I've been out West for work again this winter, recently returning to New York City just in time for... more winter.
This trip took me to southern Utah / northern Arizona. The least populated area of the country, still full of some of the most unforgettable people not seen here. More on that coming soon -- to a television near you.
I'm a little over a year in to this on-line experiment already, and I've just updated my "Strangely Familiar" galleries with some new work (and older work, new to this site). Click on over to check it out. Much obliged!
I'm fortunate to have an extended family and the scores of holiday traditions - old and new - that come with it. We're talking many days of rounds to make when I go home to Missouri. From top to bottom: Mom and John's House, and our first ever fake tree. (Our usual tree - the Norfolk Pine in the window - has seen better days, poor thing, so it's taking a break.) Kelly and Chris' new house, and the annual Christmas Eve Crab Legs. Dad and Louese's house and the quasi white Christmas. My step-mom Louese cleans her crystal prisms so I can get a good photo. Thanks, Louese. Happy New Year, All.
One more from Puerto Rico.
I took a rather impromptu trip to Puerto Rico over Thanksgiving. My first non-work, non-family-visit, real trip in a really long time. A bonafide vacation, if you will. Highlights included a hike through El Yunque's cloud forest, 80-degree days, ocean-breeze nights, and cool tile floors and bed sheets. Your basic Paradise.
I'll go ahead and call this "Puerto Rico I" with the best intention of sharing more from the trip, soon.
Surprisingly, no line to vote at my local Brooklyn polling place this morning. But the line outside the gas station 400-feet from my apartment is five days strong.
My friend Mia with her daughter Ruby, and dog Frankie. I love the love in this house.
I was thrilled to make it to Missouri this year for the annual Lippitt Farm Picnic, which work has me missing more often than not. At the Picnic again after years of being away, my nieces and nephews now span the ages I was when I used to visit the Farm as a kid myself.
As is tradition at the Lippitt Farm Picnic, we all caravan out to the woods for a bonfire and grill, where, like most reunions, time gets split between rediscovering familiar faces amongst long-since-seen second-cousins-twice-removed, and straining to recognize others.
After catching up on everyone's year - the achievements (cousins Aaron and Claire off to college) and losses (Great Aunt Lois, this year's crop yield), my immediate family packed up the van for the road trip back to town.
I made it back home to Missouri for Fall - for the first time in a long time. Living in NYC, I tend to miss Fall most years, so I was excited to finally see some color. I was also warned not to expect much, given the super drought and heat this summer in the Midwest. But the leaves pulled through.
(From Top to Bottom: View from Stone Hill Winery in Hermann, MO; My good friend Danielle on a walk in the woods in Columbia; Danielle's dog Hugo).
As the first day of Fall blows in, I figure it's fine time to post some pics of the departing Summer. Summer nights, to be exact. Those precious hours when the heat finally breaks and the eyes stretch to find shape in the thickening dark. 'Til next year, hotness!
My good friend Mari starts dinner as soon as she gets home from work. It's Dieter's turn with Mom.
As most who know me know, my great regret of city-work-travel life is not having a dog. But thank my lucky stars, I have a new friend in town. A friend with a dog. A friend who let me borrow that dog for some good dog wrastling. I took my temporary dog to the country for a romp. Needless to say, I am in love.
... and the magic of northern facing window light.
My Pops, in his front yard, last summer, right before a Missouri storm. My Pops, the landscaper, photo taker (most frequently of moss), tree farmer. Belly-laugh-til-he-cries-er, funny maker, music lover, socializer, early riser, hard worker, chef. Coffee mornings, Beer evenings. Spice concocter and bottler and eater; Spicy tongue. Story teller. Train hopper. Hitchhiker. River Boater. Road Tripper. Back road taker. Two-Fingers-Lifting-Off-The-Steering-Wheel Waver on a Rural Road. My Pops: World's Best "Crappa". Bonfire extraordinaire, history lover, geography encyclopedia, arborist, plant master. Weather Watcher. Talk Radio. Happy Hour. Heartland. Still Laughing. Making everyone else laugh. Pulling out the paisley hanky. Laughing some more.
That there's my Pops.
Two of my favorite people, who happen to also be each other's favorite people, came to visit from Missouri a couple weeks ago, and I got to spend the weekend staring the beauty-of-humanity right smack dab in the kissy face. Anyone who's ever met Danielle & Mike know what I'm talking about. These two are as soul-matey as soul-mates come, and after nearly fifteen-years strong, the two of them together still equal more than the sum of their already fantastic boy and girl parts. I swear that the love they shower on each other makes the world a happier place. It does mine, anyway. Awww.
Model: Hilary Hanson
Model: Brigitte Madera
Model: Alison Nguyen
"Mother and Child" (Gennie Pfannenstiel). A Self-Portrait by Mom, shortly after I was born.
I'm very fortunate to have a creative, artistically-driven, mother. She's constantly working on a handful of projects in various stages of completion, moving from couch to table and back, clipping articles of inspiration, writing, gluing shards of glass to newspaper to discarded wood, making sense of the world by gathering/touching/redesigning her way through it... all the while making it more beautiful as she goes.
I can only hope to be more like her, while probably already embodying more of her qualities than I'll ever realize. Occasionally I'll catch a glimpse of our likeness: Our same gummy smiles, our reserved but rapt body language in a crowded room, or a shared attention to a transitory, life-affirming moment in time.
For some reason, it took me a while to notice the similiarity between these two observations on new parenthood. My mom's version (left) has been hanging in our living room my whole life, so it must have been deep in my awareness somewhere as I shot my own interpretation decades later of my good friend, Eric (below). Both, I like to think, illustrating a cross between inexplicable bewilderment and pride.
A picture I made of new dad Eric a few days after his son's birth.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom! Thanks for being a continual source of inspiration. (And don't worry Dad, Father's Day is coming soon!)
Love, Elise