The Majestic

Lisa Kereszi - Photographer by Default

I am so glad to find her.  I love her personality.  " I think I have this mild, depressive personality....  My uncle saw one of my shows......And he came up to me and said, isn't it the most depressing thing in the world to try to have fun."    I relate to her on many levels.  This is just a short little interview of her walking around Governors Island where she had done a series of images for a special artist group show.  Its is a short 1 or 2 minute film that is paradoxically fun and light considering the story behind her photography series and the defunct project at Governors Island.  Check it out here.  

Lorrie Turk - Nashville Make Up Artist

Check out this interview with Lorrie Turk.  I work with her whenever I can.  Having a good makeup artist on a shoot makes all the difference in the world.  

"To Thine Own Self Be True."

I straddle a crevasse of confusion.  These past days I have lost my footing.  The floundering economy has put question in my life.  Where do I go from here.

Yesterday I spent time with my mother on an outing. And returning to WMP she balked. Somedays she just doesn't want to return.  She wants to go home. (my mother needs care 24/7. When she stays with me it is non-stop attention, even throughout the night.  I wake every three hours to check her.)  To take her home, the expense would be enormous.  We've been down this road of price comparison and practicality.  And I have batted back and forth the idea of bringing her home with me too many times.  It's killing me.  So this is again on my mind.  The slow economy is creating questioning in my life.  What is my purpose.  What am I doing.  Spending money when money isn't coming in, for what, an ego trip?  "Why don't you bring your mother home.  Possibly save the family money.  Make your mother happy. "  In reality, this would mean giving up my career, giving up my life.  Resentments towards my siblings would  possibly develop.  I'd be fearful of not being caring enough.   The guilt of not being willing is what is eating at me these last couple of days.  Usually, I have my head on straight and I know how impractical and unrealistic this would be for me and I am ok with it. There is no guilt and I have true understanding and love for myself and really everyone else.  Dale, who is very experienced in home care,  said "your mother has the best of both worlds, good care and lots of family attention. "   

So back to yesterday, as I've struggled with this issue, a woman out of nowhere, I'd never seen her before,  approached me. While I am busy getting mom out of the car,  she asks me after having told me how she knows my mother and how sweet she is etc, that "why don't we take our mother home?"  Like a push-over, I attempt to answer her. She goes on to say in her country blah, blah, blah, they care for their elderly at home. When you don't do any thing important in your life, why not take her home?  You'd be with your mother all the time." All the while mom is getting more and more wide eyed over this conversation.  I look to her and my heart breaks.  

So here I am... 

I'd like to tell you what Dale said about that woman.

 

Winter Monotony

I am bored with my life.  I am tired of getting up each morning.  My dreams are much better.  The shaky economy, the scrutinizing over this artist statement I've been writing, researching other  artist then overvaluing them and undervaluing of myself is making living hard going for me lately. 

I finally watched "Man on Wire". Philipe Petit is an incredibly passionate, charismatic man and I was totally taken by him.  I wanted to have what he has.  There I was measuring my passion against his.  If you have seen this movie you will see how laughable this comparison is.  There are people in this world who are just superior in achieving dreams; their brains, their discipline, their passion is beyond normal.  When I am not in a good emotional place I struggle so with mediocrity.  The other day I was at a couples home taking photos for an artist friend. The husband ( a doctor, a marathon runner) and wife had returned from a book store where he had purchased "Atlas Shrug" to read.  After talking with him about other books he had read and sharing the love of stories etc, he brought me two books to lend me that he had just finished reading.  I was surprised he had read them; I questioned the fact.  These huge books hadn't even had their spines broken.  The books I've read look as if they've been through the spin cycle of the washing machine.  I cannot seem to get this off my mind.  How can one person be so......, something, so...., amazing.  And he was good-looking, he had children, he was happily married, he had a beautiful home and he wasn't socially retarded.  Its killing me today.  

New York, New York

I have recently returned from NYC and haven't had the time to review my experience in writing.  It was diverse, weird, and as always educational.  I really can't go there again just yet, but for a quick reminder for later I can list my highlights

-the orchestra pit at the Majestic (No.1)

-the Diamond District Xmas light decorations in diamond shapes

-Kabbalah Center

-Yossi Milo Gallery-seeing Tierney Gearon 16x20 C-prints and

  my one purchase of The Hyena & Other Men-Pieter Hugo book

-Pace/McGill Gallery-Duane Michels Fan C-Prints

-Equus

-the epiphany at St. Patricks Cathedral

-private elevators

Happy New Year

I am looking forward to learning more, seeing more, loving more.  Thank you for 2008!

