a.xmas.story

The bad news: I am a blog failure.

The good news: I am no longer under the restraints of my FSEM class, so I can do whatever my heart desires with this blog...but it will probably just continue to be a photo blog.

On the off-chance that people are still actually following my blog, I apologize that I am about the worst updater ever. Yes, I have been on break for 5 weeks, having had nothing to do for 3 of those weeks. I am ashamed. BUT a gift was sent from the gods (or Amazon.com) today: a brand new Canon Rebel XS DSLR camera. My adoration for photography is renewed. And on top of that, my whole extended family went up to my grandma's house in Nederland for Christmas dinner. We started out the day with a hike; my stepdad's family owns tons of the surrounding land, complete with an old mine. I got to put my new best friend to use.

This year, there was a mini-crisis with the roast beef. Much dispute was had over what temperature to cook it at and for how long. It was 3 hours before we got to eat, and it was still under-done. Luckily, Aunt Lori saved the day by stir-frying it. Not your typical Christmas dinner, but I guess it's better than having duck at a Chinese restaurant, "A Christmas Story" style.

Sophie, my 7-year old sister who loves to show-off for the camera.

Tori, my 5-year old sister who refuses to take a normal picture.

henri.cartier-bresson

It's hard to imagine what it would be like to experience a life like Henri Cartier-Bresson. What would it be like to be the original photojournalist, covering King Henry VI's coronation and Ghandi's funeral; China's fall to communism and Indonesia's rise from Dutch control; taking portraits of Marilyn Monroe and Martin Luther King Jr? As a journalism major and a bit of a photography nut, photojournalism was a dream job of mine at one point. That profession wouldn't even exist if it weren't for Cartier-Bresson. 

In a sense, I adamantly feel that photojournalism is the greatest style of photography there is. Photojournalists capture real life--no perfect models, no makeup or styling, no special effects or equipment--just them, the subject, and the camera. All those things are able to so easily ruin what a photograph should truly be: a slice of time (real time) frozen forever. With a journalistic approach, it's ethically impossible to elaborate 

a photo, 

life, 

truth.

Henri understood the power of photography, saying that "photography could fix eternity in an instant." I believe this is essentially why he gave it up. Shortly after his divorce from his wife of 30 years, he retired from his photography career and returned to drawing and painting. I think he found life too bleak and photography too honest. In drawing and painting, the artist is able to mould reality any way they desire. In photography, the moment is captured forever, with no way to alter it.

"The simultaneous recognition, in a fraction of a second, of the significance of an event as well as the precise organization of forms which gives that event its proper expression... . In photography, the smallest thing can be a great subject. The little human detail can become a leitmotif."

—Henri Cartier-Bresson

camera.obscura.:.cultural.event

The second amazing person we met on our little trip to 16th street was this man right here. Hal Gould. This man is quite literally a sage of photography, 90 years old, and has his own official "Hal Gould Day" (February 19). He founded the Camera Obscura gallery--one of the oldest purely fine art photography galleries--after the director of the Denver Art Museum refused to show photography as an art medium. Hal opened Camera Obscura right behind DAM (as a kind of "up yours") and it was immensely successful. Although some of the photographs he curates are not my cup of tea (mostly old western-types), I can certainly appreciate the man himself. Hal has an amazing life story, having travelled to every continent, taking pictures along the way. Without Hal, photography may have never been regarded as the art form it is today.

"Art is in the artist, not in the medium."

byers.evans.:.cultural.event

After our visit through the DAM, we had lunch at the restaurant there with Mark Sink, a Denver photographer and friend of Roddy's. I was fortunate enough to sit at the same table as him and got to hear all about his life and why he chose to live in Denver and how he came to be a photographer. After having lunch, we went to the Byers Evans House Gallery where Mark was showing his collection. Having the artists there, giving us a personalized tour and explanation of each piece was such an honor. I never realized how many different techniques there are in photography until I saw his collection. It astounds me that he is able to make such beautiful art by simply scattering sugar or a flower on a scanner, or with a simple, old school Diana F+ camera. He proves that simplicity is bliss.

denver.art.museum.:.cultural.event

During our first week of school, my FSEM teacher, Roddy, took us on a trip to the 16th street area. First, we went to the Denver Art Museum and looked at a photo exhibit, then we were free to wander the museum as we pleased. I had been to the DAM before, but this particular visit was special because I believe it was the first time  the girls in my class began to grow really close. We got to view some incredible photography, had our fellow student, Ting, acquaint us with the characters in the Asian art gallery, ate an amazing meal, and experience an amazing place in the company of new friends. The museum building in itself is a piece of art (pictured at the top), and Roddy was constantly finding sources of "good light" to take our portraits in (pictured second).

sally.mann

At first glance, I didn't think I was going to like Sally Mann. My style of photography is vastly different from hers; I dabble in weird angles and high contrast colors while she takes what I think of as the obvious angle and does solely black and white photography. I'm all about digital and editing on the computer and her style is extremely vintage and she manages to do all her work by lugging around an old fashioned camera that's bigger than she is. She does portraits, I have a fear of my subject looking at the camera. She likes country landscapes, I prefer skyscrapers and architecture.

