Friday, October 8, 2010
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Sleeplessness
For the past month I have endured a dreadful bout of sleeplessness. I'd lie in bed exhausted, inhaling, exhaling, sheep fluttering above my brow, yet my mind wouldn't drift off into peaceful slumber. I'd read, fill in the white squares of crossword puzzles, and stare at the black night sky. Sometimes around 3am I'd fall into a shallow sleep, but within an hour I'd be up again, leafing through the book on my nightstand or checking the status updates on facebook. Some nights I'd step outside into the cool air with my camera. On other occasions I'd unload the dishwasher or fold laundry that had stopped spinning in the dryer hours ago. Several days ago the insomnia subsided, and I can barely stay awake past 10 o'clock. My eyes are heavy as they open to the first morning light. The armature of insomnia has left my body leaving my spine limp and limbs lethargic. An early morning yoga class is unfathomable. Sleep beckons and I don't have the inclination to resist.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Weather
Last week when the thermostat in my house registered a sweltering 92 degrees I found refuge in my air conditioned bedroom. Shades drawn, cat by my side I read, worked, and chatted on the phone from the cool comfort of my bed. Today the mercury is struggling to reach 65 degrees. My sheets are chilled from the damp air as I crawl into bed once again seeking shelter, but this time from gray storm clouds outside my window. The weather, like the traffic, is no longer predictable. Relied upon patterns are useless. Yesterday in Palm Springs it was 17 degrees below the average temperature. At the top of the tramway the overnight low was 32 degrees. Besides the glaring concerns about global warming, I like Mother Nature's unpredictability. She constantly reminds me to let go of the expected, embrace life's surprises, and don't get too attached because like a storm front this too will pass.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Trailblazing
Pioneers and the west go together like Uggs and a crisp winter morning. Thus, when filmmakers staked claim to Southern California it was only a matter of time before the western would be a staple genre. In 1946, a group of investors broke ground in Pioneertown, a living set which would serve as the backdrop for over 50 movies and television series. Requisite structures --a jail, bank and saloon -- were erected, but behind the facades were actual interiors where ice cream was served, bowling was played and rooms were rented. By the 1970s the popularity of westerns was waning and the properties were parceled and sold to the public. The cantina was originally purchased and turned into a biker, burrito bar. Today it is the site of the renown Pappy & Harriet's Pioneertown Palace, an outpost for the eclectic. Commingling at the bar are cowboys, marines, local artists and intrepid city dwellers all in search of mouth watering BBQ and top-shelf musicians. A stroll down faded Mane Street provides a glimpse of the evolving storefronts, some abandoned, others turned into cozy homes adorned with prayer flags and signs advertising farm fresh eggs. Tinsel town sits over the horizon a mere 150 miles away, yet these residents, all 350 of them, have chosen to live in the extreme conditions of the high desert. They have traded in the hustle and bustle of the city for well water and small town gossip. I admire their pioneering spirit.
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PIoneertown
Monday, October 4, 2010
Muse Monday - Elizabeth Flemming
Last week in photography class the topic was domestic landscapes and one of the artists reviewed was Elizabeth Flemming. I instantly fell in love with the simplicity of her project, Life is a Series of Small Moments. Elizabeth effortlessly captures the beauty of everyday domestic living -- intimate, whimsical, chaotic moments filtered through the lens of motherhood. Her career in photography intersected with her role as wife and mother when she moved to the suburbs several years ago to start her family. Elizabeth's work reminds me I don't have to go far to find arresting images. I just need to open my eyes and shoot.
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Elizabeth Flemming
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Vacation Home
A vacation house turns into a home when it is teeming with friends who escape the city in need of emotional unwinding. Meeting for coffee or a late afternoon BBQ can't compete with the hours shared in a communal living situation reminiscent of college. Formalities are shed like layers of clothes before diving into the pool. Meals are glorious, collaborative efforts. Clean up, divided by eight, is an unrehearsed dance in the kitchen set to the weekend's soundtrack, an amalgam of various ipods. Over Sunday brunch, the previous day is rehashed in shorthand, mere words setting off a domino effect of belly laughs. The group is forever bonded. As the weekend draws to a close piles of sheets and towels trade places with the contents that spilled out from unzipped bags and suitcases. The arteries leading back to the city call to them. Vacant of life, the home is once more a house. Thanks to Craig for documenting the weekend with his iphone.
Labels:
vacation home
Friday, October 1, 2010
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