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Friday, December 6, 2013

to a beautiful man

It is hard to imagine a more extraordinary man, a symbol of serenity, grace and truth. Through him we know what the word "Freedom" means. To your next life dear dear Mandela. Shall you reside in all our children's hearts.


on fatherhood

Beautiful photo essay by Phil Toledano


Sunday, November 24, 2013

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

"In urdu we have a saying: aik lari main pro kay rakhna. Literally translated, it means the string that holds the pearls together. That is what my mother was. She was the string that held our family together. Since her death, the string has been broken and life has not been the same. We feel alone and we feel lost."

- as told by Rafiq ur Rehman, a Pakistani primary school teacher, who lost his mother due to US drone strikes.

Sunday, October 27, 2013

Thank you Lou for gracing our world with your forever visionary music and words.

Saturday, September 28, 2013

instagram

Instagram has taken over my blogging these days. Social media has it's way of doing that, luring you astray to the next thing. Not that instagram is anything new, nor am I as a user (it's been over a year), but my visual expression has moved there for a while, that little diary framed in it's square walls. Joined by fellow photographers, stylists and art directors that I work with, our daily musings are inspired inside and out of our work day. I find that it brings a sense of security that my mind (well visually at least) is still looking. My daughter has joined me and I'm refreshed by her seriousness of the craft.  At 10, she is attempting to create a visual poetry of the world around her. Not with the usual tween obsessions, but influenced by the streams of artist friends (both young and old) she is exploring and expressing her way of looking.

A few of my favorites from Aya's roll...




















We Have An Anchor

Beautiful piece at the BAM last night by Jem Cohen. Meditative filmic views of Cape Breton and phenomenal driving music woven by the words of Elizabeth Bishop and Don Domanski, among others.


Jem Cohen: We Have An Anchor from EMPAC @ Rensselaer on Vimeo.

Fata Morgana
you’re walking alone in the forest the moon is directly overhead eating her supper of astronomy and wedding-gifts
there’s a thousand miles of trees in every direction
which means there’s just enough blood to go around

so you mustn’t spill a drop
of course every second tree is the Tree of Death
every third one
the Tree of Life

while all the others
are doors to atonement but you mustn’t knock

you’re like me
and want a straight line through everything
but there aren’t any here no path from A to B
no A or B

you’re not lost
this is the earth you’re not human but a fox or a rabbit

your life behind a desk was an illusion
the shining city a madness brought on by fatigue

there aren’t any cars or telephones there never were
not a single clothesline or shoelace in all the world

your heartbeats are so many peapods being cracked open between a finger and a thumb
your footprints swallow themselves as you walk along

what I said about the moon was a lie there were never any weddings
or any gifts
not an astronomer to be found

the moon is devouring you just you tonight
with your long ears pricked up in their sad salute to fear

this hour is called Abandonment
this night Bottomless
I would call you Insignificant
if you weren’t already named Essential
if you weren’t the very centre of the world. 

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

pot of gold

It never goes away
Steel sitting in the recesses of mandibles
But you don't cry
It's laughable that body reacting to voices behind doors and wet leaves
And it's been two years
Yes and more
More, as history falls dripping
Rejoice!
The sky is vast and liquid, embracing
Look up!
Hips rising
Parting the clouds
Living takes place where the rays come in
Illuminating sewers and blown trash
Turning them into the art we exhibit in the halls where our loved ones used to be
Rejoice!
'cause that's all you can do
'cause you are rich and the dust will turn to gold.

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

almost 10



Our talented friend Pascal Perich took this photo when he dropped off this daughter at Äya's birthday party last weekend. He stopped at the door and even before he could stay "wait a moment" as he pulled out his camera, I knew he was thinking of the light. I too was taken by the way the early evening rays streamed into the cafe, dancing on the walls, on our girls... I was thinking of how grateful I was that he noticed this moment not knowing I would also be in the photo, along with another father.

My daughter is entering a new decade, one where I will be more and more a witness to her beautiful unfolding. She will need me in different ways than the first. I hope I can guide her thoughtfully with openness, patience and understanding. And that I will be present and ready to take on the lessons she will bring my way. I'm so proud of where the first 10 years has brought you.

Happy birthday to my blossoming flower!

Saturday, June 15, 2013

Another moving film by Hansen-Løve. What I appreciate so much about both these films is her ability to look at what it takes to transform us. Life transforms us whether we like it or not. The beauty perhaps lies in whether we can see it and how willing we are to embrace it whole-heartedly.

"freedom is not given to you, it is something you learn"- Hansen-Løve


Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Heart-breakingly beautiful. Thank you Mia Hansen-Løve for films like this.

Thursday, June 6, 2013

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

This kind of makes me want to get a truck!


Monday, May 27, 2013

Tasmanian firestorm

An incredible story of a family's serenity, strength and optimism in face of crisis.


Sunday, May 26, 2013

a love story








A bouquet of peonies graced my home for a week. It's transformation mesmerizing. Every day, every hour was a discovery in color, shape, form, achingly beautiful to witness. The perky coral freshness, giving away to ripe pinks and shades of white, it's presence demanding. One morning they had shed their color to stand bold in white as in prayer to the eminent death that awaited them. Sunday came, the table was scattered with their ethereal petals, fragile shells of a life that fully lived in my dining room.

Monday, April 22, 2013

children continually amaze me

Tuesday, April 16, 2013



My sunshine is 6 today. His birthday one with the magnolia blossoms, pink and full of radiant light. There are no words to encompass my love for you and the joy you bring every day to my life.

You are my beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy.

John you said it so well...

...
Before you go to sleep
Say a little prayer
Every day in every way
It's getting better and better 

Out on the ocean sailing away
I can hardly wait
To see you come of age
But I guess we'll both just have to be patient
'Cause it's a long way to go
A hard row to hoe
Yes it's a long way to go
But in the meantime 

Before you cross the street
Take my hand
Life is what happens to you
While you're busy making other plans

....

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

a little vian

Hard to imagine one of my favorite books in celluloid. But I find a grin taking place at Michel Gondry's joyful adaptation with Roman Duris and Audrey Tautou. I think it's time to re-read L'Ecume des Jours once again ;)


Tuesday, April 2, 2013

My daughter made me lunch! A first; packed in paper, toasted white with sharp cheddar, avocado and tomato. YUM!

Edited my morning coffee photos and relishing how everyone has a moment embedded in my memory of a reflection, containing a passage of joy, sadness, laughter, haste, etc... I was never much of a coffee drinker till as of late. But as my days get fuller, the ritual of that little morning solitude either prepared at home or in a cafe feels right. And I can't really call it a "coffee" at least not in the american sense, mon "petit cafe" would be more accurate. That robust liquid that wraps the tongue with just a bit of gentle bitter harmoniously balanced with a touch of steamed milk. The taste of minted mate would also suffice in its gourd sipped from a bombilla as I often do on a rainy sunday or the steeped leaves of verveine that accompany me at bedtime. But for now that little african elixir will do as I rest a moment before I start my day.