The Only Sure Thing is Change

Or is it death? Taxes? That seems right, after the hefty estimated taxes I just paid the IRS.

Poor blog. It's really taken a hit this year. The thing is, I mostly use the blog as a venue for posting new photography, but in the past several months I've been so busy in my role as studio manager that I do my own work much less frequently.

Before I get into that, though... here's some recent(ish) Holga shots, taken downtown a month or two ago.





And some long-overdue ones from the Southie St. Patty's Day Parade ages ago.... I'm still working out a system for scanning my film edges, so I gave up after a couple and used the film holder.






Left to right: John and Judy (our lovely hosts, outside Judy West's studio), photographer Clark Quinn


John and Mark Hunt


Me and Clark


So, the big news... which I've pretty widely broadcast at this point... is that I'm picking up and leaving Boston sometime in late July. Matthew has chosen UNC for grad school (not taking lightly the full scholarship and living stipend offered to him) and tomorrow, unbelievably, I fly to North Carolina to scope out the housing situation in Durham. As in: we may buy a house. Maybe. Considering the prices and the recent revitalization in east Durham, it seems crazy not to. I'm excited and overwhelmed. Not to mention that I've got to pick up this crazy lucky work situation I've got going here and somehow transplant it in NC. I hope it takes to new soil.

In other news.... one of Matt's brothers, Josh, came to visit last weekend. More pictures from his visit can be seen here. He was fantastic, fun to be around, willing to try new and "different" things like curry, gnocchi, and Passover seders with liberals, feminists, and lesbians. He's an awesome guy and we totally loved having him.

Here's Josh, looking skeptically at the seder plate.


And out to dinner in the North End, at the fanciest meal he'd ever had.


It also got me out into the city again.


Check this out... on Saturday we were passing the South End photo lab, right around the corner from my old apartment, and I noticed a familiar looking photo in the window. I said, "hey guys.... I think I took that shot." Only after scrutiny did I notice my name in the window!


The shot was taken at a park cleanup I photographed last October, I think, in Ringgold Park in the South End. Who knew one of the shots won a contest! They even got my name right.

I leave you with the mostly-completed kitchen project. The doors are chalkboard now. I'm still looking for some kind of white border or flair to adorn them.


Okay, one more. 'Cause I can't seem to get enough pictures of Matt.


'Til next time! More updates on NC as plans unfold.

Images from Buffalo

This is Matt's littlest brother, Noah, who's 7.


Matt testing out his brother Josh's bb gun...


Grandma Lesinski's lace curtains...


Niagara Falls at night...


Aunt Noreen watching TV with Quincy, the cat...


Ungodly good poppyseed cake that Matt's Grandma Lesinski makes... this time just for me.


Lunch at Grandma Dudek's house...


Matt accepts a sweater from Grandma Dudek...


Grandma Dudek probably saying something inappropriate to Grandpa Dudek (I love her)...



Noreen set up a slideshow of old family pictures... Joy and Noah playing in the light...


Joy at the stable on our last day in Buffalo...



Throughout the weekend, I let Noah use my camera. As I went back through the images later, I realized what a keen and natural eye this kid has. Here are a few of my favorites...

(Photographs by Noah Dudek, age 7)




More photos here and here.

Here's a shot of all the Dudek kids (minus Dan, who couldn't make it) in Cambridge last summer. What a good-looking bunch.

Happy Anniversary to Me... and My City

What a cool three years it's been.

There was the multitude of jobs, evolving from ill-fitting to my dream job. All the spaces in which I've lived... beautiful, light-filled apartments. First my gorgeous, tall-ceilinged place in the North End, which was so noisy I tried to avoid staying there on the weekends, but had a view from the roof that couldn't be topped; then my slum-ish South End apartment which, with a weekend's help from my parents, was turned into a workable floor plan and eventually a wonderful apartment; and now my apartment here in Central Square above the Cellar, which needed only to be made our own.

Some friends have moved on, but most are still here, scattered around the perimeter of the city and never more than a T ride away. Many of them have changed in huge ways since I knew them; mostly I think of them as always staying the same, forever.

