BirchLane.net
December 2003
Wednesday 31
The Arch of Tomorrow.
Tuesday 30
Halation.
Monday 29
The Sound of Ice.
Sunday 28
Alterations. In a few days a new year.
I am sure, as we learned in church a few weeks ago, the winter season--the end-time of year alters our way of seeing today; and, perhaps, the future.
My first resolution: no, not a resolution, but an alteration; yes---I will call these alterations---I will. Alterations. And I will add to The List of Alterations throughout the next few days.
Saturday 27
Old. New. Blue. Every picture tells a story. These three, for example--something old, something new and something blue.
Oh, and this photo; Bettina and Norbert.
And, of course, the author:
Friday 26
Twelve.
One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six. ~A Child's Christmas in Wales, Dylan Thomas
Betsy with her present:
My Dad with his present:
Thursday 25
Christmas.
Bring a torch, Jeanette, Isabella
Bring a torch, to the cradle run!
It is Jesus good folk of the village;
Christ is born and Mary's calling;
Ah! ah! beautiful is the mother
Ah! ah! beautiful is her Son!
It is wrong when the Child is sleeping
It is wrong to talk so loud;
Silence, all, as you gather around.
Lest your noise should waken Jesus.
Hush! hush! see how fast He sleeps!
Hush! hush! see how fast He sleeps!
Hasten now, good folk of the village;
Hasten now the Christ Child to see.
You will find Him asleep in the manger;
Quietly come and whisper softly,
Hush! hush! Peacefully now He sleeps.
Hush! hush! Peacefully now He sleeps.
Softly to the little stable.
Softly in a moment come;
Look and see how charming is Jesus
How He is white, His cheeks are rosy!
Hush! hush! see how the Child is sleeping;
Hush! hush! see how He smiles in His dreams.~Traditional French Carol
Wednesday 24
The Land of the Dolls.
Clara: This is all like a dream come true. The Land of the Dolls is so beautiful and everyone's so kind. I've known some of you all my life. And to think we could all be together forever.
Nutcracker: Then you'll stay. (Clara hangs her head) Clara, what is it?
Clara: Oh, I want to. I want to stay with you, I do. But...
Nutcracker: But? But what?
Clara: Oh, I don't know, I'm so confused. It's just, well, the Land of the Dolls is where you all belong. But I want to grow up. There's a million things I want to do; people to meet, worlds to explore. I've always wanted to dance in the ballet. Nutcracker, I do love you, but I can't stay in the Land of the Dolls forever.
Tuesday 23
A Short History of the World.
Monday 22
Winter.
Sunday 21
The Pageant. There is much I want to write about today. First a present for friend who celebrates her birthday today.
Saturday 20
Twas a few days before Christmas.
"The true creator may be recognized by his ability to find about him, in the commonest
and humblest thing, items worthy of not....¦he does not have to surround himself with
rare and precious objects. He does not have to put forth in search of discoveries: they
are always within his reach. He will only have to cast his glance about him. Familiar
things, things that are everywhere, attract his attention."
~ Igor Stravinsky (1882-1971) "The Poetics of Music" (1947)
Friday 19
The Pursuit of WOW.
Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.
~James Joyce, "The Dead" (1916)
Thursday 18
Fifth Avenue.
An artist I work with helped me today to create the new image on my index page; and a special e-mail greeting to friends, and another special greeting (pictured below) for friends here:
Wednesday 17
Fear Eats the Soul. Last night/early this morning, I took Daryl and a few of his friends to the midnight showing of The Return of The King. (add more here about fear, courage, destiny, mission)
I was talking with someone much later in the day about depression and the trap-doors that open throughout the day. And these thoughts reminded me of Susan Sontag's book, Illness as Metaphor:
In 1978 Susan Sontag wrote Illness as Metaphor, a classic work described by Newsweek as "one of the most liberating books of its time." A cancer patient herself when she was writing the book, Sontag shows how the metaphors and myths surrounding certain illnesses, especially cancer, add greatly to the suffering of patients and often inhibit them from seeking proper treatment. By demystifying the fantasies surrounding cancer, Sontag shows cancer for what it is--just a disease. Cancer, she argues, is not a curse, not a punishment, certainly not an embarrassment and, it is highly curable, if good treatment is followed. Which made me wonder, is there a book about depression that reaches deep into the wells if this subjects? Maybe one thing that helps me in my day-to-day routine is my photography (and fellowship of the internet):
Tuesday 16
Ice Fishing.