But as I continued to watch her biographical documentary, I realized just how incredible she is. She is literally living the life (not the life I ever dreamed of for myself): She's got the most wonderful husband, three beautiful children, living on her own working ranch, and doing exactly what she loves. Being a neurotic perfectionist myself, I completely admire the fact that she embraces imperfections. Being a writer, I completely admire her amazing use and expression of words. She is truly an artist. 

And yet, she's human. She faces disappointments just as anyone else does. I was able to completely relate to her when the Pace gallery decided to cancel her showing of "What Remains" after she had been working on it for four years. In my four years of high school, I worked my way up to the top of the ladder in my own passion: theatre. I had participated in every show, befriended the director, and made myself a prominent figure in the department to the point that I was elected president. From there, my goal was to get a leading role in the musical. I worked with various voice teachers and focused all of my energy into being the top soprano in my school. In the end, I was blown away that I didn't get the part and was put in the chorus. It felt as though I had spent four years on nothing. As Sally Mann put it, it was like when a bird flies into a glass window. But it has to get up, shake off its feathers, check to see if anything is broken, and keep flying. I realized later that I just didn't fit the roll, or at least the reputation and type-casting I had built up for myself didn't. Despite the embarrassment and disappointment, I tried out for all three shows this quarter at DU, got called back for the mainstage play, and got the lead in a senior project show. As Sally found a more fitting venue in D.C., I wound up finding something better too.

After watching these documentaries about these photographers and listening to the advice and musings of my professor, Roddy, I've finally realized what it is I love about photographers. They see the world in a completely different manner. Through their eyes, everything is beautiful, and they take the task of recording life upon themselves. Sometimes it comes down to making money, as it did for Annie Liebovitz and sometimes it comes down to prestige and reputation, as it did for Sally Mann. That's just life. But they manage to stay sane through it all (or at least as sane as an artist can be). At the end of the day, they are the ones that understand life better than anyone else.

alex.

Alex is one of the many wonderful people I have met here at DU. I previously mentioned him in one of my posts as one of the makeup artists. He is a reformed theatre major and is always, without fail, singing some song from a Disney movie, which the rest of the room can't help but to sing along with him. I first met him at callbacks for "Julius Caesar" and had a blast preparing for it with him and the other guys in our group. Alex hardly knew me, but immediately gave me a hug when we were reunited for "The Old Women." 

He's that kind of guy.

age.before.beauty

Another shot I took backstage. Here, Katy is putting makeup on her hands to make them look old to suit her character as a very creepy old lady. She has the greatest makeup box ever, which she decorated herself with pretty much every musical you can think of and pictures from the shows she herself has been in. It amazed me how she did her own makeup every night and it always looked so great. The impeccable makeup simply added to her impeccable characterization of La Bossue.

lit.up

So this weekend was my show, I DID manage to get my voice back, though it dwindled down to practically nothing by the end of every show. I also had to overdose on every kind of spray, pill, syrup, and liquid right before my entrance, but I managed.

Anyway, this is a shot I took while I was fooling around with my camera backstage in the makeup room. I liked the pattern of repetition of the lights on the makeup mirror and lightbulbs are somewhat fascinating to me. Our times in the makeup room prior to each show are probably some of my fondest memories of this show. I got to hang out with crazy theatre people, including the ones I had already grown to love in my cast and the awesome makeup crew (made up of Jerica, Alex and Jenny). It was hard during the first two performances when I wasn't allowed to talk because forcing oneself to NOT laugh is nearly impossible when you're around those three.

desperation.

This is my life at the moment. Last week I started getting a wicked sore throat, which progressed into me losing my voice completely. Turns out I have laryngitis and an upper respiratory infection. I have since been jamming my body with every drug the docs throw at me and every old wives tale my neighbors and friends tell me.

