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"Rachel/robe" by Tony Gonzalez
2010: Gum Bichromate

Tony Gonzalez must have been a romantic painter in his past life.  His eye for femininity and fluidity is enough to make you fall in love with photography.

West of Queens

Rhythm?  Any language flowing between piano, drum, and brass was lost in us.  In me.  A father pounded and tickled keys while his son beat and tapped skin.  I just couldn't bop.  The trumpet (my favorite!) taunted me with its one enormous eye and within a measure I'd fall in love again.  Each player was weathering a storm.  Creating their own.   I started to cry in my drunk realization that this was the way it was.  Love doesn't make sense.


At some point, flute and clarinet made cameos reminding us that the lulls are why we bother.

The saxophone lay there - a luminous corpse.  When it began to tell its version of a story, I believed it.  I could crawl into its coffin and be carried off to another gig forever.  Preferably a smoky bar with dusty chandeliers and red velvet curtains.  That old chrome mic has been waiting a long time.  If only there were room for two.

I think the father and son were competing for the final note.  A procession that mimicked my beating heart.  It was over.  Neither was quite ready.  Nor was I.  But like all good things, even when they don't make sense, they end.

My Darling Starlings

Murmuration from Islands & Rivers on Vimeo.

Murmuration from Islands & Rivers

A Darkroom Diary

I was told I have a way with women. I bring something out in them that is familiar. That subconsciously I seek and am drawn to those I see a little piece of myself in.  I suppose it's what we all do. The way dog lovers mysteriously resemble their dogs. It was an awkward bit of self-discovery, though, made only after the words sank into consciousness.

Fabiane's Cafe & Pastry Shop, June 2011

So this is who I might be lately - a poised, proud, focused, and accepting woman. Golden, the way women can be, but also disrupted and bruised. I smoke (occasionally and aim to quit), drink spirits (on the rocks if I need time), sing blue songs (about love), and wear my heart on my knees, so when I dance (freestyle to flamenco to the in between) with every atom of my being, there's a chance it could hurt.

Meet one of my beautiful muses...




The description mostly stems from my imagination. What the image evokes is always true.

Lightbox

 ...and since that bright night in September I've decided to feature someone else's perspective.  A photograph serving as a reminder that inspiration can come from those with something to say in stunning silence, too.

"Untitled-23" by Paul Anthony

                                          
Paul Anthony continues to explore light like no one I know personally.  He is as sensitive as a meter made of papyrus.

A Darkroom Diary: Lightbox

Three photographer friends were present on my very first exhibit the 22nd of September.  Each representing points of an arc that never reaches its end -  my adviser, my mentor, my peer.  I had much to say about all three, but decided to keep those things between us.   

That night I stood alone, as more faculty, students, and admirers bounced from wall to wall with apple cider and cake.  I observed the light and, in moments, three unique perspectives.  I couldn't remember what I had wanted to say anymore about the work or the world, but the room was brigher than any I'd seen in a while.

occupy wall street

     As we gather together in solidarity to express a feeling of mass injustice, we must not lose sight of what brought us together. We write so that all people who feel wronged by the corporate forces of the world can know that we are your allies. As one people, united, we acknowledge the reality: that the future of the human race requires the cooperation of its members; that our system must protect our rights, and upon corruption of that system, it is up to the individuals to protect their own rights, and those of their neighbors; that a democratic government derives its just power from the people, but corporations do not seek consent to extract wealth from the people and the Earth; and that no true democracy is attainable when the process is determined by economic power. We come to you at a time when corporations, which place profit over people, self-interest over justice, and oppression over equality, run our governments. We have peaceably assembled here, as is our right, to let these facts be known. They have taken our houses through an illegal foreclosure process, despite not having the original mortgage. They have taken bailouts from taxpayers with impunity, and continue to give Executives exorbitant bonuses. They have perpetuated inequality and discrimination in the workplace based on age, the color of one’s skin, sex, gender identity and sexual orientation. They have poisoned the food supply through negligence, and undermined the farming system through monopolization.  They have profited off of the torture, confinement, and cruel treatment of countless nonhuman animals, and actively hide these practices.  They have continuously sought to strip employees of the right to negotiate for better pay and safer working conditions.  They have held students hostage with tens of thousands of dollars of debt on education, which is itself a human right. They have consistently outsourced labor and used that outsourcing as leverage to cut workers’ healthcare and pay.  They have influenced the courts to achieve the same rights as people, with none of the culpability or responsibility.  They have spent millions of dollars on legal teams that look for ways to get them out of contracts in regards to health insurance. They have sold our privacy as a commodity. They have used the military and police force to prevent freedom of the press. They have deliberately declined to recall faulty products endangering lives in pursuit of profit. They determine economic policy, despite the catastrophic failures their policies have produced and continue to produce. They have donated large sums of money to politicians supposed to be regulating them. They continue to block alternate forms of energy to keep us dependent on oil.  They continue to block generic forms of medicine that could save people’s lives in order to protect investments that have already turned a substantive profit. They have purposely covered up oil spills, accidents, faulty bookkeeping, and inactive ingredients in pursuit of profit. They purposefully keep people misinformed and fearful through their control of the media. They have accepted private contracts to murder prisoners even when presented with serious doubts about their guilt. They have perpetuated colonialism at home and abroad. They have participated in the torture and murder of innocent civilians overseas. They continue to create weapons of mass destruction in order to receive government contracts.

