Picture of the Week

Brownstone

2010-03-06T08:00:00.000-05:00

The streets of Manhattan's Upper West Side are lined with brownstones, gracious homes whose steps and masonry stoop railings usually have slightly curved edges. More than once I've watched skilled workmen repair and restore them, carefully smoothing sharp corners into rounder, friendlier shapes. Using my camera's built-in Illustration setting, the subtle colors and strong shadows became a close-to-abstract interplay of horizontal and vertical lines. I tend to be more attracted to curves than to straight lines, but this image just makes me happy---a remembrance of a walk on a sunny afternoon.

Outdoor Seating Available

2010-02-28T08:00:00.001-05:00

Although we've had some days above freezing, the snow lingers. Lingers? Every shopping mall has large piles that have morphed into snow mesas claiming squatter's rights to seven or eight parking spots apiece. Long, dirty Jersey snow-barriers squeeze traffic into one and a half lanes. Incongruously detached walls of snow rise here and there, two or three feet wide and five feet high, between the road and a dug-out car. Each looks like the one remaining wall of a fallen-down house. The sight of these tables and chairs outside a restaurant made me chuckle. Hot chocolate, anyone?

The Edge of the Rink

2010-02-21T08:00:00.000-05:00

The Olympics are here. All work stops when the ice skaters are performing. Television gives us the miracle of seeing events happening a continent away, with super-slow-motion replays of triple axels and close-ups of the sequins on the ice dancers' costumes. But some things must be experienced in person. The cold rising from the ice, the sense of speed and movement from one end of the rink to the other, the shared excitement building into shared jubilation when a skater compels the entire audience to jump to its feet for a standing ovation. After the awards ceremony, the skaters take a victory lap and fans try to get one more photo. Here they are, in Cleveland, zooming in on Evan Lysacek and Brandon Mroz for one last shot.

What the Blizzard Left

2010-02-14T08:00:00.000-05:00

Snowzilla, Snowmaggedon, Snowgantica. Two big snowstorms in one week have left us contemplating names. The first snowstorm lasted for two nights and a day. It softened outlines and made everything seem magical and romantic until we started to shovel it. The second storm was scary, with trees creaking and groaning from gusts blowing the snow horizontally. Oddly-shaped drifts collected against houses and fences, looking like sand dunes escaped from some far desert. In the morning, this is what greeted us, curved by the force of the winds as they grew overnight: Carrotsicles!

Frosty Windshield

2010-02-07T08:00:00.000-05:00

The other morning, circular frost crystals speckled the side windows of the car. Frost ferns covered the front windshield. I sat in the passenger seat for a minute and enjoyed the view. Mundane buildings surrounding an ugly parking lot had been transformed into a shimmering composition. I wasn't sure if this photo would look like much of anything, but I took it anyway. It reminds me of looking closely at a small section of one of Monet's canvasses, of being too close to see the objects and instead enjoying the colors, shapes and brush marks. It's full of texture and ambiguity. I thought about how Monet painted his gigantic water lilies after he had started losing his sight. There are time when we may not see things clearly, but we can still have a beautiful view.

Make Your Own Rainbow

2010-01-31T08:00:00.000-05:00

Last week, my table was covered with yarns, metallic braids and my hand-dyed ribbons. I laid out the colors then cut, gathered together, twisted, and knotted the bundles. Pinks, reds, browns, greens, purples. Fuzzy, smooth, shiny, nubby, crinkly, all running through my hands. The soft pile grew. Making these fiber bundles is a favorite task. It exemplifies all the reasons why I work in fiber. I love the colors and textures. Handling them and drinking in their beautiful colors satisfies some need as basic as eating or sleeping. As I worked, I imagined what my students might end up doing with them some day. Within the pile, I had this rainbow. What a joy.