Steroids: FAIL

Cayenne pepper+honey+hot water: FAIL

Halls cough drop + hot water: FAIL

Prescription cough syrup: FAIL

Dr. Pepper + OJ + cinnamon + honey + warmed up: FAIL

5 Nalgenes of water in 3 hours: TBD

The list goes on.

Pictured here are just some of what I've been using. I've also been going the last 5 days without talking, or speaking minimally, which has been a very strange experience. I now understand how the Little Mermaid felt. My deepest sympathies, Ariel. 

I wouldn't be so desperate to get better if the show I happen to be the lead in weren't tomorrow night. I've only been sick for one show before, but luckily I was in the chorus and could easily blend in. That is not the case here.

I need a miracle.

flashbacks&flashforwards

As I was uploading photos from my phone, I found this one from what I think was the last time I saw Kate. We went up to overlook the city of Boulder from the mountains, stargazed in Chautauqua park and got ice cream. Here, she is taking a picture of the stars. I miss the girl.

We recently had a conversation about her coming home from Minnesota in three weeks and how much of a daunting idea that is. I have the same fears about winter break; I'm afraid that if I spend more than a month back at home with all my old friends again and being around my family constantly, I'll have to start over adjusting at DU when I finally have to come back. But that fear is just a part of the whole process. Every time we have to return to our respective lives that we're trying to establish, the readjustment will get a little easier because soon it will become the only life we know.

social.network

Khumbo, Katy, a guy from Katy's floor and I went to see "The Social Network" tonight. I've lost my voice completely thanks to laryngitis and an upper respiratory infection so I needed something to do that didn't require me talking. I've wanted to see this movie for a long time and was thoroughly pleased with it. I have no doubt that it overdramatized and romanticized the real story of the birth of Facebook, but that's cinema. Mark Zuckerberg and his fellow founders were nothing short of geniuses--I don't think anyone could dispute that. It's amazing to think that a couple of Harvard undergrads managed to revolutionize the world, connecting over 5 million people in over 200 countries. They've changed the way we run our lives. I check my FB more than twice a day on my laptop and phone. It has become my primary source of keeping in touch with my friends from high school, a fact that is both profitable and somewhat sad. I wrote in my first essay for my Media class that if I didn't spend about 130 minutes on FB every day, I could be using that time to make friends in real life, rather than pretending I'm still involved in the lives of my old friends in cyber life. But all our worlds are infected by the enigma that is Facebook. When I came back to my room after the movie, my roommate and her mom were ironically on the site. My first impulse when I sat down at my desk was to check my Facebook, even though I had just done so not 10 minutes before while waiting for the light rail. That's power.

children.of.the.theatre

This part of the film was taken when I brought my disposable to rehearsal. I have rehearsals for "The Old Women," a senior project play I got into, Monday-Friday from 10-12. My character, Louise, goes through some traumatic stuff (creepy old women, creepy doctors, creepy nuns, oh and getting her eyes gouged out), I get drenched in stage blood every night, and sometimes the emotions I have chosen to portray Louise (sense of abandonment, loneliness, and desperation) come through in my real life. But even through all that, it is during the preparation for this production that I have found myself the most happy since coming to DU. I solely owe this to the people I have met while doing this production. Katy, one of my new closest friends I've made since coming here is pictured on the upper portion and Khumbo on the bottom. Katy is my fellow freshman, my Gleek partner, and an overall amazing person. She never fails to make me laugh and is always looking out for me. Khumbo moved here from Africa last spring, and despite having no family here in the states, she so easily creates her own family with the friends she meets. She's a barrel of fun to be around and so hilarious. Inside jokes can't help but ensue when we're around her.
I don't know what it is about theatre kids, but they're different in the best way possible. Perhaps it's because in order to take on the role of an entirely different person than ourselves, we HAVE to be unafraid, and thus, let go of any inhibitions we might have. We have to embrace ourselves so much so as not to lose it and that makes us more comfortable in our own skins. It's funny how through every character we play, we actually find out something new about ourselves, and because of that, I think theatre kids are more real than any other breed of human.
Rule #21: Theatre is a god-sent. Praise it. Love it. Stick with it.

turning.back.time

Two weeks ago, Roddy gave us all black and white disposable cameras, so the next few entries are from that. This was the first picture I took on that camera, a shot of my cluttered desk complete with laptop, letter getting ready to be mailed to Bailey, Blurb book, coupons, textbooks, novels, and tea mugs. I had forgotten what it was like to take pictures and not be able to automatically see if it came out okay, as I can with digital so taking pictures on this thing was quite the experience. My friend Katelyn helped me developed the film, which I had never done before, and I was pleased that some of them actually came out.

