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In the bleak days of the winter of 1980, scared and totally unprepared, I awaited the arrival of my first and only child. I never planned on being a mother. That was for other women, certainly not me. I had chosen a life of travel and adventure, and frowned upon the parochial life of a suburban mom.
I went kicking and screaming into motherhood, but in time joyfully accepted my job as nurturer, teacher and role model to a little boy who stole my heart.
I went kicking and screaming into motherhood, but in time joyfully accepted my job as nurturer, teacher and role model to a little boy who stole my heart.
In the days leading up to my son's birth I agonized over what type of mother I wanted to be. I didn't want to make the same mis-steps my parents made with me. I vowed I would tell my child, he was loved every day, and I would encourage him to dream big. I was raised with limitations all around me, closing off a world of dreams. I taught my son he could be whatever he wanted to be, while remaining kind, considerate and compassionate.
Wanting to reinforce these intentions for my unborn child, I started a needlepoint with a theme I loved - animals. The subject etched into the needlepoint's canvas was Noah's Ark, a story of unwavering faith and gratitude. My idea was to stitch a canvas of hopes and dreams. Each animal, held a key value that I wanted to impart to my child: the lion represented courage, the elephant, wisdom and strength, and giraffe taught resourcefulness and intuition. Stitch by stitch my intentions were sewn firmly put in place. In the final days of my pregnancy, I hung the canvas of intentions on his nursery wall.
Wanting to reinforce these intentions for my unborn child, I started a needlepoint with a theme I loved - animals. The subject etched into the needlepoint's canvas was Noah's Ark, a story of unwavering faith and gratitude. My idea was to stitch a canvas of hopes and dreams. Each animal, held a key value that I wanted to impart to my child: the lion represented courage, the elephant, wisdom and strength, and giraffe taught resourcefulness and intuition. Stitch by stitch my intentions were sewn firmly put in place. In the final days of my pregnancy, I hung the canvas of intentions on his nursery wall.
Now 36 years later, I have dug out that same needlepoint from my box of memorabilia, cleaned it off, and will present it to my son, and his beautiful pregnant wife, due this September.
The energy of intentions that have been stitched into this needlepoint are still palpable. As I pass this embroidery on to my first grandchild, may he be guided by Noah's determination and the wisdom of these powerful totem animals. May he be strong, patient, resilient, creative and filled with passion.
The energy of intentions that have been stitched into this needlepoint are still palpable. As I pass this embroidery on to my first grandchild, may he be guided by Noah's determination and the wisdom of these powerful totem animals. May he be strong, patient, resilient, creative and filled with passion.
May this piece also remind my son that all our lives are interwoven, it is that connectedness that is the fiber of our very existence.
Live in color,
Abby
Live in color,
Abby
Happy Mother's Day
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Have you ever wondered what a photographer is trying to say with her photographs?
Just as a writer needs to develop an idea before she sits down to her computer to write the next great American novel; a photographer also needs to be clear about the message she is trying to convey though her image.
This week I am wrapping up a 12 week on-line visual journaling workshop guided by Kim Manley Ort and Sally Drew. The goal of the workshop was to develop the skills needed to become more self-aware of my thoughts, emotions and photographic voice, and learn how it affects the images I make.
This workshop took me beyond the technical into 12 weeks of introspection. I examined the metaphors and symbols found in my images and uncovered themes, patterns and the universal messages hidden within the pixels. It seemed simple enough until the question was asked, "Why do I take photographs?" This seems like a easy question, but not so fast.
What I discovered is that I had no idea what I was trying to say with my photographs. Was I just clicking away willy-nilly, or was there a clear intent or vision to my images? It took weeks for me to wade through my images and the thoughts that lay behind them, but finally a golden thread appeared.
One of my final assignments was to write an "Artist Statement". OY! This was no small task. To make it even more difficult, I needed to whittle it down to just a few sentences. After several false starts, I began to weave that golden thread into the very fabric of my being.
Just as a writer needs to develop an idea before she sits down to her computer to write the next great American novel; a photographer also needs to be clear about the message she is trying to convey though her image.
This week I am wrapping up a 12 week on-line visual journaling workshop guided by Kim Manley Ort and Sally Drew. The goal of the workshop was to develop the skills needed to become more self-aware of my thoughts, emotions and photographic voice, and learn how it affects the images I make.
