"If it's Tuesday, it must be . . ." tumblr. Week Six

Tuesday is here again, and you know what that means, dear reader — if it's Tuesday, it must be tumblr. However,  before I send you there, I would like to share a few thoughts about November, since today is also November First.

This past Thursday, when I was walking home to my studio apartment in the Upper Westside of Manhattan, the rain was falling heavily, and even though it was only somewhere between five-thirty and six in the evening, it was quite dark, prompting me to think that soon we'd be changing the clocks  (fyi, the date to do this is the second Sunday in November to leave daylight savings time), and that it would be getting darker much earlier in the evening.
The streets were quiet that evening; and while the hour said it should be dusk, "the state or period of partial darkness between day and night; the dark part of twilight", the darkness, enhanced by the heavy rain, was more than "partial", and it was quite peaceful, as it always seems to be when November approaches.  The very early part of November. The part before it becomes Thanksgiving and Thanksgiving becomes Christmas (or Chanukah, or Kwanzaa), and Christmas becomes New Year's and New Year's becomes Valentine's Day and Valentine's Day becomes Easter (or Passover), and Easter (or Passover) becomes Memorial Day, and Memorial Day becomes The Fourth of July, and The Fourth of July becomes Labor Day, and Labor Day becomes Halloween, and then it is November and where did its thirty days go?


It always seems they go by quickly (even if some "single" days can feel like they are a year long), and, because time passes the way it does, November, with the change of colors it brings to the leaves (at least in the northeastern part of the United States where I live), is a good time to remember.


I am aware of the fact that the expression, "remember November" has election connotations associated with it, but my association (perhaps because I am an urban gardener) with remembering and November is to appreciate the changing colors of the leaves which happens at this time. My Ipomocea multifida (Cardinal Climber AKA "CC"), which was lush with emerald-green leaves and bursting with red flowers only  just a couple of months ago (please click here for my September 8th 2011 post about my then thriving "CC"), is now sporting an array of colored leaves (evidenced in two of the photographs included with this posting.These beautiful leaves will soon be falling. and therefore it is essential that I heed the advice offered in Elizabeth Lawrence's quote: "Even if something is left undone, everyone must take time to sit still and watch the leaves turn." 


Ms. Lawrence did not live in this digital age where folks rarely take time to look up from their hand-held devices (even while they are walking across city streets), much less look at nature, but it is November First, and just as the leaves are changing, we too can turn a new leaf in our routines and stop – yes I did say stop — and watch the leaves turn. This is November's answer to spring's adage, "stop and smell the roses"!


And it is almost too late for those who live in the northeastern tri-state to do this, to stop and watch the leaves turn, for we were "hit" this past Saturday by an unexpected raging snowstorm (albeit a "soupy and gloopey one) that knocked many of the leaves off our vines, shrubs, and trees! However, the vines, shrubs and trees are resilient and forgiving: they will give us another chance to watch the leaves turn.


In fact, my Continus Coggygria AKA Smokey Bush, Royal Purple, and Grace, seemed to delight in the icy-soup of snow that pounded on her leaves and branches; she was very cavalier about the whole thing; and she even seemed to be playing catch (and maybe she could teach our — ahem — New York baseball teams a thing or two about catching) with the cold mushy snow that fell upon her. This is evident in the image posted below:

Leaves, as you know, dear reader, are a big part of my inspiration, or I would not have called my blog, The Last Leaf Gardener, as per a story which you may refer to by clicking here. And the leaves of my Continus Coggygria AKA Smokey Bush, Royal Purple, and Grace are no exception.


I have written about this magnificent shrub in a number of previous blog entries including ones which you may refer to by clicking here as well as here and here and here, and you will find more (but not all) by clicking here and here and here. Additionally, I have featured images of my Continus Coggygria's leaves within my Flickr Gallery in a set called AUTUMN LEAVES: "Even if something is left undone, everyone must take time to sit still and watch the leaves turn,"  and if you'd like to view them, please click here, and look for the set with the aforementioned name.


