One of the many appealing things about Portland is that within an hour one can get away to some pretty cool places. To clear our heads, Eddie and I drove to Silver Falls State Park for a hike. What a beautiful spot!
Friday, July 15, 2011
quick get away
One of the many appealing things about Portland is that within an hour one can get away to some pretty cool places. To clear our heads, Eddie and I drove to Silver Falls State Park for a hike. What a beautiful spot!
Thursday, July 14, 2011
senior dogs by nancy levine
Thanks to Aline Smithson over at Lenscratch, I recently learned about the work of photographer Nancy LeVine. Nancy has been working on a project about senior dogs.
I looked at her photographs just as my own dog Sam was beginning a sharp decline in his health. I read that Nancy lives part time in Seattle, so I contacted her and asked if she would photograph Sam, that I could bring him up to Seattle while we were out here in Portland. She kindly agreed to do so, but said she wouldn't be back in Seattle until the 19th of July. I figured I'd contact her on the 20th and try to go soon thereafter, knowing Sam's days were numbered.
Well, Sammy didn't make it that long, so he won't be part of Nancy's project.
So, I made my own portrait of him. It was taken the afternoon he passed away.
Sam, 16.75 years old, Oregon
Here is a look at a few of Nancy LeVine's images, as well as a description of the project in her own words. I dedicate this to Sam, of course, but also to all the wonderful senior dogs who have blessed the lives of many of my blog readers - many of whom has written sweet notes or emails about their own cats and dogs who made it to the golden years. So, here's to Honeycake, Mocha, Robot, Alfie, Zorro, Lucy, Angus, Duke, Jasmine and Max and all the others, who are no doubt frolicking in some greener yard at this very moment.
"Eight years ago, I began traveling the United States to photograph senior dogs. Like the diverse human pageant that Robert Frank captured in his book, The Americans, back in the 1950’s, I found dogs inhabiting all manner of American life -- and with many years inscribed in their beings.
My interest in the world of the senior dog began as my own two dogs began to approach the end of their days. This was at a time when I had lived enough years to start imagining my own mortality. I entered a world of grace where bodies that had once expressed their vibrancy were now on a more fragile path.
I saw how the dog does it; how, without the human’s painful ability to project ahead and fear the inevitable, the dog simply wakes to each day as a new step in the journey. Though their steps might be more stiff and arduous, these dogs still moved through each day as themselves -- themselves of that day and all the days before.
As mortality was weaving its way through this project, so was another American thread. The media were consumed with reports about our country’s sharp political fractures. It was all about the Red/Blue conflicts and the strident voices leading the charge.
Yet, what I witnessed in my travels was something quite different. It was people caring for the most vulnerable dogs. Whether the senior dog was part of a family where the dog/person devotion knew no bounds or one of the elders being tended at an animal sanctuary, I saw something much deeper than our divisions, something important about where we live and the best way to die.
Listening to the current fevered debate over Social Security and Medicare, I am left with a fearful pit in my stomach when I imagine a country that might abandon the fundamental promise to care for those who have gone the distance and need at least a minimum of support to help them ease out of life. Politics of the moment may dictate such a course, but, in our true American hearts, we are better than that. I have seen it all along my journey as I photographed senior dogs surrounded by so much love, devotion and respect for life lived long and well."
Joon, 16 years old, Massachusettes
Poopie, 14 years old, New York
Joey, 9 years old, New Jersey
Gussy Sue, 15 years old, Montana
Ginger, 12 years old, Wyoming
Champ, 9 years old, South Dakota
Carly, 16, Wyoming
I looked at her photographs just as my own dog Sam was beginning a sharp decline in his health. I read that Nancy lives part time in Seattle, so I contacted her and asked if she would photograph Sam, that I could bring him up to Seattle while we were out here in Portland. She kindly agreed to do so, but said she wouldn't be back in Seattle until the 19th of July. I figured I'd contact her on the 20th and try to go soon thereafter, knowing Sam's days were numbered.
Well, Sammy didn't make it that long, so he won't be part of Nancy's project.
So, I made my own portrait of him. It was taken the afternoon he passed away.