you've.got.mail

Rule #34: In college, the greatest feeling in the world is getting mail.
This is a letter I recently received from one of my best friends, Bailey, who goes to Puget Sound. My roommate and I check our mailbox eagerly every day. We get such a high knowing that either somebody out there cares enough about us to take the time to write us a letter, or our subscriptions to magazines and online purchases came through. Either way, good feeling.

house.of.stairs

While at the library, my friends Lindsey, Anna and I had a bit of photo fun. One of the Hylaea installations was a video of turning pages in John James Audubon's Birds of America. Lindsey and Anna took turns taking pictures of making it look like they had giant hands that were turning the pages in the book. As I am sick, I didn't partake in the running up and down the stairs part, but I did get to reap the benefits of getting some cool shots. I don't know how I got so lucky with the red/orange tint of this photo, but no editing was done to this one. The angle with the multiple sets of staircases makes it particularly enticing to the eye as well. Kind of reminiscent of M. C. Escher's House of Stairs.

hylaea

So on Thursday in FSem, we went to an exhibit in the library about extinct birds called Hylaea: a video, print and book installation by Timothy Weaver. My favorite part of the installation was the projected video art synced with a mixture of bird calls of the species in the exhibit that still survive today. Pictured here is the sound dome from which the audio came and beyond it is the screen, currently projecting a beak. Being the digital art nerd that I am, I was fascinated by the blending of the habitats, feathers, beaks, and human cryptochromic proteins. The fact that Weaver chose to "weave" in (no pun intended) elements of humans is very interesting to me. It emphasizes the connection that all living things have, human or not. We're all living on this earth. We survive and thrive in different ways, but we have that shared experience nonetheless.

in.vogue

The library. The first time I got a real tour of this place I was overwhelmed. It just keeps going on and on and on and has just about everything you can imagine. Sure, there is now the internet to compile all of this information in a transportable form and that can be accessed from anywhere, but just to ponder on the fact that thousands of people took the time to write all of these books is mind boggling. An avid believer that magazines will not die because of the internet, I am a true fan of print if there ever was one. In fact, one of my favorite parts of this library, and a place I intend to thoroughly explore is the magazine archive in the basement (pictured here) which has every issue of Vogue ever published. Don't ask me how I plan to find the magazine aisle again, but I will eventually.

baby.on.board

Right off the bat: I don't like children. I am simply not a fan (my sisters excluded). Why do I dislike children? They're needy and they're dependent: two qualities that do not settle well with me. However, even I can sometimes recognize when a given child is "cute". This is an example of that. And oh look, shadows. Shocker.

follow.the.light

Clearly, I'm a fan of shadows. This is the walkway from the Ritchie Center to my dorm building. To the left is the soccer field, to the right, the lacrosse field. These "windows" cast these beautiful shadows every day and it never fails to take my breath away. I like the ever-so ominous figure of a man in this shot, too.

ritchie.center

One of my favorite buildings on campus is the Ritchie Center, which houses our gym, hockey arena, basketball courts, health clinic offices and, my favorite, long-course pool. I swam for seven years so I've seen my fair share of pools, but El Pomar Natatorium is definitely the nicest facility I've been in (for pictures, see my post of the swim/dive meet in January 2011). I'm not nearly good enough for the varsity team but there are a few other non-DU affiliated teams that practice there. I wish DU had a club team since I don't have enough time to join one of the existing teams, but I can still get my chlorine fix any time in one of the open lap swim lanes.


Next year, as a sophomore, I will be living in Nagel which is on the south end of campus. I can't wait to be closer to the theatre department buildings but I will definitely miss being so close to the Ritchie Center. Williams Tower (shown here) measures up at 215 feet tall and houses the bells I can hear from my room every day. As a freshman, we all got to have dinner with Chancellor Coombe at the beginning of the year, followed by climbing up the (very tall) spiral staircase to the bells. We even got to play them! The bells are controlled by a carillon, a set of 65 bronze bells. The largest one weighs six tons! Students have the opportunity to sign up to take lessons on the carillon at the beginning of the year. Not only are the bells beautiful to hear, but the glowing Williams Tower has proven to be a very convenient way for friends and I to find our way back to campus when we go on the occasional fro-yo run.

gears.not.gas

My bicycle has become an intricate part of my life since coming to college. My first class every day is on the opposite side of campus and, as I am not a fan of walking, I vouched for biking. Granted, my biking skills are probably even worse than my walking skills, but they have improved (with the exception of almost killing myself and another girl last Monday night). Nonetheless, I'm getting more coordinated and am learning my way around campus somewhat better. Not to mention I got free pizza and iced tea on "Ride Your Bike to Work/School Day."