Moreover, the leaves of ny Continus Coggygria provided the inspiration for an all occasion greeting card which I created called 'Grace' (Smokey Bush). This card is wonderful for sending to someone near and dear to you at any time, but it is particularly nice for sending at this time of year.


This lovely card is featured within the Card Shoppe Pages of my web-site, Patricia Youngquist Photo-Art ,and a link to find its location within the aforementioned pages may be found by clicking here.
      
But, since it is Tuesday, that means it must be tumblr —  and you may get there by clicking here —  but before you do,sit still and watch the leaves turn before they fall completely, before this November First becomes  Thanksgiving and Thanksgiving becomes Christmas (or Chanukah, or Kwanzaa), and Christmas becomes becomes New Year's and New Year's becomes Valentine's Day and Valentine's Day becomes Easter (or Passover), and Easter (or Passover) becomes Memorial Day, and Memorial Day becomes The Fourth of July, and The Fourth of July becomes Labor Day, and Labor Day becomes Halloween, and then it is November and you find yourself saying, where did its thirty days go?

AFTER YOU HAVE WATCHED THE LEAVES TURN AND HAVE TIME,  I'd like to hear your thoughts which you may share via the "comments field" below. If you are new to posting this type of thing, you may click here for directions.

The Lighting of the Actinida Kolomikta and Actimidia (Kiwi Vines) Soirée: Alternative to Crowded Tree and Menorah Lighting Celebrations

Happy December! There are so many celebrations this month, in New York City: many tree and menorah lighting events mark the onset of Advent, Chanukah, and Christmas. This past Friday, November 26th, 2010, the Friday after Thanksgiving, (which I referred to as Blue Friday in a previous post), the South Street Seaport had a ceremony for the lighting of their Christmas Tree beginning at 6:00 PM. The sportscaster, Jill Martin, played hostess to the festivities, which included a marching band from Brooklyn, characters from the Big Apple Circus, and jolly old Saint Nick. I'm told that Saint Nick posed for photos at no charge while performers who included Darlene Love and The Big Apple Chorus sang traditional holiday songs; and they were even joined by Rudolph (with his nose oh-so-bright) as well as Frosty The Snowman.

If you missed the pomp and circumstance, there is still time to enjoy the tree, which is located at Old Fulton Street amongst the history-filled "community" of the Seaport. The tree will be there until December 19th 2010; and there will be story-time with Santa as well as performances by the singing Christmas tree. Meanwhile you can see the South Street Seaport's tree and the festivities from the ceremony by clicking here.



Additionally, two days ago, on the Monday after Thanksgiving, there was a tree lighting ceremony at Lincoln Square, which is very close to where I live. It is the tree lighting ceremony that normally takes place at  the famous Lincoln Center, but because Lincoln Center is still undergoing renovation, Lincoln Square has been hosting it. Even though I live close to these locations, I don't usually navigate the crowds of people who clamor to see it — although that crowd is not nearly as thick as the one who went to see last night's tree lighting at Rockefeller Center , where tens of thousands of people came to view it —waiting over six hours to catch a glimpse of the "turning-on" of the tree's 33,000-plus lights.

I am not as Bah-Humbug as I sound, I have my own lighting ceremony — in my urban garden — with friends as we enjoy a Vertical Vodka (distilled in France) on the rocks with a splash — just a splash — of cranberry juice, as I "light" the bare, heavily textured branches of my once leaf-filled Kiwi Vines. Perhaps you recall the Kiwi Vines' magnificent leaves from a previous post. 

Now that the luscious leaves have all fallen, preparing for the return to Mother Earth until the spring, I am left with their gorgeous branches twisting and turning around the rail that encloses my roof extension garden. In honor of these lovely branches, I host my Kiwi Vine lighting soirée, the branches and the lights complimenting each other in the wee hours of the night.

Chanukah begins tonight, and there will be a menorah lighting ceremony on Sunday, December 5th 2010 at 59th Street and Fifth Avenue in New York City, at the southern most point of Central Park. The menorah to be lit is 32 feet and sufganiyot (holiday jelly donuts) and hot Latkes (potato pancakes) are promised, my Kiwi Vine's branches beckon me to stay home and write my Advent, Christmas and Chanukah cards.