Old Iron Bench

2010-01-24T08:00:00.001-05:00

In the shelter of a 19th-century home, I found one of those absolutely perfect tableaux. This sometimes mystifies my husband, who is not really attracted to rusting iron benches set against walls clinging to their last vestiges of faded paint. Why do I like this so much? The bench mimics delicate lace but the rust declares its weighty iron bones. It took years for those shades of peach and orange to creep and speckle and blend across that bench. The wall behind it is a subtle half-and-half mix of blue and gray, almost the same values. I can't tell you why I am so strongly drawn to this, but I could find inspiration in it, over and over, for a long time.

Savannah Waterfront

2010-01-19T11:28:00.002-05:00

In Savannah there are many grand and beautiful old homes. I prefer the buildings that have been more haphazardly maintained. Their facades are more likely to divulge a few hints about the adventures and mishaps that may have taken place over the years. In America, I associate this special brand of decrepitude with New Orleans, Charleston and Savannah. Near-tropical humidity and the relentless threat of hurricanes imbues them with character and romance. This is one of the old cotton warehouses that sits on the edge of the Savannah River. The ground floor shops and restaurants offer ice cream, cool drinks and souvenirs. Look closely at the upper floors and you might catch a whisper of the stories still held within.

Georgia Pig

2010-01-10T08:00:00.001-05:00

South of Brunswick, Georgia, there is a great place to get barbecue. The Georgia Pig looks as if way more time has been spent smoking pork and perfecting the potato salad than fussing with the decor. I like that in a barbecue joint. These days, it's easy to miss the Georgia Pig. Gas stations and fast food outlets with bright, blinking plastic signs line the road. How can a row of hand painted wooden cut-outs of pigs compete? The pigs owe more to memories of Porky than to some advertising agency's ideas about a suitable logo or "brand image." This is hickory-infused folk art, fading in the sun. By the way, if you stop at the Georgia Pig, don’t ask for fries.

Skimmers and Gull

2010-01-03T08:00:00.000-05:00

Although we are there every few years, being in Florida at Christmas time always seems a bit strange. Blow-up snowmen sharing green lawns with palm trees are just...wrong somehow. It sure is nice to walk along the beach collecting small shells and watching the birds. These black skimmers stood patiently, enjoying the sunshine and waves, allowing me to creep up close. They remind me of old men wearing toupees, with the toupees being the color their hair has not been for many years.

Angels and Snowflakes

2009-12-27T08:00:00.001-05:00

In December, giant snowflakes cover the facade of Sak's Fifth Avenue, which is directly across from Rockefeller Center. Every fifteen minutes or so, the snowflakes come to life, blinking on and off in time to music, performing a syncopated dance. For a few minutes, the snowflakes lure the crowd's attention away from the skating rink with its gigantic sparkling tree. I like to park myself halfway in between, in the midst of the rows of trumpeting angels, looking back at the dancing snowflakes. Even the longtime residents of New York stop for a minute, turning their faces up into the frosty night air, knowing that all this holiday magic will disappear on January 2.

Technicolor Angel

2009-12-20T08:00:00.001-05:00

Architectural details are one of my weaknesses. Patterned brickwork, leaded glass windows and interesting door handles will stop me every time. I'm especially fond of the inhabitants of older buildings: fat cherubs, old men, young nymphs, satyrs and "green men" sprouting leaves instead of hair and beards. This lady hovers over a street in Paris. I think the flourishes on each side of her look like wings. In real life she is a normal stone color. One afternoon while playing around with the "Adjust Tint or Hue" settings, I forgot to start with the original and instead worked over an already-tinted image. This fantastic Christmas-colored angel appeared. Merry Christmas to all.

Letter To Santa

2009-12-12T16:29:00.002-05:00

This year the holiday windows at Macy's tell a story of how children's letters get to Santa Claus. They are charming and imaginative. But one smaller window disturbed me a bit. I watched a grandmother help her granddaughters use a touch screen to send a "virtual letter" to Santa. I hope that children will continue to have the experience of writing on paper with an actual pencil or pen, making crisp creases in the paper so it fits the envelope, then carefully addressing the envelope. By the way, what is the zip code for the North Pole? There is something about tasting the glue as you lick and seal the envelope, and choosing the stamp (can't lick those any more...) It's harder now to find an actual mailbox, where the metal lid makes a satisfying clang after the letter drops in. Will children wonder whether Santa got their email the same way we wondered if the letter got to the North Pole? I really am not a Luddite, but we live so much of our lives in a virtual world. I hope that such a tactile memory can still be a part of a child's life.