Sam, 16.75 years old, OregonHere is a look at a few of Nancy LeVine's images, as well as a description of the project in her own words. I dedicate this to Sam, of course, but also to all the wonderful senior dogs who have blessed the lives of many of my blog readers - many of whom has written sweet notes or emails about their own cats and dogs who made it to the golden years. So, here's to Honeycake, Mocha, Robot, Alfie, Zorro, Lucy, Angus, Duke, Jasmine and Max and all the others, who are no doubt frolicking in some greener yard at this very moment.
"Eight years ago, I began traveling the United States to photograph senior dogs. Like the diverse human pageant that Robert Frank captured in his book, The Americans, back in the 1950’s, I found dogs inhabiting all manner of American life -- and with many years inscribed in their beings.
My interest in the world of the senior dog began as my own two dogs began to approach the end of their days. This was at a time when I had lived enough years to start imagining my own mortality. I entered a world of grace where bodies that had once expressed their vibrancy were now on a more fragile path.
I saw how the dog does it; how, without the human’s painful ability to project ahead and fear the inevitable, the dog simply wakes to each day as a new step in the journey. Though their steps might be more stiff and arduous, these dogs still moved through each day as themselves -- themselves of that day and all the days before.
As mortality was weaving its way through this project, so was another American thread. The media were consumed with reports about our country’s sharp political fractures. It was all about the Red/Blue conflicts and the strident voices leading the charge.
Yet, what I witnessed in my travels was something quite different. It was people caring for the most vulnerable dogs. Whether the senior dog was part of a family where the dog/person devotion knew no bounds or one of the elders being tended at an animal sanctuary, I saw something much deeper than our divisions, something important about where we live and the best way to die.
Listening to the current fevered debate over Social Security and Medicare, I am left with a fearful pit in my stomach when I imagine a country that might abandon the fundamental promise to care for those who have gone the distance and need at least a minimum of support to help them ease out of life. Politics of the moment may dictate such a course, but, in our true American hearts, we are better than that. I have seen it all along my journey as I photographed senior dogs surrounded by so much love, devotion and respect for life lived long and well."
Joon, 16 years old, Massachusettes
Poopie, 14 years old, New York
Joey, 9 years old, New Jersey
Gussy Sue, 15 years old, Montana
Ginger, 12 years old, Wyoming
Champ, 9 years old, South Dakota
Carly, 16, Wyoming
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
sam
"If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went." – Will Rogers
“Sir Sam the Man of Brookside” aka Sam, Sammy, Goat, Sam-Dog, Super Bat Dog, Samma-Lamma-Beans-Bones and Best Dog in the Whole Wide World passed away late yesterday afternoon at the Pearl Animal Hospital in Portland, Oregon. Lisa (an extraordinarily compassionate young vet), Eddie and I cuddled and caressed him the whole way through. Sam would have celebrated his 17th birthday in August.
We will miss his smiling face and his loyal, sweet, upbeat, furry presence. He was a beloved and constant companion, a member of our family since Max was in kindergarten and Abbie was in 7th grade. Our bed felt very empty last night; he was, without a doubt, the best cuddler ever.
He did not complain these past few weeks, though he suffered from near complete loss of hearing and vision, arthritis and neurological damage to his hind legs and back. He simply stopped eating a few days ago, sending us a sign that it was time for him to go.
Sam used to follow me from room to room as I went about my day. If I had to run downstairs just for a minute to get something from my desk, he made the trip down the stairs with me... just to turn back around and follow me back up (even in his golden years, when it obviously caused him pain to do so). He used to sit at my feet when I worked long hours in the darkroom. Sam was my shadow.
He loved nothing more than sitting in our laps or nestling in the curves of our bodies when we napped or slept at night.
Whenever I was sick, Sam stayed by my side. When I was recovering from breast cancer surgery three years ago, he would only get out of my bed when Eddie lifted him up for a walk or for a feeding.
Sammy loved to have his picture taken, even in the studio. He'd cock his head to one side, sit very still and not flinch at all when the lights flashed. He often tried to get into the family portraits of my clients. On a couple occasions, he wormed his way in, because the youngest member of the family wouldn't stop crying until she got to hold the photographer's cute dog.
Sam was my steadfast, devoted companion, and I'll miss him.
“Sir Sam the Man of Brookside” aka Sam, Sammy, Goat, Sam-Dog, Super Bat Dog, Samma-Lamma-Beans-Bones and Best Dog in the Whole Wide World passed away late yesterday afternoon at the Pearl Animal Hospital in Portland, Oregon. Lisa (an extraordinarily compassionate young vet), Eddie and I cuddled and caressed him the whole way through. Sam would have celebrated his 17th birthday in August.