I liked the repetition of the tires in this photo, taken outside of the library. The shadow the the girl in the background is pretty sweet too. (Forgive me, two sleeping pills + spending a day without really talking is beginning to take it's toll.)

vintage

This is one of my favorite parts of campus--right outside of Mary Reed, University Hall, and Daniels College of Business. Some of these building are the oldest on campus and hold so much history, so many memories that it's hard not to see the beauty in them. When I was touring colleges, I rated the age of buildings from vintage (like these), ghetto, or brand-spankin' new. The first and last were good. The "ghetto" not so much. So it's buildings like this that make me more appreciative of DU. It's graduates like Condoleeza Rice that make me proud to go to DU. And it's the memories I'm making now that make me pleased with my choice to go to DU.

...for.twelve.days?

So, I quit the sorority. Talk about short lived. I actually took this picture before I de-pledged, but I thought it was somewhat symbolic, especially with my last picture being of all the balloons on Bid Day. As you can see, these are a few of those same balloons that have gotten themselves stuck in a tree outside of the Gamma Phi Beta house. I would comment further, but I'll resist.

annie.leibovitz

Annie Leibovitz--the woman, the photographer, the wonder. Annie is nothing short of a wonder, nay, a photographic saint of our time. Her images are world-renowned and iconic, yet simple and honest all at once. The latter part can't be truly said of some of her more recent work, which are clearly very strongly digitally enhanced images, and some people (my self included) can't help but stop and think, "Does this just look awesome because it has so many celebrities in it?" But after that short spurt of doubt in dear Annie's work, I looked deeper and saw that Annie brings out a surprising side of every celebrity she shoots--something other people wouldn't automatically think when given the task of photographing Whoopi Goldberg, Keira Knightly, John Lennon and Yoko. Plus, I realized that they don't just let anybody photograph the "gods" of our time. Annie had to work her way up there.

Although her later work undoubtedly has the "wow" factor, it is Annie's early work that truly inspires me so profoundly. The simplicity is what shockingly makes the best pictures in a strange way. Too often, I get so wrapped up in the angle and the multiple focus points and the depth perception and the colors and the shadows and--it just gets to be too much. It's the same with life. I focus on so many things and want all of them to be perfect to the point that I over-think them. I over-do it, and it winds up being worse because of it. Hence, I have learned when it is best to just say, "whatever." 

Rule #33: Care less.

[[Oh yes, by the way, I write a list. A list of how to survive life. The rules may pop up in here once in a while.]]

So it is Annie's understanding of this concept that I admire. An understanding that when you strip away all the make up, all the wardrobe, all the fancy editing, you get a person. A person with a background. A family. A vulnerability. A weakness. A view of the world. A truth. In a way, I feel sad for Annie. Not that I know her personally or anything, but she must sometimes be sad that her job has turned into extreme sets and pyrotechnics. It has turned into show business, and for some reason, that seems lonelier than a person in their favorite t-shirt against a white wall. Nonetheless, she is on the path she is, doing what she loves, and kicking ass while she's at it. And for that, she's my hero.

for.life

Today I joined a sorority. My roommate all day has been saying how she "can't believe this day is finally here." I agree. She says that because joining a sorority is something she has dreamed about for a long time. I agree because I never thought I would be in one. As of this last year, I came to the realization that I tend to get along better with guys, I'm not a super girly girl, and I hate pointless rules. I was pretty sure I was destined to be anything but a sorority girl. I signed up for rush simply to meet more people and make more friends with no intention of actually pledging anywhere. But the girls at the Delta Zeta house made me feel at home and I realized I wanted to be one of them.
This shot was taken today which was Bid Day. It was quite the sight and quite the experience, just as this whole recruitment week has been. But now it's over and greek life has begun. It ain't four years, it's for life, baby.

in.a.flash

         Time is one of those concepts that has always been a mystery to us. It’s an uncontrollable force, something that has a mind of its own and a freedom that no civilization can mimic. Clocks have been created to measure it, novels have been written about it, and inventions have been dreamed up to master it. Nobody has been able to do a damn thing about it. Except for one guy.

         Harold Eugene Edgerton was a genius. During his lifespan from April 6, 1903 to January 4, 1990, he revolutionized the worlds of science, art, and everything in between. He devoted his life to inventing, developing, and applying his work to the stroboscopic flash.