Just received a link from my friend to a beautiful story by photographer Philip Toledano-Days with My Father.  It put her in mind of mine and my mom's story.  It has given me the impetus to continue photographing mom.  Reading how Philips relationship is with his father is heart warming and real.  I love the idea his wife had,  to get a Hooter's Girl to come read stories to his dad each week since his dad is still very much appreciative of women.  How kind and respectful and fun.  It is a reminder that we are not gone until we are gone.  Nothing sad about that...

Tierney Gearon-Photographer

Tierney Gearon-The Mother Project was off my radar until Netflix suggested this to me.  I was like an assistant again watching her shoot. I loved how revealing the documentary was. (I am such a voyeur.)   Reviews were mediocre for the film.  You'd have to be a photographer to really appreciate this film or a psychology student or someone who had experienced or is experiencing a deconstruction of your childhood.

My feelings towards her fluctuate between anger and understanding.   Part of me sees Tierney as a self absorbed artist driven to the point of addiction and someone who was exploited by the Art World as she exploited her mother.   Then again, I see what a gift Tierney and her mother and children have given us by this opening of their lives.  I see them as brave and innocent, strong and giving.   I am moved by it all.  So I guess it is successful as an art film, and a project and, she, as an artist.  I am emotionally stirred by the whole experience.  

The image that stands out to me the most is the one of her mother standing on the frozen lake with the most comfortable, relaxed expression.  She is beautiful and Tierney was honoring and loving for shooting it.  The film has this particular shoot or day recorded.  I guess by seeing what her mother gave her makes the image that much more powerful for me.  I was very anxious for them walking out on a thawing lake.  I saw everyone was profiting from this venture except the mother.  She was making it all happen.  And Tierney was obviously thankful. 

Her mother may have been lacking in nurturing as Tierney was growing up but she certainly is giving to her now.

Dropping the Rock

Being the last Monday of 2008 and in the spirit of resolutions for the New Year I want to add to the pool of commitments blogged about, preached about, talked about.  I will be carrying no guilt, resentment, remorse or any negativity into 2009.  Rev. Buchanan's passionate sermon yesterday was themed "Shakin' the Dust Off Your Shoes."  So I am heading into the New Year letting go, dropping the rock, loosing the chains.  I plan on living my life more thankfully.  

Unseasonably Warm Holidays

I am at the age where Christmas holds no excitement for me but I am glad to have the holidays surrounding it. (only now am I really paying attention to all the Christmas lights and Christmas trees.)  All is quite and I am purposefully treating myself to little things I don't do throughout the year like reading fiction in the middle of the day, baking cookies or riding my bike to no particular place. And I am loving the weather.  It was so windy last night; we took a bike ride in the moon light.  

Today after attending a very emotional and passionate sermon at the Fifteenth Ave North Baptist Church by the Rev. Buchanan, I drove around North Nashville and Germantown area and explored the way people had decorated for Christmas as well as how the neighborhood is living. Couches and chairs at storefronts, basketball goals rolled out to the street, chairs place out in the driveways, ribbon woven thru the picket fences, back alleyways opening out onto the streets - things I don't see in my neighborhood.  I love this area.  So much of North Nashville, up and down Buchanan, DB Todd, Herman St, Jefferson St is unchanged since the 70's or even earlier.  So to me it is wonderfully unique and exciting.  I saw St. Vincent de Paul for the first time. Being Catholic I heard of St. Vincent de Paul all my life.  We collected money for St. Vincent at my parish.  It was sweet small church with a sweet, small school beside it. Nuns ran the school from 1934 to 1973.  It is the only Catholic school dedicated to educating the African American children in Nashville or the state.  I will have to revisit to get my fact straight.  

In the back parking lot, behind the school and church were basketball goals and the baskets had chains instead of nylon rope.  I hadn't seen this in years.  It is those simple things I see in North Nashville that are nostalgic to me.  Rough or not the neighborhood has a community, small town feel that I miss or long for in my life.  Living in the whitewash, generic, conservative area of town can be uninspiring.  It just seemed as if I had driven into a new city.  

