when it rains, it pours

apparently, we are teeming with double decker buses here in portland, oregon. I mean, really. behold the newest grilled cheese grill location.

for your monday

today, an old favorite. watch and be delighted.

(via poppytalk)

hello ghost town

a little bit more from the shoot with my brother. details: ray, an australian horse hauler plus downtown cairo, illinois plus PX 600 silver shade UV+ film.

letterpress, friends

two memories come roaring into focus when I think of my maternal grandfather-- the time I tap danced for him in white plastic dime store sandals and the image of him hard at work in the back room of his printing shop. the rest is as mysterious to me as the massive printing presses we often tiptoed around when we visited him at work.

I was seven when he died. eventually, my grandma was forced to sell the business, equipment and all. I remember the last time we stood in the shop, how it still smelled the way it did all those times we visited-- sharp, like paper and ink, like hard work and long nights. my grandma opened a long, slender wooden drawer (one of what seemed like hundreds) and told us to pick a few pieces of type out. go ahead, she said. something to remember your grandpa by. I was too young to appreciate the significance behind the gesture but I reached in and chose a few pieces anyway. a lowercase letter 'a' and a rose. they were small but heavy in my hand and left faint charcoal smudges on the pink of my palm.

letterpress: tis the subject of my latest covet column in issue eight of UPPERCASE, an issue solely devoted to the art of letterpress. gorgeous, I tell you. every last letterpress-loving page. as always, I'm honored to be a contributor.

I do believe my grandpa would be proud.

because we have things like this

sometimes I wonder why I don't just move someplace with more sun already. someplace where there is not a constant grey furrowed brow hovering directly over the entire city. where it doesn't rain for what feels like weeks on end, where summer actually starts in june. you know, when it's supposed to.

but then there's lodekka, portland's double decker vintage dress shop. and pretty bridges and a thousand food carts and green things all around and more old school dip and dunk style photobooths than I even know what to do with. and humidity-free summers and the best book store in the world. and then, for the most part, I'm okay. because it's hard to be mad at the rain when you're shopping for vintage aprons on the top floor of a '65 double decker bus. it's hard to be mad at anything, really.

places spaces

I'm over at habit again this month. I'll tell you, I've really grown to love the practice of shooting and writing a sentence or two about each day. harder than I thought it would be but rewarding, so very wildly rewarding.

san francisco on film

more of that san francisco trip, more from that camera.

but what I really want to talk about are the clogs. people, the clogs. the hand-painted clogs. you must understand, I have been walking around in a sad, nearly soleless pair of boots. this is because I wear things down to the nubs. shoes, socks, blouses, jeans, leggings, skirts, bras, tights, dresses. I find something I love and I wear it to death. I wear it until it cannot, should not be worn again. and then I just keep on wearing it, hoping no one will notice. sadly, I'd come to the end of the road with my favorite pair of brown boots-- boots in such horrible condition I might as well have been walking around barefoot. also, I was in serious denial. so on my last day in san francisco, my friend leslie said I AM TAKING YOU TO THE SHOE SHOP AND YOU ARE BUYING NEW SHOES. and I hemmed and I hawed but we ended up at the shoe shop anyway.

first, I poo-pooed all the boots. then I tried on about a million pair of practical-looking brownish blackish clogs. I nearly had myself talked into a pair. I thought, yes. this is what I need. cushy comfy practical brownish blackish. however, the section of hand-painted clogs kept calling out to me and leslie kept saying JUST TRY THEM ON ALREADY. she had to push a little because well, I was in practical mom mode. I am a hard nut to crack when I am in practical mom mode. I broke and tried on a pair (many pairs, actually). according the sales clerk, a swedish woman comes into the shop once a month to paint them and she paints each pair differently. each pair is one of a kind. I don't know but that sort of sold me. well, that and leslie's gentle pushing. because, you know. sometimes you just need a little push in the right direction.

and so I am happily wearing said hand-painted clogs. happily, down to the nubs. and every time I look down, I smile. because of that little bright-colored crown of flowers, yes, but also because they make me think of san francisco and my sweet friend and how good it feels to laugh in the face of practicality.

testing testing

sampling of shots from the sweet new (old) canon FTb. like I said, I'm in love.

and there she was

just sitting there. surrounded by ceramic kittens and plastic tumblers. unbelievably, at the thrift store. on a day when I was broke as a joke, on a day when fifteen dollars seemed like a crapload of money. but of course, I could not, did not walk away. fifteen dollars! beautiful 50mm1.4 lens, hippie strap and all. I KNOW.

feels like a tank in my hands, feels like heaven. shot a couple of rolls and I am in love. I do believe my nikon is jealous.