An electrical engineer with a doctorate of science from MIT, he couldn’t have known he was changing art forever. Before the strobe, photographers struggled with providing bright light and had to deal with the limits that shutters created. Edgerton replaced mercury vapor with xenon and argon in flash bulbs, which created brighter flashes for less than a microsecond. With his strobe he could create remarkable images that people had never seen before. Edgerton could essentially freeze time.

This included capturing multiple flashes in still photography, which created an image that showed the progression of something, such as several of the positions in a golfer’s swing in one frame.

He could also use motion photography to create stop-motion images or slow motion, like a boy running.

Edgerton’s flash did everything from creating spectacular images in National Geographic, helping science labs to study subatomic particles, gearing up World War II, aided Jacques Cousteau by inventing a sonar device called the “pinger” to measure distance to the sea floor and later the “boomer,” which mapped out layers of sediment beneath the ocean floor. Last but certainly not least, he revolutionized photography that would end up in well-known art galleries around the world and in the hands of 18-year old girls who grew up in small suburban towns such as myself.

shadows.of.reality

This is from my FYS class' field trip downtown. I took copious amounts of photos of some very cool places, some of which will be showing up here shortly when I have to write about them as "Cultural Events." Ah homework. Anyway, we spent some time just strolling around 16th street and taking pictures of everything. I believe this particular one was taken when we made a pit stop for Starbucks. Again, light is taking over my life. I've always had a tree fetish when it came to photography. It has since been tamed but in this case, I am loving the shadows that the leaves make on the ground. I've gone to 16th street three times since I've moved to Denver. I think I love it so much because it reminds me of the familiar Pearl Street in Boulder that I'm so used to. I have to admit that Pearl is better, but hey, I don't wanna bring my sandwich to the table.

light.and.enlightenment

Yesterday was my first day of classes as a college student. I felt somewhat cool, except for the fact that I discovered I am far too uncoordinated for a bicycle (to the point that I almost killed several helpless civilians), as well as the fact that I had my standard caffeinated English breakfast tea that morning followed shortly by a Red Bull. Needless to say, I had wings. As I sat quaking with caffeine shooting through my bloodstream, trying to look calm, cool, and collected in the coffee shop, I attempted to focus by taking my picture of the day. Yes, it had been a while. But dear old Roddy has poisoned my mind lately with the idea of light. I can't be anywhere without thinking about the lighting anymore, so as I sat in Beans, I realized just how cool the lighting was on this girl studying by the window. Being a creeper is sometimes the sacrifice we have to make for the sake of photography.

Aryn

"Live life to the fullest. And most of all, have fun." That's the motto of Aryn Tuinzing, one of the 14 amazing girls in my First Year Seminar class. She's originally from Bellmont, CA but came to Denver from her home of Portland, OR, however, she someday hopes to live in either Italy, Argentina, or Chile for at least a year. An aspiring National Geographic photographer or physical therapist, she chose to come to DU because "it felt right." When asked about the best night of her life, she describes her 17th birthday, a night of trespassing into a pool at two a.m. and having a fun-filled evening. Talk about adventurous. I was beyond glad I got to interview Aryn because it got us talking about our shared liking for swimming and we even agreed to arrange lap swim dates in the future. Although I know I can never replace the friends I have back home and spread out all over this country, I'm finally realizing that there are some incredible new friends right here--like Aryn.

Albums: A response to "In Plato's Cave"

“It’s not much, but I thought you might like it,” my best friend said. I unwrapped the graduation gift, unearthing it from it’s home of brightly colored tissue paper enclosed by an equally brightly colored gift bag. A photo album. A photo album in which she had already put a few photos of the two of us; from prom, from her most recent birthday, and from our trip to Grand Junction. “I got you started, you fill in the rest.”

And, boy, did I ever.  I decided to fill the album purely with pictures from my senior year, my best year so far. In every plastic-covered slot resided a photo from prom, graduation, Diamond Lake, swim meets, theatre productions--significant events with significant people. I wanted to keep these moments and these people with me as I began a new chapter in my life. That’s essentially what the prisoners in Plato’s cave are doing; only in their case, it’s by force. They know nothing but images put before them, shadows of what is real. I wanted to cling to the familiar shadows while reality came rushing in around me.

