A long time ago, in what seems another life, I read In Bed by Joan Didion, as well as pieces of Slouching Towards Bethlehem, and they have been resurfacing the past few days. The Santa Ana is blowing. THe wildfires have begun. the air is different, nearly stagnant, and I have a dreaful headache. Not the kind that might place me in bed for the day, but the kind that is persistant enough to pervade the day.
Classes begin full swing next week. My responsibilty increased to an extra three classes(and preps) a week, due to the negligence of a now former supervisor.
I spent hours and hours yesterday enlarging images from Japan. I am aiming to have them on display over the next few months, and hope to sell some prints.

I'll lay the blame on the wind for any lack of cohesiveness in this entry, and go off to take another pill.

the month slipped by

have been nursing a head cold, strange neck rash, and sore throat
have been listening to books on tape driving out to Temecula several days a week to assist photographer
have been watching, gasp!, television (O.C. premiere, gilmore premiere . . not terrible)
have been reading book about Charlestown bankrobbers, Prince of Thieves, which made me initially homesick, then eventually reconfirmed why I had to leave Boston, still good book though, also reading Tale of Two Cities
have booked classes, and field trips, for the school year
have written art course curriculum for grades 3-8
have been energized to paint, and shoot!

am satisfied that this September there is no new thing happening in my life, and can focus on improvement over learning curve


also,
ready for visitors when things get colg out there on the east coast

wedding thoughts

For the past few weeks I have been working for a wedding photographer up in Temecula, helping him edit weddings. I have also started a working relationship with another wedding photographer just down the street. I am hoping to make a little extra cash, while learning the business side of weddings, marketing and digital workflow. It just might be the right move for me in the next year or so. I realized that I like shooting wedding because even though the structure of the day is fairly static, the wedding itself is performative and as the photographer you have a roll, as much as you’d like to be active or passive veiwer, in that. The experience of it is similar to teaching for me. I have the plan, know what to expect from wedding to wedding, but like lesson plans, everyone is going to interpret the structure differently.

I have edited a handful of weddings now, going frame by frame through an emotional navigation of someone else’s important day. Sometimes I choke up when I see how the bride and groom gaze at each other, locked in a moment that transcends the sixtieth of a second that it took to expose. Other times, I wonder how people can justify spending what they do on the details of one day.

This summer I attended three weddings. Charlotte and Sandy’s fabulous Gatsby-esque Vineyard wedding; Miki and Hiro’s formal Catholic wedding in Japan, complete with eight course haute cuisine French meal and no partying what so ever; and Joe and Skylar’s decadent Wichita party with chocolate fountains and lots of dancing. The experience of each wedding was distinct and individual against the rest. As different, I guess, as the bride(s) and groom themselves. But the formula, the repertoire, is pretty standard. Where did all this ritual, the flowers, the cake eating, the dances, the bouquet throwing, come from?

This weekend, I’m off to the bay area to visit friends and meet up with Trent and his family at his cousin’s wedding at a vineyard in Napa. Like the weddings I am editing, I will know nothing about the bridal couple. I will be voyeur only, and wine drinker, of course.

new leaves, supposedly it's fall . . .

After a lazy breakfast and and a spin at Dog Beach with Trent and Alabama, I spent the morning surfing at Mission Beach. I actually paddled out and caught waves on my own, and surfed them to the beach. I never would have suspected would be something I could do and that I would enjoy. The kind of Saturday morning I can't imagine besting. Who is this person I am becoming? Those who knew me in Boston, would they be able to picture this Dorchester girl pulling on a wetsuit in the parking lot, and heading off to the beach with a longboard underm her arm?

Afterwards, Trent presented me with a beach cruiser, a black bike with a beautiful patina rust and old stickers. We took a ride out to the tip of Shelter Island, and watched the sailboats head out for a long weekend in Mexico. The wind off the water could not have been more lovely or relaxing.

rabbit

It's already the first of September. In another life, when I lived with Molly in Holyoke, she would, on the first of every month wake up and yell 'Rabbit!" I nearly always forget to keep this tradition alive. Who remembers the first of the month, bleary-eyed and waking up to Nelly on the radio under the drone of the fan?
This is the first September that I can recall nothing changing in my life. I am not moving, not beginning to take new classes, not seeking a new job. I will keep my job, with new students to be sure, but mostly the same curriculum. I have no plans to move. There is a steadyness about this new California life that is unknown but pleasing.