With a pen and camera
I think I’ve seen just about everything this election year. It won’t get the best of me in spite of it. So, after conferring with my buddy, Humphrey, we determined that he is another option for the ballot. Humphs may not have fluency in diplo-speak and he doesn’t speak from both sides of his mouth [jaw?], but he will be honest about things…and you will know it.
Spread the word. You’ll feel in the dumps, if you don’t vote for Humphs!
I love books. I also like e-books, but the operative word here is “love.” Celebrated poet Emily Dickinson said it best:
Self-Portrait April 2016, The Sterling & Francine Clark Art Institute
I think plasmatic energy from Herr Karl Lagerfeld was coursing through the New England air….
Everyday life is filled with idioms. Sometimes I think of them as bridges connecting a concept, a service, a product, even a person. After a snowfall, the gates open and I’m at the mercy of a brain that works to find a metaphor, an idiomatic expression, a slice each of the expected, unexpected and infrequently, something on the order of the unimaginable.
My favorite type of snow is the dry, fluffy stuff. It may not pack well to create a snowball or a snowman, but it’s easy to shovel off a driveway or brush off a car. For many skiers, fresh powder is nirvana: how can this get any better?
This kind of snowfall encourages you to look around. The cars are covered like blankets. Flat, open fields are akin to a slice of white bread. The trees look powdered by confectionary sugar. This kind of snow is a visible version of a special aura. Whatever is under the snow takes on another quality. Attributes of beauty, protection, secrecy, purity, freshness are some that come to mind. “Use _____ soap because it’s as pure as the driven snow.”
In this case, snow isn’t all that bad now, is it?
Lexus is currently running a :30 second TV spot for their 2016 ES model. The tag identifier is, “I could get used to this.” The marketing inference being one can upgrade to the next levels of luxury, prestige and social standing.
We all have aspirations though many, I dare say, are with things material. I’m no exception. However, after awhile, there’s a point of diminishing returns. No one needs the biggest, baddest, coolest of anything. Marketing feeds our psyche, fuels our heart’s desire; then the new car smell and the “!@$!@ I’m-on-top-of-my-game feeling” validates our consumerism. After awhile, we all float back to terra firma. That new car smell is gone and feelings of euphoria dissipate into the the air.
These photos were taken at The Mount, the home of American author Edith Wharton, the first woman to earn a Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. The grounds and mansion are now collectively recognized as a historical site. It’s a favorite stop for fans of the gilded age, beautiful gardens and literature. Do I aspire to own and live in such a mansion? Do you?
Really now, on this scale I’m better off living vicariously; doing so precludes mortals like me from paying taxes, utility bills, hiring staff etc. Frankly, my “I could-get-used-to-this” license would expire within 5-6 weeks if not days. Some would welcome the possibility of having such a life, others would frown with disdain for the scale of the home and grounds, the sentimemt being that of excess. Besides, I’d have to get a riding mower just to do the backyard lawn! Do you have any idea how long that would take…?!
MOMA has a photography exhibit, appropriately, Ocean of Images: New Photography 2015. It runs through March 20 and I hope to plan an escape some weekend. It seems that each year, this exhibition—like others that explore trends and new artists in a given medium—brings out the opposing camps: “No, this isn’t photography” in one corner versus “Of course it is, it’s a new, fresh look at photography” in the other. Time marches on so change is inevitable, good or bad. For now, I take a look back.
These B&W photos—like the ones in Remnant and Remnant v2 come from the same collection or year they were taken, which was sometime in 1973. I am particularly moved by this photo, a portrait of a teacher I had in high school. Mr. Dinsmore was his name. He had an emotional quotient [EQ] that was apparent long before EQ became a chapter in any number of business management books and case studies. First and foremost, he was a very good english literature teacher.
Sadly, I learned that Mr. Dinsmore passed away, a brain tumor taking him from the school and his charges. His spirit—and my memory of him—lives on.
In the 1978 movie, Heaven Can Wait, there’s a whimsical scene showing souls boarding a plane destined for heaven. They’re all adults, quietly and in orderly fashion waiting their turn to be checked on a list before taking the stairs. If I was to peer through a special window, one that would allow a real-time glimpse of say, a staging area, these 2 images represent what I’d see.
Why so barren? Nirvana has no time: no early or late or anything resembling the way we measure time passing. How can you measure a concept or notion that has neither a start nor an end? What I’m really saying here is that while heaven or Nirvana has no clock, we do, and the barren quality of these images can mean several things, each a statement to our genuine condition as human beings. To wit:
Frankly, if I chose another moment to peer through that existential, real-time window, I’d probably see children. They’re the ones who have the least amount of pretense. They are the real innocents of our civilization.