I hope you will consider reaching out to those near and dear (and even not so dear) to you with a handwritten holiday correspondence, and I invite you to look at my selections of event program covers, invitations and greeting cards for these seasons via my web-site where purchase information is also available. Meanwhile, enjoy the sight of decorations wherever you may live, and remember to enjoy the various branches too.

Chekov's Olga Seregeyevna Prozoro and me. Remembering my father's last days.

Following up to yesterday's post, I will tell you that my father did not leave the hospital on the "Monday after Thanksgiving," as he had hoped to do, which is indicated in the audio playing during the video clip in that post. Instead he was still in the hospital on the "Monday after Thanksgiving" and declining quickly. He died a week after that Thanksgiving — November the 30th, fifteen years ago today at 7:35 AM, due to complications with septic shock.


The year he died, Thanksgiving Day was November 23rd. He had evidently recorded a tape (that is being played in the movie-clip in yesterday's post) on the eve of that Thanksgiving, November 22nd — the day Kennedy was assassinated thirty-two years prior — as I recalled in an earlier entry.

My father had been in the hospital due to consequences brought on by severe emphysema, which was caused by his intense Pall Mall cigarette smoking. Although he had quit smoking a few years prior to his death, his wife continued to smoke. He insisted her second hand-smoke did not bother him, and even through his wheezing, as he was declining severely in health, he joked that when he died, the tobacco industry would raise the price of cigarettes in a phenomenal way, saying they would begin to miss his revenue.
My father may not have been prophetic about the doctors having him out of the hospital the Monday after Thanksgiving; but he was right on the mark about the rising costs of cigarettes. I am a non-smoker, but am very conscious of cigarette prices because I live in New York City, where our Mayor Bloomberg has not only managed to raise the taxes and costs on cigarettes; he has banned them from restaurants and bars stating that secondhand smoke contributes to high rates of asthma and cancer while poisoning the air. Bloomberg' latest attempt on banning smoking is to disallow it in parks, beaches, and even in Times Square. All of these actions by Bloomberg make me think of my father's "prophecy" regarding cigarettes — even though it has been fifteen years since he died; survived by his wife, her children, a brother, a sister, an adopted son, my mother (his first wife), and my two sisters and me.

The loss of my father through this horrific death still resonates for me, although I am not certain how much it reverberates in my sisters' lives. The last time we were together as three sisters (I have seen them both separately on many occasions since that day) was when we were all gathered in the intensive care waiting room — pulling "all-nighters" —  and going into his hospital room to see him one at a time — even though he was hooked up to tubes and the only way we knew he was alive was by the monitor in his hospital room.

I was the last one in the room before he died and I told him, "I'll be OK," and the monitor instantly went blank. His wife had left earlier to go their house to get some rest. Upon being informed that my father had died, she was furious that he had passed away without her being by his side. Later she begrudgingly handed my sisters and me copies of the tape he had made the last week of his life (which plays in the clip in yesterday's blog entry).

Today, as I recall the day my father died, I think of the character, Olga Seregeyevna Prozo (Olya), one of three sisters from Anton Chekhov's play, Three Sisters. As you may know, this play begins with Olga speaking to one of her her sisters saying, "Father died a year ago today. May fifth, your saint's day, Irina. It was cold and snowing; I don't know where I found the strength to get through that day."

As for me, I found the strength to get through 'that' day of my father's death by prayer, Alprazolam (a  form of Xanax), and a stiff cocktail, though not necessarily in that order. My father's death should not have been such a loss to me that November of 1995, a week after Thanksgiving. For my father as I knew him on a Thanksgiving in 1963, when I was a child (depicted in the photograph at the top of this post), the Thanksgiving after  John F. Kennedy had been assassinated, had died long ago, when he left our family that following year. And as for my sisters, if they are reflecting on my father's death perhaps they are like Olga's sisters — for when Olga recalls their father's death, her sister replies, "Why think about it?"