Monday 15
If I Could Only Remember Her Name. I always liked the photographs of her, Roni; we worked together at Hearst Magazines---but I can't remember her last name.
Sunday 14
Angels. (this morning's sermon)
I am astounded with the reception my work is getting.
And these glad tidings bring me strength.
Saturday 13
Storm Warning. This image seems to capture me during the past few weeks: (add copy here)
And then a birthday might excite me and I send this photo to someone blessed with great talent and spiritual awareness:
And then there is this (add copy):
Friday 12
All Things Must Pass. It rained all day yesterday, often very hard, and when I arrived at work I saw something that reminded me of the movie Eraserhead.
And at night, I reviewed hundreds of contact sheets, and thought many photos of the woman below remind me of Jean-Luc Godard:
Thursday 11
Place.
So you should simply make the instant
Stand out, without in the process hiding
What you are making it stand out from.
Give your acting
That progression of one-thing-after-another,
that attitude of
Working up what you have taken on. In this way
You will show the flow of events and also the course
Of your work, permitting the spectator
To experience this Now on many levels, coming from
Previously and
Merging into Afterwards, also having much else Now
Alongside it. He is sitting not only
In your theatre but also
In your world.
~Brecht
Anna Maria Bassani. We worked together years ago at Hearst Magazines in NYC. Here we (she) are enjoying a gourmet lunch (i.e. cheap bottle of red wine) on the docks along the Hudson River in NYC.
Wednesday 10
The Past. Times Square
and a woman whose name I forgot.
And the past? Yesterday, I sold nine more photographs. Including the one below; the buyer writes:
Bruce!
The Nature photos in particular are my favorites. I would like to buy one 8 x 10 of the Cardinal in the woods. I’ll need an actual mailing address to send you a check.
I need to tell you why need this photo. My cousin’s wife has been caring for her invalid father in their house for 9 years. They had to actually move into her parents home a year ago when Kathy’s mother died suddenly. One of her father’s favorite things was watching a family of Cardinals come to a feeder at a window near his bed. Last summer there was a very violent storm with mini tornados that ripped through Old Bennington where they live. The family of Cardinals disappeared except for one young male. This male bird tries to fly into the window every day. Kathy has taken it to be a sign of her mother trying to get her father’s attention to leave his body and continue their journey together. They were absolutely devoted to each other. He met his wife in the South while on leave from the service in WW II. She was a Southern Belle to the end. He had his own insurance agency which did so well down in the Hartford area he decided to move his family to Old Bennington, right near the foot of the monument. The house is old and gracious, and the morning sun bursts through a large many-paned window in the dining room each morning. And there is the Cardinal.
Kathy is a geriatric nurse who takes care of her father exclusively and is practically a saint. This photo just struck me that “Love” truly waits.
Tuesday 09
Cold. But I wake to find a warm message about the photos:
they look wonderful, i remember the one of the street photographer, and it is magical. i have been meaning to write something a little longer to you, but i never seem to find the words... but let me try... i think you capture my american dream. today in america there is so much horrible things, and everyone thinks about how bad it is run. i think i sometimes forget the real america, and your pictures help me find it again. i would love it sit in the dusty old diners, see the bilboards over the town, travel around the states with cars and come to small towns with nice things to take photos off. so those that has these things as subject are my fav photos by you, like the street photographer, and the diners and all things like that. they are wonderful, and it makes me really want to see it with my own eyes one day.
The view from Daryl's bedroom window:
Monday 08
Celestial Music.
I have a friend who still believes in heaven.
Not a stupid person, yet with all she knows, she literally talks to God.
She thinks someone listens in heaven.
On earth she's unusually competent.
Brave too, able to face unpleasantness.
We found a caterpillar dying in the dirt, greedy ants crawling over it.
I'm always moved by disaster, always eager to oppose vitality
But timid also, quick to shut my eyes.
Whereas my friend was able to watch, to let events play out
According to nature. For my sake she intervened
Brushing a few ants off the torn thing, and set it down
Across the road.