Almost exactly one year into my tenure here in Boston - 2 years ago - I convinced myself that this would not be the chapter in which I would meet anyone of any consequence. Almost immediately after that mental decision, I met the sweetest boy the city could dream up. He describes the feeling similarly: with Legos. "You look and look for this one little piece that you want, and you waste all this time going through all the Legos looking for it, and then finally you give up and just start working on something else. The minute you do, that perfect piece appears out of nowhere." I'm keeping this piece in my pocket.

Thanks for experiencing my nostalgia with me. Place gets into you if you spend even the smallest amount of time in it; it becomes your documented history, your story, and as good as the genes that direct who you are.

Getting Through to Spring

Oh, it's so close now I can smell it, but we still manage to get dumped on with snow and ice every few days (it seems). Gotta find that balance between looking forward to better weather, and knowing there's a long, chilly, rainy spring ahead.

When I first moved to Boston almost three years ago (our anniversary, Boston's and mine, is March 15), I found the spring weather so absurd that, on my way to work at a soulless temp job, I would find myself laughing hysterically while watching all the business commuters struggle to keep their skirts down, hats on, and umbrellas concave. I started photographing all the broken umbrellas I saw in the city, a project I still want to do something with, and which gave birth to my love of the umbrella theme.

It's pretty much work these days, aside from a few little events - like a visit from Johanna, Nathan, and William, who were down for a surgery for little William. William and I, we're like old buddies now; we take some time to catch up.


The pizza Matt was eating was a source of great fascination.


This past weekend I finally got around to a project I've been wanting to do for weeks - which I can't show you until a few days from now when it's completely done, but here's a sneak peak:



There are potential changes ahead for me... big changes. And, potentially, not. As a person uncomfortable with not being able to plan ahead, I am jumping out of my skin like a 5-year-old who really has to pee. But at the same time... it's kind of fun, not knowing for sure what's next. It's making me nostalgic about both situations. More details as they unfold.

As for you cold weather dwellers... hang in there. Get a strong umbrella and some good rubber boots.

Feeling Filmy

Here's a recent shot of Mark after a shoot in an unfinished office building in Cambridge. I dig that fluorescent glow.

Love is a Bowl

This is Julia in North Carolina, seven years ago.


Julia once woke me in the middle of a nap in college in which I'd been dreaming that love is a bowl. I told her it was silly, but she insisted on hearing. What I meant, in that foggy, vague dream logic, was that when you first start to love someone, they are like a plate; they don't know how to contain the love, and it spills over the sides and away. Gradually, though, the flow of love begins to deepen the shape of them, and they become bowl-shaped to contain your love.


A few months later Julia gave me an imperfect, hand-carved wooden bowl from Kenya. It was a bowl meant for honey. She told me women would put it in their windows, and if a certain kind of mockingbird came and tasted the honey, it said good things about the woman's fertility, I think.


I don't know about that, but I do know that it's difficult to describe how much love I have for this girl. If love is a bowl, I hope Julia has a cauldron over there in France.

Jessie the Curator!

Here are a few shots from our very successful gallery showing this past weekend. The photographs were taken by teenage girls at a residential treatment program where Mark and I taught a workshop, and where I'm continuing teaching.





Student artist, intern, photographer, studio manager:


We got some great publicity, and people streamed in and out the whole time. I couldn't have been happier, or more exhausted.

The next day I had my second shoot with a Beacon Hill family, this time in the studio. Noah is now 9 months old.


Mama-baby yoga!



This week was supposed to be equally as nutty as the last... but Mark and I both woke up with bad colds/coughs yesterday morning and were out flat. We had to cancel three shoots, and have no choice but to rest up for tomorrow's, which can't be rescheduled.

In the occasional weekend days I have to myself, I've been feeling crafty, thanks to inspiration from all the blogs I read of design nature: namely Design Sponge, Oh Joy!, and poppytalk. I absconded with some wooden wine crates from the wine shop downstairs, and papered them with beautiful papers from Paper Source. So far they just draw attention to my crappy kitchen cupboard and wall, but soon I plan to paint the cabinets white with chalkboard doors, and hide that ugly wall behind hanging pans, spoons, and other kitchen things.



Okay, that's all I can muster the energy for today. I have to drag myself to the studio to get ready for tomorrow's shoot. I'm so buried in unfinished editing and other work that I can't quite see the light... hopefully this coming weekend can provide some catching up, resting, and belated Valentine's Day celebrating.