Why think about it? To mourn? To relive? To rewrite family history? May all my readers be blessed with any needed consolation over a lost loved one, as each one of us moves into the holiday season. I'd like to second what my father said in that tape he recorded eight days before his dying day: "I want to wish everyone a lot of love at this time of year."

The Monday after Thanksgiving

My father can be seen in this photograph playing the frying pan. His brothers are accompanying him with their instruments. Perhaps those earlier musical endeavors gave my father his apparent "love" for pop music. Most people when recalling my father's antics will remember him for having his own takes on "Top-40" music hits. For example, with the song, "I Never Promised You a Rose Garden," the lyrics go,"I beg your pardon, I never promised you a rose garden . . ." but my father's take on it was,"I beg your pardon, I never farted in your rose garden . . ." 

As for the once-upon-a-time hit song,"Bad Moon Rising," the lyric-line is,"There'a a bad moon on the rise". My father's version? "There's a bathroom on the right." And with Paul McCartney's, Band on the Run, where the lyric-line,"band on the run" repeats over and over again, my father's rendition was,"band with the runs."



My father's sense of humor, and apparent relationship with songs, remained with him throughout his life. Even at the very bitter end, when he had hoped to be out of a hospital where he had been for treatment due to severe consequences of emphysema, he recorded a tape giving Louis Armstrong "a run for his money".  In the tape, my father expresses what the doctors had hoped to do: have him out of the hospital the Monday after Thanksgiving. Sadly that was not to be, as he was still in the hospital the "Monday after Thanksgiving" and declining quickly: dying that week after Thanksgiving instead.

On this 2010 Monday after Thanksgiving's post, in honor of my father, I have added some lyrics from a song to  the tape which he recorded on November the twenty-second of 1995, on which date John F. Kennedy had been assassinated thirty two years prior.

How was your Thanksgiving? — Blue Friday. "We all have our private hell . . ."

It is Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving when many people do their holiday shopping. As I ask various people, "How was your Thanksgiving?," some of the answers make me think it is really Blue Friday — as in feeling blue. An owner of a wine shop told me "at least mine wasn't with any family . . ."  These words prompted me to recall a Johnny Carson quote: "Thanksgiving is a time when you get together with family or friends that you usually see once a year and discover why you only see each other once a year."

I can understand the wine shop owner's sentiments. Once upon a time I had those myself, but, thankfully  I don't feel that way anymore. However, I have survived some angst filled family Thanksgivings. The photo at the top of this post was one such Thanksgiving — the Thanksgiving after John F. Kennedy was assassinated six days prior (which I blogged about in a previous post). A difficult Thanksgiving for the world, for our nation, and obviously for the Kennedy family. As for my family's Thanksgiving that year preserved in this photo, I can be seen sitting to the far right of this photograph. It was probably the last Thanksgiving celebrated at my house with my father before he moved away, and on that day my parents were arguing as usual. In the photo posted above, I am staring at them arguing off-camera while my sisters (seen to the left of me) are throughly engrossed in their Thanksgiving dinner. Both of them were always better at focusing on themselves and what they needed to be doing, while I was not one to accept things easily.



Still there is much to be thankful for on Thanksgiving and always. I spent this one with a dear friend who has MS, and her friend who has Alzheimer's Disease was also there. Both women are in wheelchairs.  It really puts things in perspective. This is not to diminish the pain that occurs within families or friendships. As an employer of my mother's told her during one of her crying spells over my father's leaving, "Sally, we all have our private hell." 

And so we do, but we have our private and public heaven too, and I hope your Thanksgiving was the beginning of many blessings. With that, I'll leave you to view three images of my Thanksgiving-themed black and white photographs which can also be viewed in the print collection via my web-site where they are available to purchase.

What Scarecrows Teach About Thanksgiving

I caught a glimpse of the scarecrows pictured above as they were relaxing. They had done their job for the year: watching the fields of crops that provide people everywhere with bountiful harvests at Thanksgiving and always. They are smart, these scarecrows; even though a famous one vowed that he "didn't have a brain." The scarecrows are smart because they know they need their 'comrades' to do a good job and to enjoy life, as these two appear to be doing.

