hello monday

"I never dreamt to be a model, never never dreamt to be a fashion editor but I just love the pages and the pictures. in my early years as a fashion editor, I worked with norman parkinson who was a really big photographer, and he taught me to always keep your eyes open, you know. never go to sleep in the car or anything like that, keep watching because whatever you see out the window or wherever, it can inspire you."

grace coddington, vogue

that rain

so like I said, on the day of the workshop, there was rain-- cold, blustery, miserable rain. but my workshop people, they would not be stopped by this. cameras were wrapped in plastic grocery bags, hats and coats were thrown on. and there was an umbrella, I think. maybe two. I don't know, I'm from portland so I never carry an umbrella. anyway, for about an hour, we shot in the rain-- ducked in and out of shops and alcoves, zigzagged through traffic across valencia street. people scattered this way and that. so okay, it was still pretty miserable. but also, it was fun. SO MUCH FUN.

again, ttv workshop peoples-- I thank you.

the workshop

it's been about a month since the workshop but I'm still feeling all shiny and happy about it.



because I could not have asked for a more awesome group of workshop participants. really, I could not.



and I could not have asked for a more perfect studio space. seriously, jordan-- thank you. more perfection: valencia street. I am a big fan of valencia street.



then there were sibby's cupcakes-- cupcakes for the ttv peoples to eat! well, and photograph. though not necessarily in that order.

on the not so shiny happy end of things, there was rain. and not just gentle misty rain but blustery miserable rain, the kind of rain that makes you want to burn your umbrella and stay inside forever. this did not bode well for the photo walk but that's another story. like I said, I'm shiny and I'm happy and also, I am brimming with gratitude. indeed, my cup runneth over:

thank you, victoria-- for hosting and for so much more. you should know that if I could lead a parade in your honor, I totally would.

thank you, jordan-- for letting us use your space. above and beyond generous. also, most fantastic studio ever. still dreaming about those bright yellow doors.

thank you, sibby's cupcakery-- for keeping us in cupcakes. the sweetest, the tastiest and it must be said: the cutest.

thank you, leslie-- for bringing a basket full of colorful props. you are a girl after my own prop-loving heart. but then, you already knew that.

thank you, workshop peoples-- thank you for showing up. thank you for tackling the contraptions and the ttv technique with so much enthusiasm, for experimenting all over the place and for totally rolling with the rain. thank you for being so completely awesome.

thanks, peeps

the workshop filled up in about 24 hours and I sort of can't believe it. thanks to all who signed up. and to those who wanted to sign up, who still want to sign up or even contemplated signing up. it's possible I'll be hitting a city near you. if you're interested in bringing through the viewfinder to your neck of the woods, gimme a holla. things be cookin.

workshop!

workshop! in the mission! while I'm in san francisco for the show! graciously hosted by victoria of sfgirlbybay! and there's just no controlling my exclamation point usage! this is how excited I am! I've lost all control over rational punctuation!

moving on:

shooting through the viewfinder of a vintage camera with a digital camera is where old school brilliantly intersects with new. I first started experimenting with ttv technique back in 2006, wrote a little bit about it on ye olde blog in 2008 and taught my first through the viewfinder workshop at squam in 2009. serious fun, friends-- whether you're brand new to photography or not. in this workshop, we'll use old twin lens reflex cameras and digital cameras together to produce dreamy images with an authentic vintage aesthetic and lo-fi feel. once we've constructed the light-blocking contraptions this technique requires, we'll take our army of cameras out for a little photo walk. a photo walk in the mission, people. which is so perfect I can't even talk about it. but if you want, I can talk about it. I can talk about the color and the people and the murals and the buildings. I can talk about how in all my travels, the mission neighborhood has been one of my absolute favorite places to shoot. through the viewfinder photography plus the mission= special brand of magic.

so if you're interested in taking the workshop, here are the vitals:

date: sunday, october 24th

time: 11am-5pm

location: ferney art studios, 766 valencia street, second floor, san francisco, CA

you will need to bring:
a vintage twin lens reflex camera (i.e. kodak duaflex, argus seventy-five)

a digital camera (DSLR with 18-55mm standard kit lens or macro lens OR digital point and shoot with macro setting)

pen and paper (totally optional)

note: if you do not have a vintage twin lens reflex camera, do not freak out. they are easier to find than you might think. also, I'll have a variety of extra twin lens reflex cameras on hand for use.

cost: $75
to register, email me at hula70 [at] comcast [dot] net. I'll bill you via paypal and once I've received payment, your registration will be complete and your spot in the workshop secured. space is limited to 12 participants so if you want in on the fun, do not wait.

