September 22, 2008

The most important people in my life


My lovely mother came to Augusta Saturday so I could give her a birthday hug and she, her Frank, David and I could take in on the arts events of the weekend. With her visit, I finally got to make a polaroid collage of her to add to the collection lining a living room wall.
These four people are the most important people in my life. When something important happens, they are the first people I call. They've shaped who I am today. My mother, who I unknowingly received my love for people's stories because of her passion as a writer and a journalist (amongst the countless other gifts/bits of wisdom/guidance she has given me and most of the people she meets).

My talented partner in photography and amore, David Banks:

My goofy, ebullient little sister Rebecca aka Sis:
My brilliant oldest friend and kindred spirit Lindsey Kettinger:

September 17, 2008

the static of autumn hums in the air

pale September, I wore the time like a dress that year
the autumn days swung soft around me, like cotton on my skin
but as the embers of the summer lost their breath and disappeared
my heart went cold and only hollow rhythms resounded from within
.fiona.apple.

Gastropod Mollusk

my first assignment this morning was at a wreath-laying event for Constitution Day. i found myself in a historic cemetery where one of the signers of the Constitution was laid to rest. a group of little girls in uniforms gathered for the event, one toting a slug she found on a leaf. she chased the prissier girls with her slimy accomplice.

after the ceremony, the girl approached me with slug in tow:
HER: "Take a picture of my slug"
ME: "Well, do you think it'll be on the front page of the newspaper?"
HER: "Oh yea"
ME: "Ok. Tell him to smile"
HER: "He's always smiling, silly."

it made my morning.

my mom found me more than once sitting in the bushes in the backyard covered in caterpillars.


September 14, 2008

coming to terms with my roots.

i grew up in Columbia, South Carolina, where a rebel flag flying atop the state capital caused much debate but stayed flying until not long ago. i visited my father's family's rural bicentennial cotton, peanut and corn farm in Georgia twice a year: every summer and Christmas, my cousins and i would pile into the back of my grandfather's pickup truck loaded with dogs and we'd wind through those fields, on Sundays ending up at a one-room church. my father grew up along this dirt road surrounded by fields where sharecroppers lived in shacks.

somehow, despite where my roots were planted, this all seems very foreign to me. foreign, not in the sense that it is new and i've never seen it. but foreign in the sense that i never participated. i'm an outsider to the fundamentalist, conservative and proud South.

i do not think my situation is unique. likeminded friends have either moved away from the South or found themselves defending its simple charms and separating themselves from those who proudly claim 'heritage not hate'.

the idea of southern identity versus southern perception intrigues me.
the idea of being born into a culture and blindly embracing it or rejecting it, as I have done in many ways, is something i want to better understand and explore. i've always felt like a spectator and looked down my nose at southern traditions, at good ole boys, at my father's family's twangs. i was raised by my mother, a liberal military brat, and understood at a young age that the flag flying at the SC state capital was something of shame and not pride. i didn't even really notice the paintings of Civil War generals on my father's living room wall until recently. there is a dichotomy between my own history of being embarrassed and being proud of the geography of my life. only recently have I become cognizant of my hypocrisy/snobbery and more interested in coming to terms with my own sense of place and my own sense of heritage in a region that has pick-up trucks labeled with bumper stickers proclaiming a love for southern heritage.

all of that is to say that lately i've been trying to keep my eyes wider open to the culture of the South. while i know southern culture isn't all rebel flags, i've come across the scenes below all in the past month.

September 13, 2008

Sweet Dreamin'

this is a bar on the outskirts of the town outside of town. i got to choose a bar to depict nightlife in the town and on my way out, after getting in my car to leave, i noticed this scene.
after the awkward-motioning-nonono-dance i did with a guy playing pool thinking i was hitting on him through the window, i shot this frame and left.
it feels like an old painting to me, with the mixed natural blue and unnatural yellow light.


there's line dancing with older women every other saturday and i hope to make it back with some of my ladyfriends to boot, scoot and boogie.