Filed under: Vintage Photo Album | Tags: 1910s, 1920s, halloween, vintage costumes, vintage photography
This photo series from my collection are more theater than Halloween, but these ladies represent the spirit of what I love best about this holiday: the costumes (that, and ghosts, witches. draculas, zombies, haunted houses, pumpkins…). I had read once that in the Victorian period through the early 1900s, people would dress in costume for parlor games, or put on small plays as forms of entertainment when hanging out with friends and family. I’m really digging Queen Neptune’s costume, a find I’d pretty much go bonkers over if spotted while thrifting.
Filed under: Pennsylvania | Tags: impossible project, lincoln highway, polaroid, route 30
When Jeff and I stared dating nine years ago, our first road trip together was Route 30, Pennsylvania’s old Lincoln Highway, destination: Mutter Museum. I mapped out the places I wanted to see along the way, but more importantly, this travelers’ road crazy-twisting through mountains provided relief from the PA Turnpike. Speeding highway travel puts my nerves on edge, and finally, I found a man who was willing to travel the roads less wandered with me (metaphor intended). A few weeks ago, driving back from a visit with friends East, we climbed intense mountain passes, and felt the isolation in those forgotten towns nestled in the hills. It was a bright, clear, sunny day, so pretty it made hearts ache. We imagined Model T-s struggling up those hills in the route’s early days, all the stops it took just get a few miles – clever roadside attractions that gave travelers some escape: hotels that looked liked ships, fairytale creatures hidden among the trees in someone’s yard, with signs made clear no trespassing.
Filed under: Vintage Photo Album | Tags: 1910s, groups, lost moments, vintage photography
In July, I took a photobook workshop at the Carnegie Museum taught by photographers Melissa Catanese and Ed Panar of Spaces Corners. I wanted to learn more about editing my photography into book form, but when Melissa and Ed pointed out that the act of editing is also a creative act, I started looking through my vintage photos, thinking of ways to categorize them and tell stories. Each time Jeff and I go junk shopping now, I’m not only looking for vintage photos that catch my eye, but also photos that continue the stories in my existing collection. This series captures the different ways people come together to celebrate a moment: whether formal, as in the dancers above, or something fun (and a little strange), like the hay climbers below, posing with a group of friends and family indicates an occasion that demands remembrance. As the photos get passed down through generations, then lost among flea market bins, that momentous occasion becomes a mystery, leaving us to piece together the clues of who they are and what happened long ago.
Filed under: Pennsylvania | Tags: impossible project, polaroid, slr680, solitude
It’s a chilly, quiet morning, time I’ve waited to savor all week. I have worked more overtime, catching up after a long travel weekend, and milling through the muck of interview rejection. I like to have things status quo, and everything felt off-kilter. At times, it made me forget the smallest things, left me a little catastrophic and slightly depressed. It’s a territory of which I’m familiar – depression – and so I throw myself into overdrive, trying to compensate for the inertia that could settle in. Even photography provided little comfort, and that scared me. I’ve grown to lean on it to get me through difficult times, and now I’m looking at the broader picture: that not one thing can make up for all the things that are biting at you. It’s too much to expect, much like putting all your faith into one person: it’s a big burden to bear. So at the end of a long week, I took my camera with me as we ran errands, no plan in mind (which is out of my comfort zone – as regular readers may know, I like order). I asked a man at a junk shop on Hamilton Avenue if I could take his photo, and he wordlessly slipped back into his shop, gently closing the door behind him. Later in our friend Sheryl’s garden, Jeff picked peppers, tomatoes, chard and sprigs of dill, while I walked around freezing in the cold sun, capturing tangles of overgrowth, getting lost behind the lens for brief moments.
Filed under: Ohio | Tags: east liverpool, impossible project, instant film diary, ohio river
One of the very first drives that Jeff and I took together was to East Liverpool, Ohio: not exactly the romantic trip of every couple’s dreams, but one that means a lot to us because it’s the first route we navigated together. This was pre-GPS. We still used a beat-up, crumpled atlas, coffee-stained, dog-eared and missing pages, but a few states left intact. I had vague ideas of where to go – follow the Ohio River along 65, until you get to 68 and across the border. And then what? I wasn’t sure, but had to figure it out quickly before Jeff had a panic moment at the wheel because he likes to know where he’s going. We’ve come to know the journey so well that we don’t even need a GPS, the atlas long since trashed. He’s the driver, I’m the navigator. Sometimes I don’t know where I’m going, and we end up in unexpected places. We try to make the most of getting lost. I take notes and photos, Jeff scouts landmarks since he remembers places by sight, not names. Sometimes we still forget, and find ourselves braving sticky heat, me fussing with a tripod and camera, trying to get a shot with Jeff as lookout. Sometimes I take too long, we are both hungry and tired from driving aimlessly. Then the shutter clicks. We breathe easy, laugh, and leave, squeezing each other’s hands. We talk about chili dogs from Brighton Hot Dog Shoppe, maybe chocolate milkshakes for dessert, a sunset to guide us home.
Filed under: Art Gallery | Tags: impossible project, self portrait, spectra
It’s been an eventful few weeks: preparation for a job interview (which happened today), publication in Optiko and Pryme Magazine (excited. proud!) and I finally have a website, which I promised to have finished before summer’s end. This blog though is my baby and my writing home, so I’ll be back in a few days to post more. In the meantime, check out my instant photo site. I’ve wanted to have one for so long, and I’m finally glad I got around to it. Now I’m off to curl up with The Lives and Loves of Daisy and Violet Hilton and a bowl of pork dumplings: gifts of nourishment and solitude.