As of yesterday afternoon, my Power of SHe project has made it’s way onto facebook. This? This is your official invitation.
For those of you who’ve been following this blog for some time know all about the Power of SHe, for those who don’t, here’s the press bio for my little art instillation: The Power of SHe is about how we, as self-identified Women, define ourselves in light of how society and the media seek to define and confine us.
I’ve been working on the Power of SHe for some time now. It’s been exhibited twice, and continues to grow. I believe it is a very important body of work, and something we desperately need. So I hope you’ll join us as the journey continues. The more the merrier. Let’s force a shift from art project to movement. We can make change happen!
I spent a lot of my time through the morning and afternoon thinking about what I could share for “favourite”. After all, there are so many ways a person could go with such an open ended photography challenge. I thought about it while brushing my teeth, while running errands, while watering the plants… It wasn’t until it was almost time to pick up the girl from kindergarten that I settled on my subject matter. I would share my favourite piece of art.
I’m an art collector. I love original art. Due to lack of funds I often have to be creative to feed this particular passion. Trading and bartering are wonderful things – and something I encourage even in my own line of work. As a photographer I’m happy to trade time and skill with other artists and craftspeople.
My collection includes work by local talent, and those across the globe from me. It includes digital works as well as more traditional pieces. I’ll admit to the inclusion of a print as well – it’s an Emily Carr, and as much as it would thrill my soul to have an original of hers, purchasing one would put us out on the street… where it’s especially difficult a collection.
And through all this variance, and all this beauty? My current favourite piece of art is hanging on my fridge:
An untitled, four part piece, in ink, glitter, and stickers on construction paper by Lily-Ann Smith and her Uncle, Wilson Yandt:
One of my favourite memories from our first month in this house was watching the two of them sitting at her art station shortly after my brother had moved in. I loved listening to the back and forth, the love and genuine sharing. It filled my heart in a huge way. And I think what they created together is beautiful. It is bright, vibrant and full of goodness. There is a real possibility it may end up in a frame before the Winter is out. I think it would break my heart if anything were to happen to it, so while it’s on the fridge now, I think it will be much safer behind glass.
Tomorrows challenge will be much easier.
Okay, one last post on the new Hobbit movie. I just can’t let this slide. I actually found this completely insulting and fairly disgusting to tell the truth.
The fact that movie moguls assumed The Hobbit wouldn’t be marketable to a certain segment of the population without eye candy is completely degrading. When I watch a movie, especially one with a literary foundation like The Hobbit, I’m not watching it looking out for hot men or sexy women. I’m watching it for the story. The notion that I, or anyone attracted to men, wouldn’t be interested in seeing the film if it were lacking in sex appeal is pretty revolting.
Every time I saw one of these “sexy” dwarves it pissed me off.
There was a lot in The Hobbit that left me feeling less than satisfied, but this whole thing with the dwarves? Not cool. Not at all. Can someone explain to me exactly how we go from this:
…because frankly? Besides attempting to sex-up The Hobbit (which is supposed to be a light hearted children’s story) I can’t see any reason for the change. And for anyone who loved the book, not only is the movie Thorin uncharacteristically good looking he’s also uncharacteristically noble and self-sacrificing with a voice as smooth as silk. Movie Thorin would be welcome many places (and in many beds), but in this movie? Not so much.
Of all the things wrong with the new hobbit movie (and despite the long list I AM trying desperately to like it still) this one is the worst. It is insulting, degrading, and someone – perhaps many someones – really deserve to be slapped upside the head over their misogynistic attitudes. Because truly, there is something wrong with the person who believes we must be tricked into a theater with the promise of eye candy. Seriously, eye candy not required or requested.
For more reading on what exactly went wrong with what should have been a wonderful romp of a movie, visit http://whatculture.com/film/the-hobbit-20-blunders-that-ruined-an-unexpected-journey.php
And, just because I am concerned that some may lay blame with Armitage (the actor portraying Thorin), I feel the need to note; Armitage does a beautiful job portraying this non-dwarf version of Thorin. The fault for this offense does not lie with him. He’s not the one who chose to change a character to appease some warped view of the movie going public.
