I love people the most

phoebe

corey

joy

jon

ezra

myriam

jeremy

susannah

ray

ayiesha

dan

ava

I've been thinking about portraits a lot lately. am working on a book (number 64, you know, from the list). I've been thinking and looking. compiling. then thinking, looking, thinking some more. I'd like to make more portraits. I don't ever want to stop, really. if I could, I'd go back in time and take a polaroid portrait of my mom. but I can't. I can't think about that anymore, I just can't so instead I'll concentrate on the photographs I do have of her. and so maybe that's another book I'll have to make.

in other news (in perhaps the most belated news), the top photograph was featured over at the impossible project as the 'roid week gallery winner way back in august. but august was rough and so (thrilled as I was) it was a special honor that sort of went quietly unnoticed. I think I can celebrate it now. I think maybe I'm at a point where I can finally celebrate. just a little.

more polaroid portraits here.

sundays (2/52)

sunday, january the thirteenth: an old drawer full of records, a little ball handling, the stowing of the ornaments, the dismantling of the tree, mister ezra, neighborhood lights, late afternoon walk with ward, charlie brown christmas on green vinyl (one last listen), sunday evening sky.

12.12.12

once upon a time, the twelves got together. and so on that day (in the middle of a shoot, somewhere in the middle of tennessee), I took a photograph, just one photograph. and here it is.

I'm sort of a sucker for auspicious days such as these.

and in case you're interested, this is the day the tens got together (10.10.10) as well as the elevens (11.11.11).

sundays (1/52)

sunday, january the sixth: a place for the favorite christmas present. clementine peels. the big green couch (plus an endless string of cartoons). the reading of old journals. a clean desk, coupled with a refusal to take the christmas tree down. 

every sunday in 2013. I hope. I mean, I'm going to try. to shoot each sunday. I'll tell you, I'm practically crackling with new projects. others are winding down while new ones continue to bubble up to the surface. how about you?

questions and answers

one question. one question a day. I could do that, I said. and I have now for the last two years. unbelievably, I have followed through. am seven days into year three. I do not always like the questions it asks. but that's probably a good thing, a really really good thing.

and then ava was curious so I gave her one for her birthday. she's even more committed to it than I am. can you imagine? how her book will read in five years? the difference in answers between ages twelve and seventeen? that's a book I'd like to read. she probably won't let me (and I won't even ask, really) but that would be a book to read.

so where was this book when I was twelve?

midnight

december was rough. december fought me at every single turn. certainly the grief was there (will always be there, of that I am sure) but there were other things. the beginning of the sorting of my mother's things. explosive arguments. sleeplessness. endless, endless travel. head colds, head lice. wicked exhaustion. endless going. endless, endless going. I'll tell you, I've never been so happy to see a month (december, my happy month, my birthday month) come to an end.

so we were on the train on new years eve, on our way back home to portland. as midnight approached, we found ourselves somewhere in the middle of the great state of montana, nothing but miles and miles of pitch black save for the glow of the occasional tiny home, the occasional cluster of small town neon. everyone else on the train seemed to be asleep and at 11:59, we were left to count down the seconds on our own, to whisper numbers to each other in the dark. and then, midnight. midnight hit and there it was. relief. in a second, I was flooded with a relief so sweet I could practically taste it. because finally, 2012 had come to an end and the worst year of my life was over.

friends, I am not so naive to think that 2013 holds any sort of magic. I know it won't bring my mom back or undo any of the pain. but it's a new year, a fresh start. and right now, that's enough for me. right now, that's all I really need.

p.s. I would be remiss if I did not mention the above polaroid, which was shot back in december of 2010, at the park near my parents' home in illinois-- it was the last real christmas I spent with my mom, the best christmas, the absolute best christmas of my life.

today I am 42

and so this year, I'll be wishing for a little bit more of the brighter. not so much with the faster but just a little bit more of the brighter. 

details

I get lost in the details. of a shoot. I could spend hours on the small things. completely lost myself in this montessori classroom while the kids were out on the playground. it's a good feeling. it's why I do what I do.

and people, if I could start life all over again, I think maybe my first order of business would be to enroll myself in a montessori school. this one in particular.

hello december

hello christmas tree, hello house that smells like childhood. hello december. I am somewhere between wide open arms and wishing I could skip you altogether. am living squarely in the space between. but you're here, december. and there's really nothing I can do about it. what I can do is pinch sap off the ends of christmas tree branches, wear it like perfume. eat clementines, make salted caramels. set out the little forest, jump on the couch with the kids. celebrate the birth, sing the songs. and ride the waves, ride all the waves.

big fat sack of yes

my brand new very occasional part-time gig: filling in for lovely erin over at lodekka (the 1965 double decker bus turned vintage dress shop). I'll tell you, I really sort of love it. and so does my camera.

number seven

number seven off the list and no small task, my friends. fifty-seven undeveloped rolls of film from years 2000-2006. or earlier maybe, who knows? some are labeled, some aren't. I'm telling you, this is it. no more messing around. they're all getting developed, every last roll. and I'll be sharing the best ones here.

thanksgiving day

the day was a bit of a blur. but a beautiful one. happy thanksgiving, friends.

and we're brining

the truth is that I'm 41 years old and this is the first year I've roasted a turkey. on my own. things got off to a bit of a rough start (thanks in part to yesterday's minor grocery store meltdown) but we're back on track. turkey= currently in fridge brining. BRINING. I don't think I even knew what that word meant up until a few days ago. I've heard the word thrown around but people, cooking is not my thing. I do just enough to get by. thus, I do not know words like brine. but the nice lady working the meat department suggested it (as did a hundred other people on the internets) and now I think I want to brine everything. mostly so I can say the word brine.

thankful

thankful is the word over at words to shoot by. thankful for these three amazing people. also, thankful to be able to photograph them with some pretty amazing instant film.