Monthly Archives: August 2009

The Lens and Mirror

Lens and Mirror

William Anastasi (American, b. 1933) Nine Polaroid Photographs of a Mirror, 1967 Black-and-white instant print; 14 1/2 x 11 1/4 in. (36.8 x 28.6 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

I see this as an interesting way of showing dimensionality of persona, the fathomless layers inside us.

Facing Disease

I am humbled by Brian.

Read his article: When Cancer Changes Your Appearance

Brian Nelson copes with extensive swelling in his face — a side effect of head and neck cancer treatment.

Brian Nelson copes with extensive swelling in his face — a side effect of head and neck cancer treatment.

Brian  displays remarkable strength despite the dramatic changes and treatments he’s undergoing. Few would maintain faith. I’m also so impressed by the woman at his side.

I am blessed to know another person like this, my uncle, Shmuel, may he be blessed with long life. He has battled brain cancer for about seven years. The challenges are too numerous to describe here, but his optimism, appreciation for Leonard Cohen and a good joke are as present as ever.

G-d bless these men with health and recovery as they face the battle of their lives. We need them here.

Read Brian’s blog at Brian’s Health.

Rocking in Jerusalem

It’s been an interesting few days here in Israel.

Hutzot Hayotzer

On Saturday night, I went to an Art Festival near the Old City (called Hutzot Hayotzer), where international artists displayed their wares. My favorite was the Angolan mixed-media artist who presented the barbaric and primitive elements behind our attempts at civility. It was art you wouldn’t want to hang on your wall, too brutal a reminder. Next, the prototypical Polish woodcutter, right out of Pinocchio. He was robust, sported a huge mustache and faded tattoos all along his arms. His figurines mostly depicted suffering religious people. I watched him for a while, and then he let me do some cutting. Thrill!

Aviv Gefen – wannabe rocker who wears too much makeup – performed. I stayed to watch [almost purely] as a cultural observer. Israelis rock out as Americans do, just in Hebrew. The whole scene was strange to stomach. We were just below the Old City walls, where some of the most poignant and horrific Jewish narratives unfolded, and here was just-another-rocker singing about girl-meets-boy, etc, etc, etc. It was unsettling. I left when he stripped his shirt, and slung a belt around his neck. Seriously, grow up.

Alas, no pictures. I needed a break.

Shoe Shots

Love these photos, especially the coordinated couples.

More at: Wedding Shoe Shots

Courtesy of White Box Weddings

Courtesy of White Box Weddings

Somewhere Else

Kinda slow on blogging these days. Doing the internal journeying thing and not very out there. All is good.

Copyright CL (Do not reprint without permission)

Copyright CL (Do not reprint without permission)

I’ve been taking lots of pictures lately, and enjoying the simultaneous distance and closeness that comes with it; distance because it allows me to be a viewer, a bystander, and closeness because of the momentary bond created with the photographee.

Today, I went to the shuk/open-air market in central Jerusalem. I was surprised at how many vendors, normally aggressive types, shied from being photographed. I got yelled at a couple of times. But the wink from the very kind-looking redhead at the bread shop compensated for the other drama.

Redhead at the bread stand

Redhead at the bread stand

Shabbat will be hectic, with many people sharing the table. I’d prefer the quiet, but this’ll happily do.

Hello! Hello!

Hello! Hello!

It’s been so long since I’ve posted anything, so it seems. Maybe it’s the great mental shift. I’m in Israel, peeps. Yup, the Holy Land. Taking lots of photos and breathing a different kind of air. It’s sweet, and I like it here.

Last week I went to a hippie festival on a hilltop, with an awesome view of nearby hills twinkling in the distance. The air was pungent with bbq, cigarettes (and weed). People were dressed in Woodstockian spirit…. real grunge gorgeousness, and they danced with such soul. It was a good night to be in love, which I’m not, but it could’ve/would’ve/might’ve been.

Acharit Hayamim

Acharit Hayamim II

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French Passione

Jacques Brel draws you in with his fire and poetry. Brilliant.