(here come the scans, peoples)

in case you need to hear it

you know, in case you were having doubts.

(thank you, 826 valencia-- for this most awesome postcard)

he is

one of my favorite people to photograph. that friend of mine, that dan smith.

last week found me on a shoot with my brother-- first to atlanta to an abandoned trainyard off dekalb avenue and then to the outer edges of a crumbly ghostly town in southern illinois. I love my job. even though it occasionally takes me away from my family, I love my job. I love the brainstorming of ideas, the researching of locations. I love the styling, the working out of the details, the finessing of story lines. but mostly, I love working with my brother.

so anyway, dan was at the trainyard in atlanta with us and there was a little bit of 600 polaroid film (such a sad little bit) and a smidge of magic light and if nothing else ever even came out of the shoot but this polaroid, well then I'd still be happy. because polaroid portraits like these make my world go round and round and round.

I do have more to share, so much more.

it's all that pink and red

I really sort of love valentines day. and not because I need a special day to wallow in love and sweetness, but because I need a day where pink and red reign supreme. pink paper chains and red construction paper hearts. pink frosting and bright red cherry juice. pink roses and red tulips. I am a sucker for such things. and I'm not ashamed to say it.

for all my train lovers

a few more photographs from my train adventure-- train number 11, portland to san francisco. next time, portland to los angeles. I'm putting it on The List.

list thirty-three: things seen from the window of a train

part of my belated 40th birthday present involved riding train number 11 (the coast starlight) all the way down to san francisco. after eighteen hours of riding, here's what I know: I love trains. I think they might be my favorite way to travel. and friends, I could not tear my eyes away from the window. I could not. I stared out that train window until the sky turned black and there was nothing left to see but the dim neon lights of the occasional small town we passed through. I did not sleep much but I did make a list of a few things I saw along the way. well, of course I made a list. I made a list because it's what I do. but also, I made a list because I want to remember.

things seen:

1. bright blocks of trainyard graffiti

2. birds swooping in oblong patterns

3. golden magic hour light and the willamette river

4. cobbled-together shanty towns

5. a woman waving from her back porch

6. the insides of a few dimly lit dining rooms, the glare of tiny televisions

7. a rainbow of plastic fruit crates

8. a field full of bright yellow tractors

9. a brilliant pink sky

10. a spectacular jumble of electrical equipment

11. nothing but darkness for what seemed like hours

12. small town neon

13. train passengers scrambling off the train to smoke

14. the insides of a long grey tunnel

15. finally, a sliver of moon

16. and then eventually, milky white light and the beginning of a new day

17. an unfinished highway

18. a neon pink wind sock

19. the first palm tree

20. an unrecognizable word spelled out with pieces of driftwood

21. a swampy area filled with a dozen overturned grocery carts

22. tiny hopeful patches of blue sky

23. and then finally, a wide open blue sky

24. an old turquoise trailer and too many industrial parks to mention

25. the waters of san pablo bay

26. more and more bright-colored graffiti

27. the beginnings of oakland

28. a woman in a row boat

29. the san francisco skyline

I cannot wait to ride again. I. cannot. wait.

get your paint on

I am so completely excited to be taking mati and lisa's new painting class. I am telling you, I am ready to get my paint on and I am not even kidding. I'm ready to create a little space to paint in, hang a new inspiration wire, dig out all my supplies. I'm ready for new supplies too. tomorrow, I'll head down to the art supply store and is there even anything more beautiful than the art supply store? is there? all those tubes of bright-colored paint, those rainbow rows of chalks and colored pencils, those tubs of gum erasers, those blank canvases. possibility for days. and the smell of an art supply store! right up there with the inside of an old library book.

so yes, I'm excited. if you'd like to get your paint on too well then you've got today-- today is the last day to sign up.

I don't know about you but so far, I am liking february.