This time of year I tend to be on crafting overdrive. Far too many projects and not nearly the time needed to comfortably complete them all. I love it anyway though.
It used to just be me, crafting all by my lonesome… but now that Kid Kid is five, she’s in it right along with me. It’s awesome to see how well she’s doing to, in so many mediums. Embroidery, sewing, painting, drawing – and that’s just today. We still have planting, baking, decorating, packaging, more painting, more embroidery, more drawing, and a buttload of sewing still to go.
I wish I could share all the projects, but some of the folk who are on the receiving end of our efforts may stop by the blog, so we gotta keep it all under wraps. I gotta say though, as artsy fartsy as we are, all this creative work is absolutely exhausting. It is with great relief that we welcome bedtime tonight.
Quiet like the dawn crashing upon the rocky shore of darkness.
Full of noise, full of life. A roar of silence.
Too loud to speak.
In all things I am.
I exist. Sentient.
Feeling, knowing, being. Thunderous. Mute.
Heaving towards stillness, the permanent precipice, the denouement.
Beauty in knowing acceptance. Birthing terminus.
The rocky shore of darkness as the light creeps quietly away.
Waiting to be reborn.
Me, spewing my bad poetry on an unsuspecting readership. It had to be done. Sorry all. Just one of those days/nights.
Dusk is a time of day often neglected by photographers. The poor light tends to cause folk of our ilk to shy away in favour of brighter times, especially considering dusk is shortly after the “golden hour” with it’s beautiful warming rays. However, dusk can be a lovely time to shoot.
The low light of dusk creates images reminiscent of yesteryear, with it’s last filtered rays of sunshine… It is exceptionally moody, creating romance and intrigue. Especially during the late Autumn or early Winter when rosy cheeks and noses only add to the feeling of crispness. Here are a few photos from a recent shoot to inspire you to get out there and create during this mostly ignored time of day:
My thanks to the St. Onge family for braving the chilly air in search of these shots. It was a pleasure working with you!
Okay, ya got me. I’ve been kind of a lazy blogger lately. My posts aren’t really sounding like me, they are short and not nearly as engaging. Yeah. I know.
The fact of the matter is, with everything on my brain lately, I’m just not quite myself. I’m stressed about the house… packing up and leaving this place behind is tough. I’m super excited about the new place and what it will mean for our family, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that this is our home. We got engaged in the bathroom. We first talked about having a baby sitting in this bedroom. We’ve lived lots of places together, Damon and I, but this was the first one that was home. Nine years here. It’s a hard thing to walk away from, even if the place no longer meets our needs.
So yeah. With the house on my brain, it’s hard to think of much else for long enough to blog about it. …and I’m guessing you don’t want to hear me posting about the house every day.
We take possession one month from today. We already have so many boxes packed that it’s tough to move around in here. We haven’t got even a small portion of the packing done yet. There’s more than one reason we stayed here nine years (even though the intention was about three years when we bought the place). LOL
It’s a good thing. This is going to be such an amazing thing for us. But that doesn’t take away from how difficult it is.
That said, here’s something cute and fun:
We’ve been reading Medusa the Mean (yep, another book in the Goddess Girls series). Lily-Ann absolutely LOVED chapter 7, Kindergarten Buddies. Of course, being IN kindergarten herself probably had a lot to do with it… though it was a super adorable chapter that made her giggle and grin repeatedly (especially when she realized that there was a crush starting between Medusa and Dionysus, and then further imagined her Daddy as being like Dionysus and herself as Andromeda). So tonight, before bedtime, she decided to draw Medusa and Dionysus – as inspired by the Goddess Girls books and the cover illustration of Medusa the Mean. And for a five year old? I was darn impressed.
Every so often, in life (as in art), something happens that makes you feel valued. I know I make a difference, and I know what I do is important… but in our families, with our mates, sometimes we just get to the point where we just take love for granted. And when something happens to make you stop and realize how deeply someone trusts you? It’s a big deal.
I can’t share the details… yet. We are making some changes, and as much as I LONG to share, we’re keeping things somewhat private for the time being. But I can share this: My husband trusts me far more than I realized. And that feels pretty darn good.