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Posts Tagged ‘life’

foreword to the interludes: an opportunity to walk through history

Posted in Inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 15, 2014| 5 Comments »

In February 1944, a photographer took a series of photos at the opening of a Labor Canteen in Washington, DC.  The entertainment that night was a young Pete Seeger and in the audience First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt.  Two years after I found the picture, I wrote Mr. Seeger asking if he remembered the photographer.  I was hoping for but not really expecting a response.  But one day I checked my mail and there was a postcard.

One side was covered with words, actually one word, peace, translated into many languages.  On the other side, handwritten, was essentially the following note:  “Cynthia, I’m 94 years old. The details from that time aren’t so clear anymore but my memoirs are being updated and I will make sure that the photographer’s name is duly noted.  Joseph Anthony Horne.”

Joseph A. Horne

Joseph A. Horne

Joseph Anthony Horne was born in 1911 and died in 1987.  I began researching his life out of curiosity.  You see, I knew a man who kept telling stories of a 1950s and 1960s childhood spent in exotic places.  Of fishermen in Genoa, Italy dropping seahorses into his hands. Petting a white elephant belonging to the Maharaja of Mysore. Skating in Vienna by doctor’s orders.  It was a life made possible by his father, Mr. Horne, working for the U.S. foreign service, a post he’d taken on after World War II.  As for what he’d done during the war, “something involving art and books while stationed in Germany.”  In the 1960s the family moved back to the U.S. to the Maryland/DC area where Horne continued to work in foreign service until retirement.

Photo by Joseph A. Horne, 1944, Library of Congress

Photo by Joseph A. Horne, 1944, Library of Congress

I already knew from the son that his father had been a photographer, loved books and music, and that the foreign service position held in all the various countries had involved working with libraries and inviting American musicians, writers and other artists to share their works.  Perhaps inspired by that PBS show, History Detectives, I asked the son was there anything more he’d like to know about his father.  I was given carte blanche to research as I liked.  Those mysterious post-war German years working with books drew my attention but soon I was researching his early years as well. So many files from the early and mid-twentieth century have been digitized, but I kept hitting a wall with finding information prior to 1940.  When I queried the son he mentioned, “that might be because he changed his name. ”  Turned out that Mr. Horne used to be Mr. Wisniewski and had grown up in Nebraska not Maryland as I had assumed.  “So he was born to the Wisniewski family?”  The son shook his head.  “He was adopted, along with a baby girl.  My father thought he’d been born in New York.”  When asked why he had selected Horne of all names, the son replied with a smile, “He thought he was an illegitimate love child of two New York families. the Astors and Langhornes.”  As I stared at the son, he laughed.  “My dad was quite the storyteller.  He even mentioned studying in Europe and hearing G. K. Chesterton.”

One bit of information was easy to find thanks especially to National Archive records available online.  In 1946, Joseph Anthony Horne joined the Monuments, Fine Arts and Archive unit.  From 1947-1948, he would serve as the director of the Offenbach Archival Depot, one of the primary collection points for preserving and returning books, artwork and cultural items stolen by Nazi Germany during World War II.  He had been a Monuments Man.  As for how an orphaned baby in New York City might travel to the American Midwest (along with many thousands of other orphaned and homeless children), and how a young man from Nebraska might find himself working as a photographer in Washington, DC … not to mention exactly who were the people, places and events experienced in Europe during and after the war … Well, all of that, would take a bit more digging.  It would be a treat to discover his connection to photography historians like Erich Stenger and artists like Karl Hofer and quite a surprise to learn of the drama at Offenbach involving missing books and the complex decisions made as the Cold War loomed, reminiscent of decisions made in the world today.  This post is just to set the stage.  More stories to follow.

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“you need to smile more”

Posted in Inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , , , on January 29, 2014| 1 Comment »

That was my first reprimand at my first paying job as a 15 year old in Lynchburg, Virginia.  I believe it was in summer at McDonald’s near the public library.  The manager had placed me at a register and was watching me from the lobby.  I had learned the manual well of the various phrases from “Welcome to McDonald’s. How may I help you?” to “Would you like some fries with that?” and so on.  I was a bit perplexed by the smile comment but I gave it go on the next orders throughout the day.  It was midweek and during a block of time when mostly older folk would come in and buy a cup of coffee or tea.  And what happened near the end of my shift?  Well, as I took a silver-haired lady’s two dollars and gave her some change back, she took my hand, patted it and said, “My dear, you have a lovely smile.  You have a good day.”  And I said, “You too, ma’am.  See you tomorrow.”  What brings to mind this memory of making people feel welcome?  There’s been an interesting series of articles in the New York Times about people, especially seniors, sitting too long in the fast food restaurant.  As with any story, there are many ways to dissect the issues but I think this morning’s article about “lessons learned” from the recent clash presents some good food for thought, not about how a business should be run but more about how over time people operate in the world: The Urban Home Away From Home.

