sundays (22/52)

sunday, june 2nd: unbelievably, a parisian fleamarket. a parisian fleamarket I did not get to experience with my own mother (like we always dreamed of doing) but one I did get to experience with my daughter. for this, I will always be thankful.

p.s. I must point out the tiny pink fork in the seventh image. tiny pink forks to eat our french fries with, tiny pink forks. tiny. pink. forks.

(sundays sundays sundays)

(true, I'm a little behind)

one two three four five

monday//golden

tuesday//red

wednesday//brown

thursday//grey

friday//orange

poppytalk's fall color week= fini. but karen's nanoPHOmo is just beginning. clearly, I am a girl who needs an assignment.

in other news, I have been singing this song all. week. long. endlessly looping in my head, over and over and over. colors and the kids, you know. colors and the kids.

NABLOPOMO, YO

hello november, hello national blog posting month.

every year, I try to post something everyday and every year, I fail. oddly enough, I enjoy the trying. it's possible I even enjoy the failing. for seven years straight, I have failed. that's right, I started in 2006 with this nablopomo business. seven should have been my year, seven is my number. and really, how hard can it be to post something everyday? APPARENTLY, REALLY VERY INCREDIBLY HARD.

this is my year, though. I can feel it. year number eight. nablopmo 2013, yo.

NABLOPOMO 2013, YOU ARE MINE.

tricks or treats

from the archives: a five year-old ezra, an eight year-old ava and two old school (moderately creepy) halloween masks.

(happy halloween, y'all)

calling all color lovers

heeeeey how about poppytalk's fall color week? are you playing along? because I am. as it turns out, I am both physically and mentally unable to resist color week.

monday//golden
tuesday//red
wednesday//brown
thursday//grey
friday//orange

it's all happening over on the instagrams. it's all happening.

list forty-six: these are things

obsessed with, as of late:

1. honey crisp apples
2. thrift store lamps
3. nineties hip hop
4. things that are yellow
5. things that are shiny, happy
6. the reading of the diary of anne frank with ava
7. the loading of the old yashica
8. the promise of yurt camping
9. ezra's teeny tiny drawings
10. my mother's beautiful quilts
11. raw honey in my oatmeal
12. coconut oil on my body
13. tom-tom club records on repeat
14. jenny's sparkling new space
15. tracy's rad friday lists
16. a pair of lovely earrings
17. a lovely fall bag
18. a ridiculously perfect pencil
19. the work of this director
20. you know what? this one too
21. rolls of vintage wallpaper
22. maps of the paris metro
23. old alfred hitchcock movies
24. shiny new projects
25. the color of the leaves
26. and candy corn
27. ALL OF THE CANDY CORN

how about you?

paris in polaroids, part three

(places like this actually exist?) (because, really)


(I MEAN, REALLY)


(I could not fit this in my suitcase) (also, it was not mine)


(I wanted all the stripey shirts, all of them) (I left with none)


(ava wanted all the flower-shaped gelato, all of it) (she managed two cones)


(oh gosh, the doors, all the pretty doors)


(plus these guys, the ones I chased after) (because, of course)


(and montmartre, just as I imagined it'd be)


(plus macarons, my very first macarons)


(last but not least, the one responsible for this extraordinary adventure, sweet irene) (finally, a polaroid portrait of a fellow instant photographer who has so profoundly inspired me)

part three of the paris polaroids, number 43 off the list. a few of my very favorites and the last of the last. though there are still rolls of film to be developed, folders full of photographs to share. four months later and I am still processing, still not believing it actually happened. I take my time with these things, I always take my time.

(fyi, all paris polaroids shot with glorious impossible project PX680 film)

this one's for you, kathreen

I've been going through stacks of quilts this week. stacks of my mom's beloved quilts. I've been marveling at pattern and color. at meticulous hand-stitching and quirky construction, at worn parts, lived-in and well-loved parts. I know now why she loved them so much, could never ever seem to pass a good one up. or let one go. I always knew. I mean, I thought I knew but after spending hours going through them this week, folding and unfolding, carefully examining each one, I really and truly (fully and completely) know-- in a way I didn't before.

in a serendipitous, completely coincidental turn of events (and just before my trip home to illinois), I received this in the mail:

I'm not going to pretend I know anything about quilt-making here. I do not. which is why I hesitated when I was approached to write a little bit about kathreen's new book, to participate in a  legacy tour of sorts honoring her final work. I don't know anything about quilts and I don't really do things like reviews here in this space. but here's what I know: I love quilts. I love what they represent. I love the idea that they even exist, that the people who make them, who pour so much love into them exist. here's what else I know: I loved kathreen. she inspired me. and I know she inspired a lot of you out there too, so this is not so much a book review as it is a love letter-- to the late, great kathreen ricketson, a small thank you on behalf of all those she inspired. because what we're talking about here is inspiration, quilt-related or not.

