Angels in an Uproar

Shooting the Solitude

janetsommer — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 06:09:23 +0000

I have always been drawn to the solitary, and those places characterized by solitude. In photography, I am drawn to derelict buildings, abandoned venues. To empty spaces once filled with life. In New York, I documented the meat packing district, long after the livestock had left. In New Jersey, I documented Asbury Park, long after it’s heyday and before the massive renovations. In Ohio there are derelict buildings, yes. But there is also perhaps a sense of personal loss about the places that no longer exist, or the places that have become run down, because I grew up here. Because most of the family who lived here are no longer living at all.

The Road Away

One thing I’ve always loved about Ohio is the number of barns along the roads. This one, along the 3-C highway, I have had my eye on for quite awhile. I want to go out and shoot it on b&w film, but I finally stopped by one day and took a few test shots. It is not just the barn, but the whole area around it that seems filled with regret. And still, the holiness of empty spaces is all I seem to know.

Derelict Barn

The Flu and What Preceded It (Or: A Wedding, A Jazz Potluck, And The Flu That Came After)

janetsommer — Sat, 08 Aug 2009 19:12:49 +0000

I had a great active weekend last week, a wedding on Saturday for two people I love dearly, and the reception afterwards, which all took place in a field. A friend who saw the photos described it as the perfect mix of elegant and homespun, which I think is fairly accurate. The wedding location belonged to a friend of the groom, and although it wasn’t really far in miles, it was in a somewhat rural location, and I got lost on the way, partly due to my inattention, partly due to the directions I had printed from an on-line map service. Thanks on-line map people. Either way, I ended up running across the field after the first of the wedding party had already walked up the “aisle.” Thank God I don’t wear heels! I’m sure I was a comical figure as it was.

The wedding was lovely and short, and after the vows I tagged along with the wedding photographer and shot some photos of my own. I would never want to be a wedding photographer. They work really hard. But it’s fun to just take candids, and capture some of the funny/weird other moments.

The Bride Has Secrets

The Wedding Photographer

Unfortunately, I couldn’t stay too late at the party, because I had plans for Sunday morning in Goodale Park. My friend Randy Mather was playing with a Jim Maneri led group, and Randy’s wife Susan planned that day as our annual Friends and Family Potluck in the Park. Uusally the Parks sponsor Summer music in the park gigs, but with the economy being what it is, they decided they couldn’t do that this year. However, a private sponsor has provided for a few of them this summer, and this was one of them. Thanks Alexandra Kelley! The music was great, the band played from Joe Diamond’s songbook once again. The food, company, and scenery were stunning, as usual. I swear the lilypads in Goodale Park are eventually going to take over the city.

Susan's Mozzarella, Tomato, and Basil Salad

Lillypads

The Band

I went to work Sunday night, worked Monday and Wednesday. By Wednesday night I could feel it coming… The stopped up ears, the burning thoat and chest, the sniffles. Although I thought it had hit full strength on Thursday, Friday was even worse. The light-headedness, the inability to sleep without Nyquil, all the other miseries. The only thing keeping me from thinking the worst (swine flu???) was the lack of a temperature. That is the difference, ISN’T it? If I never post here again, you will know I was wrong.

The D.J. in My Head

janetsommer — Fri, 24 Jul 2009 06:51:03 +0000

Tonight the D.J. in my head is playing an endless loop of Simon and Garfunkel’s “I am a Rock.” I don’t know why. I haven’t heard it recently as far as I know. But the D.J. is like that sometimes. In the mornings recently I’ve had back to back standards going on, which I sing along with loudly, if I’m alone in the house. Sometimes I’ll have a more varied line-up going on. Maybe a Billie Holiday version of ” I Get Along Without You” right next to The Long Winters acoustic version of “Hindsight.” For a couple of weeks I could not hear the windchimes on the front porch without hearing the song “That’s Amore.” It just sounded to me like they were playing the first couple of lines over and over. “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, thats amore!” It was driving me insane. Eventually the friend that I’m staying with put cotton balls inside the chimes to mute their volume, and completely changed the “tune.” Now it just sounds like… muted windchimes.

The ice-cream truck that has been traveling around the neighborhood this summer plays one song, over and over. “When Johnny Comes Marching Home.” Why? Why, in God’s name, would an ice-cream truck play that song? It ricochets around my head for hours.And it doesn’t even make sense. Most ice-cream trucks play some sort of innocuous calliope music, why would this one play what is basically a war song? Or a post-war song. Whatever.