(extra special thanks to victoria of sfgirlbybay for organizing and hosting and to jordan ferney of oh happy day for the space-- thank you, thank you, thank you)

joy for haiti

each time I sit down to write about my sweet friend myriam and how the earthquake in haiti has devastated her family, I hit a wall. because it's beyond comprehension, this thing that has happened. it's tragedy redefined in new and unfathomable ways. there really aren't words. which is why I struggle with the writing, I suppose.

but myriam tells her story in a way that gently cuts a swath through the hopelessness. her words are clear, unfaltering. and more importantly, full of hope. myriam's goal is to raise 30,000 dollars, all of which she plans to hand deliver to our brothers and sisters in haiti, all of which will go towards the most basic needs. better yet, the entire process will be documented.

you can read her story here and should you feel moved to do so, you can give. there's a chip-in button right on site and even if it's just a dollar or two, it will help. every little bit will help.

what I'm trying to say is

it felt good to teach again. really really good. that's the long and the short of it. I slipped back into a place so familiar it felt as if I never really left. after sixteen years of teaching, I wondered when (or if) I'd ever make my way back. as it turns out, squam was just the place. through the viewfinder was just the class.



and it helps if you have students who are all kinds of willing and open. this is what you really want people to bring to class. notebooks and pencils are good but willing and open? better.



also, props. props are important. it cost me a fortune in extra baggage fees but I do not regret schlepping the yellow parasol, the box of paper straws, the two dozen rainbow bouncy balls, the six bottles of bubbles, several giant pink balloons and countless fakes mustaches across the country. I do not. because bright-colored props make people with cameras happy.







but my favorite part? seeing all those old cameras and newly-constructed contraptions in action. all wonky and bazooka-like. heads bowed, cameras aiming, bodies roaming. the sweetest army, really. my kind of army. to all my squam ttv peeps, thank you. pretty sure you were the best classes ever. and to elizabeth (extraordinary founder of squam), thank you. none of this would exist without you.

(checkit: the squam ttv flickr group)

ttv monday and good morning to you

apparently, I cannot shut up for a second about through the viewfinder. I'm over at shutter sisters today, running my mouth, professing my love. again. it can't be helped, you know. I'm very much smitten.

(tracey, thank you. I wear the honorary shutter sister sash with much pride.)

about this 'through the viewfinder' thing

in the the realm of through the viewfinder (aka ttv) photography, I am a newbie. half the time I have no idea what I'm doing. the other half, I am totally winging it. that said, I'm happy to share my process here because sharing is nice, sharing is good and I'll not have anyone say otherwise.

what it is: the photographing of a subject through the viewfinder of any camera with another camera.

what you'll need: a camera with a viewfinder on top, a digital camera and a contraption to block the glare (which can be made from a piece of cardboard and some black duct tape).


(my small army of cameras)

a word about viewfinder cameras: mostly, people use old twin lens reflex cameras to shoot through. the most widely-used one seems to be the kodak duaflex, which is what I started with a couple years ago. currently, I am having a little love affair with my argus seventy-five but I'd appreciate it if you'd keep that on that DL, peeps. anyway. there are all sorts of cameras out there that can be used for ttv and all you really need is that viewfinder. of course, the most gorgeous viewfinders belong to yashicas and hasselblads (but if you aren't using those pretty babies to shoot film, well then I don't know what). if you're looking to score a kodak duaflex (or similar camera), your best bet is to regularly check etsy, ebay and/or keep your eyes open at antique shops, fleamarkets and the like. you can expect to pay anywhere from five to thirty dollars (sometimes a bit more) per camera, depending on the condition and model. while the prices have gone up a bit (karen can testify to some fierce ebay wars), cameras like this are still widely available. you just have to be patient and do some looking around.