This workshop took me beyond the technical into 12 weeks of introspection. I examined the metaphors and symbols found in my images and uncovered themes, patterns and the universal messages hidden within the pixels. It seemed simple enough until the question was asked, "Why do I take photographs?" This seems like a easy question, but not so fast.
What I discovered is that I had no idea what I was trying to say with my photographs. Was I just clicking away willy-nilly, or was there a clear intent or vision to my images? It took weeks for me to wade through my images and the thoughts that lay behind them, but finally a golden thread appeared.
One of my final assignments was to write an "Artist Statement". OY! This was no small task. To make it even more difficult, I needed to whittle it down to just a few sentences. After several false starts, I began to weave that golden thread into the very fabric of my being.
To understand the method of my madness, I offer you my Artist Statement:
Alice had her looking glass, I have my camera.
Just as Alice wanted to escape her reality, at times, so do I. By placing my camera up to my eye, I am suddenly propelled into a magical kingdom filled with phantasmagorical colors and shapes, curiously awash in enchanted light. I try to capture nature's hidden realms that are privy only to those with inquisitive eyes. My job is to create a space I can escape to, finding a momentary respite in which I can finally breathe. Welcome to my space.
Just as Alice wanted to escape her reality, at times, so do I. By placing my camera up to my eye, I am suddenly propelled into a magical kingdom filled with phantasmagorical colors and shapes, curiously awash in enchanted light. I try to capture nature's hidden realms that are privy only to those with inquisitive eyes. My job is to create a space I can escape to, finding a momentary respite in which I can finally breathe. Welcome to my space.
I'm not strange, weird, off, nor crazy, my reality is just different from yours.”
~ Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
The wonder of it all is what astounds me, perhaps you feel the same. As illustrated by these simple pussy willows, moistened by the morning dew; enchantment takes hold.
We all have our creative pursuits, whether it's photography, writing, painting, cooking, gardening, or whatever. Next time you have that creative urge, ask yourself, "Why am I doing this? What do I want it to say about me?"
If you are up for the challenge, begin by being intentional, starting with your voice.
Live in color,
Abby
Thank you, Kim and Sally, for gently guiding me to the self-reflection required to become more creative. To find out more about this workshop and others click onto www.kimmanleyort.com/blog/.
We all have our creative pursuits, whether it's photography, writing, painting, cooking, gardening, or whatever. Next time you have that creative urge, ask yourself, "Why am I doing this? What do I want it to say about me?"
If you are up for the challenge, begin by being intentional, starting with your voice.
Live in color,
Abby
Thank you, Kim and Sally, for gently guiding me to the self-reflection required to become more creative. To find out more about this workshop and others click onto www.kimmanleyort.com/blog/.
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She probably has walked these weathered, cobblestone streets all her life, and today was no exception. I was drawn to her floral smock, layered with a crisp gingham apron. Pride in her appearance was apparent. Her wooden cane added just enough support to her bowed legs, and balance to her weary feet, as she made her way to the morning market.
I can only imagine the savory ingredients, on her shopping list for this evenings family dinner; pungent herbs, farm ripe vegetables, and perhaps a fresh hen to round out the meal.
There was a contentment and ease about her. Her strong, dignified presence and gentle demeanor convinced me she was content with her place in life. She was satisfied strolling the familiar streets, while running her mundane daily chores. Providing her family a nurturing and delectable meal, with the freshest ingredients gave her purpose, and that was enough.
The streets are filled with many wise ones, sages, that silently walk among us, showing us a calm acceptance to life.
How accepting are you of your life?
Live in color,
Abby
I can only imagine the savory ingredients, on her shopping list for this evenings family dinner; pungent herbs, farm ripe vegetables, and perhaps a fresh hen to round out the meal.
There was a contentment and ease about her. Her strong, dignified presence and gentle demeanor convinced me she was content with her place in life. She was satisfied strolling the familiar streets, while running her mundane daily chores. Providing her family a nurturing and delectable meal, with the freshest ingredients gave her purpose, and that was enough.
The streets are filled with many wise ones, sages, that silently walk among us, showing us a calm acceptance to life.
How accepting are you of your life?
Live in color,
Abby
- Published on
One never knows when an amazing gift will come your way.
A dozen roses showed up on my doorstep this week. These weren't your garden variety roses, but deep persimmon roses. They were beautiful and they knew it. Not only were these roses dazzling, they screamed Spring, calling me into action.
With the morning sunlight casting a radiant glow on these perfect posies, I reached for my camera, and clicked and clicked away.
