mosaic

a few months ago, my friend jana posted a photo mosaic meme that i loved.  and then a few days ago another friend posted hers.  and i remembered that i hadn't posted mine yet.  so i spent a few minutes this afternoon and made my own photo mosaic.  i think it's lovely.

 

1. Amelias Flower, 2. Goat Cheese Making 101, 3. Descanso dos arreios, 4. Walking on Glass - Pismo Beach, California, 5. Self Portrait, reflected. San Miguel de Allende, 6. a new school year, 7. April Showers, 8. October kitchen windowsill, 9. White flock, 10. Yellow ribbon, 11. Olé !, 12. Untitled

if you want to play, here's how:

type your answer to each of the questions below into a flickr search. using only the first page, choose your favorite image, then copy and paste each of the URL’s into the mosaic maker (3 columns, 4 rows). leave a comment if you play, so i can have a peek.

The questions:

1. what is your first name? (amelia)
2. what is your favorite food? (cheese)
3. what high school did you attend? (estancia)
4. what is your favorite color? (red)
5. who is your celebrity crush? (johnny depp)
6. favorite drink? (dr. pepper)
7. dream vacation? (european tour)
8. favorite dessert? (pumpkin pie)
9. what do you want to be when you grow up? (happy)
10. what do you love most in life? (peace)
11. one word to describe you. (passionate)
12. your flickr name. (laughtear)

love.

one afternoon a couple years ago, i stopped short on my walk back to my car after teaching.  as i had walked up the stairs, this had caught my eye:

i was so struck by these simple words that i stopped, dug out my camera, and snapped a picture.  i ran across the picture tonight and again the phrase's simple power struck me.

this is what i want of life--love.  i want to be loved.  i want to love.  romantically, yes, but in so many other ways, too.  it's such a simple desire, really.  but it's so elusive.  and looking at this image i think i understand part of what makes it elusive. because this phrase functions doubly--it's both an imperative and a request.  a statement of what others must do and an asking for what one needs.

i think it's the double nature of love that makes it so difficult.  being able to put down fear (even well-founded fear) and ask means making ourselves vulnerable to another person and simultaneously making that person vulnerable to us.  because to ask for love of another is to request, but it's also to require.  i believe it's worth it.  because i believe that love which not only requests but also requires is adequate to any challenge.

home.

i've been busy. and that always manifests itself in my blog. i've been meaning to respond to a meme my sister-in-law C hit me with for nearly a month now. so with no further delay, the view from my house:

from my bedroom window. a rare rainy, rainbow-y day in southern california.

from the back patio window. one of my favorite views in the world.

if you want to join in, please do.

healing.

some good cheer for jana:

because her pictures of flowers always give me
a surge of simple pleasure, no matter how i feel.

i hope mine will give a little of the same back to her.

namaste.

wordless.

wednesday.

wordless.

wednesday.

celebrate!

my new year's eve usually goes like this:

• help make lots of finger food.
  
• play games with family.
  
• help eat lots of finger food.
  
• make some half-hearted noise at midnight.
  
• go to bed shortly thereafter.
  

sometimes they're not even that exuberant--i've been known to go to bed well before midnight. new year's just seems like a holiday to be celebrated with others. for years, i haven't had friends around with whom to go dancing or to a party--not since my high school best friend got married when i was 21. and my family aren't so much party people. or dancing people. and, to be totally honest, i never have anyone to kiss at midnight, which bothers me way more than it should.

this year the pajamas came out early, but not for early bedtime. they were the attire of choice for atomic ballroom's new year's eve pajama jammie jam. so, after ramen (yummy) and wandering around isamu noguchi's california experience, j(wh) and i headed to atomic to change into jammies and dance the night away. when i told my mama that the party was a pajama party, she was duly horrified. she seemed to think it would be okay if it were just girls, but... Apparently men and women aren't supposed to see each other in pajamas. so i figured i needed photographic evidence of The Great Pajama Scandal of 2007 (i needed some scandal of the year; good thing atomic stepped up and provided a last-minute opportunity).

the good people at atomic do know how to throw a party. big screen video gaming for those needing a break from dancing (not something i was interested in, but i suppose some people appreciated it). brightly colored helium balloons. streamers, party hats, and noisemakers. a breakfast buffet spread out not only on the table, but also hanging overhead (little boxes of cereal hung from the ceiling). an 11:00 midnight-in-arizona toast toast (in other words a toast made with toast). and of course great music and lots of dancing.

i spent most of the night dancing. everyone at atomic is so nice--especially for putting up with me and my beginner efforts at dancing. it helps so much to dance with leads who know what they're doing. if only i could follow better... someday.

of course we took a break from dancing at midnight to ring in the new year with streamers and noisemakers and a sparkling cider toast. so much fun to be part of a group welcoming a new year. and of course so much fun to be there with j(wh). and i was right--new year's is much better with someone to kiss.

