Journey to Sweden
Almost two weeks spent traveling through Sweden in the company of my mama, here is a sampling of my images paired with my mother’s photographs from her tenure in Stockholm in 1981 and slides from my great Aunts Hup and Marg’s visit in 1964.
Almost two weeks spent traveling through Sweden in the company of my mama, here is a sampling of my images paired with my mother's photographs from her tenure in Stockholm in 1981 and slides from my great Aunts Hup and Marg's visit in 1964.
It was a beautiful journey, heavy with meaning and memory. We frequented many museums, cafes, used book stores, and vintage shops. Explored the country by train and on foot, from Stockholm to Dalarna to Malmo and back again. I took hundreds of photographs, made sketches, and collected a plethora of ephemera ranging from old naval brochures to cocktail napkins to flower petals. With these artifacts, I am currently working on a special art book project that examines our relationship to this country that was home to a familial branch three generations back and that we keep returning to. For now, though, here is a scrapbook of sorts...
A Tahoe 4th
The 4th of July was upon us. And our dormant rural parts were suddenly awoken and demanded recharging. So, we took our maiden voyage to Lake Tahoe.
The 4th of July was upon us. And our dormant rural parts were suddenly awoken and demanded recharging. So, we took our maiden voyage to Lake Tahoe.
Holiday gridlock in 105 degree temperatures, two nights of camping, one epic hike to peer into Nevada from the south of Lake Tahoe, and one runaway truck ramp. The trip was an incontestable success.
Ghost Town Farm Stand
With our favorite urban farm bursting at the seams with a beautiful bounty, the Ghost Town Farm Stand has been revived!
With our favorite urban farm bursting at the seams with a beautiful bounty, the Ghost Town Farm Stand has been revived!
In conjunction with Oakland's First Friday / Art Murmur festivities just blocks away, writer / neighbor Novella Carpenter has been opening up her one-woman urban farm operation, Ghost Town Farm, to visitors. (Past posts about the farm can be seen here and here.) The first go around featured freshly harvested veggies, t-shirts, Novella's books, as well as a dramatic honey extraction demonstration. Perhaps the most amazing part of the demo was witnessing the bees that got stuck in the honey resurrect after our local bee-expert Emma carefully fished them out of each jar. Nectar of the gods!Some photos documenting this season's first farm stand are below.To learn more about Ghost Town Farm / find out about the next farm stand, visit Novella's blog.
(And here is a link to Novella's post about this summer's farm stands, featuring my photos!)
Emak Bakia
I find that periodic doses of surrealist art are quite healthful. It helps keep my pragmatism in check, which can sometimes reach dastardly levels that threaten the art.
I find that periodic doses of surrealist art are quite healthful. It helps keep my pragmatism in check, which can sometimes reach dastardly levels that threaten the art
.This latest infusion of surrealism into my life could not have arrived at a better time. Various projects have wound themselves into awkward, wrenching stalls, and self-doubt was becoming rife. In a recent interview, author Claire Messud articulated something that has gnawed at me since art school and was starting to reach a fever pitch in my thinking: "...the choices that are necessary to make art...are choices to make something that doesn't exist, that no body needs. ... People might be glad you made it once you made it, but before you made it, it doesn't exist. So what's the point?"
And then Surrealism waltzes in, an arrogant and self-affirming partner-in-crime. This angst about creating isn't even worth a dismissive nod. Of course one must create -- of course this world needs more art! Chance, imagination, irrationality, humor -- the salt of life.
Enter Emak-Bakia at the on-going San Francisco International Film Festival. Through "The Search for Emak Bakia," another life is breathed into Man Ray's 1926 cine-poem when Basque filmmaker Oskar Alegria sets out to unravel Man Ray's use of the title phrase, which translates to "leave me alone" in Basque. Through a messy yet beautiful copulation of journalistic intent and surrealist chance, the film proceeds with the most liberal definition of an objective.
La casa Emak Bakia, un film de oskar alegria. from oskar alegria on Vimeo.
This film was thoughtfully recommended to me with my still fermenting Sweden journey project in mind. And, indeed!, it is wonderful fodder while working through the various motivations / objectives / plans for documentation for such a endeavor. Both projects take the form of a journey through travel and time. We cobble together our paths through an artifact-montage of our predecessors' the journeys. We set out with vaguely held objectives, striving to remain open to chance. (Often despite "better" judgement.) And I think that my journey will be all the richer thanks to the work of Alegria.