A dozen roses showed up on my doorstep this week. These weren't your garden variety roses, but deep persimmon roses. They were beautiful and they knew it. Not only were these roses dazzling, they screamed Spring, calling me into action.
With the morning sunlight casting a radiant glow on these perfect posies, I reached for my camera, and clicked and clicked away.
I immediately went into the Georgia O'Keeffe mode, seeing the sensual abstractions that revealed themselves, tucked deep within their layered folds, as water droplets clung to their fleshy surface.
When you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it's your world for the moment. I want to give that world to someone else. Most people in the city rush around so, they have no time to look at a flower. I want them to see it whether they want to or not."
~ Georgia O'Keeffe
This is why I love photography, discovering the hidden form and beauty in the everyday. The scent and sensuality of flowers is nothing to sneeze at.
I hate flowers - I paint them because they're cheaper than models and they don't move."
~ Georgia O'Keeffe
Live in color,
Abby
Abby
HAPPY SPRING!
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Every culture since the beginning of time has done it. The Egyptians, Greeks, Romans, Celts, all the way back to the Babylonians have done it. It was time I gave it a try.
Scrying is the practice of looking into a reflective surface, examining the non-physical shapes and images that reveal themselves to you. Scrying creates a meditative state in which you only focus on the patterns and lines before you. Different items may be used as a focus tool, water is the most common, however, mirrors, crystals, smoke, flames and even clouds has been used throughout time. In my case I chose ice, for which there is an abundance in Vermont, as the ground wakes from its winter slumber.
Scrying is the practice of looking into a reflective surface, examining the non-physical shapes and images that reveal themselves to you. Scrying creates a meditative state in which you only focus on the patterns and lines before you. Different items may be used as a focus tool, water is the most common, however, mirrors, crystals, smoke, flames and even clouds has been used throughout time. In my case I chose ice, for which there is an abundance in Vermont, as the ground wakes from its winter slumber.
With spring approaching, the rivers and streams of the Green Mountains are choked with massive, thick slabs of ice moving downstream. Like giant building blocks, strewn along the riverbanks, they called me in for a closer examination. The slabs average 6 inches deep, with some pieces spanning several feet wide. On this day the surface of these hulking blocks of ice turn into reflective pools of light from the warm March afternoon sun, a perfect opportunity for Scrying.
Looking closely into these glistening glacial blocks reveals the cracks, scars and frozen bubbles from a winter with too many thaws and freezes. An icy cross-section can hold intriguing shapes and figures for the viewer. The mind struggles to find meaning in the abstract, but eventually it quietly settles into the hum of an internal wisdom, unmasking only what needs to be seen.
Whether we choose to scry or to simply commit to seeing more deeply there is an abundance of highly cool stuff out there to astonish and amaze. We can never have too much amazement, can we?
Live in color,
Abby
Whether we choose to scry or to simply commit to seeing more deeply there is an abundance of highly cool stuff out there to astonish and amaze. We can never have too much amazement, can we?
Live in color,
Abby
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We are all guilty of returning home from a wonderful vacation with the familiar, iconic photos that resemble postcards, more than a personal experience. The sweeping landscapes dappled with light, the grand cathedral in the bustling square, and let us not forget the ubiquitous sunset saturated with the day's golden afterglow, they all vie for your photographic attention.
There is nothing wrong with with any of those images, but what does that tell of my personal and emotionally charged experience?
There is nothing wrong with with any of those images, but what does that tell of my personal and emotionally charged experience?
On a recent return visit to San Miguel de Allende, located in central Mexico, I decided I was going to focus only on my abstract impressions of this charming colonial town. The reward of this exercise was that I actually, for the first time, saw this quaint town. Instead of targeting the classic compositions, I concentrated solely on color, shapes and textures. It was liberating.
At this moment in time, I am drawn to the abstractions of the world. I believe abstract images are demanding and require more attention, affording an opportunity to delve deeper into the nature of things, unmasking unique emotional reactions. Abstract photography for me is the art of subtraction, eliminating most everything literal from an image, exposing the subject's true essence.
Leaving behind the postcard images for another photographer, these are my impressions of San Miguel.
Live in color,
Abby
Live in color,
Abby
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Can you always trust what you see?
I think not. In these days of Photoshop and advanced photography programs that enhance, tweak and transform, many of the images we see have been altered in some way.
