. funny, because later on that night, I went to see david dorfman's revolution at bam (so much more to say about that, so much I don't even know how or where to start) and all I keep thinking about when I look at these frames is how much it reminds me of that performance. which may not seem like anything, but it is.

I'm a little embarrassed of these. maybe because of the expressions, I don't know. I do believe in peace, though. and I am quite fond of my green hat.

anyway.

some photobooth treatlets for today: thanks to poppy for this link to constructing your own photobooth. if only! coincidentally, I've just joined the new flickr fauxtobooth group. absolutely marvelous idea, especially if you're without a photobooth. and here's how folks are trying to bring the photobooth into the 21st century, check it: mark van s. and the shine flickr photobooth in san francisco (thank you very much for sharing, leSophie). although I'd be in a state of perpetual bliss if someone would just please oh please figure out how to modernize the old skool photobooth without robbing it of the old skool charm. all you technology-minded peoples out there, I am begging you. the old booths are rapidly vanishing into the night and without any warning to the world. I guess I could say something here about how we can get a man on the moon but we can't figure out the old photobooths, but I won't. although I already have. feh. as always, don't forget about the folks at photobooth.net, they are so very fantastically, magically delicious (well, in the eyes of this photobooth fanatic). and I have to say it: nice to have a boy in the friday mix. say hello to matt, won't you please? he's balancing out our revolution just a bit. I think it's nice.

ahem, not so much with the writing skills today.

righteous words or not, the revolution lives on:

jesC
the whole self
nessie noodle
woof nanny
acumamakiki
a.stray
jördis
matt!?
leSophie

self portrait #39 (red)

on the streets of new york, I saw red. I saw it everywhere I went and wondered if it might be following me. half-eaten apples, doorway graffiti, large metal trash cans, bundles of flowers for sale at every corner deli, paper lanterns, cupcakes with gooey red roses on top. umbrellas opening and closing, bouncing rubber balls on the playground.







it was the photobooth curtain I ducked behind early one morning, the color of a dress I loved, in delicious window displays, in the pattern of a linty shag rug I stood on at a fleamarket in hell's kitchen. below me above me all around me, it was there.











fire engines in a hurry, lips stained with cherry popsicle juice, bottles of ketchup, freshly pinched cheeks, polka dotted tablecloths. the forgotten sock in the middle of the street. it flows through veins, spills unnecessarily, is terribly horribly lovely. angry, passionate and alive, red is for love. red is anywhere and everywhere.


(the december challenge over at self portrait challenge is red and I LOVE IT)

photobooth friday

sad but true, the old skool booth at niagara had been replaced by a digital one. what is the world COMING TO? ah, but The Great Photobooth Adventure could not, would not be stopped. there was a brief mourning period over the loss of the old booth and then there was a general feeling of outrage when the new booth refused to accept our bills (dollar bills we'd all been madly collecting over the past couple of days, breaking tens and twenties at every corner newstand with purchases of packs of gum and such). so we set off to find another booth (albeit a digital one) at a bar down the street. and then there was all the squeezing and so much sweating (check the strips, I'm the sweater), the repeated feeding of dollar bills into the skinny slot. there was a lot of moving around and trading of laps and positions and also: a creepy female digi-voice commanding us to smile every ten seconds or so but mostly, there was a lot of laughing.


(check out jesC's version here)

say what you will about blogging and flickr and being a dork about it all, I really don't care. the most magnificent aspect of this whole gig has been the meeting of new people. these women I've met along the way (and I've met so many, all of them fantastic in a hundred different ways)-- these women are my new community. when my dance company dissolved and I found myself at home with young babies, I felt like I had lost the invaluable circle of women I'd known and been unconditionally supported by for so long. I felt absolutely lost. it's a little crazy to meet people like this, I know, but it's how I've rebuilt my community-- a spectacularly supportive one made up of women who are artists, mamas, writers, crafters, fellow booth-lovers, fellow life-lovers. so, to meet up like this-- in a bar on the lower east side of new york city, just to hop into a photobooth together because we share a mutual love for it and having never met in person before but feeling inexplicably linked by the reading of each other's words on a regular basis and the viewing and admiring of each other's photographs... it's a tad surreal. and quite possibly beyond words. is what it is.

the women I danced with for so many years, they are still around. they never really abandoned me but lives shift and change. we connect from time to time and I am most grateful for that. but now I've found new ways to expand the circle and my little community of women. you all reside in so many different parts of the country and in some cases, other corners of the world.



and despite the fact that I was sweating like a pig and that there was something nutty going on with my hair-- despite my expression in the third frame (hello, I've never made that face before in my life, not ever), despite the digitalness of it all-- it's booth perfection. jessika and kristen, you are beautiful, beautiful women-- so friendly, so super smart, so fantastic. and I would gladly squeeze into a booth with you again. and again and again. in fact, I'm counting on it.

for these reasons, I am dreaming of a big photobooth friday party. don't be surprised if you get the call, boothers.

and more from my fellow booth-lovahs:

jesC
acumamakiki
leSophie
the whole self
woof nanny
a.stray
jördis
matt
scrumdillydilly

every stinking day (almost)

goodbye NaBloPoMo, you weren't so bad. and I didn't flake out, not really. I only missed a couple of days towards the end. the habit of writing everyday (blogging, whatever) is a habit I can really get behind. much more dignified than this thing I've got going on with my tights. not that I'm going to continue on with this blogging everyday gig. well, maybe I will. although it's more likely that I'll find some nice comfortable place near the middle.

most importantly-- if you've left a comment in the past couple of months, thank you. thank you for the kind, kind words about my writing, my photographs. I savor them all and you (and you know who you are) deserve to know that. I'm a little off with my responding these days and can't let another moment pass without saying so.

I can't help myself

the words aren't flowing but the images are. they say more about my trip than I ever could.

I am planning on writing about it, though. just easing into it is all.