(through the viewfinder of a hasselblad)


(through the viewfinder of a kodak duaflex III)

a word about digital cameras: most people get the best results using a digital SLR. even better if you have a macro lens. I use the standard 18-55mm lens with my nikon D40 because it's all I have and quite frankly, it gets the job done. though I am all the time salivating over fancier lenses and bigger camera bodies and I'll ditch what I have just as soon as my sugar daddy ponies up. which might be never. anyway. all you really need is a camera that will automatically focus because once you stick that lens into the ttv contraption, there's no focusing it on your own. and those of you with point and shoot cameras, take heart: when I first started experimenting with ttv, all I had was my trusty little canon powershot A610. it's trickier, less predictable and much more fickle than using a DSLR but as long as you have a macro setting, you're good. definitely workable. witness: my first TtV shot. also, I took this one and this one with the canon powershot. just sayin.



and now, about the contraption: the contraption is really just a tube that helps to block the light out and prevent glare. there are some people who shoot without one and really, I'm in awe. because I have not been so successful without my wonky cardboard contraption. but you know, more power and all that. you can play around without one though I highly recommend the device. there's a terrific template (and tutorial, natch) you can use to make a perfectly shaped device that will fit right over the body of your duaflex (or whatever you're using). but I have no patience for templates. when I am really excited about something I can barely stand to follow any sort of directions, I want to jump in right away and get going. I did not use the template. I mean, I wanted to use the template, I still want to use the template, I think maybe one of these days I probably will use the template. I so want to be a template sort of girl but I'm just not. but I want to be. I'll tell you one thing, I like the word template. it's so good. say it a couple of times. template. t e m p l a t e. see? so good.

how I made my contraption: this is the part where I wish I had neato photos and easy-to-follow steps for you. though given my previous confession, it should come as no surprise that I rocked it freestyle all the way. basically, I dumped the contents out of a mostly full cereal box, flattened it, eyeballed it a bit and then cut out a long rectangular shape that looked similar to other contraptions I'd seen online. I wrapped it around the top of the camera, played around with it until it fit my duaflex/argus just right, trimmed off the excess, taped the ends together and covered the entire thing with black duct tape. then I popped that sucker on top of the camera, secured it with a few more small pieces of tape and got serious about the shooting. no time for templates and measuring devices for me. well okay, and it shows. my contraption is the ugly duckling of ttv contraptions but she gets the job done and I love her for it. that's all that really matters anyway. if you're struggling with the contraption, gimme a holler and we'll talk. or maybe I'll break down and post laughable photos of me transforming a fruity pebbles cereal box into ttv magic. I'm not too proud, people.


(superhero andrea hard at work)

some words about shooting: this is the fun part. but also the trickiest and potentially most frustrating part. this is where you have to let go and wholly surrender to play and experimentation. I'll tell you, it's a little awkward. especially at first. you are holding the old camera from the bottom with one hand while holding your digital camera (which is all shoved into that big cardboard device at the top) with the other hand. it looks and feels a little like you're walking around with a bazooka. then there's all the adjusting you'll have to do, the fiddling with the zoom and the auto focus. I recommend setting your camera on auto (or program) until you get the hang of it. then you can start playing around with it manually. to further complicate things, the image in the viewfinder is reversed. this makes things doubly confusing when trying to find and frame your subject. all I can say is, keep playing around. it's the only way. it'll get easier. I promise.



about the final step: cropping. most of the time you won't even be able to tell what you've gotten because all you'll be able to make out is this tiny square image in a sea of black. you'll want to delete delete delete but don't. suppress the urge to delete because it's only when you start to crop the images afterwards (either in iphoto or photoshop or whatever) that you'll be able to see what you've really gotten. and that's the best part, it really is. well, that and the moment you really start to get it. and then, before you even know what's happening, you are totally and completely hopelessly hooked. so watch out. and don't say I didn't warn you. because I swear, you won't know what hit you.