it's hard to pick a highlight of the night. but if i had to choose, i think i'd say it was the food i shared with j(wh). we bypassed the cookie cereal and just put oreo cookies in a bowl and poured milk over them, let them get good and soggy, and ate them with a spoon. yummy! yet more evidence that j(wh) is a man after my own heart. and i'm pretty sure the milk-soaked oreos are responsible for his beautiful arms. either that or the quaker oats.

caution.
last week as i hurried across campus on the day before thanksgiving so i could get home and head up to l.a. with my mom and sister and nieces, i encountered this:

i glanced at it as i approached and then continued on my way before stopping to think about what it meant. and then it made me laugh so hard that i went back and took a picture of it. and sincerely hoped that whoever created this masterpiece of signage did it intentionally.

alas, the boring did not occur. nor did the occurring bore. because today looked like this:so no caution necessary. except to avoid puddles and streams while walking across campus. i do love a rainy day.

wordless.

wednesday.

wordless.

wednesday.

wordless.

wednesday.

wordless.

wednesday

wordless.

wordless.

stride.
i've been housesitting the last two weeks. and dog-, bird-, and turtle-sitting. i've started working in rowland's office. because it has a comfortable chair in it. and a nice desk. and the dogs seem to like being in here. this picture is on his desk. and i fell in love with it the first time i saw it. i don't really know why. maybe the exaggeration of the motion--it's almost a caricature of typical human motion. and there's something beautifully symetric in the arrangement of the man's limbs. and then there's the austerity of the setting. am i strange? probably. but i just find this image lovely.

{he's depicting author James Joyce "striding" along Sandymount Strand for a video that helped mark the centenary of bloomsday--june 16, 1904, the day on which Ulysses took place.}

color.
i was in virginia last week, which made me remember some of the many reasons i love the east. this time of year, one of the primary reasons is color. everywhere you look, the world is bursting with warmth. red. gold. leaves burning brilliant against an indian summer sky. and the world is full of promise. it’s an odd thing--death bringing hope. endings filling you with wonder, not desolation.

the first few days i was there were chilly. perfectly autumnal. gray skies. rain. making color more brilliant. sunday was brisk, sunny, clouds scudding. and monday dawned beautifully clear--a perfect Indian summer day. the world was full of magic.

after a gorgeous drive into the city from loudoun county, i started my meanderings around the city at the east building of the national gallery--one of my art meccas. and by pure serendipity, i began on the lower level (which i usually save for last). i go there for the calders. i love the rothkos and the pollocks, among other incredible works from the last fifty years. but it's the magic of the calders, with their melding of concrete and nebulous forms and their magical shadows, that draw me back to the east building every time i'm in d.c. i love them so much that i save them for last, so that their magic leaves with me. but this time i went down first. and as i walked down the last half flight of stairs into the exhibit space, i discovered big beautiful rothkos that i had never seen before. in shades of red, orange, brown, maroon. warmth and peace. as if the palette of fall had been captured and transformed into these magnificent canvases that beckon you into pure color. and in that color you find your self.

reflect.
about eight years ago, i spent a semester studying in london. upon my first trip to the national gallery, i decided i would work my way through the national gallery and the tate chronologically, beginning with the earliest works and moving on until i reached the contemporary work displayed at the tate. after about four weeks of madonnas and crucifixes and other medieval and early renaissance pieces that generally failed to speak to me, i gave up on my plan and found my way to the tate. where i experienced 20th century art for the first time. and experienced is the correct word. i found myself especially drawn to the abstract expressionists. david smith's sculpture, which relied as much upon surface variations and the way they played with light as it did upon form. mark rothko's beautiful, intense color fields. and pollock's wildly erratic, vibrant, massive works. as i encountered them, i realized that where all of the early art i'd consumed at the national gallery tried to communicate a specific story--often one laden with specific subsurface messages to go along with the story--, these works of abstraction were all about surface. about line and texture and motion. about hue and contrast. but the lovely discovery was that because they are all about surface, they have so much more depth. there is no pat explanation, no set understanding to be gained looking into a pollock. there's no moral of the story to be taken home from a rothko. there is only the color and the form and the texture and your own soul.

autumn.
i love fall. it's almost a contradiction--plants dying, preparing for the hibernation and lifelessness of winter. but the air is practically sparkling with anticipation and expectation. promises of pure blue skies with fire-orange and gold leaves. or a stormy gray day perfect for curling up with a cup of cocoa and a good book. the happiness of family gatherings replete with mama's pumpkin pie and other yummy goodness. i think i like autumn more than any other season. and this illustration captured some of the magic i find in it.

peace.
morning mist on my lake. part of the hilton lakes in the high sierra outside bishop. i took this about three years ago, the first time i went into the mountains with my brothers. going there is like going home.

i've decided to do an image of the week. sometimes a photo i take. sometimes a photo from someone else that's meaningful to me on a personal level. sometimes a photo or image that i've discovered and think is beautiful.