21 May 2016
one: ava. plus wind plus ocean plus sun.
two: international pillow fight day means 150 people pillow fighting it out in a public park (still smiling).
three: purple rain at the old plaza theatre on ponce. (still crying).
four: southern live oaks, savannah, georgia.
five: ezra. plus wind plus ocean plus sun.
(five favorite frames from april, five favorite frames each month) (many thanks to my friend xanthe for the inspiration)
04 May 2016
when ava was little, I took her to the high museum of art most every week for toddler thursdays. we'd look at the art for a little while then walk downstairs to a little room in the museum basement and make things with the other kids. one week it was alexander calder-inspired mobiles (like the one that used to live on the front lawn of the high) and the next week, clay animals inspired by animals we'd seen in paintings in the museum. different art project every week and I loved it. gosh, I loved it. but the real highlight of those weekly trips was the visit to the howard finster section. more specifically, the white bicycle covered with hand-painted words that hung over an old concrete slab embedded with what seemed like thousands of bright-colored marbles and pieces of glass and slivers of mirrors and little things. this was ava's favorite part, her favorite thing in the whole museum. unfortunately, it was also a fairly torturous situation because, no touching. no touching those thousands of bright-colored marbles and mirrors and little things for a 3 year-old ava, a rule that was often emphatically reinforced by myself and a whole host of museum security people in navy blue blazers. in fact, we often found ourselves followed from room to room by those same museum security people, who were always at the ready with a firm NO and PLEASE DON'T TOUCH THAT and TOO CLOSE, MOVE BACK. god bless them, they were just trying to do their job. and, I guess, if anything, ava learned from a really young age how to behave in an art museum. but it hurt me every single time she went for those marbles and I had to tell her no. I couldn't help but think, this is probably not what visionary howard finster had in mind.
I don't know why we waited so long to visit paradise garden. I don't know why we didn't take ava when she was younger. who knows. but the minute we moved back to georgia, I bumped paradise garden to the top of our list and we finally made the trip last spring. for the record, there are many things to be said about howard finster's paradise garden. many, many things. I don't know where to start so I'll leave you with just two today:
1. I could visit paradise garden every single day for ten years and still not see every little thing, every detail.
2. it was pretty cool to see a 14 year-old ava finally touch the marbles she was forbidden to touch so many times, so many years ago. somewhere, howard finster was smiling, I am sure of it.
(number 62 off the list, seventeen and counting)
28 April 2016
above: a few of my contributions to the beautiful pool that is/was spring 'roid week 2016. tenth anniversary of the flickr group! tenth! so, I'm not going to get into a whole thing about time here but, time. is a crazy thing.
should you need to see more, all my polaroids from last week are here, my favorites from the week (from fellow instant photogs) are here and the whole pool of instant goodness is here. long live 'roid week, y'all. long live instant film.
25 April 2016
I will want to climb inside this little film and live, from time to time. I won't be able to, but I will want to.
here's hoping some wonderful weirdo somewhere will invent exactly this kind of portal.
p.s. more wonderful little films over at the sixty second photograph, a project I've been participating in since the beginning of the year)
p.p.s. major (and I mean MAJOR) bonus points if you can tell me which film the music is from.
23 April 2016
preteen saturday nights, 1999 on little white casio boomboxes. cheerleading routines that begin with dearly beloved, nervously performed in fluorescent-lit gyms during junior high basketball games. small town saturday night junior high dances, lavender sweaters with puffed sleeves and faded guess jeans. I would die 4 U and 13 year-olds who feel like they could dance forever, live forever.
post-football game friday nights, beth's house. under the cherry moon on cassette tape, blackest eyeliner, frostiest lip gloss, phone calls from boys, multiple so many phone calls from boys. new position over and over, again and again and again. anotherloverholenyohead screamed out rolled-down car windows, 15 year-old girls who feel like they could sing forever, live forever.
late monday night drives in old white datsuns through cincinnati streets with cute college boys. mix tapes with extended versions of prince songs, endless forever rarest of rare extended versions. college boys who play phantom keyboards on navy blue dashboards with one hand and drive with the other while you pretend to like clove cigarettes. cute college boys who turn into boyfriends who turn into husbands who end up as best friends. adore on repeat during early dating days, adore on repeat during newly wedded days, adore on repeat through all the in between days, adore on repeat for always. 19 year-olds, 21 year-olds who feel like they could love forever, totally, forever and ever.
sweaty tuesday nights at star bar, dj romeo cologne and the sounds of early prince, rushes of sweaty, happy people onto tiny dance floors, 27 year-olds who feel like they could probably dance forever, live forever. sweaty sunday afternoons at dancespace on sixth avenue, alexandra beller's dance class and the sounds of new-ish prince, rushes of sweaty, happy people across generous wooden floors, 33 year-olds who feel like they could probably dance forever, maybe live forever. or, at least until the end of the song.
rainy thursday night drives into the city with your best friend for purple rain tickets. when nothing else can be done. prince on the radio, the internet, in the newspapers, on your phone, in your texts, for all the wrong reasons. prince in the news when you wish he wasn't. starfish and coffee as loud as it will go, feet on the dash, fingers interlaced. 45 year-olds, 47 year-olds who wish prince could live forever, know that he can't. wish they could be young forever, know that they can't.
RIP sweet prince. singer of the soundtrack of my life. you will be so sorely, so terribly missed.
15 April 2016
one: ezra. plus imagined wall of preteen brain circuitry.
two: the yearly dying of the eggs. not pictured: the dying of the ends of their hair.
three: popcorn, early stages.
four: ava, bunny ears. killing me.
five: easter sunday dinner. not pictured: a bucket of KFC but with homemade mashed potatoes on the side. we are not fancy.
(five favorite frames from march, five favorite frames each month) (thanks for the inspiration, xanthe)
11 April 2016
hello internet, on this monday afternoon I present you drop-in-the-bucket evidence of a well-loved film--the now discontinued fuji FP 100C.
no matter what happens to the film, at least I have these. and others. and the last two packs sitting in the fridge. and doc's vaguely hopeful travelogue updates over at savepackfilm.net.
and, the experience of holding that beastly polaroid automatic 100 in my hands, the 250 too. of anne teaching me how to load it with film, how to shoot it. the 1, 2, 3 muscle memory pack film cameras require: press the shutter, click the lever, pull. and then the dance that follows: cross your fingers, hold and count. wait for the right moment then slowly peel that gooey, chemical magic apart for the big reveal. the photograph.
there's nothing like it, not one thing in the world like it.