photography

I’ve been collecting small bits of inspiration and today I found Jamie Livingston, or, rather, found out about Jamie Livingston. He took one Polaroid photograph a day for 18 years, from the time he was a student at Bard to the day he died. Some are missing from the collection, but the ones that remain — and there’s more than 6,000 of them, have been shown in various incarnations.

It’s an amazing, inspiring story and one fitting, I think, to kick off Thanksgiving week. I’m thinking a lot lately — as I’m sure tons of people are — about things for which I am thankful. One of the biggest things are unexpected shots of inspiration, and, in particular, those I know and those I know of who inspire me. I didn’t know about Jamie or his life — even though there’s been a lot written about him, from at the New York Times to a bevy of websites in his honor — but he’s inspired me to think, to look and to consider my own longevity and commitment.

If you’d like to learn more, here are some websites to spend some time on:

Hugh Crawford’s collection of all of Jamie’s Polaroids

Images from the 2007 art show of Livingston’s photographs, as they appeared at Bard College

Another way to view the photos, this time in a flipbook

And here are a couple of my own Polaroids, taken several months ago on walks up the Blue Ridge Parkway and through my West Asheville neighborhood, respectively. My own small shots, posted in his honor.

I wrote a story recently about an architect and his daughter who built a house together in North Asheville. The house was beautiful, a treehouse of sorts, filled with lofts and massive door-like windows and a deck that was nearly the size of the bedrooms put together. When we were talking, the father mentioned that he believed life was too short to have ugly things, that everyday objects should take on the beauty of artwork. Christie’s house was filled with handblown glasses and colorful dishes and flying pigs. She had a great sense of humor.

Today, looking around for some photo inspiration on Shutter Sisters, I found this post challenging photographers to do the same. Go into the kitchen right now and shoot. I did this morning, and here’s what I found: our silverware. Simple. Shiny. Reflecting the red construction paper scarecrow my niece Acy gave me from her Kindergarten artwork stash. And very much my everyday.

There were fun shots of apples and dishwater. Here are some of my other favorites, which you’ll find links to in the comments. What I love the most is the idea of all these women with their cameras, bending and stretching to take photos over dirty dishes and suds-filled sinks:

• Luscious vegetables from Meadowlark Days
• Delicate teacups from Artsy Nature Girl
• A much better cutlery photo from Diving for Pearls
• A beautiful set from Nomesthenome
• Great Atlas jars from R. Parton

When I was a junior in undergrad, I spent the summer living on the edge of Biltmore Forest, in a little run-down house where my Bulgarian friend and his now-famous authoress wife lived. They were spending the summer gong to Bulgaria and dealing with US immigration agents (Are you married? Yes! Really? Yes!) while I took care of their dog and made terrible pesto while listening to Sonic Youth really loud.

That summer, I also found myself tagging along as friends sought out some of the best swimming holes around here. These pools had wholly uncreative names from what I remember: Whale Rock and Skinny Dip, for starters. This photo is from a hike Pat and I went on to Skinny Dip just a few days ago, where the withered ferns grew gold in the afternoon light. I always wonder where the red fern grows (wow. funny!).

I didn’t want to go on a walk in the woods, to be honest. Some days I can’t stand the quiet. But then I go and walk and dodge the tree roots growing over the path and slip on rocks and find myself on this footbridge over one of the pools. It’s a bridge with only one railing, the other side open to the water sloshing over the rocks. It’s not deep or tall, really, but I still felt a little dizzy, disoriented, bewildered looking into the water. It’s beautiful there. The water is cold, even in the heat of the summer. And there I found this little leaf, almost off the edge, and I knew what it meant.