Probably the majority of my photo album is taken up by various road trips to Cheyenne, Salt Lake City, Mount Rushmore, and California. We (the people I went on these trips with and myself) found it so crucial to bring cameras on each of these trips. In fact, on the senior trip to California, all five of us brought each of our own cameras, even though we promised to all share our photos in an online album as soon as we got home. Thus we had duplicate (quintuplet?) photos of the same things. It was ridiculous, really. Why was it so necessary that we had five times the number of pictures we already had? Because these photos served as proof “that the trip was made, that the program was carried out, that fun was had.” We each had to prove it to our family, to our Facebook friends, and to ourselves once the trip was complete.

I also needed to have control of what got its picture taken and how the picture was taken on that trip. The same goes for any other occasion where a camera is deemed necessary). Being in control of a camera means being in “a certain relation to the world that feels like knowledge—and, therefore, like power.” And besides, it’s in my genes as a half-Japanese individual. Sontag’s theory that “using a camera appeases the anxiety which the work-driven feel about not working when they are on vacation and supposed to be having fun,” is a stretch. To say that the stereotypically “workaholic” ethnicities require “a friendly imitation of work” at all times is small minded. By the classic standard, photography is not a productive thing. It just isn’t. The world would continue to revolve if there were no pictures. It would be a tragic world, but life would go on. I have felt the Asian need for perfection, and taking pictures is just the opposite. It’s therapeutic. For just that moment, it’s only you and the subject in the world. It’s all about creativity and artistry and not many Japanese workaholics are working for the sake of creativity and artistry. They’re working for success, honor and other people—not themselves and the subject.

If anything, the appeal of playing photographer for workaholic ethnicities may be that of achieving what all humans desire: immortality. Seeing an event is significantly different from seeing a photograph of it. Visual memories fade because, like movies and television, they move and shift--they change. Taking a photograph seals one millisecond forever in an “image-world that bids to outlast us all.” It is more difficult to recall every person, every detail, and every movement in a witnessed moment. But pictures are more concrete and can be viewed over and over again, thus committing them to memory. In fact, photos may be viewed so many times that we may begin to feel as though we were there, even if we weren’t. Take the famous Kent State Massacre photo. The Burning Monk. The soldiers lifting the American flag at Iwo Jima. The Execution of a Viet Cong Guerrilla. A viewer can feel himself or herself in the moment, smell the gunpowder, hear the screams, taste the disgust—but only thanks to imagination. Photos “are inexhaustible invitations to deduction, speculation, and fantasy” for they can offer us the visual side of a moment, and that is all. The rest is up to us.

            That’s not to say that photographs don’t move something real in us. Whether that is sympathy, anger, sadness, amusement, or nostalgia, pictures are a release of built up emotions in a modern and cutting-edge world where real connections are difficult to come by. This is why I ordered 200 pictures to fill my photo album with. What if I can’t connect with the people I meet at college? I know I can connect with the people in this album. The problem is, they’re only three inches tall. They’re shadows. If we blind ourselves to reality and stay in the cave, we won’t experience all the wonders that await us outside. We “linger unregenerately…in mere images of the truth” and that can keep us from exploring the actual truth.

            Yet, photographs are proof. They hold evidence that the actual truth does indeed exist. I can look at these old shadows and see that I managed to find amazing people to share incredible experiences with. It makes me sad, it makes me homesick, but it gives me faith that I am on my way to finding more amazing people to share more incredible experiences with. I got my life started, I’ll fill in the rest.

Two last posts from home...

This is my home. My high school auditorium stage. The last three days, I was helping my old theatre director cast the fall play "Robin Hood." Not only was it a great learning experience (who knew casting a play was so difficult??), but I got to see all my underclassmen theatre pals one last time before I leave and just be in the theater. I've grown so accustomed to the smell, the temperature, the audience chairs, the glow of the lights from the aisles, the creeky sound and precarious feel when one walks on the apron. I say this is my home because it was in this theater that I grew up from a shy and confused freshman, completely beside myself as to who I was or what I wanted to be. By senior year, I was thespian president, running the show (if you'll excuse the pun), seeing how the wee freshmen looked up to me the way I looked up to the seniors MY freshman year. Ah the circle of life...

This is what I'll miss from my REAL home (or at least one of the things I'll be missing)--watching my sisters grow up. This here is Victoria, or as we call her, Tori. My mom took me and the littlest sis to lunch the other day at a mediterranean restaurant (my favorite) and Tori whipped out her coloring book and crayons. In turn, I whipped out my camera. I really love the perspective of this shot. The blinding window light is the downfall.