Today, on this celebration of Thanksgiving, may you be blessed with the insight of knowing how we all need each other; it is the wisdom imparted to everyone from beloved scarecrow in  The Wizard of Oz. So have a happy Thanksgiving Holiday, and as you reflect on people in your life, think about sending them a card in the next coming days to let them know they mean something to you. I have designed perfect cards for sending such a message. Each one of my cards is about more than communication, and far more personal than sending an "E" card. You can view my selections via the store-front pages of my web-site where purchase information is also available. Have a Blessed Thanksgiving.

The Coming Week: Recalling November 22nd

In a couple of days it will be November 22nd, a significant date in the minds of people of a certain age who will often recall what they were doing on that  particular day in 1963, when they first heard the news that President John F. Kennedy had been shot.


I had stayed home from elementary school that day and was watching As the World Turns (ATWT) with my mother. My mother identified with Lisa, one of the main characters who was a divorcee. At that time, I did not know that my mother would become a divorcee, but I should have surmised this might happen, with all of the arguments that occurred between my mother and father.


In any event, on that November 22nd in 1963, my mother and I were watching ATWT (a You Tube Video of this can be seen below) and listening to the characters, Nancy and Grandpa, discuss their Thanksgiving plans —while my mother fretted about how we'd spend ours. Suddenly the television program was interrupted,

with a special report that President John Fitzgerald Kennedy had been shot. From that point on the television would be filled with scenes from the motor-cade in which Kennedy had been riding, the subsequent shooting of his assumed assassin, Harvey Oswald, and of course the funeral. However, when I first heard the news on November 22nd 1963, I wondered what was happening at school. I was one of two students in my class of thirty pupils, whose parents did not support JFK. A few years prior, in 1960,  Kennedy had campaigned heavily in Carpentersville, the town in the Fox River Valley where I went to grade school, so I was well aware of my parents' political beliefs.
Their beliefs were no secret to my classmates or teachers either, mostly due to the fact that my father was president of the school board. The area where we lived was a Northwest suburb of Chicago, and during the years Kennedy was running for office our community's votes were crucial to his winning the presidency. My father had refused to go and see Kennedy at our local shopping center in spite of the fact that people clamored to attend.



Now, hearing the news that John F. Kennedy had been shot, as I sat on a plastic couch with my mother, I was somewhat grateful to be out of school. Often the teachers and other students blamed me for my father's strict views, and I certainly did not want any back-lash on such a sad day for our nation. However, on another level, I felt at a loss sitting there with my mother. I longed to share my grief and fears with others and to also find comfort, but that was not to be because from the moment the ATWT's fictional characters, Nancy and Grandpa, had their conversation interrupted with Walter Cronkite's Special Report, I began to assume the role of my mother's comforter which I eluded to in a previous post. She became my child.


Unfortunately, I spent far too many years looking for someone to fill her role, but thankfully have been long healed of that trauma. I ultimately moved to New York City —and even appeared on ATWT in the role of a cop. I did not enjoy the 'on-camera' experiences of the entertainment industry, as I preferred the behind-the-scenes activities which led me to endeavors in photo-art and writing.

In a book-art course, I had the assignment of taking "an existing book and turning it into a personal statement." This is an assignment I invite my readers to try if they are so inclined. As for me, I chose P.D. Eastman's book, Are You my Mother?; and embedded one of my mother's childhood photographs in the cover, and placed the words "Adventures in Self-Reliance" underneath it  which can be seen in the image posted below:

I now do custom books for others, going over photographs of various clients and finding books to 'match' a 'message' or 'feeling' my client wants to convey. If you would like to order one please leave me a comment (this feature will be enabled on November 23rd 2010), or send me an email via my contact information which is listed in both my on-line brochure and on my web-site.


My fulfilling an assignment of rendering Eastman's book into "something else" was to depict that time during my childhood years when I experienced many losses: the death of President John F. Kennedy, the loss of having my father move out of the house before the end of the following year, and most of all losing my mother as I knew her, prior to the day she left mentally, on November 22, 1963.