Bah Humbug

I just don't have it in me anymore to get excited over Christmas.  My attitude towards purchasing gifts is dead in the water before I ever head out the door.  Nothing in the stores seems to have staying power for even a year that I could afford as a gift. And I see this whole Christmas thing a commercial brainwash.   I am always at a loss to buy a meaningful gift for my love ones anyway.  Today my attitude was so poor that once the potential gift was in my hands and I was turning towards the cash register or putting the thing into my buggie even I had seen the thing broken, passe or a big ole waste of space in the lives of my family or friends.  I was not one to be around today.   I hate all this spending.  With the economy the way it is I was amazed to see anyone out anyway. Where the hell are they getting their money and why spending  on just stuff.  I've been feeling very UnAmerican by not circulating my cash; I'm not doing my American part.  I don't go outside into the world lately just b/c money always seems to fly out of my hands.  Hell,  breathing spends money.  Momma use to say that "money is not the most important thing in the world, but it's right up there with oxygen."  How true it seems to me today.

Well-Happy Spending.  Bah Humbug.- 

Speaking of that-  Mom and I have been reading "A Christmas Carol" and Dicken's writing is absolutely wonderful.  Reading it out loud is like a roller coaster for the tongue.  

Sam Wagstaff

Yesterday while lying about on the couch mending a sick body I watched the biography/documentary Black White + Gray by James Crump about Sam Wagstaff and his lover and friend, Robert Mapplethorpe.  I knew all about Mapplethorpe but nothing about Sam Wagstaff.  He was a huge influence on photography and its rise to popularity as a true art form during the 70's and 80's.  If anyone is interested in learning a little bit about how this man contributed to the art scene and history of these two men check out the film.  It is not as much information as I'd like so I will be doing more research on Sam Wagstaff if possible but there are interviews with some interesting people about their relationship with Mapplethorpe and Wagstaff, such as Patti Smith, Dominick Dunne.

Xmas Tree Lot

I wish so much to be out shooting in this magical weather we are having here this evening.  The street lamps are casting long shadows of the trees onto my front lawn.  The fog has created a soft backdrop for them.  The night has an eerie glow.  

Last week I had the privilege of spending time with Susana Raab.  She was on her way home from NOLA and stopped for a rest.  Thank you Susana for your help with the shoot at the Boy Scout Tree Lot and the much needed belly laughs.  I love your cynical humor.  I hope to meet up with you again and my home is open to you anytime.

If you are not familiar with her work please visit her site.  Her photography is just as humorous and sharp as she.  It was great to talk business and then just hang together.  It reminds me how important it is to stay connected with other photographers, especially other women photogs.  

Where do I begin.  It is early morning and thoughts are running through my head so fast I can't pin one down to apply to my writing.  Let's see if I can settle down long enough.

The thought that seems to resurface most is the experiences I had yesterday at the 

"Team Meeting" for my mother at her nursing home.  (This part of my life seems to be taking the dominant place.)  Reasons behind these "Team Meetings" is a place we can voice our concerns about the care our mother gets (and learn about her health). The people who have the most contact with her are not there.  So all of this really makes no sense to me.  We express our needs, the head nurse, the program director, the assistant director make notes and then we are encouraged to bring  attention to the problems as they arise to whomever is in charge on the floor at the time.   The problem here is that we would be spending our time focusing on problems and creating resentments towards us with the very people who care for our mother.  The ADirector didn't seem to understand our/my issue with this.  Why are we to do their job monitoring their help.  I just would rather not have to work on bringing up issue each time  I go see my mother.  I prefer to spend time with her and hell I'll do the work.  Brushing her teeth, flossing her teeth, washing her faces, cleaning up her nails, doing her hair, changing her if needed, the list goes on.  I once cleaned out her ears and the wax build up was huge.  There is no way the Techs are going to put any time in caring to this degree.  When I go the tuck her in at night, her barrettes are still in her hair, earrings in her ears and of course her teeth are dirty. When we are not there who does those little things, but necessary things.  Why not have a liaison for the residence, a monitor for the Techs.  So I guess all the Techs are responsible for letting things slip.  How can they do all of it.  We are learning as we go to the degree to which we need to care for her. What they do at the nursing home is keep an eye on her, sort of.   Why if I spent the time with these issues instead of doing them myself which is far easier to do then go hunting down and bring attention each time to the situation I'd never see my mother.  Somehow I must work this out in a good way for myself in my heart and head so I am happy and comfortable.  I don't want to create an atmosphere of discomfort for all the nurses and Techs anyway.  This is my home to visit my mother.  I don't want to have to be greeted by sour faces.

