We are in the middle of a snowstorm here in Cincinnati, Ohio. It has snowed most of the day and is supposed to continue through the night and into Saturday. Total accumulation predicted to be 15 inches. You can see a few of the shots I took of the snow today here http://flickr.com/photos/artisticlight/sets/72157604069716469/.
I don’t even know where to begin. The world around me is full of contrasts. The gap between rich and poor continues to increase. There is beauty everywhere and plenty of ugliness if you wish to look. I always thought that Heaven and Hell had the same address, it was a matter of what you wanted to see. So far my photography has focused on the beauty I see, and I never plan to stop seeing that beauty and capturing it. However, I also see a world that needs help. Since seeing the Crewdson lecture I have thought about my photography and I have decided to experiment and push into new areas. I spent a good portion of the weekend shooting scenes from the streets and this is my first portrait from the streets. I was fascinated with this man’s face. It tells a story of its own. We’ll see where this goes.
Death is such a hard thing. It forces us to look at our own mortality and take measure of our life. These feelings have filled me today since attending a Memorial Mass for a close friend this morning. I say ’close’ though I had not seen her for almost 20 years, yet she and her whole family are an intrinsic part of who I am.
Mrs. B. was the mother of three beautiful children and wife to a loving husband. As much of my youth was spent playing with her family as it was with mine. They were good people, the type stories are written about. Mrs. B. baked goodies for us kids, talked to us, played with us, and made us feel special and a part of her life. She welcomed every new family to the neighborhood with her cooking, her conversation, and her warm heart. She and my mother would spend countless hours talking and laughing. When the mold for the ideal neighbor was made, she and her family were the design from which it was modeled.
She died suddenly. Complaining of back pain, her husband took her to the hospital. While tests were being performed on her to determine the problem, she just quit breathing. The whole world gently shuddered at the loss.
Attending her Mass, seeing the familiar faces of childhood friends, gazing upon my old school with the playground filled with young children wearing uniforms seemingly identical to the one I wore decades ago, it was impossible not to cry.
I look back at my life and wonder how it would have been different if certain choices were made. I look to the future knowing the choices I make today will be an important part of who I am tomorrow. Here is a wish that we all make smart choices… and, to Mrs. B. the world was better for the choices you made. Thank you for being a part of my life.
The lesson I take away from death is to live, and to live well.
As I often do, I will leave you with a poem. This one has been a favorite of mine for many years. Dylan Thomas wrote this near his father’s death. It was surely a wish for his father to fight for life, but there is no historical evidence he ever showed the poem to his father. It may have been something the poet needed to think and write for himself in the face of the inevitable.
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
by Dylan Thomas
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Spring is in full swing here and life is mirroring the season.
Cincinnati holds an annual festival called, The Taste of Cincinnati, at which many of the eateries within the city have a booth and serve samples of their food. Cincinnati has a strong German heritage which is reflected in the types of food offered. A few concert stages are erected, several blocks of the downtown area are blocked off, and bands play late into the evening while people mill about eating and drinking.
Krohn Conservatory is another local attraction that also holds an annual event at this time of year. For a month the Conservatory is filled with butterflies. Tens of thousands of them are flown in and released for guests to see and hold.
Today I visited both events during my daily walk of many miles.
I also recently purchased a guitar. I am taking lessons and finding it a great joy, though the tips of my fingers are sore! I have not played the guitar before, so it is a new experience. I did play the trumpet for many years when young and became very proficient. I am scheduled to go see a used one for purchase next week.
I will leave you with a poem. I love poetry and find some parallels between it and art/photography. They are both a means of communicating the infinite.
Invictus
By William Ernest Henley
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
It has been too long since I’ve written in my journal. Pursuing my photography, consulting, growing friendships, and a full life always seem to stretch the hours of the day. The photos included are a clue to my desire to keep getting more from each day. One evening a few weeks ago I had worked especially hard all day. It was after 2:00 A.M. when I finally stopped working. An unusually foggy night had developed and I looked out my windows and saw the street lamps glowing in the heavy mist. To “treat” myself after working so long, I picked up my camera and went outside. These are a couple of the shots I took that early morning somewhere around 3:00 A.M.
A recent highlight was a surprise birthday party for me organized by J.T. She went to a lot of effort and many of my friends were there. It was a great time and special. It was my first surprise party. And, don’t tell anyone but I’m Batman. 
I also recently discovered a great restraunt just a mile away from my home. Cafe Instanbul is an establishment that serves fantastic Turkish food. The service is warm and friendly and reflecting the personality of the Turkish owner. I discovered it with a friend and liked it so much I went with my mother the next day. Check it out if you’re near Newport on the Levee, in Newport, Kentucky. After your meal, try the Turkish Desert Sampler with a Turkish coffee. I did!
Literature can be similar to music. It can change your mood, provide an escape from reality, amplify reality, and provide insight and new thoughts.
One of my favorite authors has always been Charles Dickens. With Christmas music playing daily on my radio, his classic A Christmas Carol would be the expected writings to reflect upon, and while it is a special story to me, it is not the piece that crosses my mind this evening.