Of late I’ve been using an “obsolete” system and getting some incredible results. To wit:
This photo is an enlargement of the top left-hand corner. I was checking for focus and didn’t realize the scale of magnification I was using in post production. I was astounded to say the least. [click on photos to enlarge] Can you read what’s written on the Jersey barrier? Can you see the name of the front loader on the left? Notice the pile of stones to the right of the frame…
Earlier this month, I took out my Rolleiflex 6008 Pro and took a few photos using Polaroid 679 pack film. For those old enough to remember, Polaroids were frequently used to check exposure, light quality, composition, subject focus, depth of field and so on. These are but a few samples I took; in each case, the texture, the feel and ambiance of the image puts me in a calm state of mind.
One of the most enjoyable aspects of the summer are nights on a quiet beach.
I’ve seen people fish, practice yoga, walk or run—sometimes with a dog—but the one activity I enjoy is the calm associated with doing nothing. The “nothing” I savor has more to do with my surroundings. This may sound oh so simplistic, but you haven’t lived until you’ve spent a late night on a moon-filled evening, at a beach where the sounds and smells of ocean, the wind and even an open fire embrace you.
It’s even nicer when you share such moments with people you care about…
Nostalgia has a way of displacing your sense of place—physically, emotionally, even spiritually. We recently returned from Colorado visiting our daughter and her boyfriend. It was our first time in Colorado. I now have a better understanding of why those 2 love it out there. You encounter beautiful scenery, a lot of open spaces, a more relaxed pace of living and so forth. For the most part, 95% of why we wanted to go was to see our kid [no longer a “kid” I might add]. If she was flung further, we’d still find the means to visit her.
The Gold Hill Inn had a strong pull for me. Specifically the place harkened to a time when you knew most of the townsfolk by name, offered a greeting [mornin’ ma’am] and rarely took for granted what was in front of you. Here was an old mining town and an inn that held no pretense. What you see is what you get, as they say. Conversation you might have overheard was direct and nothing of the dialect we hear or read about in media, whether broadcast, print or electronic.
Aside from the obvious modern conveniences of electricity, telephone, running hot and cold water and bathrooms, you can see, smell and hear the straightforward attributes of the time. The wine cabinet looked sturdily built and beautiful to look at. The National Cash Register, while obsolete, still proudly showed off its utility and independence; it required no electrical power but the firm hand of the bartender. No LCDs or CRTs here, thank you. And you better have strong hands and fingers to manipulate the keys and drawer of this handsome machine. And directly above that cash register, what better contrast than the nude portrait positioned just so, as if recumbent on the edge of that register. The fecund suggestions in both portrait and cash register shouldn’t be lost on anyone. Strength, abundance, beauty, even mindfulness, all expressed in just those 2 objects.
The floorboards were just that: a floor made out of wood, perhaps oak or another type of hardwood. When you walked on it, you felt its idiosyncracies. Not all the planks lay perfectly flat, some joints stood higher or lower than the one adjacent. If you happen to wear boots—especially cowboy boots—the firm, “thud” of a heel made known to all that you weren’t innocuous or at least couldn’t be. Try as you might, you can’t ignore that heavy sound on the floor; your natural reaction was to look over to see who was there. Old, young, man or woman, the “thud” sounded and felt the same. 
In its simplest form, the declarative sentiment nostalgia often gives to us is, “How much more do you need?” Today, “want” versus “need” often precedes more. All the fundamentals of life are laid bare in this town. Aesthete is in the eye [and pocketbook] of the beholder, but standing in that town, in that room, on main street with an open mind and unhurried cadence only enhanced the value of what was genuine. What you see is what you get, indeed, but sometimes I need perspective on what I already have.
In my line of work, you host, sponsor and get invited to a variety of events from various non-profit agencies and causes. Most everyone can understand donation requests in the form of food, clothing, footwear and safe housing. The need for basic items will not abate and is likely not to.
This past weekend, my wife and I were invited by 2 wonderful friends to attend the annual Hartford Symphony BRAVO! gala to support the HSO and its various programs. This may sound like a declaration for music appreciation, perhaps it is because other than imagery, music is a vehicle that connects you to some of your most profund emotions: fear, joy, nostalgia, regret, anticipation, optimism, self-worth among others.
Many galas are over the top [in a good way!], but if you get past the themes, decorative accoutrements, wine, main course, dessert and coffee/tea, there’s no wondering about the main purpose of these functions: to procure money and moral support.
Ticket sales alone cannot support a symphony; that’s too much to expect in this day and age. I believe such was the case many years ago. Financial and moral support need not be mutually exclusive. Think in terms of helping children and young people. Like other major symphony orchestras, the HSO creates programs that encourages kids to become more involved with music. At the very least, to increase our involvement through time, talent, financial contributions or combinations thereof.
We see many things connected to the arts falling away due to budget cuts. Materials, instruments, field trips, special visits/talks from artist themselves and so forth disappear. Like any other solid corporation, the HSO gives back to the community. In the case of the HSO, it’s more about teaching kids about the power of music. Neophytes are not the exclusive target audience; experienced student musicians also beneifit from music-focused programs and activities.
It’s not a stretch to think—and feel—that music matters.
Technical: All images taken with a Leica M, Elmarit 28mm f/2.8 lens: ISO ranges from 400 to 3200.
Carlo Centeno 