Project 365, 2007: March Retrospective
Saturday, March 31, 2007
March 2007 won't be a month I'll ever forget, as it's the month my mother died. It's been a month of deep sadness, of intense introspection, of keen observation. It seems I had much to do. All these things to do, however, were not external events, but mostly internal actions: thinking, deciding, remembering, considering, forgiving, accepting, rejecting, planning, praying, crying, standing, standing strong. Through all this introspection and soul work, I've been (possibly) more creative than I've been in quite some time. Many of the images this month depict life, death, birth, newness, energy, growth, of beauty in very unexpected places. There are images of things that brought me peace and comfort, and near the end of the month, I could see a little of my humor return. The photographs depict my grief and my (early) recovery.
It's confirming to see these images and know all the emotions that went on around them. It's pleasing to recognize, too, that each image-- while representing the significant events of the month (and in many ways, my life)-- also represented each of the 31 days of March. I took pictures each day, and I was able to focus my perspective on the world outside myself. My limiting my sight to what I could see in the camera's viewfinder, I could settle and calm myself. I didn't feel quite so overwhelmed. I'm reminded of the famous Anne Lamott line from Bird by Bird about using a one-inch frame to focus writing. Instead of writing in generalities, she states, the frame forces you to focus writing on a small part of the text. The more focused writing is more compelling and interesting. I think it's true in photography, too.
By taking photos each day, I see my skill level rise. Of course, this is true of anything that I'd make the time to do each day, but it's another reminder to write each day, to photograph each day, to think, laugh, cry, forgive, accept, remember each day. Each day.
90/365: Ball!
89/365: Blogging at the 'bucks
88/365: Beyonce and the Academy: Making Copies
Thursday, March 29, 2007
87/365: Buttons o' Bruce
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
86/365: If One Duck is Good, then Two are Better
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
85/365: The Flowers Keep Coming
Monday, March 26, 2007
84/365: My Life Isn't All Tiaras and Tea Parties
Sunday, March 25, 2007
83/365: Soccer Competitors
Saturday, March 24, 2007
82/365: Parker (at 3 days old)
Friday, March 23, 2007
81/365: Along theCountry Road: Wildflowers
Thursday, March 22, 2007
80/365: Lily
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
79/365: Starbucks Still Life (Found Art)
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
78/365: Building's Windows
Monday, March 19, 2007
77/365: Woman at Water Gardens
Sunday, March 18, 2007
76/365: My Mother's Painting
Saturday, March 17, 2007
My mother began teaching herself to paint in 1977. She painted this scene in 1990. To offer some scale, this painting is about 4' square. This was hers; now it's mine. (Mollie Rodgers Queen: August 8, 1939 -- March 6, 2007)
75/365: Tattoos on the Korean Clerk's Hands
Friday, March 16, 2007
The store clerk told me all about her tattoos. She's had them seven years, and she puts lotion on them everyday. She has also had them (re)inked so the color won't fade. I admire her.
74/365: Two Windows
Thursday, March 15, 2007
When I was 12, my family and I lived in a house on Wheeler Ave. I found that house today-- abandoned and very very old, lived in by many people. I walked through the house, remembering who I was as a young girl, my family at the time and who we were together. These days-- today-- I strive to remember the good. These two windows were in a room I shared with my younger sister. I think that truck was there before, too. . . a very long time ago. (More Wheeler Ave. photos are on Flickr.)
73/365: Texas Sunset and Baseball Fence
72/365: Teaching Her to Knit
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
71/365: Imprints
Monday, March 12, 2007
Others have come before us; others will follow us. Evidence abounds.
70/365: Courage and Grace: Holding Hands in Texas
Sunday, March 11, 2007
69/365 (b): Growing Gummy Bears
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Even before they are ripe for the picking, these gummy bears are anatomically correct . . . especially the green ones.
69/365 (a): Gummy Bear Bush
Poor Gummy Bears. In New York, they freeze to death. In Delaware, they fall to their demise, then the remaining gummies perform in a conga line as some sort of celebration/grief. In Georgia, well, they become part of multigummyism. At least their end is quick (microwaves are quick, right?). In some place I don't know and in Oaklandia and in the "Land of Trees," the poor Gummies are stretched and prodded and squished and pricked with sharp objects. Ok, in Boston, they get to read, and some pose as art, but still.
Gummy Bears should just stay in Texas where they thrive. Here, they even grow on trees.
68/365: Life and Death
Friday, March 9, 2007
Things are never as dark as they seem.
67/365: Water and Sunlight: Elements of Healing
Thursday, March 8, 2007
66/365: It's Buried Deep Inside
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
65/365: The Top of the Fountain
This is Tuesday's picture, but I took it today. The picture says a lot.
64/365: It's tightly wound
This is Monday's picture, although I took it today. The picture says a lot.
63/365: Wet Ducks at Night
Sunday, March 4, 2007
62/365: Chain-link Fence
Saturday, March 3, 2007
61/365: Isaiah 41:10
Friday, March 2, 2007
Tonight we agreed to a DNR for our mother. While I am, legally, my mother's next of kin and the one who authorizes medical procedures for her, my sisters and I made the DNR decision together. Afterwards, they each went home to husbands who could comfort them and tell them the decision was an appropriate one . . . that they should not feel guilty as the decision was based on reason and fact, not emotion. I very rarely think about being remarried, connected in that way. Until tonight.
60/365: Plant in Sun (backlit)
Thursday, March 1, 2007