My friend says I shut my eyes to God, that nothing else explains
My aversion to reality. She says I'm like the child who
Buries her head in the pillow
So as not to see, the child who tells herself
That light causes sadness-
My friend is like the mother. Patient, urging me
To wake up an adult like herself, a courageous person-
In my dreams, my friend reproaches me. We're walking
On the same road, except it's winter now;
She's telling me that when you love the world you hear celestial music:
Look up, she says. When I look up, nothing.
Only clouds, snow, a white business in the trees
Like brides leaping to a great height-
Then I'm afraid for her; I see her
Caught in a net deliberately cast over the earth-
In reality, we sit by the side of the road, watching the sun set;
From time to time, the silence pierced by a birdcall.
It's this moment we're trying to explain, the fact
That we're at ease with death, with solitude.
My friend draws a circle in the dirt; inside, the caterpillar doesn't move.
She's always trying to make something whole, something beautiful, an image
Capable of life apart from her.
We're very quiet. It's peaceful sitting here, not speaking, The composition
Fixed, the road turning suddenly dark, the air
Going cool, here and there the rocks shining and glittering-
It's this stillness we both love.
The love of form is a love of endings.
~~Louise Glück
Different moments above and below.
Oh, and late at night, I started singing that song "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus."
I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus
Jimmy Boyd
T. Connor (c) 1952
I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus
Underneath the mistletoe last night.
She didn't see me creep
down the stairs to have a peep;
She thought that I was tucked
up in my bedroom fast asleep.
Then, I saw Mommy tickle Santa Claus
Underneath his beard so snowy white;
Oh, what a laugh it would have been
If Daddy had only seen
Mommy kissing Santa Claus last night.Sunday 07
No Relation. A friend writes about my photographs today:
Saturday 06
Snow. Pictures from an exhibition.
Friday 05
Weather Forecast.
I have just three things to teach:
Simplicity, patience, compassion.
These three are your greatest treasures.
Simple in actions and in thoughts,
You return to the source of being.
Patient with both friends and enemies,
You accord with the way things are.
Compassionate toward yourself,
You reconcile all beings in the world.
- Lao Tzu
I was inspired:
Thursday 04
Some Things. I was researching online this morning Event Planners and Event Marketers for my job at Box of Golf, which I might add is turning out to be one of the most thrilling and satisfying positions I have ever had, when I came across this stunning website. I love its simplicity and its sophisticated style--it has just the right amount of information and there is a photo of the president, which makes it personal, friendly and quite unlike most business websites (look-alikes!). For some reason I am reminded of Tom Peters' book "The Pursuit of Wow" in which he wrote:
Work and business can be creative and exciting. A hoot. A growth experience. A journey of lifelong learning and constant surprise. But, to be honest, I think such rewards will only be yours if you learn to approach your career and enterprise with the strategy I call......The Pursuit of Wow. To a great degree, this sums up my new job: the people I work with, the product we manufacture. We are......a WOW company. Trace, our graphic and web designer.
I am going to miss Mitsu's first loft art/performance/music/reading/salon event where I will have a few photographs on display; significant snow is predicted for both New York City and Massachusetts on Saturday.
Wednesday 03
Rose.
Tuesday 02
Gifts for Everyone! If you are going to have a Holiday Sale, don't you need to design an advertisement?
Monday 01
Past Forward. A friend writes to me this morning:
I have just spent the last hour gasping over your incredible galleries!! I've wandered through 'nature' and 'miscellaneous' thus far.
I am breathless
and
you
are brilliant!!
For anyone reading this, wondering what I am talking about,
go here.There's more I want to remember: this quote from Photography Past Forward:
Though not a poet, nor a painter, nor a composer, he is yet an artist, and as an artist undertakes not only risks but responsibility. And it is with responsibility the photographer and his machine are brought to their ultimate tests. His machine must prove that it can be endowed with the passion and the humanity of the photographer; the photographer must prove that he has the passion and the humanity with which to endow the machine.
~Dorothea Lange and Daniel Dixon, from "Photographing the Familiar,"
Aperture vol. 1, no. 2. 1952And the excitement (and as Vaysha asked of me this morning; the self-doubt) I felt when I organized the photos for Mitsu's first loft art/performance/music/reading/salon event.
Oh, and we had our first snow flurries yesterday.
