Woodstock, and my mother's house in winter.

New York...and my new lens:
On our last day in the city, I finally ran out of flashcard space. It was a long time coming. I had edited down my photos assiduously twice a day for the entire trip, and yet photos were accumulating at their usual inexorable pace. And this was on the new 4GB compact flashcard that came with the barely-used D200 that my mum so generously passed on to me while we were upstate (story to follow in a later post).
But there was no help for it. We had spent the morning with some blog friends at a playground in Central Park, where Q reunited with her little friend Muguet for the first time since early last summer. It was one of those magical, gilded, balmy mornings so rare in the course of a New York winter, and of course the photo ops came thick and fast.
So it was that, heading downtown toward Union Square and the farmer's market after our long, lazy morning amongst friends, we stopped into one of "those camera shops" in midtown. If you know New York, you'll know what I'm talking about. They always have a broad if wildly random selection of inventory that doesn't exactly jive with the price points (or labeling) of anything you're used to seeing. The brand names are slightly off, the price tags printed in a currency that you can't quite identify, and there is always room to bargain. You never know what you might come across, and most days its a good idea to just keep walking. But on the odd day, if you're lucky, you might just come across something you had no idea you needed, at a price that you can actually sort of afford.

We went in for a flashcard and a phone charger. The camera man took one look at my new (or new to me) micro lens, and pulled a box out from under the desk. I was reluctant. In fact, I was adamantly against any random purchases. We had spent what little we could afford on the trip, and were buckling down. The wide-angle add-on lens that came out of the box was visually appealing, but I shook my head. The camera man gave me a skeptical look. "Just give it a test-run," he cajoled. I refused. "Let me show you just one thing", he said with an oily wink.
He screwed on the lens, and took a shot of me at close range. It was amazing. Pure focus at the center in spite of the dim light. A beautiful radial blur on the periphery of the image. Gritting my teeth and exercising every ounce of self-control, I shook my head again.

Just as I was about to pay my tab and walk out of the shop, my husband asked the price of the lens. It was several hundred less than I would have guessed. I gasped a bit, but choked down my lust with an effort.

"Too bad," my husband said, turning on his heel. "We would have bitten if it was $50 less."

It was, as you might have guessed, almost immediately $50 less. We walked out with a new lens.

Not only do I not have buyer's remorse, but I dearly wish we had come across this lens at the start of our trip instead of on our final afternoon. I really don't understand how these things work. The lens, as far as I can tell, comes from China via somewhere in Serbo Croatia. It's all very William Gibson, and I'm sure someone has done the research on these shadowy networks of vaguely contraband international trade. In fact, on the plane home, we read a NY Times article about how many of the off-brand retailers of everything from burger chains to MP3 players that previously littered the storefronts of Canal Street have recently been shut down by the authorities.

In any case, I can't say I'm sorry for my luck on this particular occasion. The craftsmanship, however it was achieved, is beautiful, and I could not possibly have afforded such a lens otherwise at this fragile stage of our family's subsistence.

We're back! ...though hardly back on track. A new (hand-me-down) camera and two fabulous new lenses have transpired since we left, so we have lots of gorgeous photos to share (plus a couple of visits with lovely friends from around the blogosphere) so stay tuned. I will begin editing photos tonight!

When I was small, my own mother spent what must have been months - possibly even the entire year - making a miniature horse farm for my Christmas present. From Scratch. She bought the shingles, the slate, the tiny hinges, she cut the wood and designed the professional-standard show horse barn from the ground up. No pattern, no pre-cut forms, nothing. She built, hinged and stained the split-rail fences. She painted the model horses to make them unique - roans and appaloosas and paints. She mullioned the windows. It was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen.

This was, of course, a few years after my father had made me a three-story dollhouse out of the hollowed-out trunk of a massive fallen tree. From scratch. With his bare hands. You could see the marks of his expert chisel on the smoothly rounded walls. The bark was left on the outside of the tree, with windows cut into it. My mother, in turn, upholstered tiny canopy beds and sewed curtains for the windows. They built furniture and little wooden ladders to get from one floor to the next.

So you see, there was a high standard set in my family when it comes to creativity. I'd venture to say they set the bar even a bit too high for my blood. Where on earth, just for instance, did they POSSIBLY FIND THE TIME??????????

I ask you. I beg of you. In any case, when it came to our first major Christmas with our daughter (she was home last Christmas, but not old enough to be interested in presents of any complexity...it was more about the crinkly paper), I didn't have a chance. I really didn't. I'd just opened a home business, a didn't have daycare, there would be no barn-building for me before this particular holiday.