Of course Momma is oblivious or rather has no issue to these problems.  She just is so congenial and grateful. And I don't want to bring her attention to problems-so I just do what needs to be done with my mom rather than spend time with issues and not worry when I am not there to do the little things.

We are blessed.  

Halloween 2008

Halloween is my favorite time of the year.  I needed to work on something tonight that gave me a happy thought and fond memories of my childhood innocence. 

 Too much death and dying has been on my mind.

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas

We just got back for the movie The Boy in the Striped Pajamas.  And Friday Mom and I watched Autumn Hearts about Drancy.  Both movies deal with Concentration Camps.  

Earlier this year I was in Dachau.  The museum there is probably one of the best I have ever seen.  There was so much information that 1 day would not do it justice.  It was a dark, overcast day the day I were there, but at the very end of my visit the sun broke through.  I was one of the last to leave the camp that day.  It was eerie and quite, cold and dark.  The horrors that took place there those many years ago were too much to take.  I finally had to cut away from all the information and just wonder the grounds.  The evil was hard to get away from but thankfully the museum has put  beautiful memorials and a chapel and convent on the grounds.  It left a feeling of hope with me.  After seeing this movie though I feel as if I didn't give Dachau the attention necessary.  What a horrid place to live near.  I wonder how long it took the citizens of Dachau to make peace with living in such a strong presence as a death camp?

The following link is actual footage taken at Dachau at the time of liberation.  It was finally release and aired on Frontline in 1985, 40 years later.  Link here

Neighborhood Redux or Changing of the Guard

This particular home has been without a warm body living in it for over 2 years now.  It sits lonely and cold on a slight hill just past my mother's home.  I pass it nearly everyday.  The deer have it on their grazing route.  At dusk I occasionally spot a doe or two darting across the road to the woods beside and beyond the house.  

I have always loved this home and its location.  The woods seem to snuggle up behind it and the knoll it sits on gives it a pedestal of protection from the road below. She painted it pink and there were a bank of aluminum louvre style windows, very 50ish, prominently positioned at the front as if she was proud of them.  The concrete stairs leading up to her front door were poured so well that even as a young girl I was impressed.  

Radnor Lake

Interesting Connections

I love the way these two images looked together.  It is part of my find on the work I'm doing for the exhibit on Spirituality in Nashville.

Yesterday I was exploring and shooting at the Congregation Micah.  I had  the whole temple and grounds to myself.  It was so peaceful.  The openness & receptiveness of the place was in itself spiritual.  I so appreciate the respect, the trust and the welcoming that was extended.  I do not want to work too hard in this project.  I want to glide through the process.  I feel I'd be defeating the purpose if I turn this into to a job.  So I don't even carry lights.  I don't even want to use a tripod.  Impressionistic then it will be. "Focus is over rated." (Henri Cartier Bresson). It is about experience for me, this process.  I am letting go of the results.  

As the sun was setting and I had pretty much finished shooting at the Temple I was standing quietly at the window looking out over the fields and a buck lopes by towards the woods.  His rack looked like a Menorah. ( I've never noticed the similarities before.  But I'm not Jewish and so my mind isn't conditioned that way.)  It was magical; a special moment.  It was just me and him.

I love the feeling I have in spaces.  Just below my diaphragm and deep in  my gut I get a flutter of excitement when I am in a world alone yet comfortable.  Nothing else compares to this feeling.   It is the place of a place that is magical to me.  As a child I'd sneak into people's homes when they were gone.  I was as young as 4 too.  Amazing that I had the desire to do it so early.   I still try to get into empty schools, abandon buildings, vacated homes.  I love going to open houses and estate sales too.  Not so much to see the house but to see the evidence of its history. The chipped paint, the dirty door knobs, the hooks in the walls all tell a story.  

I've been shooting the homes around my neighborhood that are empty.   I live in an area where the older owners are dying and leaving them in different stages of disrepair.  The homes are either torn down or moved or repaired.  Much of the time they're left abandoned for extended times.  It is part of saying goodbye to this part of my life b/c it is the neighborhood I grew up in as well. It all seems to be falling together in someway.   My mother's home, my childhood home being sold, my aging mother, the shift of the neighborhood, the search of peace and spirituality in my hometown all seems to be connected.

Purpose #8

I haven't seen a photographic magazine that I 've so thoroughly enjoyed as this one.  I would love to share it with anyone interested.  And for me to find the very issue that is so meaningful for me is magic.