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life in words and images

Posted in Inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , , on January 9, 2014| 3 Comments »

Yesterday, in a coffee-stained manilla folder, I found an old personal essay.  I almost posted it on this blog but I remained indecisive about the imagery with which to pair the words.  Embedded in the text was a reference to red dust and that was the image I most wanted — little pyramids of red — but the dust in the story is red Virginia clay not dark Massachusetts soil.  I tried photographing mounds of smoky paprika but the imagery just didn’t work. 

I then tried photographing blue sea glass. In the text there are many references to that color.  There is even a blue glass in the essay but it is a drinking glass and has nothing to do with the sea. So, no.

The essay is about family and that universal topic of death and the revelations made soon after and then long after the passing of loved ones.  I considered uploading this portrait of Steve.  He is part of my family now.  Maybe I could make him a bridge between past and present?  In the end, I decide that wouldn’t work either.  He is not mentioned in the essay at all as it currently exists.  The key subjects of the text, my parents, passed away before meeting him.  He often tells me that he wishes that fact were not so.

As the day grew long, I began to wonder about the appropriateness of posting the text at all with or without complementary images.  An unfinished essay, without direction, perhaps something written years ago just to help me let go?  Not a sad piece, just reflective, but would anyone want to read such stuff?  I kept staring at the words.  Not every passage worked but some did seem like diamonds in the rough.  Maybe.  In the end I decided to post the ice picture, little B-612  (by the way no ice on the windows today),  and to commit to continue working on the essay.   I will keep it out in the light and we’ll see what emerges this year.

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reflections

Posted in Inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , on December 30, 2013| 3 Comments »

Here I am in 1996 standing by a creek in Missoula, Montana.  At the time I worked with a Boston-based nonprofit conducting sustainability-themed workshops for universities.  For a number of years, I was able to travel around the country interacting with people of all ages and cultures.  I was able to view landscapes like this that I’d read about but wasn’t sure I’d ever see in person.  Few photographs did I take but I loved to tell stories of the places I’d visited with family and friends, in letters and by phone.  In 2014, I hope to do more writing and storytelling about people and places and be more strategic with my photography.  Meanwhile, as the year wraps up, here is a link to one of the most moving sets of images on the web —  The New York Times 2013 Year in Pictures — and a page of wonderfully orchestrated New York Times Op-Docs.

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may i photograph your hands?

Posted in Inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , on December 22, 2013| 4 Comments »

“Of course, my dear.”  As he presented his hands to me – resting them on a book, waving them in the air, etc – he described the work he’d done with those hands over the years.  Keith is his name and he was subbing for a security guard at a local church.  We’d only known each other for less than an hour though when he first saw me his first words were, “Have we met before?”  While I’m horrible with names I’m pretty good with faces and his aged face did not look familiar.  But he did feel awfully comfortable to be around.  And so after hearing him speak for a few minutes with his beautifully accented voice I said, “Sir, when were you born?”  The people around me may have been appalled I asked that question, but he looked at me and laughed.  “1933, my dear.”  Then he took out his I.D. card with his birth date to prove it.

keith hands

For the short while that we were together he described growing up in Barbados,  then moving to England as a young man where he worked for Rover and his various adventures as a stellar mechanic.  He described his first wife and her untimely death that left him with three young children under the age of 10.  He made a decision to focus on the children and not remarry until they were grown.  And when they were grown he did remarry.  There was no question asked that did not produce beautiful, sometimes heartwrenching, stories of family, friends and work. I finally said, “Sir, you should record these stories.”  He chuckled and said, “I’ve lived these experiences.  Why do I need to record them?”

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dona nobis pacem, a series of sights and sounds

Posted in Inspiration, Music, Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , on December 15, 2013| 4 Comments »

And so the morning began with sounds.  Laying in bed listening to snow slide from the roof.  Over breakfast listening to Steve tell stories of his night.  My brothers’ voices, one via voice mail, him singing a made up song about getting up and getting started with a cup of coffee.  His words inspired me to pour some beans into a white cup and photograph a single image and hope it came out well.

I continued to take random shots about the kitchen, of lemons in bowls and of rosemary.  I don’t think I’m supposed to let indoor herbs bloom but I couldn’t help myself. No sounds there, just lovely periwinkle silence.