My compromise? A bunny house. The Q is particularly obsessed with bunnies this year. So, take one abandoned and dilapidated dollhouse (found by my sister-in-law on a curb, awaiting the garbage truck), a couple bags of dried mosses, some tiny train-set decorations, a few scraps of vintage paper, and a length of burlap, and a bottle of wood glue....
...and, ta-da! One bunny house. I finished it one late night while watching The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (so if it has an air of bleakness to it, you can guess why).
And Q spent hours playing with it the following morning. To my surprise, she did not immediately destroy it (nor has she since).
It's no miniature horse farm, but...for year one, I guess it will have to do!

No time for posting...lots of work to finish up and ship out for the shop today. Tomorrow we will be in a cleft palate clinic at the craniofacial center all day, and Friday we leave for New York.

But...I thought you might enjoy this picture of our little goofball.

Happy January!

On the silliness of the Q.......and why it is impossible for me to put down my camera. Ever. For any reasons. Or under any circumstances.



(Thanks Yoli for the hoodie and sweats...she looks so urban-cool in it!)




Yup, that about sums it up.

Go ahead and laugh as I try to edit my entire surfeit of recent photos and get them up on the blog before we leave for New York (only to return with several hundred more photos for me to edit and post).

Yippeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

On Friday we leave for ol' New York. Four days in Woodstock, four in the City. Now that's a vacation! It's our Christmas present from my mother.

(Totally unrelated photos of a circus clown taken by me last summer)

I love so many things about VDJ....
...but today this outfit, as worn by Jeanne, is just simply my very favorite thing. See the VDJ blog for details.

Do I post too much of this museum? If so, it's only because I'm amazed that it isn't more heavily frequented. Such a beautiful space, and pretty much your best entertainment value in town if you like that sort of thing. Maybe that's the problem...too many people are rubbed the wrong way by contemporary art? I mean, I can understand that sentiment. I don't love all contemporary art myself. In fact, I wouldn't even say I love the majority of it. I DO watch the Whitney Biennial every year, but I don't agree with every selection, not by a longshot. I was not raised by people who especially loved contemporary art. And yet...I do love creativity. A well-designed space (and this space is exceptionally well-designed!) filled with thoughtfully-chosen art is always worthwhile to my mind - regardless of whether or not you agree entirely with the choice of artworks.I mean, in all seriousness, who CAN agree on art? Very few. But is it interesting to discuss it? Absolutely.
Does art make for good creative thought? Certainly. Just look at the Q's gestures as she runs through these spaces. She may decide she likes these pieces. She may decide she hates them. Either way, she is relating to them in strong, visceral, animated ways.
She is very much in this space, and she is paying attention to the pieces in it. I love that.
And while we're on the subject, here is Q's favorite artist in the museum at present (with the Whoopie-cushion wall running a very close second). She adores this wall. She could spend hours here. She can't get enough of it, and, in the end, has to be dragged away (even though she loves the next floor as well).
The technicolor raindrop wallpaper makes her swoon. Need I say more?
I'm trying to come to terms with the fact that I'm probably going to have to cut out about 10,000 raindrop decals from various colorful wallpapers and stick them to her wall one of these days.

...or, maybe I'll just renew our membership next year. Yeah. That's probably what I'll do.
Having been forcibly removed from the raindrop room...running off to the next adventure.
Drawing inside the Idea Box.
Mommy loves the chairs. QQ loves the boxes of supplies.
Making a card for daddy.
And, finally, the roof garden...still fun in January thank's to Colorado's sunny climate.
Did I mention this is a beautifully-designed space?

Between her babysitter, Mike, and me, Q has had quite a bit of time at the contemporary art museum this season.
She kind of knows it by heart.
She has her favorite spots, which she thrills to each and every time. She knows where she is going, feels at home there, and is happy to lead the way.

Also, the majority of the staff knows her on sight ;) and, as you can see, she (literally) has the run of the place.
We have certainly made good use of our membership this year!

My mother recently sent me these photos she'd discovered of my grandmother. They're quite amazing - she had a great deal of style.
1941, wartime, having recently escaped war-torn Europe to make a new home in the US.
1930, Carnon, France. So young! And look at those legs!
1937, Holland (her husband's birth country), with my mum in her arms. My mum got all the Dutch and none of the French, it seems.
Look at that blouse and jacket! Oh my.