Bergdorf's Polar Bear

2009-12-06T20:18:00.003-05:00

If I could visit Manhattan only once in my life, I would come in December. Walking through midtown at dusk, the gray big-city grittiness of daytime fades away, replaced by a neon-lit sense of glamor. The holidays amplify this fantasy. My favorite store windows are always those of Bergdorf Goodman. Each one is a perfect, intelligently-dreamed-up conceit, a balance of beauty, elegance, wit and humor. This year, one window's arctic landscape shows two regal polar bears and a woman who has chosen fashion over warmth. The bears' heads are made from beads and sequins. Their fur is....white rayon fringe! Yards and yards and yards of it. Genius!

Iwo Jima Memorial

2009-11-29T09:09:00.002-05:00

The Iwo Jima Memorial is an iconic American image. In actuality, it's a copy of a copy. The bronze and stone memorial is a three-dimensional interpretation of the photograph that was "re-enacted" to replicate the Marines raising the flag on the island of Iwo Jima during World War II. The photograph quickly became a symbol of heroism under fire. Late one afternoon, I walked around the memorial. Was it possible to find a new way to look at this icon? This view, backlit by the setting sun, is my favorite. From this angle, I keep going back to look at the outstretched fingers of the Marines as they struggle together to raise the flag. With a slight breeze blowing, the flag was as brilliant as stained glass. What better image can I find for Thanksgiving weekend? It is a reminder of the many freedoms for which we are so grateful.

Rusty Fence

2009-11-22T08:00:00.000-05:00

This old metal fence sitting atop a low stone-capped brick wall illustrates of the power of diagonal lines. They move across the picture plane from one end to the other, in counterpoint to the verticals of the fence posts. But it's the color that really made me stop and look. On a drizzly dull day, the row of nearly florescent orange drips came as a real shock. In some ways, this image is a meditation on the nature of rust, starting with the fence itself and the contrast between the last vestiges of cool gray paint clinging to the rough rusty posts. How much time did it take for those lovely drips to form and spread out into such brilliant orange ovals?

Blue Fence and YellowTree

2009-11-15T08:00:00.001-05:00

Our neighborhood is neither fashionable nor quaint. When the roses drape themselves across almost every other fence or the cherry blossoms fall like snow, it is easy to see beauty everywhere. Other times, I search hungrily for a little bit of beauty among the humdrum and mundane. The sun came out as I was walking from the post office. Suddenly, the blue metal fence that had originally struck me only as needing repainting, seemed the perfect complement to the row of adolescent trees glowing gold in the light. Bold shadows! Backlit weeds! A path of beauty lay before me as I walked home, thankful.

View Through the Dubuffet

2009-11-08T08:00:00.000-05:00

Across from the convention center in downtown Houston, what used to be a parking lot is now a green space with a playground, a small lake and many artworks. Jean Dubuffet's "Monument Au Fantone." originally stood in front of a high-rise office tower in another part of downtown. Somehow, it has found its way to this new location, in which it seems to be more appreciated. Small children play hide and seek inside it. Teenagers climb up to sit in the crook of its colorful fiberglass legs This makes me cringe, but at least the sculpture has become a true part of its new neighborhood. In the late afternoon, I crossed the street to explore the sculpture, marveling at how well its shapes and colors relate to those of the convention center. Perhaps they really were meant all along to live near each other.