Madame Nola
The wonderful opportunity to spend a few days in New Orleans recently arose, and it was with great pleasure that I loaded up a small backpack and headed back east. Springtime in the Crescent City meant that the lush greens were accented by blooming flowers, we saw some mild rain storms, and the air was fresh rather than thick.
The wonderful opportunity to spend a few days in New Orleans recently arose, and it was with great pleasure that I loaded up a small backpack and headed back east. Springtime in the Crescent City meant that the lush greens were accented by blooming flowers, we saw some mild rain storms, and the air was fresh rather than thick.
I was there in the company of my mother and my aunt, the two originators of the Paws tale. So, we had lots of stories to swap and news to share about our favorite rabbit family. We also took the opportunity to explore an extension of the Mama Series. Tentatively titled Mama Nola, we wandered through the French Quarter in the early morning hours and took a plethora of images with some old family texts as the props in this storied city. (A preparatory reading of Andrei Codrescu's collection of stories about his adopted city of New Orleans, "Mon Amour," gave me a great appreciation for the special place of literature here.)
My hope for the Mama Series is to someday print each series using different methods of old (photogravure, cynaotype, etc.). The idea first came from a dear photographer friend who hails from New Orleans herself, and it is an exciting prospect that is gaining in popularity in certain circles. But for now, the focus shall remain on the picture making and explorations that go hand-in-hand with that wonderful process. And New Orleans has, unsurprisingly, proved a futile land for such wanderings.
Ghost Town Farms: March
Here’s the latest report on our progress at the neighborhood urban farm!
Here's the latest report on our progress at the neighborhood urban farm!March was a busy month, with the most notable development being a hard fought battle to cut through some serious concrete to make holes for fruit trees. My own part in the process was limited to clearing dirt to get to the concrete floor and shifting out rocks after the jackhammer did its work, which suited me just fine!We were rained out of our regular Thursday work session today, so instead let us reflect on the progress and know those newly installed fruit trees are enjoying their showers. (Photos of those to follow in the next batch.)To learn more about Ghost Town Farms and its farmer Novella Carpenter, visit her blog here!
Springtime Camping Excursion
We’ve picked up a new hobby, which is giving rise to more travel photographs: camping. First experienced on our journey cross country to our new lives in California, it is now our main vehicle for getting to know this enormous state.
We've picked up a new hobby, which is giving rise to more travel photographs: camping. First experienced on our journey cross country to our new lives in California, it is now our main vehicle for getting to know this enormous state.
For this month's excursion, we set off for the central coast and got lucky with two great campsites. The first was at Montana de Oro, where we were serenaded by the crashing waves throughout the night. From there, we headed back north to an amazing 2,600 ft. perch at Henry W. Coe State Park over looking the Santa Clara Valley.
I won't bore you with photos of our tent or the dog chasing a tennis ball at a Morro Bay beach. However, when we were en route between our two encampments, we drove through some sublime green farmlands bathed in a beautiful morning sun. Here are few snapshots from that drive...
Ghost Town Farms
The first set of photographs documenting this season's growth at Ghost Town Farms
The first set of photographs documenting this season's growth at Ghost Town Farms.
Well before our eyes turned West, I came across Novella Carpenter's book "Farm City: The Education of an Urban Farmer" in the New York Times. A story of one woman's adventure turning an unused lot into a working farm (livestock and all) in inner city Oakland, I gifted it to a foodie friend from the Bay Area. While I had it tucked onto my own "to-read" list, I never got around to it. Until we were slated to be neighbors.What an amazing coincidence that the apartment we secured upon moving to the East Bay was just a block away from Novella's urban farm! While we waited for our move-in date to arrive, I got my hands on my own copy of her book and loved it.
After we moved in, I would walk the dog past her fence and peer in to catch a glimpse of the honey bees and see what she might be growing. It was December, though, and even in California things were in repose. One day, she happened to be outside digging away with her daughter when I was walking the pup, and I introduced myself through the fence.It's essentially springtime now in Oakland, and Novella has begun holding regular farm work days on Thursdays. (3-5p, here's her blog if ya wanna join!) As we work to transform the plot into this year's incarnation of Ghost Town Farms, Novella has kindly allowed me to document the process. So, here's the first installation!