I first met kathreen in those early, early blogger days, back when none of us really knew what we were doing. just stumbling along, sharing words, work, bits and parts of our day, never really sure who was reading, if anyone was reading. (and, in some cases, not even really caring if anyone was reading). it wasn't long before a like-minded community began to form-- artists, crafters, writers, photographers, mothers. we were connecting in small but profound ways (often daily) and we were from all over the world. I first met kathreen when I was busy shooting photographs of pretty much everything out there but myself. and then self portrait tuesday happened, which eventually morphed into the self portrait challenge. every week, a different self portrait and kathreen was behind it. selfies before people even knew what selfies were. selfies before the word became an internet punchline. it was kathreen who challenged us each week, encouraged us. what started as a small collection of participants grew into something exponentially larger, something that exceeded all expectations. because that's the thing about the internet-- you never really know what happens when you put stuff out there. where it will go, what it will do, how it might (or might not) be received. you never know. if you would've told me I'd meet some of my best internet (turned in-real-life) friends through the self portrait group, I would not have believed you. furthermore, if you'd told me just how much it'd crack open the way I view photography, I would have laughed. but there it is. and I have no one but kathreen to thank.

we kept in touch over the years. email, twitter, facebook, instagram, blogs, the usual. I could always count on my sweet australian friend for a kind word. I always hoped we'd meet one day, never dreamt we wouldn't get the chance. when the news spread of her passing, I was shocked, completely heartbroken. I couldn't fathom it, I just couldn't. I felt a longing for that early group of bloggers, that raw, special time and I wondered if I'd ever really told kathreen just how much she'd inspired me, if I'd ever really taken the time.

now is my time.

dear kathreen, you inspired me. endlessly.

thumbing through your book, one thing is clear: your wildly creative spirit practically jumps off every page. your heart and soul, your love for what you do just spills out all over the place and you will only continue to inspire those who come in contact with your work. I hope you know that, friend. wherever you are.

here's to you, kathreen. quilt-maker, photograph-taker, lover of life. mother, artist, crafter extraordinaire. here's to the book you always dreamt of writing. here's to me holding it in my hands and honoring you. here's to you, lovely lovely you.

(kathreen's legacy tour continues, please follow along here)

number 56

number 56 off the list: ride the santa cruz sky candy. which I did back in july and was terrified pretty much every single second I was up there.

(but I'm still glad I did it)

photobooth friday

this past summer: he turned nine, she turned thirteen. and, per our yearly tradition, we marked each birthday with a photobooth strip. I see them both so clearly here, so much of who they are. I look forward to the day we can lay out each strip, year by year. look at who they were at different ages, how they've changed. or haven't. I really look forward to that day.

but I'm in no hurry, no hurry at all.

this summer, I stood

 on the streets of san francisco's mission neighborhood

in stall after stall at the treasure island fleamarket

in jen and bob's sweet backyard, with the succulents and the nasturtiums and yesh, a few chickens

on rocks with ward at the edge of the water, san francisco off in the distance

in the bathroom of a stumptown coffee shop, downtown portland

with a few people I love at kruger's farm, sauvie island

on alix and greg's spectacular back patio, oakland, california

in booth after booth at the alameda fleamarket

with alix and jenny on the streets of san francisco's japantown

in the middle of an oregonian desert

at the edge of the swimming pool

in the shallows of short sands beach at the oregon coast

on the island of port townsend, washington (last adventure of the summer, very very last)

it's been a good summer, folks. I'm thankful for that. and I don't take one second for granted, not even one teeny tiny second. 

habit (the art of)

I'm over at habit this month, posting photographs and words about my everyday. hop on over, if you like. it's a lovely little space, that habit.

saturday night

saturday night at the drive-in, y'all. that's what we did. with popcorn and twizzlers and shiny old cars and a trunk packed with pillows and blankets and old sheets and then bill murray and ghostbusters up on the giant screen and then a million stars in the wide open night sky. we are not swimming in money (not even close) but we know how to do saturday night.

if you believe in wonderful old cultural icons like the american drive-in and you don't want to watch them die off one by one then you should maybe take a look at this. I would surely cry happy little tears of joy if you'd vote to save one. preferably this one, but you know. just so long as you vote. by midnight tonight.

viva la drive-in, I say!

VIVA LA DRIVE-IN

photobooth friday

19th wedding anniversary, properly celebrated. with pretty drinks and fancy food and a trip to the photobooth. nineteen years. nineteen years. sometimes it feels like we are light years from who we were when we stood together in that church on september 3rd, 1994. and we are. but then sometimes it feels like no time has passed at all.

this time next year? twenty. and we've got big plans. big plans, friends. here's hoping we can pull it off.