August 15, 2011 – 9:54 am
I’ve been taking it slow and enjoying these lazy days of late summer.
In an effort to get creatively unstuck, I broke out the Polaroid Land Camera and took a few shots on Sunday. While I love my iPhone and the many photo apps I use to bring photos to life, there’s nothing like feeling weight and mechanics of a vintage camera in my hands. The very act of shooting analog photography nearly forces me to slow down and think harder. When I look through the hazy square-shaped viewfinder of my Polaroid I may compse an image five or six times before I finally click the shutter … and wait.
Waiting for the film to develop has become an artform itself. I’ve taken to holding undeveloped images in my armpit or chest pocket to keep the temperature constant and speed up development. And if I’m lucky, for every 10 images that I’ve shot, I’ll have two pictures that turn out like I expected. It all makes for a time-consuming but very rewarding hobby.
Here’s to what’s old being new again. Have a great week everyone.
It seems the warm, humid temperatures that have hovered in the Midwest for the last few weeks are almost always followed by heavy rainfall. On Sunday we had three separate storms dump nearly two inches of rain throughout day. Sidewalks and streets flooded, basements leaked and the river is still swollen with all the stormwater runoff. So when I woke up to rainfall again Monday morining, I paused for a few moments to take in the calm after the storm.
Six
An interview with a newly-crowned six year old.
How does it feel to be 6?
“[giggles] Good.”
When I was 5, I used to…
“You know what? I was a couch potato.” (not true, but funny)
What did you like about being 5?
“On the last day of school, my class got to eat ice cream.”
If you had a birthday wish come true, what would it be?
“For me to get a real Husky puppy.”
Happy birthday my sweet little lady.
For Phil
When we first moved to this house in our sleepy little Chicago neighborhood 9 years ago, we met many characters, and one who stood out immediately was my neighbor Phil. It didn’t take long for me to feel connected to this soft-spoken, kindhearted man who had a slight resemblance to Sean Connery — and delivered an uncanny impression of him too. When I found out that Phil was an artist — a fine art painter by profession — the connection was cemented further.
Although there are many things I will remember about Phil, I find the most memorable are his love of painting and gardening. He would light up as he watched our daughters make their sidewalk chalk masterpieces, nudging their inner artist with words of encouragement and praise. He surprised us not too long ago when he passed along a set of vintage crayons and colored pencils for the kids that we’ve tucked away safely on a top shelf, until their little hands are ready for what we view as a big responsibility.
Since my wife and I were new to gardening those first few years (as evident by the patches of tall weeds we fertilized and watered), Phil helped us navigate the plants from weeds in our new yard and kindly cared for a rose bush we inherited that had been long neglected. Just last year he shared a plant clipping of a rare night-blooming flower that we shared an affinity for.
Phil, thank you the very warm welcome you showed my family when we became your neighbors and your kindness through the years. I’ll remember you every time that rose bush shoots out new growth and blooms prolifically. You will be missed.
[Apologies for the delay in Gratitude Week. Life happens, you know. Where were we…]
Puppies
Cuddly, fuzzy round-bellied puppies. These little furballs were born a few weeks ago to a proud mama Husky at the studio where the kids take music lessons and they’ve captured the hearts of my wife and children. And I have to admit – after seeing them fumble around and roam on their own for the first time, they’re pretty hard to resist.
Spontaneity
In my house, there’s a genuine joy for spontaneous things. Impromptu singing, rhyming, laughter and the occasional Rerun-style boogie down (if you don’t know, check it).
And with summer comes extra freedom – bedtimes creep later than normal, we buy ice cream at the park on weeknights, we even have breakfast for dinner (OK, busted… we do that all year round.) Without school there’s a free and easy vibe to the mornings and, being the spontaneous folks that we are, it’s never too early for dress-up.
Badassery
Late last year, I unofficially adopted “Badassery” as my word of the year for 2011 (thank you Karen). And when looking for an examples of badassery in my world, I don’t have to look far. Meet my big sister Dawn.
I’ve written before about her fierce loyalty – she’s quick to offer help when you’re down and always has a plan. Always.
Dawn is not one to shy away from a challenge, so when she told me she had signed up to compete in her first triathlon, I knew she had committed to it. And I knew I wouldn’t miss this for the world, so a few weeks ago I visited Dawn to support her at her first triathlon.
And after years of her being there for me, it was nice to turn the tables and be there to cheer her on.
The training alone for an event like this takes a special dedication and perseverance, and getting to watch her cross that finish line was a bonus for me.
Badassery personified.
Although things have been a bit chaotic for me lately, I’ve found a quiet place in the middle of it all. I’m not sure what I’ve done to tilt the universe in my favor, but I can’t help but notice that – despite the chaos – an abundance of good luck has come my way.
Usually, when I find myself in this position, I tend to brace myself for when my luck runs out and I wait for things to fall apart. Instead, I’m going to step out of my comfort zone a bit and take a week to celebrate a few small things I’m thankful for. In no particular order, I’ll start with …
Summer light
Just five months ago, we were just digging out of more than 20 inches of snow. Today I’m thankful for the warm summer light that’s been abundant the past few weeks. It peeks through the big picture window in my living room as early as 5:30 a.m. and stays well into the evening. Evertything is better when it’s around: Early morning walks and bike rides. Lazy afternoons on the hammock. Let’s appreciate it while we have it.
I traveled to Washington, D.C. recently to see my sister complete her first triathlon (post to come soon). Even though I only spent a brief time wandering the streets, it was hard not to fall for this city a little bit. Tall victorian-era town homes that have fallen into disrepair were contrast with patches of new construction along our drive downtown. The area around the museums seemed to be thriving with restaurants and shoppes.
D.C.’s Chinatown was a short walk from the hotel, and I was able to snap a frame or two before I succumbed to the inevitable food coma that comes from overindulging on pasta.
Maybe it’s part of growing older, but I’ve been thinking a lot lately about legacy. What will I leave behind when I’m gone?
I’ve always been of the mind that what matters most are the things you do when you’re here — not only for the effect that it has on our life and those in it, but also for the legacy that these actions leave behind. This is how I’ll be remembered.
What will people remember about me? My laugh? My photography? The family I built?
On a recent museum trip, I came across an exhibit of pottery made by a slave in the 1800s. It was forbidden for slaves to read or write, but not only did this potter, Dave, make pottery, he was know to have signed and also wrote short verses on rare occasions.
There I stood, beholding a piece of his legacy. Hundreds of years later, it has stood the test of time.
An interactive part of the exhibit asked users to type in a message that will live forever. I stood in front of the keyboard, completely paralyzed at the thought of adding a message to the exhibit that wouldn’t be complete garbage. Just then my 8-year-old daughter walked up and I explained the exhibit to her. Then she typed: “I am the best. This I beleve (sic).”
My legacy? I suspect it will be many things. I know this confident little daughter of mine will certainly be one of the best parts of it. THIS I believe.
[ This post appears today on the DMO Galleries Chicago Photography blog. Thanks to Doug for the opportunity ]