     * To the people of the world, We, the New York City General Assembly occupying Wall Street in Liberty Square, urge you to assert your power.  Exercise your right to peaceably assemble; occupy public space; create a process to address the problems we face, and generate solutions accessible to everyone. To all communities that take action and form groups in the spirit of direct democracy, we offer support, documentation, and all of the resources at our disposal. Join us and make your voices heard!*

Nobody Can Predict The Moment Of Revolution from ivarad on Vimeo.

Introducing...

Sir Isaac "Kiwi" Newton.  My nieces helped me pick him out.  What a wonderful way to start something anew...ton.

Rest in Peace Vincent

                                                         A bookworm and a good mate.

A Darkroom Diary

My professor quoted a master last night.  I believe it was Szarkowski.  It's possible I am off because my mind was mostly present and partly adrift, but he said a photographer must learn and come to terms with an image living in the "perpetual now."  These words resonated so much so that the little 5 year old girl I used to be felt it.  

home is where the mind is

Laguna Beach, August 9, 2011

Beating the Heat

Red Hook, July 22, 2011

Another Rooftop

It was chillier.  The fireworks were still too far away.  Buildings sprouted sparkling, colored afros and I waited in a timewarp.  The moment was made of "only yesterday" mixed with "long ago" and a vague recollection of what went right because it's a whole f*cking year later.  I was in love.  Big, exploding love.  Now I'm out of it.  Mostly OK.  Floating into the night.  Aiming to land on another rooftop.  A little closer this time.

showtime!

A Darkroom Diary

                                 Prayer in The Heights © 2011

A Darkroom Diary

I was dreading going back to the darkroom. Spring propelled me deep into sunlight and movement of my own. I've been camera-shy lately, too... Like a boy (or girl) you've missed for a year and then suddenly you're meeting for a drink, I was that kind of nervous. With my hearty broom in tow, I unlocked the door, turned on the lights, and swept. The dust had really settled. It was thick, but I managed. Spraying down the sink, I noticed a bit of rust. I shined it all. The trays were crusty with old chemicals, so I rinsed them down. I made everything ugly from the past 12 months go away. It felt good. Now for the work.

Oh Marcelito!

MARCEL THE SHELL WITH SHOES ON from Dean Fleischer-Camp on Vimeo.

a Degas love affair

No one could possibly understand women better than Degas.  Not in the late 19th century anyway.  Movement so wonderfully executed in every meticulous stroke.  Degas knew the burden a woman carried.  So much of her existence a performance, this predisposition to protect, and mostly, an overwhelming sense of herself - a quiet storm.  I may be romanticizing his intentions.  Maybe he loved horses more (worked on them with the same fervor).  I just don't think it matters as I wasn't in his Parisian studio to witness the process - rubbing in the blue pastels... trying to lay still... not moving even a stroke.

a stranger in a strange land

                            Chinatown, 2010

A Darkroom Diary

Can darkness be englightment?



It's a question I've been grappling with for some time now. Of course, for many it's always the "path leading to," but to make darkness your destination, even for a second?

My professor and peers will say there isn't enough information in this image. I tried so many different settings and timings and I didn't care about the dusty books on the shelf or the intricate patterns of the Persian rug. I kept going back to this - wanting my subject to live in the shadows, so I exposed it all until almost everything faded to black.