We will miss his smiling face and his loyal, sweet, upbeat, furry presence. He was a beloved and constant companion, a member of our family since Max was in kindergarten and Abbie was in 7th grade. Our bed felt very empty last night; he was, without a doubt, the best cuddler ever.
He did not complain these past few weeks, though he suffered from near complete loss of hearing and vision, arthritis and neurological damage to his hind legs and back. He simply stopped eating a few days ago, sending us a sign that it was time for him to go.
Sam used to follow me from room to room as I went about my day. If I had to run downstairs just for a minute to get something from my desk, he made the trip down the stairs with me... just to turn back around and follow me back up (even in his golden years, when it obviously caused him pain to do so). He used to sit at my feet when I worked long hours in the darkroom. Sam was my shadow.
He loved nothing more than sitting in our laps or nestling in the curves of our bodies when we napped or slept at night.
Whenever I was sick, Sam stayed by my side. When I was recovering from breast cancer surgery three years ago, he would only get out of my bed when Eddie lifted him up for a walk or for a feeding.
Sammy loved to have his picture taken, even in the studio. He'd cock his head to one side, sit very still and not flinch at all when the lights flashed. He often tried to get into the family portraits of my clients. On a couple occasions, he wormed his way in, because the youngest member of the family wouldn't stop crying until she got to hold the photographer's cute dog.
Sam was my steadfast, devoted companion, and I'll miss him.
Monday, July 11, 2011
new studio space
Big changes are in store for me. Not only are Eddie and I downsizing to a smaller abode; I will be moving my workspace to a studio in a new location. Our home of the last fourteen years has been big enough to house my wet darkroom, my digital darkroom, my office, my framing/shipping workspace and my shooting space.
Won't happen in the new place.
My wet darkroom will be dismantled. It's sad, but true. Honestly, I haven't used it for the past couple years. Even so, I will be sad to see it go. It represents a huge part of what photography has always been about for me. I first learned darkroom skills at Camp Birch Trail for girls in Wisconsin when I was just 13 years old. During high school I built my own darkroom in the basement of the house I grew up in. I've always had a darkroom since then. The one that I have enjoyed since 1997 was designed and built for me by Richard Loftis. It's a beauty. Every day I printed in there, I thanked my lucky stars for such a wonderful and functional space.
In August, I will move the shooting space, storage space and office space to a cool, 600 square feet studio in the LIvestock Exchange Building (located in the "West Bottoms" of Kansas City). It's been a long time since I've worked outside my home: I'm excited about the change!
Here's some info about the building, which is on the National Register of Historic Places:
"Built in 1910, the Livestock Exchange Building was seen as a fortress of commerce for Kansas City and the western territory. With 475 offices, the building housed the Stockyards Company, telegraph offices, banks, restaurants, railroad and packing house representatives, and government agencies. It was the largest livestock exchange building in the world and one of the largest office buildings in Kansas City.
The stockyards had become an independent company in 1871 with 13.5 acres. Over time it grew to 207 acres and housed the current Livestock Exchange Building. In 1923 the Kansas City stockyards set a world record for a days’ receipts of cattle, 60,206 head. The handling capacity of the yards was 70,000 cattle, 50,000 hogs, 50,000 sheep, and 5,000 horses and mules.
By 1945 the Kansas City livestock market was an institution of national importance. But the up and coming feedlot operations and auction sales reduced cattle receipts in the stockyards. In 1984 the stockyards were sold to a group of investors to try to save the yards, and by 1991 the stockyards held its last auction.
The building received a $13 million renovation beginning in 1991 and then CEO and now owner of the Livestock Exchange Building, Bill Haw, had a vision for the area of low rise high value commercial buildings such as Gateway and Butler Manufacturing World Headquarters.
The Livestock Exchange Building has endured fire, flood and changing economies to once again become a thriving successful place to do business in this century." - from the Livestock Exchange website
Now it will have to endure me!
Sunday, July 10, 2011
a pinot afternoon
Portland fun has begun! The annual summer trek to our second home is under way.
One thing we’d not yet done in this area was explore wine country. There are 200 wineries (over 12,000 acres of wine grapes) in the Willamette Valley. We can get to that part of Oregon in just 45 minutes!
