Memento Mori

January 25, 2007 - April 23, 2007
It died a slow death from lack of interest... It was a good idea at the time, but its time has come and gone.

The Warmth of Spring

Spring has arrived at last, with a couple of days near 80 degrees, and the flower blossoms are exploding everywhere. So I photograph these blossoms in the back yard and rejoice.

A Pleasant Thought

by Ken Spencer

Forgive me for posting yet another vacation photo, but I have been sick as a DOG since last wednesday with some kind of flu and can barely get our of bed. I hate to miss a post so picked this photograph because looking at it, it takes me almost forget how bad my skin hurts and how I don't even feel like eating... It is the surf and rocks at Point Lobos in California, where Edward Weston used to photograph. Does a soul good to be there and to follow in his footsteps.

CITIES OF THE DEAD

Audrey C. Tiernan
The only grandparent I knew, my Mother's mother died when I was eight. One constant memory I have of her is visiting the cemetery in Queens where my grandfather is buried at least twice a month. There was an old park bench situated under a cherry tree right near the family plot. My Mom would plant flowers for the season: pansies, geraniums and in fall mums. My grandmother would sit on the bench and I would always climb the cherry tree. For me those were fun afternoons and I guess the significance of the trip was lost on me, like the grandfather I never knew. I remember going there for my grandmother's funeral and feeling very small when I saw the big hole in the ground. I didn't visit again until I was eleven and my father was buried in the family plot on a frigid February day in 1967. It was so cold and the ground so frozen that the gravediggers couldn't even dig his grave. I wouldn't go to the cemetery again until I was an adult, for the funeral of my first cousin who died before he was 50. A photo assignment took me into the cemetery several years after that. I decided to go say hello to the family after shooting the job. Instinctively I remembered the turns that took me to the family plot. Immediately I noticed that the park bench was gone and the cherry tree had been cut down too. Oddly enough, I felt a real sense of loss at their absence. I stood for quite awhile, thinking of those afternoons spent with my grandmother on the bench. In New Orleans cemeteries are referred to as cities of the dead, but since then whenever I visit I feel so many memories come to life.

Face to Face

by Ken Spencer



I have always wanted to see the Getty Villa since it reopened. It had been closed for nine years after the Getty Center was built, a series of gleaming white buildings high on a hill overlooking Los Angeles. The Villa is a much smaller facility, located in Pacific Pallisades, a re-creation of the Villa of the Papyri at Herculaneum. In the book “Blink” there is the story of the “Kouros” which, according to the placard on the sculpture, is either a great treasure or a five million dollar fake. So I wanted to see that sculpture, because of its notoriety, and the museum itself, but the idea of looking at other antiquities was not something I would normally be that excited about. How wrong I was! Standing face to face with these ancient figures carved from marble was to be in the presence of something very powerful. Perhaps more so because of the scarring and other damage - something that heightens their unimaginable age even more. One of the joys of visiting either of the Getty museums is that photography is allowed, in most cases, unlike many other museums. I find this wonderful for two reasons. First, as a photographer I see the world most clearly through the lens of a camera, and enjoy looking at objects and framing the parts of them I find most interesting, or framing them to include or exclude other objects around them. Second, I study the sculptures or paintings as best as I can when in the museum, but I treasure the ability to bring home photographs of them to look at long after first impressions of the artworks have faded. I was moved by being face to face with this sculpture from antiquity, and although I read the placard, it has completely slipped my mind who he is and how old he is. I think it may be a seated Zeus. But the power of this sculpture, and of other statues I saw this day, still stay with me.

NEW YORK, NEW YORK

Audrey C. Tiernan
I grew up on Long Island and for as long as I can remember drove past this sign without giving it a second thought. Then one day years ago a college friend from Pennsylvania who was visitng saw the sign and remarked: "I guess all roads lead to New York!" Since that day the sign and my perspective have never quite been the same. I suppose all roads eventually do lead to New York. And today, I know for sure that the hearts and eyes of all New York sports fans will be in The Bronx with The New York Yankees on Opening Day.

"R2-D2 Where are you?"

Thomas A. Ferrara

For all those who were wondering how the post office would compete with E-mail.