Vintage Trims

2009-11-01T08:00:00.001-05:00

In the hour or two before the Preview Night at the Houston Quilt Festival, groups of friends sit at tables or on benches up on the second and third floors of the convention center. They pore over the show catalog as intently as if cramming for a final exam. They are studying the lists of vendors, plotting a course that will get them to the most desirable goods before everyone else finds them. The quilts will be there till Sunday evening, but new 60's-style prints, overdyed fragments of old kimono or wine-red beads in the right size may not. It's the old stuff, with a sense of a past life that gets me in trouble every time. I head to Jennifer Zanetti's booth, to examine French passementeries and Belle Epoque metallic lace. Who knew that pompoms came in so many beautiful colors? Can I live in your booth Jennifer? No? Well, this carefully-chosen bag of treasures will get me through till next year.

Inside Looking Out

2009-10-25T08:00:00.000-04:00

The Houston International Quilt Festival springs to life each year in the George R. Brown Convention Center. I've always liked this convention center, whose structural elements are acknowledged, not hidden, and accentuated with red or blue paint. Circles are a recurring design element. This is the view from inside the convention center one minute before the doors open for the day of the show. I was struck by the rhythm of the circular windows and the white posts between each pair of doors. Look through the windows and you will see long lines of people waiting to get in, just a few of the many thousands who came to shop and be inspired by the quilts.

Pumpkins

2009-10-18T08:00:00.000-04:00

Autumn is the time for those who love orange. While it's not my favorite hue, I can easily be seduced by a pyracantha bush laden down with shiny orange berries or by a pride of pumpkins, like these here. Being so similar in color and size, the subtle differences in shapes become important. But it's the stems that keep me looking. Thick or thin, straight, curved or set at a jaunty angle, they give each pumpkin a distinct personality. I'll bet the stems have a lot to do with what type of face might be carved into these pumpkins waiting to become Jack O' Lanterns

The Fate of Statues

2009-10-11T08:00:00.000-04:00

The Maine Monument stands at the southwest entrance to Central Park, across from Columbus Circle. Do today's schoolchildren learn about the Spanish-American War and the sinking of the battleship that led to the slogan "Remember the Maine?" How many of us remember that the explosion was actually an accident? Time eventually separates all those guys on horses and women in Grecian drapery from their historical context. In 1913 when sculptor Attilio Piccirilli won this commission, allegorical figures were the fashion. The public knew how to "read" a work of art. I circled the monument, trying to figure out which figure was Courage, which was Fortitude and which was Peace. But here's my question: Do sculptors admit to themselves that birds will end up sitting on the heads and outstretched arms of their artworks? Do they secretly plan ahead for this so it looks graceful and attractive? Let's face it, that is the fate of statues consigned to live outdoors.

Confetti Toss

2009-10-04T08:00:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was a perfect day for the local street fair. Music and the scent of grilling bratwursts drifted through the air as we dodged dogs straining on leashes and baby strollers the size of small sports cars. I am shy about photographing people, but there was a day at another street fair when I got lucky. A little boy wearing his newly-created crown of paper "feathers" turned and looked me right in the eye. Then he threw a handful of green confetti at me. I'd seen his clenched fist and knew what was coming. Somehow I clicked the shutter at exactly the right moment. When I saw the results, I felt like Henri Cartier-Bresson, master of the Decisive Moment.

Geraniums, Nolay

2009-09-27T08:00:00.000-04:00

The quiet French village of Nolay is in Burgundy. Stone and timber houses lean slightly towards each other, like elderly aunts and uncles. I was enchanted by this house, with its profusion of geraniums. Trendy florists and garden designers might consider geraniums to be unfashionable and unimaginative. But this is a perfect example of how a massing of any humble object---geraniums, buttons, shells---can make an impressive design statement. As an American, I also recognize this scene as being quintessentially European. You can, at least in part, thank the geraniums for that.

Brooklyn botanic Gardens

2009-09-20T08:00:00.000-04:00

The Brooklyn Botanic Gardens are a calm green respite just a subway ride from Manhattan. This has been an odd summer, with recent rains not quite making up for many hot dry weeks. As we walked along the paths, rusty and yellowed leaves drifted down around us, an early reminder that we are on the cusp of autumn. I love this allee of stately old trees. Their even spacing creates an inviting rhythm of repeating vertical lines. Looking at this picture makes me want to walk right into it and follow the trees to discover what might be at the end of the path.