and now, an obscene amount of TtV linkage, just for you:

TtV tutorial by russ morris (props to mr. morris who has mad TtV skills and way more knowledge than I do. I highly recommend you give his stuff a good read or two)

russ morris' JPG article (more good reading)

russ morris' tv spot (if you can't read well then you can watch)

photojojo's ttv bit (a different perspective plus fun to read plus more linkage)

the ttv blog (for inspiration)

the ttv flickr group (for more inspiration, plus you can join)

a nifty book you can buy (who doesn't love a book?)

next up: actually loading that argus seventy-five with re-spooled 120 film and shooting for reals. that's where I'm headed next. I'll keep you posted.

better than everything in the sky

this is not at all what you had in mind, you think. no, this simply will not do.

you spend the afternoon taking care of your sick child. you wait nervously for the high fever to go down. you prepare yourself for the worst, for projectile vomiting or maybe even febrile seizures. you think of febrile seizures because you have a penchant for the dramatic. you haven't always been this way but febrile seizures, they really could happen. naturally, this terrifies you. you don't want to think about things like febrile seizures. not today, or any day for that matter, but especially not today. you take your son's temperature every fifteen minutes, hoping the frequency of your readings will magically bring it down a degree or two. you want results, no matter how irrational the method. you exchange one cool washcloth for another, trade worried glances with your husband though clearly, he is not as worried as you are. in fact, he's perfectly calm. this annoys you. you don't want to feel annoyed with him. not now, not today but it's too late. you are officially annoyed.

finally, the mysterious fever breaks and your son bounces around the room like a giant red ball. he's a brand new person and you are so relieved. deep down, you know it's just the ibuprofen but you don't care. suddenly, you find yourself at the mall. at payless shoes, of all places. you are looking at plastic shoes with your daughter when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. there you are, dirty hair and all. you realize you haven't changed clothes in a couple of days. and you are wearing taupe. taupe. you look like someone's mother. how did this happen? then, before you even know what's happening, you're at old navy looking at socks. you stand under fluorescent lights and contemplate the impressive selection of toddler-sized socks. they're having a sale, eight pairs for ten dollars! yes or no? ezra doesn't really need eight pairs of socks (no one really does) but they're on sale and it goes against everything in you to ignore this. and so you deliberate. this is when it hits you. you are spending your 14th wedding anniversary in old navy in front of a giant wall of socks. this makes you sad.

you wonder what happened. that man you married, does he feel the same way? surely he knows this is not right. you realize that he is also looking at the giant wall of socks. he asks you about colors and sizes, he earnestly wants to help you with this decision. you do nothing but nod blankly. fourteen years ago, you stood together in a church before God and everyone. now you are standing before a large display of socks. you're not sure what happened. you don't know what you expected but you are nowhere near the quiet anniversary celebration you originally had in mind. you long for fancy food on pretty plates, for white linen tablecloths and the flicker of candles. for something, anything. but really, you are in no shape for such an evening. you are a mess. your clothes are a mess, your hair is a mess and you feel old. what you want to feel is radiant, beautiful, luminous. you want to feel like a new bride. instead, you feel old and over.

fourteen years ago today, you were married. you wore important outfits. him, a smart-looking tuxedo and you, a soft white gown, fresh flowers in your hair. late afternoon sunlight filled the sanctuary and you said meaningful things to each other, exchanged rings. there was the sweetness of a kiss. people smiled and congratulated you. people ate fluffy white cake. you were exuberant. the both of you drove through the streets of downtown atlanta in your tiny grey ford festiva, dragging aluminum cans and a rainbow of streamers behind you. he pounded on the horn while you flung your arms wildly out the window. you couldn't stop smiling, couldn't stop looking at each other, touching each other. you couldn't believe you'd done it. you got married.

