Musings

Art Collectors...

in

On this quiet Monday morning, I sit on my deck, watching hummingbirds, and thinking about my weekend spent at an art show in the old New England summer enclave Nonquitt.  Over the three day of this event I saw friends I hadn’t seen for many years, played several rounds of “you look so familiar” and met many new folks.  None of that was unusual. 

The totally unexpected gift of the weekend was having children as customers. Two young girls, unrelated as far as I could tell, each picked out the same image of purple pink petals. They were immediate and unwavering about their selection and very much the decision makers in the transaction, knowing exactly where my image would live in their personal space.  I had been prepared with my lines and stories for adults, but never before considered that children as young as seven would be art buyers.  What a treat!

_PurplePeakPetal.jpg

My photographs are all stories, tales of a world stopped for the fractional moment of a shutter click.  They speak of mood, form, feeling, tone and color, but that is not all.  Images are like book covers, an invitation to journey into another world, a journey that often leads to yet more words and images.  I love sharing that journey and thanks to my iphone I was able to show each of these girls the backstory of their chosen image -- of the Mexican celebration of Carnaval and the women who make these beautiful paper flowers.

Was it the journalist in me, the teacher, or a latent grandparent need that took such great pleasure in watching their faces as they saw the story on my iphone?  I don’t know the answer to the question, but I do know it was the most unexpected delight of the weekend and has set my mind wondering about education, class, privilege and the magic of art.

 

Beginnings...again

in ,

For two and half years, my trusty Nikon digital SLR has been a steady companion, adding a familiar weight to my "go everywhere bag."​  But for the last three weeks my buddy has been off in a New Jersey camera hospital being repaired.  And delighted as I am with the iphone camera, it is great to have my D500 back.  At daybreak, I returned to the same place I took my first photos with this camera and focusing only on the sunrise's shifting colors of black, orange, pink and blue, I shut out the cruelty of this weeks events.

_Anthony Sunrise-_DSC0052.jpg

Home Again

in ,

The sound of seagulls tells me I am home again.  The feel of salt air carried on Atlantic breezes makes my face sing and my curls "sprungle" again.  This late winter palette of ocean blue and deeply etched gray also holds  the bleached golden color of overwintered grasses and just the faintest hint of the purples and greens waiting just below the surface.   In this northern latitude the promise of a long dawn and lingering dusk feels like a tease as the clouds roll in.  But when the sky clears the magic of the long low arcing light makes me smile.​

Bad Hair Day

in ,

This door art is just across the street Andre's on Hernandez Macias.  It was probably there before Andre moved his salon across the street, but you have to wonder about how the universe works.  And by the way, if you have curly hair, Andre is the guy you want to see.

bad hair day door art_SMA5-2-Edit.jpg

Color Wheel Studies

in

I came to San Miguel with lots of projects to work on.  While most of them are still on the list, it has been a very productive time studying the work of photographers and artists who inspire me to try new things.  The other day, while working on some abstract images I realized I needed a better understanding of color theory.  That got me looking at the color wheel.  The next time I went out with my camera, all I saw was color wheel opposites....

Presidential Pie

in

There is a rule of thumb when shopping for "gringo" products in San Miguel - buy it when you see it, because it probably will not be there the next time.  When I found this ready made graham cracker crust in a little grocery I snagged it for the dessert I was supposed to bring to dinner the next night. 

Since my Spanish is still not terrific and google translate often makes bad translations, I decided to snap a photo of it so I could show it to a clerk in the future.  Through the lens, it suddenly became apparent that I had an O BAMA pie....

Wine Merchandising - San Miguel Style

in ,

The corollary to you never know what is behind the closed doors of San Miguel is that what was there yesterday, could be very different tomorrow.  With great regularity businnesses change locations, restaurants move and yesterday's clothing shop is today's yogurt store.  I don't remember what was in the new upscale wine shop I passed yesterday, but I will not forget the truly Mexican kind of merchandising.

 

Spanish – Norwegian Style

in

I never would have figured on the Norwegian language being part of my daily life in Mexico, but recently it has. Under the best of circumstances, remembering Spanish verb conjugations is a challenge.  Since I much prefer couches to hard classroom seats, one of the least painful Spanish refreshers for me is watching American TV shows with subtitles. However, it doesn’t take long before Law and Order dialog begins to sound the same from show to show.  Happily we found all of the episodes of Medium available on Netflix with Spanish subtitles.  Although the story line is totally unreal, the family life is absolutely real and the sentences far more complex.  After one season, I was getting pretty good at recognizing those past and imperative forms.

The next challenge was Lilihammer, a series staring Steve Van Zandt, one of Tony Soprano’s capos. Van Zandt plays a New York mafioso who testifies against his bosses in exchange for witness protection in Lilihammer, Norway. He figures nobody who wants him dead will be looking in lily white Lilihammer. When the story shifts to Norway, Van Zandt continues to speak in English, with an occasional word of Norwegian, but 90% of the Norwegian actors speak Norwegian and they have alot to say. Unfortuately neither of us understands a word of Norwegian.  Finally, duh, it occurred to us to turn on subtitles, but on Mexican Netflix there are no English subtitles, only Spanish or Brazilian Portuguese.  So night school sessions now involve listening to Norwegian, reading Spanish, and watching this Mafioso guy build a new cosa nostra in Lillyhammer.  A global education….. 

Lovely but Lethal

in ,

These beautiful stone pavers are an iconic part of the San Miguel charm.  The volcanic rock of many colors makes for a narrow, often colorful variegated sidewalks.  However, when it rains, they become slick and lethal. After every rain, I find myself walking ever so carefully - constantly reminding myself to attend to every footfall, lest I spend the remainder of my time here in an epic orthopedic adventure.

Like A Cat Chasing Her Tail

in ,

When I realized how many of our old family images were fading and getting stuck in plastic albums I decided that creating books the next generatrion from digitized image needed to move up on my priority list.  So I brought a large number of scanned images to work on here in Mexico.  I figured if I did some photoshop retouching every day it wouldn't be too overwhelming.

However, within a few days of arriving in San Miguel when, off I went to a class on photo transfer where I learned how to make a perfectly good reproduction look textured and worn.  My head is spinning with new ideas, but I do feel a bit like a cat chasing her tail.

Nannette on a tyvek envelop

Reboot

in

For the first time in way too long, I was out
in the early morning light, watching the
perfect reflections of herons fishing in the
salt marsh and the dancing eddies of the
incoming tide.  After so much time spent this summer with Fabulous Fins, all sold on the Art Drive auction, it is a relief to be viewing real jumping fish from afar and not on my computer screen. 

Now, after a wonderfully successful Art drive, I am ready to reorganize and to begin thinking about the next images and adventures.  Harbingers of the coming autumn are beginning to appear.

And swirling around in the place of unconscious creativity are shiny moving fish with hummingbird cohorts….hmmmmm

 

Musings on Super Bowl Sunday

in

Twenty six years ago, Superbowl Sunday was on the last Sunday of January and  the Patriots were playing.   Although I am hardly a football fan, I know  because it was the day of our daughter’s naming ceremony.  

We were out on the deck after the ceremony enjoying a sunny Oakland winter afternoon- clear skies and 72 degrees- when I noticed that my darling infant daughter was looking red.  I had her all swaddled in blankets like my mother taught me and my poor baby was roasting.  New England child rearing practices needed a bit of an adjustment for Pacific breezes.

Now a quarter century later - Amelia is on her way to watch the game with friends in downtown Boston and I am in the central highlands of Mexico. In a few minutes I will take my apple cobbler around the corner and watch the game with former Bostonians…