I am currently on a journey, attempting to reveal, dare I say, my inner artist. I start my day by perusing countless photography sites exposing me to not only fabulous photographers, but amazing techniques used in post-processing. Textures, grains, and layers...oh my! There are a myriad of options available to the budding photographer when editing one's images. But the question arises, do I really want to change the photo that much?
I recently completed an artistic photography workshop. Fantastic results were rendered by layering and masking an image. The results were phantasmagorical, highly cool, but not to my taste.
This morning as a walked into my garage, I noticed the window was speckled with frost. There I stood, witnessing the morning's gift, frost. I made an about-face, walked back into the house to grab my camera. With camera and macro lens in hand, I clicked away, trying to catch each perfectly unique formation. My favorite was the one above, which I titled, Keeper of the Crystal.
I showed the above image to a friend and he asked, what did I do to the image to make it look this way, and how did I get that nugget in the center? The short answer, nothing. Sure, I tweaked the basic adjustments and added a vignette, but that's it. I could have added a texture or layers, but I chose not to. Why mess with nature?
A sage once said, "If you can't improve on silence, keep quiet". Allow me to tweak that by saying, if you can't improve upon natural beauty, do nothing. And that is exactly what I did with this image.
Don't thank me for the image. Thank Mother Nature.
Live in color,
Abby
I think not. In these days of Photoshop and advanced photography programs that enhance, tweak and transform, many of the images we see have been altered in some way.
I am currently on a journey, attempting to reveal, dare I say, my inner artist. I start my day by perusing countless photography sites exposing me to not only fabulous photographers, but amazing techniques used in post-processing. Textures, grains, and layers...oh my! There are a myriad of options available to the budding photographer when editing one's images. But the question arises, do I really want to change the photo that much?
I recently completed an artistic photography workshop. Fantastic results were rendered by layering and masking an image. The results were phantasmagorical, highly cool, but not to my taste.
This morning as a walked into my garage, I noticed the window was speckled with frost. There I stood, witnessing the morning's gift, frost. I made an about-face, walked back into the house to grab my camera. With camera and macro lens in hand, I clicked away, trying to catch each perfectly unique formation. My favorite was the one above, which I titled, Keeper of the Crystal.
I showed the above image to a friend and he asked, what did I do to the image to make it look this way, and how did I get that nugget in the center? The short answer, nothing. Sure, I tweaked the basic adjustments and added a vignette, but that's it. I could have added a texture or layers, but I chose not to. Why mess with nature?
A sage once said, "If you can't improve on silence, keep quiet". Allow me to tweak that by saying, if you can't improve upon natural beauty, do nothing. And that is exactly what I did with this image.
Don't thank me for the image. Thank Mother Nature.
Live in color,
Abby
- Published on
So what does a girl do on a chilly winter's day? Hightail it down to the creek, lay on a slab of ice, and take photos.
Hidden in the solitude of Vermont, if one is crazy enough to withstand frigid temperatures, one can uncover extraordinary hidden treasures. On today's outing I parked myself next to a half frozen river and witnessed the magic.
In one fell swoop, life is gushing with movement, yet also frozen in time. How does that happen?
In one fell swoop, life is gushing with movement, yet also frozen in time. How does that happen?
My words could not amplify the beauty I found within the ice. I will let the images speak for themselves.
Live in color,
Abby
Live in color,
Abby
- Published on
Who are we if not our memories?
A funny thing happens on the way to one's own antiquity. We try to grab on to the fragments of our life, desperately attempting to slow time down. Sadly, that doesn't work. Time marches on, slowing for no one.
If we are smart, we surround ourselves with photographs. Photographs of the good times and of our loved ones, reminding us where we came from, who we once were, and who we think we are today.
In the hall of my home, I once had a wall of family photos spanning decades. Images of my parents as young, impressionable lovers, grandparents long gone, pictures of my son at various stages, along with our dogs, in-laws that have fallen into out-laws, and a slightly faded Kodak print of me, a favorite. It was a shot of me at the tender age of four, or there about, with arms folded, already showing signs of defiance and independence. This photographic walk down memory lane was my window into who I was, and gave a nod to the people that added texture to my life. One day my son referred to this area as, "The wall of the dead,” harsh, but partially true. I quickly removed all the photographs. What I didn't realize at the time was that that wall was my anchor, which mapped out my voyage and my family's evolution. That innocuous wall, strangely, gave me comfort on my current circuitous journey.