Yesterday we spent a picture perfect summer afternoon in the Dundee Hills at Erath Winery. Let’s just say that sitting on the terrace above the vineyards, sipping flights of spectacular Pinot Noirs and Pinot Grigio, nibbling on local Gouda cheese and enjoying the cool breezes was about as perfect as it gets. (If you look closely in the top photo, you can see Mt. Hood in the distance. That always makes the day extra special.)
Friday, July 08, 2011
Wednesday, July 06, 2011
monique
Gotta love the wonders of the internet.
You've read in previous posts about a woman from the Netherlands who discovered the story of hearing impaired Moses (on this very blog) and who made it possible for him for receive donated hearing aids.
This same woman, Monique, will be traveling to the orphanage later this month! After a flurry of emails, some q & a, and the ironing out of some logistics, Monique will be spending her holiday (late July to late August) teaching music to the children at St. Mary Kevin. How lucky they are. How lucky she is!
It's time to introduce this special woman. I have never met her; we've only communicated online. But already she is a member of the Change the Truth family, and soon enough she will undoubtedly navigate her way into the hearts of the kids at SMK. Monique will not only help begin to teach the marching band members how to read music, she will introduce the recorder to younger kids, she will introduce her beloved saxophone to the band, and she will (if she can find a big enough box!) also introduce the tuba. She will also give the keyboard CTT purchased a good workout.
August will be the month of music at SMK. I am so grateful that Monique found us. There will be much more to come as she begins her month-long adventure - but for now - please meet Monique:
"Hi, my name is Monique Udo and I live in Amsterdam, the Netherlands. I am a saxophone player and music teacher and the last 10 years I have dedicated myself more and more to music projects with children who grow up in less privileged circumstances.
I have worked in so called ‘black schools’ and with children in a centre for asylum seekers. It was there that I met very gifted children with a hunger for expressing themselves through music and dance. I loved working with them and started to realize fully how music can make a change for these children.
In December 2008 I accompanied my mother to Tulip Garden, an orphanage for children with HIV/AIDS in India. I took some flutes with me and for 10 days, I made music with the children: playing the flute, singing and drumming on buckets. After that, I knew I wanted to continue doing this. The joy that the music brought to this children and the eagerness they embraced it with was wonderful.
In 2009 I started the foundation “Muziek voor Kinderen” (Dutch for “Music for Children”). I organized a benefit concert with my Dutch pupils to raise money to buy instruments for the children in India, took a sabbatical from my job at the music school and went to Tulip Garden to stay there for four months. I bought keyboards, guitars, a saxophone, more recorders, melodica’s (blowing piano’s), and a small drum. I taught the children to play on the instruments and formed a music group of 18 children. With that group we give performances in other orphanages or hostels for children in the neighbourhood every time I’m there. I try to visit them at least once a year to keep them going. Luckily, I found a student who comes to teach keyboard every week, so now, after one year of playing the keyboard, some boys are playing the latest hits from the Indian movies!
Since I started these music projects, I’ve been searching the internet to find organizations who are doing something similar to what I’m doing. I came in contact with several organizations and orphanages where the children are brought up with music. I visited several of them and we are exchanging experiences, instruments and we help each other to realize projects.
When I came across the website of CTT during one of my surfing sessions, I immediately was very enthusiastic of what I read. I felt I would like to come over and give my share of changing the truth for the children at SMK. Soon after mailing with Gloria and Melissa it became clear to me that I would travel to Uganda in my summer holiday. From Melissa I got many good suggestions of which music activities could be done with the children so I know I will get busy over there. I’m looking forward to it!"
These are pictures from some of Monique's past projects. Soon we'll see our own kids in her photographs!
antwain
Is it possible that this is the same boy?
The answer is probably: yes and no.
Some of you may remember the slightly stubborn 11 year-old who proclaimed in front of a big crowd at the 3rd Annual CTT event that he was NOT excited about moving to Uganda. Personally, I don't remember seeing Antwain smile all that much during the moving process. It had to have been pretty overwhelming and scary.
He had to get all of his personal items into one piece of luggage. That's a lot of downsizing, especially for an American kid who has lots of things. He had to say goodbye to his friends and his family, his house, his school, Chipotle, beef jerkey, his bike, his Wii.
Antwain has been living in Uganda now for 10 months with his mom, CTT's amazing orphanage social worker and liaison. He just celebrated his 12th birthday. He has transformed from a kid to a young man in Ugandan, and I, for one, hope he writes a book about his experience one day.