During the midst of all this, something happened.  Nothing serious but one of those incidents that can color a day, darken it … if you allow.  I told myself to let the incident go.  To help me do so, I pulled from my bag a list of desired tasks.  One of them was to look up composer Peteris Vasks.  I’d only learned of him yesterday at an organ recital.  The organist had played one of his pieces, Te Deum.  During my research I came across this piece, Dona Nobis Pacem.

A beautiful, calming piece.

As it played on repeat in the background, I wandered around taking other photos, indoors of items on tables

and through windows of ice melting beautifully.

What that music inspired exactly I can’t say.  It did encourage me, remind me even, to be present, to appreciate the beauty before me that I could see, that I could hear, and that I could imagine.  We all need reminders on occasion. 😉

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a walk in her world

Posted in Inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on December 11, 2013| 2 Comments »

Growing up in Virginia, my parents made clear quite often that “times are tight.”  Many a fellow classmate wore more expensive clothes but mine were just as clean and it didn’t matter that they were purchased via layaway.  And my brothers and I still share stories of how well my mother could stretch a can of Campbells soup.  But it wasn’t until I was accepted into college, completing financial aid forms and trying to figure out how my family’s income fit on various grids … that’s when one day I looked across the table at my parents and said, “Did you know we’re classified as poor?”  That I did not feel poor despite my family having little money says a lot about my parents and the neighborhood in which I walked.

Virginia Dogwood

It is a very different neighborhood in which the little girl Dasani lives.  It is a Brooklyn neighborhood in transition.  Thanks to the New York Times series, Invisible Child, readers can journey with her through that changing world.  You the reader can walk with her, run, kick, and dance.  You can even hear her voice and those of the people around her because it is a multimedia presentation with short videos at the end of each of the five parts.  It is a series provoking a lot of conversation, dialogue, debate … and hopefully, most importantly, some good actions.  It can sometimes be tough to read and to watch but I hope people do.

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individual drops

Posted in Inspiration, Nature Notes, tagged , , , , , , , on December 2, 2013| 5 Comments »

“If we are a drop of water and we try to get to the ocean as only an individual drop, we will surely evaporate along the way.  To arrive at the ocean, you must go as a river.” — Thich Nhat Hanh in Creating True Peace

 

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at the center of it all

Posted in Inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 27, 2013| 6 Comments »

It has been a hard month, a hard summer, a hard year, for so many family and friends.  I read their words and hear their voices, and all I have been able to do, in the end, is absorb and listen.   On occasion I have been able to touch, to hug, and to encourage others to take such action.  Sometimes I have offered words of advice but I am beginning to think that, for the most part, those words of advice could be a song or poem or a passage from a book.  The words from my mouth are not so important as is my literal or figurative presence.  I am lucky to have them in my lives as well.

Despite the title of this post, I do not feel at the center of it all, whatever “it” may be.  As a writer, photographer, storyteller, I feel on the periphery, observing the chaos of life from odd angles that reveal ambiguities, sadness, horror, pain but almost always, great beauty, too.  When I talk with the friends and family who are struggling I find myself wishing … and then I stop myself.  I cannot live other peoples’ lives, but I can and often do ask them, “Without ignoring all that’s going wrong, what is going right? What’s one thing making you happy?”  One lovely friend will have a tendency to say, “Well, at least my cat is not dead … yet.”  And I’ll say, “Exactly!” 😉

These are the rambling thoughts that come to mind this Sunday morning as I hold close in my heart those who may be feeling a bit alone or vulnerable or just unsure of next steps.  I certainly feel that way about some things too.  And with that said, what is one thing making me happy at this moment?  It is the morning sun falling upon this apple creating a little apple universe.  At least I see the stars.

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steve’s hands

Posted in Inspiration, Kitchen Inspirations, Photography, Publication Updates, tagged , , , , , , , , , on October 17, 2013| 2 Comments »

Steve Hands for Vine Leaves Literary Journal Issue 8

Steve Hands for Vine Leaves Literary Journal Issue 8

The best part about having been given carte blanche to use his words and my images of him however I choose … well, it is just so much fun to say out of the blue, “Hey, Steve, guess what?  There’s a picture of your hands appearing in a magazine next month.”  He pauses, takes a deep breath and then says, “So, when did you take this picture?”  And I get to make statements like, “Oh, don’t you remember that afternoon you were peeling shrimp and we were talking politics?”  Anyway … 😉  His hands are paired with a vignette in the online and print publication, Vine Leaves Literary Journal, Issue 8.  As explained on the journal’s website, a vignette is a word that originally meant “something that may be written on a vine-leaf.” A snapshot in words.  Here’s a link to the freshly launched issue filled with great brief reads and a wonderful array of images.

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