Film shots of Taos back in September— blue skies and winding roads that go on for days. I’ll share more photos from the trip next time.
Over the past year, I worked on two art projects that recently ended and left me wondering what’s next. You’ve likely caught a glimpse of the first, A Year of Us, a 365 day photo project documenting my daily stories, posted here. For the second project, Taos Weirs, Todd Lynch and I created an art installation about the social and geographic impact on ecological communities. Todd wove a fence from native branches and materials (known as Weirs which were historically used for fishing) and I shot a film over the course of a year to document the Eastern woodlands and waterways. One side of the fence was open so you could walk through. The other side displayed the film projection.
We exhibited the installation in two drastically different environments. The first was in Williamsburg, Massachusetts where we received a grant from the MCC to show the installation at Meekins Library with accompanying sketches, models, sculptures, and photographs of the making of the Weirs Project. The second was at the Paseo Art Festival in Taos, New Mexico where the installation held another layer of context within the desert environment. Thanks to all who helped support the Weirs project (including Todd Lynch, Massachusetts Cultural Council, Meekins Library, Taos Paseo, Enos Garcia Elementary School, Taos Land Trust, my Mister and boys) and to those of you who followed along on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook.
Beyond showing my work, I found the daily practice of telling a story in words and images to transform my work the most. Being part of the Paseo in Taos along with a number of gallery shows helped me see a larger vision for new work that includes travel and large format photography. I’ll write more about our New Mexico trip soon.
Until then, wishing you a safe travels. Happy Thanksgiving.
The dream lingered past lunch then faded with the turning season. No school for the day, so both boys came to the grocery store with me. Things were calm to start, singing of course but no screeching or torn kale leaves or squeezed bananas. By the second loop around the store, the muzak and holiday decorations and desire for colored confections completely unnerved them, and the race to gather the last item, a sweet potato was on.
Then one day she looked at her eldest child and recognized the mirror image. Not in all aspects of course. The shape of his face, eyes, chin all matched her own. Beyond the physical similarities, she heard confident intonations in his voice that matched her own when of things she held close, such as books, films, and the merits of pumpkin cheesecake.
Sunday: coffee, yoga, baked pecan pie and made cinnamon vanilla ice cream, walked down to the old school building then the river, listened to the radio: American Routes with Kris Kristofferson on how he wrote Me and Bobby McGee from a title Fred Foster gave him and scenes from Fellini’s movie La Strada.
The kitchen smelled of chocolate and gingerbread. After dinner, we found the flashlight and went for a walk in the pitch dark, though it was only 6 o’clock. We leaned up at the stars on the way back and remembered how the southern sky over Lake Tekapo seemed eight years ago, with L along for the ride.
I took L and J to see the new Peanuts movie date. They laughed the entire night, over pizza and strangers and soap and popcorn. No matter the subject, they turned it into comedy. I looked over at L during the movie. He leaned back into the chair and pushed his dark glasses into place. I felt, as I so often did with him, in complete awe.
The weeping cherry tree out front acted as the focal point, not only for those of us who occupied the house and its surroundings, but for the hill as well and for those who ventured nearby. Its leaves now gold shimmered and twirled in the wind. One by one, they let go of a branch and dove into a pile below. Each time, I thought of the forest scene in Kurosawa’s film, Dreams.