A funny thing happens on the way to one's own antiquity. We try to grab on to the fragments of our life, desperately attempting to slow time down. Sadly, that doesn't work. Time marches on, slowing for no one.
If we are smart, we surround ourselves with photographs. Photographs of the good times and of our loved ones, reminding us where we came from, who we once were, and who we think we are today.
In the hall of my home, I once had a wall of family photos spanning decades. Images of my parents as young, impressionable lovers, grandparents long gone, pictures of my son at various stages, along with our dogs, in-laws that have fallen into out-laws, and a slightly faded Kodak print of me, a favorite. It was a shot of me at the tender age of four, or there about, with arms folded, already showing signs of defiance and independence. This photographic walk down memory lane was my window into who I was, and gave a nod to the people that added texture to my life. One day my son referred to this area as, "The wall of the dead,” harsh, but partially true. I quickly removed all the photographs. What I didn't realize at the time was that that wall was my anchor, which mapped out my voyage and my family's evolution. That innocuous wall, strangely, gave me comfort on my current circuitous journey.
"Memory is what makes our lives. Life without memory is no life at all… Our memory is our coherence, our reason, our feeling, even our action.” ~ Luis Bunuel
Memories aren't stagnant, they are a living grab bag of impressions and experiences that define us and fuel our creativity. So why do we bury away our photographs? Why don't we proudly show off all the phases of our lives?
What if we were to print a few photographs today? Mount them in our favorite frames and carefully arrange them on our shelves. Flood our memory with images, for our memory is our unique story, revealing how we have grown, not aged.
What if we were to print a few photographs today? Mount them in our favorite frames and carefully arrange them on our shelves. Flood our memory with images, for our memory is our unique story, revealing how we have grown, not aged.
Live in color,
Abby
Abby
- Published on
Have you had a good rant today?
It seems wherever I look these days someone is going on about the abysmal state we presently live in. Growing up we were told we were the good guys, the reasonable, educated ones, the leaders... How's that working for us? Oh, what a mess we have made on our watch!
I am not here to be political or to have any neat and tidy solutions, I just want to shed light on something I have noticed with great regularity lately. We have become a country of sheep.
It seems wherever I look these days someone is going on about the abysmal state we presently live in. Growing up we were told we were the good guys, the reasonable, educated ones, the leaders... How's that working for us? Oh, what a mess we have made on our watch!
I am not here to be political or to have any neat and tidy solutions, I just want to shed light on something I have noticed with great regularity lately. We have become a country of sheep.
The media is chockablock full of talking heads, all spouting views that instead of being calm, intelligent and rational, ignite and divide. Don't get me wrong, bring on the talking heads, the more views the better, however, how we each deal with them is the real problem.
When has taking sides become so important? This all seems like high school to me, the need to fit in, bestowing your allegiance to one group, or a way of thinking, to be accepted. What happened to thinking for oneself? How about using the God-given talents we are all have, to form a unique perspective allowing us to assess the situation and work with others, as opposed to fighting with them. It takes a strong person to stand alone and not join an angry mob. It takes a strong person to take the effort to educate oneself from numerous outlets, formulate your own opinion, and not follow the masses.
When has taking sides become so important? This all seems like high school to me, the need to fit in, bestowing your allegiance to one group, or a way of thinking, to be accepted. What happened to thinking for oneself? How about using the God-given talents we are all have, to form a unique perspective allowing us to assess the situation and work with others, as opposed to fighting with them. It takes a strong person to stand alone and not join an angry mob. It takes a strong person to take the effort to educate oneself from numerous outlets, formulate your own opinion, and not follow the masses.
Sheep have a strong instinct to follow. Back in 2005 a story hit the airwaves about 450 ill-fated sheep. The sheep died as they followed each other off a cliff in the pastoral town of Gevas, Turkey. The fallen sheep plummeted 50 feet, creating a downy pile of carcasses which allowed the fallen stragglers to walk away unharmed. Sheep are social creatures, as we are. Flocking is ingrained in the breed with the notion there is safety in numbers: sound familiar? But are we sheep? More importantly, do you want to be the surviving straggler who walks away unscathed, whose only job is to bury the carcasses?
Live in color,
Abby
The attached photos are from an 2009 excellent adventure to New Zealand with my sister. I knew the photos would come in handy one day.
Happy Holidays
Live in color,
Abby
The attached photos are from an 2009 excellent adventure to New Zealand with my sister. I knew the photos would come in handy one day.
Happy Holidays