Mae Ella | Sverige
On the occasion of an anniversary, retracing the origins of a still gestating project.
On the occasion of an anniversary, retracing the origins of a still gestating project.
One year ago, we kissed good-bye my beautiful grandmother, Mae Ella (Carlson) King. She was 91-years-old and had been living independently in the home that she and my grandfather built until a few days earlier. It was a sunny winter morning, and she pulled her car out of her driveway onto the two lane rural highway and into the path of an oncoming bus. No one else was injured, but the accident proved fatal for her.
I could carry on all day about how special my Gamma was. However, what I want to share here is how this tragic event lead has inadvertently led me into a new project that I am just now beginning to shape and form.
The Sverige Project
While going through her house, we came across three small slide boxes and a stack of neatly typed notes. It was the slide show that my great Aunts Margaret and Alice Alphield assembled after their holiday to their ancestral homeland of Sweden in 1964. It was an impressive archive : the notes detailed and sprinkled with wit, the scenes lovely.
Nearly twenty years after the sisters' journey, my own mother (and Auntie's namesake) studied abroad in Stockholm. And from her tenure, we still hold the small Kodak 3 1/2 " x 4 1/4" snapshots that she took and a thick stack of postcards that she sent home.Perhaps in remembrance of that past generation, but certainly for our own sense of wanderlust/nostalgia/adventure, my mother and I are going to undertake the journey to Sweden together come this late summer.
I hope to bring the ephemera of all three expeditions together into a highly-illustrated text exploring the parallels and divergences of our treks through this loaded landscape. In the meantime, I really need to start learning nagra ord pa svenska.
Se ut for dorrarna, dorrarna stangs!
Murmur Murmur Murmur
I do not know how long it can last, but Oakland’s “Murmur” gallery night is magical. Just a hop-skip-jump from our new home, the galleries along Telegraph’s side streets are so packed that you can hardly see the art. Packed!
I do not know how long it can last, but Oakland's "Murmur" gallery night is magical. Just a hop-skip-jump from our new home, the galleries along Telegraph's side streets are so packed that you can hardly see the art. Packed!
A wonderful problem that has a few solutions: come early or go to the Saturday Art Strolls.
After my first few jaunts, one exhibition has really stuck with me: Ursula Brookbank's She World installation at Krowswork. A few images from the gallery are posted here, but it really was something that needs to be experienced in-person. With only your borrowed flashlight and the lights of your stranger-companions.
This beautiful, haunting work that seems to be getting some nice attention. Here's one piece from the new Art Animal publication.
Feeding in the main artery of Telegraph, the feel is carnival. Rows and rows of food trucks. Flea market bazaar. Live music of every genre. Open bottles and vodka shot hawkers, to say nothing of the ubiquitous aroma of pot.
The moons have somehow aligned in Oakland that a modest gallery night has bloomed into a raucous extravaganza. Mum is not the word.
Heading photo taken at my first Murmur with Artist Jane Norling, contemplating "Embarrassment of Riches" sculpture by Patricia Thomas at SLATE.
Oakland, California
A new year and a new home : Oakland.
A new year and a new home : Oakland.
After spending our collegiate tenure plus that time repeated over in the central New York city of Ithaca, we decided that it was time for a dramatic change. So, we gave up our rural Quonset Hut on twenty acres outside of town and set our sights West. Golden California promised to be enough of change (but not too much) and a significant improvement in climate. We narrowed our target down to the East Bay area, and set off.
After our arrival, we explored the area (walking the dog, talking to bartenders and baristas, consulting other eastern ex-pats), and fell in love with Oakland. Teeming with artists and home to the vibrant Art Murmur scene, the folks we chatted with were all super-excited about their town and all the stuff going on. While many were lifers, we have found no shortage of fellow transplants. Even a few New England Patriots fans.
So, we are now one-month into our residency in Ghost Town, Oakland, California. It's not utopia, but it's home. And we're really happy to call it that.
Westward, ho!
After eight years, it is time to bid Ithaca farewell.
After eight years, it is time to bid Ithaca farewell.Nearly all our possessions are in storage outside LA, and we are undertaking a cross country road trip to begin a new life in California. No jobs, no housing. Just the faithful dog, some borrowed camp gear, and our optimism.It's been real, CNY. See ya out West!
Addendum: some photographs for our journey can be viewed here.