you are home from the mall now and the medicine has worn off. the fever is back, higher than ever. you sit on the couch next to your child and beg him to please drink the water. fluids, you say. you need fluids. every three seconds, you offer him more cold water. you wonder if you should call the advice nurse again, you try to hide how worried you really are. you hold his head in your lap and sing funny little songs to him, songs that he loves. you know you have a long night ahead of you. you are already so tired. you want to feel sorry for yourself, you really do. you want to wallow in this. it feels so good to wallow. plus, you are really good at wallowing. you want to cry and complain because clearly, you have been wronged. you deserve more than this, so much more. you think about all the ways you would have spent your anniversary together and so you wallow a little while longer. you do this until you remember. this is what marriage is. this is why you've managed to make it this far together because deep down, both of you know. this is what marriage is. it's everyday and sometimes it's ugly and boring but also intoxicating and spectacular. it's a million different things and all at once. this thing you have is beyond words, it transcends the sock-buying, the late-night worrying, the high expectations, the disappointments, the ugly days. it's bigger, broader, brighter, deeper. what you have is true.

this has not been an easy year, you think. no, this has not been the best year. the two of you still have such a long way to go but here you both are, fourteen years later. and for that, you are thankful. for the everyday, you are thankful. for marriage, you are thankful. for him, you are so thankful.

hello september and welcome to duaflex monday

or in my case, argus seventy-five monday. though more accurately, through the viewfinder monday. I am jumping on karen's ship because that's a good ship, friends. plus, I love karen.

but anyway. about this through the viewfinder business. a few of you have asked and I am giddy to share. come back next monday for the sort of tutorial only a mother could love. only too happy to spill the beans though it should be said that I am by no means an expert. just someone who loves to play around with it. so, yes. next monday. because today I have some grieving to do. today is the first day of september and we all know what that means. summer, she is over. oh yes, there will be lingering signs of her here and there but you know it and I know it and even she knows it. goodbye summer, hello fall.

p.s. if you need an immediate ttv fix, see my girl karen.

p.p.s. sadly, the summer postcard swap is officially not a summer postcard swap anymore. but still a swap. and believe it or not, still happening. though you are all probably starting to wonder what is wrong with me. funny, I have been wondering that very same thing.

m is for manzanita

three days plus thirteen wild women plus the ocean plus sunlight plus the moonlight plus food as art plus one bonfire plus bra-burning plus music plus dancing plus one pink wig equals something like a lovebomb.

I felt a little like I hit the jackpot. I showed up wondering if there was room for me. I mean, really. would there be a place for me? plus, how was I going to hide from all those cameras? that's a whole different story. let me tell you, I failed. miserably, gloriously. I let go. I am letting go. I plan on doing more of the letting go.

and in my letting go, I made space for more.

it's the second day of happiness

which is what ava said to me last week when we had two days of sunshine in a row. something like a tiny sliver of sugar-covered yellow dangled in front of us, good enough to eat. nothing but rain and cold now. rain and cold, rain and cold. I am so desperate for summer that I would almost be okay to skip right over spring.

the great escape

there must have been a hundred worms out on the sidewalk this morning, all of them inching along the slick wet concrete, all of them as bewildered by their predicament as we were. on the way into preschool, ezra and I had to stop and look at every single one. normally, I'd be pulling him along impatiently. no time for looking, for anything but getting on with the business of the day. this morning, I didn't pull. instead, I watched as he crouched down low to inspect each worm. he prodded them gently with soggy twigs and whispered commentary to no one in particular, as if he were speaking into a small tape recorder, making notes for future worm-hunting expeditions. I watched as he lost himself there in that world-- no one but him and those grey, undulating worms in the cold morning air.

several months ago, he found a spiderman costume in a box labeled 'free, take me'. he cried out triumphiantly and lifted a tired blue nylon suit high into the air. it was all I could do to keep him from stripping down right then and there. we were promptly informed by our neighbor that the costume had been worn (relentlessly) by both of her sons. as ezra continued to wave his doughy little fist in the air, I wondered if the suit had the strength to survive even one more boy. six months later and the answer to that is an enthusiastic yes. the minute ezra slips that costume on, he is absolutely transformed. doesn't matter that there are runs (that lead to bigger runs that lead to gaping holes) up the back of the leg, that the suit hangs loose and crooked on his small frame. it ties and gaps in the back like a hospital gown, which I find ridiculously charming. no, none of this really matters when ezra locks into character. he lunges and snarls, shoots imaginary webs from his fingers and performs a combination of spins and rolls and kicks until he is wild-eyed and completely lost. lately, these performances have taken on alarming new levels of intensity. I am convinced we have a young method actor in the making. I think of all the grown method actors as three year-olds, tirelessly channeling the likes of superheroes until exasperated parents demand they stop it already and eat their oatmeal.

