It's been snowing a bit in Boulder, which has afforded several little glimpses into fairyland from my balcony door. Above is a shot from last night, when the streetlight lit up the trees. Below is one of those marvelous natural black and white's.
I love the blue sky that holds the light when the snow is still coming down at night. Isn't it unearthly?
And here's a shot of the balcony this morning - I don't know how that happened, but I think it's pretty awesome.
Photos: LCT Boulder 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
I realize my last entry was all about Paris, but today I'm feeling... un poco Italiano. I find myself thinking of my darling friends from grade school and high school, now clustered about Atlanta, or dipping in for quick holiday hellos before zipping off to all corners of the world.
These friends are my flying buttresses, i miei archi-contrafforti.
Flying buttresses, which became popular in Gothic architecture, support the load-bearing walls of magnificent Cathedrals, allowing for larger windows and wider roofs. The advent of the flying buttresses saw the transformation of prayer spaces, before so shadowed and dark, now illuminated with the radiance of magnificent rose windows, drawing the sinner's eyes from the dankness of internalized preoccupation to the elevated, dazzling light.
Just so, dear friends don't need to be forever pressed at your side. They can have their foundations far from your own. But the winged support they send you from time to time can uphold your heavy walls, so that from within, your soul can breathe with new space, new light, new optimism.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
5 months ago, I thought Summer Break was a thing of the past, to be relished by school children and educators.
3 months ago, I reveled in my impromptu Summer Break and the feeling of weightlessness that accompanied the gigantic blank space (with a Flatiron backdrop) that constituted my future.
Today, I am antsy.
I'm itching for employment, for a chance to dive into a project, to embrace a new corporate mentality, to WORK. I'm a naturally productive person and I thrive in environments of even the most rudimentary structure. And I detest spinning my wheels.
So today, with my noble white steed (read: mac), I ventured once more into the cyber world of job availability, to flaunt my assets and issue thinly veiled pleas for gainful employment. One thing led to another and I was inspired by one particular Denver advertising agency to take a brief flight of fancy over many miles of land and sea. Because, you see, once you begin to think about all the gorgeous imagery of Parisian origin, and, particularly, the movies and photographers that make it so accessible to day-dreaming Americans, it's hard to resist the urge to cull some visual stimulation.
And thus, I give you my side-track for the day; an ode to Audrey Hepburn and Audrey Tautou, to Annie Leibovitz and Richard Avedon, to Leslie Caron, to the lesser known artistry of Rodney Smith and Enid Robbie and my new favorite Kent Miles, in admiration of the wonderful things that an accent on the é can do.
photo from the whimsical Sparkles and Crumbs (go visit!).
Don't you want to be here?
I have yet to see an example of when Annie Leibovitz and a fisheye lens can't make magic.
A new discovery: Kent Miles.
The man has an eye for black and white art.
The inimitable Richard Avedon, the great initiator of art/fashion photogrophy.
Another image from Sparkles and Crumbs.
Please take me here.
A view of paris, indeed.
A still from Amelie. Cinematography to inspire.
Kent Miles catches a cleric descending the Montmartre stairs.
Leslie Caron, fairy princess for all Americans in Paris.
Enid Robbie's watercolor of Notre Dame, an intuitive gradation of color and detail. Close your eyes and listen to the bells and send a hello to Quasi Modo.
Avedon catching the Moulin Rouge in Black and White.
Rodney Smith making me wish I could print off his work in life-size format.
Oh, Audrey. Oh, Givenchy. Oh, Nike.
Enough daydreaming. Time to take a note from Avedon's model and skip away. Now, where did I put my umbrella?
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
At the top of her lungs.
There's plenty of songs to bust out.
And there's nothing like a lady with a message to convey.So sidle up to that microphone...
Right now, he's prob'ly slow dancin' with a bleach blond tramp
and she's prob'ly gettin' frisky.
Right now, he's prob'ly buyin' her some fruity little drink
'cause she can't shoot whiskey.
Right now, he's prob'ly up behind her with a pool stick showin' her
how to shoot a combo,
And he don't know...
Black Velvet in that little boy's smile
Black Velvet in that slow, southern style.
A new religion that'll bring you to your knees,
Black Velvet, if you please...
'Cause I've heard about forgiveness and I'm hopin' that it ain't too late.
No, I ain't no holy roller, but you go tell your King
That all the folks up in heaven might like to hear me sing.
-Grace Potter and the Nocturnals
I see I'm only on the way to hell.
The devil's got my baby,
Somebody help me please,
The devil's got my baby,
But I know he's only after me,
I know he really wants me.
'Cause though he's gone and you are wonderful,
It's hard to move on.
Yet, I'm better near to you...
-A Fine Frenzy
-I bet you guys forgot what tomorrow is...
Bye bye baby, remember you're my baby when they give you the eye.
Although I know that you care, won't you write and declare,
That though on the loose, you are still on the square.
I'll be gloomy, but send that rainbow to me,
Then my shadows will fly.
Though you'll be gone for awhile, I know that I'll be smilin'
With my baby, by and by.
-What a jerk, who could forget something like that! A Saint's Day! A free day! No School!
-The publics own the sidewalk, but us Catholics get the Saints Days off!
-Hey you guys, let's all meet on the corner tomorrow and walk over to the school
-The public school - And we'll look up at those windows and yell:
Gets behind me and keeps giving me that shove again,
Puttin' rain in my eyes,
Tears in my dreams,
And rocks in my heart.
As someone told me lately: Everyone deserves the chance to fly!
And if I'm flying solo, at least I'm flying free.
To those who'd ground me, take a message back from me:
Tell them how I'm Defying Gravity...
Don't let me down, don't let me down,
Oh I'm in love for the first time,
Don't you know it's gonna last,
It's the love that lasts forever,
It's the love that has not past.
If you want it, Come and get it, But understand,
You take me as I am.
The coffee cup, I think about you.
I want you so, It's like I'm losing my mind.
Three cheers and dammit, C'est la vie,
I got through all of last year, And I'm here.
Lord knows, at least I was there, And I'm here,
Look who's here.
I'm still here.
To send me a Joe who had winter and snow in his heart wasn't smart.
Love, you didn't do right by me.
As they say in the song: You done me wrong.
Because the world is round...
Because the wind is high, It blows my mind,
Because the wind is high...
Love is old, love is new, Love is all, love is you.
Because the sky is blue, It makes me cry,
Because the sky is blue...
Monday, October 19, 2009
There's nothing in the world like talented people having fun.
So here's an uplifting clip... From Funny Face, with Kay Thompson and Fred Astaire.
In the film, she's a fashion magazine editor, and he's a photographer, and they're pretending to be spiritual musicians from Tallahassee in order to infiltrate a Parisian den of "empathicalism". They need to get upstairs to where Audrey Hepburn has been sequestered away with the head of the empathicalists.
Philosophy be damned. There's a fashion show that must go on!
Monday, October 12, 2009
We hiked the Royal Arches Trail in Chatauqua during the snowfall and I snapped some shots of October's Winter Wonderland.
The view from the trail head. You can't see our final destination.
It's lost in the mist.
Snow frosting pines and rocks.
Confused deciduous trees, under the impression that it's still fall.
It looks something like Nature imitating Jackson Pollock...
Evergreen vs. Deciduous, with Jack Frost as mediator.
Rock formations and icicles.
No campfires for frigid fingers.