After 5 months of hard work, the redesign is happening: My covers from the Sept, Oct. and Nov 2012 issues of Parent & Child. Saving the best for last, december ROCKS!

This morning was painful. A sleepless night, rumpled sheets and tear damp pillows. Diving through big waves. The soft words of a beloved friend upon waking, a comfort. These dalias, a japanese maple and my shadow, reminding me that even on the humble sidewalk beauty awaits.

on the streets

I've been turning my eye to the street these days, meditations on what becomes in front of me at any given moment. In New York this often involves others, people, dogs, beautiful like flowers and plants in a field. And just so, when I'm in the woods, the country side, my eyes turn rightfully to what I encounter there. A friend recently asked me if my subjects know that I'm taking their photo. Most of the  time I'm sly, but lately I've found myself to be bolder. Taking the courage to approach another, to share with them what I'm seeing, that I find them beautiful for whatever reason, to make a contact, touch the moment, and then, if they are willing, the photo becomes an exchange of kindness.

ma fille

The other day as we were in the throws of our usual morning routine, I looked up from the collection of backpacks, lunch boxes and jackets I was gathering to be stunned by an almost filmic scene that my daughter was starring in. Bathed in matinal light, she calmly looked over commenting on something I have now forgotten. What I do remember, as I write this, was being struck by what I perceived as a child becoming a young woman*. This beautiful being blossoming. It was humbling to say the least.

*10/11/12: I want to reconsider this idea of a young woman. In Siri Hustvedt's essay Notes on Seeing, she reflects on a Vermeer's Study of a Young Girl (see below). At the Met, where it hangs, it is labeled Study of a Young Woman. Siri brings up the idea that we should not turn girls into women too soon. So in agreement, I'd like to adjust my above thought to: a child becoming a young girl. I think there is a necessary distinction here between, a child, a young girl/boy, and a woman/man.

rouge

Red has always been a color that I've been consistently drawn to since my childhood. My first dress of choice was of the color, swiss cotton dotted weaving, cinched at the waist for my 9th birthday. The hue of lady bugs and ending sunsets, a droplet on a pricked finger, the lingering sweet scent of decaying rose and wine. The history of Vermilion goes so far back, to the first marks in Pech Merle cave, Pompeii and the Song Dynasty that one could surely write volumes on it.

This morning I was stopped by the beauty of this simple backdrop behind the actress Sara Sokolovic by Judy Rogac. The striking line of her form against the solid hue matched only by her lips. The graphic boldness, a sea of crimson evoking painterly sensuality, the body: a broken heart, a vain rose cared for by a little prince on a far off planet.

pour la suisse

L'enfant d'en Haut (Sister)

september hues