a couple of weeks ago, just before bed one night, ezra got so wrapped up in his spiderman act that I swear to you, we had to clap to snap him out of it. ezra! we yelled. come back to us, buddy! no more spiderman! time for bed! he was fully submerged, deep in spidey-world and we had to clap a couple more times to bring him back. the following day, I called my mom and told her about it. crazy, I said. the way he was just so into it. well, this is what kids do, she said and she told me how she used to run an orphanage for dolls when she was little, how the hours seemed to fly by as she cared for each parentless doll. (interesting that she eventually pursued a degree in social work). she also told me how she often pretended to be a famous artist and while she's not exactly famous, she's an artist in every sense of the word.

for me, it was always about imaginary travels. I'd pack up my little canvas suitcases and go on 'trips', which usually meant a walk down to the end of the driveway near a small ditch. if it was filled with water, I could pretend I was vacationing on the banks of an exotic river. I would unpack my bags, set up camp and create imaginary itineraries which usually included elaborate picnics and searches for fool's gold. I completely lost myself in the world of make-believe travel. which might explain why I am happiest when traveling (or planning trips), why I am always dreaming of road trips, weekend getaways, travels to new cities and foreign countries. this might explain why my house is filled with old globes and pull-down school maps, why I occasionally wonder if I should've been a travel writer.

I'm not exactly sure what this means for ezra (or ava, for that matter), or if it even means anything at all, but I am taking careful notes. if ezra turns out to be an actor, I'll have plenty of interesting little stories to share with him. see? you were method acting before you could even read, I'll say to him. maybe he'll remember, maybe he won't. most likely, he'll end up taking a completely different direction in life. thousands upon thousands of possibilities which is what makes childhood so grand, what makes it so magic.

monday: water

I wait for the waves to come swirling around my feet and when they do, I gasp. the northwestern pacific ocean waters are cold cold cold. gorgeous, but so icy cold. enough to send me running for the blanket, which I immediately sprawl out on. I stretch my arms and legs out until I am a giant letter X. I look towards the sun for warmth and I miss the gulf. I miss the balmy air, the quiet turquoise waters, the way the unrelenting heat forces bodies into the ocean. I am remembering how it felt to wade out into the water-- how my body took on the soft undulations, how the uneven slap of waves felt against my skin, how I let my arms float just above the surface. have you ever tried to stand still in the ocean? it's nearly impossible. I love that. then there's that spectacular feeling of forever. same brilliant feeling of infinity here on the west coast, though I can't help but miss the ocean that I know. I don't know this ocean. I can't imagine loving an ocean with waters so cold.

ava refuses to let the cold interrupt her happiness. instead, she embraces the temperature of the water with an enviable enthusiasm. I shiver just watching her and she pleads with me to join in. too cold, I yell out. she insists that it's not cold, that it feels good. you just have to get used to it, she says. and that is what I am trying to do. I am trying to get used it. I am trying to get used to everything. I am trying so hard.

I hear her laugh and watch her skip towards the water, watch small white waves cover her feet. she opens her arms wide and throws her head back. she is dancing now, oblivious to the cold.

(for lovely shari's week of natural elements: monday/water, tuesday/earth, wednesday/air, thursday/fire, friday/metal)

to chew on

"the camera makes everyone a tourist in other people's reality, and eventually in one's own." susan sontag

finally

the bags are packed. I'm off.

self portrait #34

and I was all prepared to write about how we first met but it's just not something I can do at the moment. if I've learned anything in these twelve years of marriage, it's that there are up times and there are down times. right now, we are stuck in the land of in-between. another time, another time. up, down or in between, he is still my true love.

(for the september self portrait challenge 'with someone'-- more here)