I know I've been slacking on posts lately and I don't plan on doing it tomorrow since it's my last day to get my life together before I move in (!!!). So I guess this is the last you'll hear of me from my home turf. See you on the other side.

Good Riddance

The permanent closing of Subway (in my life at least). Last night I worked my last shift after two years and three months of "Six-inch or footlong?" and "Any chips or drinks with that?" I am quite happy to be out of there. It was a decent job--very lenient and I only worked the hours I wanted--but serving what were sometimes incompetent people and getting up at the crack of dawn to go prep onions were not my cup of tea. But I will miss some of my co-workers. It's hard to believe another constant in my life has come to a close. Ironically, almost every time I'm going through a "last," the song "Good Riddance" by Green Day plays. On my last day of high school, my co-host of the morning announcements and I played the song to introduce our last PSA. Coincidentally, it played on the radio last night as I was closing as well. I love it when music that is just perfect for the moment happens to play. I digress.

Once I had closed up shop, flicked off the lights, and locked the gates for the last time, I turned around and got a snapshot of my last look at my place of employment. It has been quite the experience but...good riddance.

Contra

Don't let this make you think I'm any great guitar prodigy. I played for a year...a year ago. For some strange impulsive reason, I've decided to bring it with me to DU. I've played too many instruments in my life: viola for one year, piano for seven, and harp for ten. Obviously the harp is the one that stuck with me, but I'm not about to cart a harp off to college. Music has always been a part of my life (since I've never been the athletic type) so I feel the need to bring some instrument with me. Odds are I will never pick the poor thing up again once it has been perched on it's stand, but you never know. This particular instrument is also important to me because it was given to me by my grandfather whom I love very much. Maybe it will also serve as a reminder of him and my whole family.

hope.

Now that I am truly alone for this last week before school starts (Kate and Max are gone), I'm not doing much these days except for making a massive to-do list and working. So forgive me for posting pictures that I took on not-today. 

This is one of my best friends, Riley. Like I said in my previous post, I was hanging around the CU campus two days ago, being a nuisance to all my friends there, and we decided to go on a stroll. I love this picture for what it represents. Awe. Intrigue. Hope. Riley and all the folks at CU seem to be having the time of their lives and are in love with their school. And how can they not be? Look at those flatirons behind him. Although I decided CU was not for me, I hope to have the same sense of high regard for DU.

Surprise!

Last night, I went over to CU to see some friends and we wound up going to see a play in Boulder. Prior to that, we went to Pearl Street, a local outdoor shopping mall where street performers play or juggle or stuff themselves into tiny boxes or what have you. Completely unexpectedly, we ran into our friends from high school, Marty and Dallas, who were performing. Marty was playing his violin (which he is AMAZING at and is pictured here) and Dallas was accompanying him on a variety of instruments like banging on a water jug and they both sang along. Another girl I didn't recognize was playing the tambourine with them for a while. After the play, I went on the roof the Sewell dorm with some friends and that same girl who played the tambourine was there. Those random chance encounters as well as other events of the evening created the theme of the night: life tends to take us by surprise.


I really love the angle of this photo. As a member of the yearbook staff, I had to take a lot of pictures of band and orchestra concerts so I got a lot of practice with what were good (and bad) angles with instruments.

Roll To Me

My friend, Kate, made a list of things she wanted to do this summer; one of those things was "Make sushi." So that's what we did last night. She, Max and I went to Whole Foods and bought all the makings for our very own sushi bar. We made everything from California rolls to Rainbow rolls to our very own "Monster Roll" which was made up of everything we had left at the end (we probably could have done with about half the ingredients we had bought). By the time we were done making it all, we were too full to eat any of the final product because we had been eating the "nubs" on the ends and all the pieces that fell apart. Luckily Max's family was more than happy to eat the rest. I was actually extremely proud of our work. They tasted really good and all the colors of the various rolls were stunning, so I just had to take a picture. I love the contrast of the colors from the deep red of the tuna to the striking orange of the salmon and carrots as well as the detail of the (delicious) rice.

Burn, baby, burn...

Yes, you are seeing clearly. That's a burning teddy bear. Last night three of my friends and I had the ACTUAL last bonfire. Our burning fuel of choice? Flammable bug spray and a few mementos from some of our past failed relationships. Who knew teddy bears burned so well?

Like my friend Max explained, it's not like we resent the people these mementos represent. It's not like every time we see these items we burst into tears. They're just a reminder of a past we would sometimes prefer not to remember. Our burning ceremony was not merely sacrificial (poor Teddy...), it was about making room for our new memories to come in college and, well, torching the old.