Voilà! It's Nouveau Beaujolais Day! Sarmentelles and Thanksgiving

During Thanksgiving time, I appreciate the shapes and textures of the gourds that enhance my urban garden's environment during this time of year, as seen in this photograph posted above of an assortment of gourds (from the greenmarket), which have been placed in an old wire "shopping basket" propped up against a planter and alongside my Juncus effusus (Juncaceae or Unicorn Soft Rush). The Juncus' playful spirally foliage is always a welcome texture in my garden (as seen below),

and texture is something I discussed in a previous post, Celebrating Texture . Meanwhile, as if giving a standing ovation to the beauty of November,  . . . my 'Tamuekyam's' leaves (seen below)

seem to know their textures and colors are much appreciated — especially at Thanksgiving. I referred to my Acer palmatum var. dissectum 'Tamukeyam' in  a previous post back in August when its leaves were burgundy, which was lovely too.

However, I often honor and preserve these November moments in nature, by rendering images I take of them into unique invitations (that are suitable to invite dear ones for any gathering to celebrate Thanksgiving), as well as  a selection of greeting cards that are perfect for sending to friends or family, to show your appreciation for the meaning they bring to your life. My client, Donna Wandrey (mentioned in a previous post), did this when she purchased some of  my large wrap-around card selections to honor her friends at Thanksgiving. Her selections included Late Autumn and Hiker's Paradise, pictured below:

These selections can be viewed more closely and purchased in the card-shop pages on my web-site, which you can access here and you may also download a paper-brochure by clicking on this text. As always, my cards are blank inside, leaving you the freedom to write your own message, but in case you are feeling a bit dry in inspiration, here are a  couple of quotes you could write inside one of my cards, such as Ralph Waldo Emerson's:

"For flowers that bloom about our feet;

 For tender grass, so fresh, so sweet:

 For song of bird, and hum of bee;

 For all things fair we hear or see;

 Father in heaven, we thank thee!"

Or Irving Berlin's, "Got no check books, got no banks. Still I'd like to express my thanks - I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night."

Then again, my selections of  invitations and cards are not limited to Thanksgiving. They are special enough to use for a number of late autumn occasions. For example, today is Beaujolais Nouveau Day. All over France, grand traditions have been developed in honor of the release of the much anticipated Nouveau Beaujolais wine — which occurs every year on the third Thursday of November at 12:01 AM.  When the strike of midnight occurs, France explodes with celebrations, with the biggest one taking place in Beaujeu, the capital of the Beaujolais region, with a spectacular soiree called Sarmentelles. Beaujolais should be consumed by Christmas time. Celebrating its arrival with friends is a great way to bid adieu to the last of the last Fall temperatures.


If you didn't make it to France during this time to attend the Sarmentelles, and won't be there in the coming days to catch other Beaujolais celebrations, and you are a gardener, or someone who appreciates the outdoors, why not invite friends (using my invitations) and host your soirée own Samentelles to honor the wine, and to enjoy the remaining traces of Autumn's  colors and textures?

Celebrating Texture

Since last Saturday's posting of honoring the days of November and beyond, I've been reminded that November is the month of remembrance that began with All Saints Day on November first. This feast day is followed by the solemn celebration of All Souls' Day on November second, and for the remaining days of November, special homages are made for all who have died. "Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted," is a consolation of November. With it getting dark earlier due to going back to "standard" time, and the apparent focus on the dead, it is good to recall that November is a textured month, and so while people honor the dead during this time, it is also a month very much intended to remember the living.

In New York City, one of the celebrations that exemplifies this is held on the first Sunday (tomorrow) of the month, when runners from all around the world come to run the New York City Marathon. This year 43,000 are expected to partake, including Edison Peña, the twelfth miner to be rescued after spending sixty-nine days trapped in a mine that had collapsed in San Jose Chili. From what I understand, Peña has said that when he was trapped in the mine, waiting to be rescued, he ran six miles a day — with a heavy object — to show God how much he wanted to stay alive, certainly a tribute to remembering the living.  I also understand that Peña ran with an i-Pod listening to Elvis Presley tunes. Peña seems far from being some one who was "all shook up" ! 