I’m just going to mention this one other thing that the D.J. in my head pulls out periodically. The Benediction. I haven’t sung it since I was in the church choir as a teenager. But every once in a while, I’ll find myself humming this tune, and before I know it, I’m singing the words. “The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make his face to shine upon you…” It actually is a rather catchy little tune. But inevitably, someone will turn to me with this look of almost shock on their face and ask, “Are you singing The Benediction?”

The thing is, I never know what will be on the playlist, but I’m ususally really glad that I have the songs in my head, even when it gets annoying. It’s a far better fate than living without them.

Busy Times

janetsommer — Wed, 22 Jul 2009 01:40:37 +0000

It’s been a busy month for me, and a good one overall. On July 7th, I got my driver’s license again, after having let it expire years ago when I was living in New Jersey and working in NYC. I somehow never found the time to get to the BMV, and at that time I hadn’t driven in years anyway, so I let it go. After failing the maneuverability test the first time I took it here, I finally passed and vowed never to let my license expire again. They will have to pry it out of my old crippled hands when the time comes.

The same day, I had a job interview which went very well. As it drew to a close, I was offered the job, and suddenly I was not only a licensed driver, but an employed licensed driver. It was a huge day for me. I can’t express what a great weight was lifted from me by these two events. I realized how much a prisoner I had felt by not being able to drive places by myself. In New York, there is always public transportation. Subway, bus, taxi. It is much more difficult in the midwest, especially in the suburbs. For five years I have depended on friends or family to get me where I needed to be that I couldn’t walk to. I always found jobs that were within walking distance, even if walking distance was a mile each way, and even the summer I had knee surgery.

I have also started scanning negatives again, and will continue working on that since I now have my scanner and negs under the same roof again. Another relief. You would think that with all these things coming together for me, I would be more settled, more at peace. And I am, at least when I’m awake. But my strange dreams have continued. Last night I dreamed that I was fishing off a pier in some sort of weird industrial area. The first thing that I brought up on my hook was a large black & white spotted hog. The second thing was a tall man standing on top of a V.W. Bug. A blue Bug, as a matter of fact. God only knows what that was about.

Here are a few recently scanned images from an NYC Flea Market. I really miss that place sometimes.

Horse and Dragon, NYC

Graffiti and Frames, NYC

Flea Market Melange, NYC

Actual Dream

janetsommer — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 16:32:35 +0000

I know that dreams have different kinds of meanings to different people, but I sometimes wish that we could control our sleep-dreams to provide more comfort than our actual lives. This morning I dreamed that I was in this huge mansion that was also a business. The first thing I remember is seeing myself in the mirror with a wide swath of red, raw skin that went all the way around my neck, then flashing back to the wife of the boss having a rope around my neck and continually trying to pull it tighter and tighter. Everyone I ran into in the house exclaimed over it, and I had to explain that the wife of the boss had tried to kill me. And everyone I talked to told me that I had to go to the boss and tell him what happened, that obviously I couldn’t talk to the wife, because she was crazy.

So I kept going into all these different rooms, trying to find him. I finally went into a room where all these people had gathered, including the boss and his crazy wife, who was of course acting totally normal. When I got his attention and started to ask if I could speak to him, he interrupted me and told me that he’d been looking all over for me, and that he wanted to talk to me about something. We left the room and went to another room, where there was a small table, and we sat down. He wanted to tell me that the company was going in another direction, and that he didn’t think there would be a place for my “specialized” services. Which made no sense to me, as we were working on a huge project that I’d had a very neccessary part in. I tried to make that point to him, but he kept insisting on, and repeating the bit about them “going in another direction.” When I asked him if that was why his wife had tried to kill me, he told me that she had explained what happened, and that I must have misunderstood her intent.

Is there an analysis for this dream that I’m not getting? Or was this just the result of having attended the Doo Dah parade yesterday?

Dream Room

janetsommer — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 18:37:57 +0000

Dream Room

My friend Susan is a natural artist, and her home is her palette. This is from a room in her house that always makes me feel like curling up on the daybed and dreaming away the day.

Kisses

janetsommer — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 18:03:38 +0000

New blogs are kind of like kisses. Until you get the first contact out of the way, you’re unreasonably nervous. It can restrict your naturalness and just blow the whole experience. So, with this post, I send you a kiss.