My life has been wonderful even though it has been punctuated with tragedy and change. Often in times of turmoil and change I reflect upon, A Tale of Two Cities. I frequently find solace from the first and the last paragraphs of the book, and tonight is one of those times.
The first paragraph reads…
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of the noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.”
To me this typifies pivotal points in our lives. We are excited about the new paths in front of us, and we have hope for a better future. Life is vibrant and our senses are heightened. Colors are more vivid; aromas are stronger. We can feel each tick of the clock, though the minutes are passing too quickly for comfort because change is upon us and we worry about what is the right direction.
We fear the unknown that lies ahead, we lament leaving the comfort of our current situation, and we wonder if life will be the same, and wish time would pass more quickly so we can be out of our current period of discomfort.
This very real paradox is what the first paragraph of A Tale of Two Cities captures incomparably well. You know you are on the precipice of great change.
The last paragraph succinctly defines our final hope for the future…
“It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.”
In one sentence it completely embodies the confidence and faith we want to have in our hearts at the end of our lives when all those decisive moments are tallied.
Next time you feel life is chaotic and you are unsure of your future, I hope these two paragraphs give you some comfort. You are not alone in your hopes and fears, and may you find that far better rest than you have ever known.
Family and Holidays have become more problematic over time. Divorce, death, aging, and distance seem to have taken a toll on the once ideal vision I had of a close family. While I still love my brother and sister, and would do anything within my power to help them, we are not close anymore. The daily exchanges of thoughts, sharing of meals, living under one roof, and laughing and playing have been gone for decades. It has eroded to occasional phone calls and obligatory gatherings for Holidays.
No one is to be blamed for the situation, or if there is, it must be spread equally among my siblings and me. My mother has tried her best to prevent it and she makes regular calls and visits to each of us, but father has been dead for a few years, divorce has changed the players, and increased the number of obligations. Combine those things with three siblings that are each very different, and each focused in disparate career and personal goals, and a two hour drive between us and the result is something less than I had expected as a child.
While the situation causes some sorrow from time-to-time. It is not one I am going to change. I am probably making the situation worse because I don’t want to attend the obligatory gatherings anymore. I just find it too empty. I’d rather just have a coversation with my brother and sister over a sandwich and soda, and I may try to do that instead of attending the Holiday rituals. Honestly I think I enjoy spending the Holidays with friends, relaxing, and going to movies and museums more.
I watched a PBS program, Family That Walks On All Fours this evening. It highlighted the life of a large, poor Turkish family the Ulas, with five adult family members that walk on all fours. The program focused on the excitement within the scientific community about the possibility that the family’s situation might provide us insight into the genes responsible for bipedalism.
The scientific aspects were mildly interesting but the real story for me was the humanity, or lack thereof in the situation. With just a little looking behind the main story you could see how culture, religion, and economics worked against the Ulas. How the scientists were interested in the situation to further their own theories, knowledge and reputation. Everyone was investigating and debating the causes of this family’s plight as a means to prove their theory, but one person, Defne Aruoba, stepped up and said she really didn’t care about the cause. She wanted to help change the family’s situation for the better and screw the scientific theory.
Defne Aruoba is a Turkish psychologist based in Istanbul and a doctoral candidate at the New School for Social Research in New York. It appears her role in the program was planned to be a minor one of translator for the more famous and senior scientist in the film. She was also to perform some basic psychological tests on the affected Ulas family members, to determine their intelligence and mental condition. However to me Defne is the star. She placed her role as scientist second to being a humanitarian.
In one snippet within the film, you see Aruoba arguing with the lead scientist to stop focusing on the theory and take the limited time they have with the family to help them. She emphasized that no one so far had really tried to help the family and it was within their means to do so.
“I don’t know what caused their disability. But I am positive that these people can be helped.”
After Aruoba’s impassioned appeal to the lead scientist you see a local physical therapist is hired to evaluate the family and help with rehabilitation. A walker is purchased and parallel bars are constructed in the family’s yard for them to be able to practice walking upright. Aruoba has even started the Ulas Foundation to raise money to help the Ulas family.
Her efforts made me shed a tear, and inspired me to read more about the story. I went to the PBS website to get more information. From what I read it was obvious that Aruoba was deeply moved by her experience with the Ulas family, and in turn she moved me. I hope you join me in saluting Defne Aruoba and all of those that stand up and make a difference.
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This is my first foray into “blogging”. I am not sure what to make of it. I have only read a few blogs online at this point but will read more soon. I like the idea of creating a diary of some sort. It could be therapeutic, and it could create a map of where I’ve been to look back upon and chronicle progress towards my goals.
Sharing it could be scary. It is a narrow slice of a person and lacks all of the details, background, and scope that really make the person, and it is intimate. I know I’ll be judged by those reading it, and if my photos are any clue, my thoughts will be liked by some and ridiculed by others. So be it.
Let’s just see where it goes.