I look forward to hearing how Peña fares in the Marathon, but, confess that I will hibernate at home and have my own marathon (with the various projects that have been piling up on my desk), until the New York City one is completed. Since the finish-line is in my neighborhood, the throngs of people who come to see  the race's finish-line can be overwhelming - even on a cold November day. I understand that the colder November temperatures are good for runners.

For me from an urban gardener's point of view, the colder temperatures of November provide a time to celebrate and honor my garden's textures. I love and appreciate the colors provided by spring, summer, and fall; but as my plants, shrubs, and herbs (as well as some of my trees), will be dying back for the impending winter season, now is the time to celebrate the textures of my garden. Every plant has its own individual texture and pattern. These sometimes get overlooked when my garden has its magnificent color.  I am paying homage to the glorious textures by creating photographic garden images that are based in black and white tones. 

Having shot Black and White photography, and gone through the process of printing my work in a darkroom in years gone by, I have been left with a need to embrace the beauty of texture. I look forward to producing a line of invitations, event program covers, and greeting cards that give homage to this aspect of nature as I have done in the photograph, Pyracantha coccinea, (posted at the top of this entry). This shrub is one of my garden favorites and the black and white tones of the photograph show off its array of textures.

My experience as a black and white photographer, which I have blogged about in two previous posts titled Jennifer and Felix as well as Thanksgiving in Riverdale, inspired my first collection of cards. This Black and White greeting card collection can be seen on my web-site (where you can also view my Black and White original prints). 

Thanksgiving in Riverdale

My being a photo-artist is very surprising to some, given the limitations of my eye-sight, so, I'm using this posting on my blog as an opportunity to offer some information about how I've adapted cameras and darkroom equipment to create some of the images that are posted on my web-site and to offer some of my perspective on photography.

My first formal endeavor as a photo-artist was a number of years ago when I pursued many aspects of Black and White photography. Much of the back story on these efforts can be heard in the interview with Karen Ingenthron Lewis that I spoke about in my January 6th posting, where I mentioned that it can be heard on my web-site.

Since Karen singled out certain photographic works of mine (prints and greeting cards that are on my web-site), to discuss for interview purposes, and you can hear about them on the link posted on this blog or go to my web-site and download it, I will blog here about a few of the images she did not cover. I must confess that I do not like to talk about how I've created a print or why the composition has been rendered in a certain way in a given print. I feel too much information spoils the magic of not knowing. I think having knowledge of many specific details of a given work of art can interfere with the relationship a viewer has with the art work. Consider the photo posted below:

We know there is an elderly woman seated at a table. Is it for dinner? Brunch? We can assume it is probably not breakfast; because candles have been lit, and on the opposite side of the candles someone is drinking what appears to be wine from a goblet (though you can have wine at breakfast or you can drink juice from a goblet and perhaps the candles are lit because the electricity has gone out).We know it is probably in someone's home because of the detail near the ceiling, but it could be taking place at a restaurant made to look like a home. We don't know anything for certain, and by not knowing, we can create our own story — until we notice the title of the image - which viewers often use to search for a clue. Because this image was being considered for publication, the jurors of the competition insisted that I give it a title. I ultimately received the honor (hopefully for the print, not the title).
The title I gave it  was Thanksgiving in Riverdale. By giving it this title, the viewer knows the occasion, but this is more information than I wanted to offer. Perhaps I could've called it Celebrating, and since we all have friends, and have sat at common tables for a meal in honor of a celebration, this title might have let the viewer create the time and place of the occasion in their mind, and own the celebration. After all, the graininess of the photo allows for enough distortion of details to permit viewers to fill in their own information.

So there you have it, my reason for not wanting to go into too many details surrounding a piece of my art-work: I prefer the idea that I am stretching someone’s imagination; but often publications, or gallery curators, and even friends, want explanations or titles, which I feel can be limiting.