Melissa wrote this about Antwain on her blog recently:
"One of Antwain’s greatest loves is playing the drums. His skills have really improved considerably since arriving in Uganda. He is confident and talented and content as he drums away to a rhythm that was I swear was born inside of him…the tall drum being his favorite to play.
As I was walking through the school the other day, I came upon an impromptu dance and drumming session with some of the children. My boy was leading the drumming troops as many girls practiced their dance movements. I could not see a trace of little boy in him at that moment, which made me a little sad but also extremely proud."
Antwain, I hope at the very least you're keeping a journal so that the book I'm hoping for is in the works!
Tuesday, July 05, 2011
downsizing
“What are you gonna do with all your stuff?”
That’s the question most people ask right off the bat. When we tell them we are moving. When we tell them we are moving to a condo. A condo that has roughly 1600 square feet.
They swipe their arm across their forehead as if there’s sweat accumulating on the brow. They utter “whew” or “oh, man” or just shake their head. They look worried. They look worried as they look around our house. Our house that is 5500 square feet.
Eddie and I decided a couple years ago to downsize (or as some people our age like to say: rightsize). The search for a smaller place ended last month when we found what we’d been looking for: a sweet and airy two bedroom condo just north of where we live now.
We have spent the past few weeks weighing the pros and cons of holding onto certain things. Some of those things have found their way to our curb with “free to whoever wants me” status. Some have been donated to good causes, some have been tagged for storage. Over the course of the next few months, some things will be sold, more given away. A lot of our things have sentimental value, of course, and they are the things that will move with us to our new home.
One of the lessons I have learned from my trips to Uganda has been this: they are just things, and we will be perfectly happy to have fewer of them.
(Yes, I will have to keep repeating my new mantra as I sort through our stuff. Repeat. Wipe the sweat that has accumulated on my own brow. Sort. Repeat.)
It’s exciting and kind of liberating, though, to step into this next chapter of our lives.
Stuff: beware!
Saturday, July 02, 2011
sam-dog
I think Sam must have heard us. Or at least sensed the vibe. (Since he can hardly hear, the latter is more probable.)
A few weeks ago, Eddie and I were having a certain conversation about our dog that we could never have about a human family member. You know, the one that includes words like "put" and "down".
Sam was bumping into chairs and tables, cabinets and door jambs. He tumbled off the bed a couple times and even fell down a flight of stairs. He couldn't hear us when we called him. He had trouble walking. He was having a lot of accidents in the house. He was, well, acting his age. In August, he will be 17.
(That's 119.)
We had decided not to take him to the groomer anymore. That experience was getting to be pure torture for him, and we have been trying to make his golden years as comfortable as possible. But with the heat of summer bearing down, we finally gave him a Xanax and subjected him to the scissors. His long lock and curls were replaced with a crew cut.
He came home looking like a pup.
Maybe we started treating him differently? I don't know, but suddenly he didn't bump into stuff as much (had it been the hair hanging down over his eyes?) He started to seem a little more perky.
A few weeks later, and I swear... he actually has a little spring in his step! We took him to the vet for a check-up and were told that his heart is strong, his kidney and liver are functioning well, and in spite of the fact that his vision and hearing are severely impaired, he has some muscle atrophy in his hind legs and there are a couple skin tumors on his haunches, he was pronounced "engaged and curious" just like a youthful dog would be.
They say Bichons believe they are cats. Maybe the nine lives thing is part of the gig?
Whatever the case may be, Sam has sort of sprung back to life. He still sleeps through most of the day and has stiff legs when we wake him for his walks, but when he is up and around, he seems to be telling us, "hey, I'm not so sure I liked that conversation you were having about me a few weeks ago."
More power to you, Sam-dog. We are listening. And we are amazed and in awe of you.
[These beautiful photos were taken by Max, who happened to be in Kansas City when the crew cut occurred.]
Friday, July 01, 2011
working
I am working on a commission for KU Hospital. The challenge is to portray the flavor of the 39th Street neighborhood. So that's where I've been hanging out lately. It's a fun project because of the free reign I have, and because I am finally using my new camera. Yay! The finished installation will consist of three panels that are 12" high and 80" long. Here are some of the images I've been making for the piece. They are a departure from what I normally do; that makes it a nice challenge.
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