stop two sixty one

Why are there so many Vespas parked around here? “Because we’re going to a hipster arts festival” says Pat. We stopped to watch some Indonesian dancers and I ooooed and ahhhed at Michael Bryant’s holga camera photography. Summer is still here.

Everyone who lives in Chicago says that the long winters build character. “That’s just what we tell ourselves to feel better” says Shannon as we grumble about the idea of puffy winter coats. At the beginning of the week I became painfully aware that September will be here shortly and then all at once summer will be gone and flip flops will be stored away with white pants and turquoise jewelry. So before the sweetest season of them all fades into the short-lived impressionistic beauty of autumn only to be stifled by the icy winter winds I took a day to sink into summer, feel the sand between my toes, the wind swirling in my hair and listened and watched while the various summer characters ran around North Avenue beach, which to my amusement included a policeman on a horse. Not something you see everyday- the photo I got of him galloping through the lake didn’t come out great, but I loved the children gathered around in this one, although the policeman’s face is blacked out which makes it a little creepy. Oh well, it was a great moment.

First email from the day was from Emily, it read “Lolla brain. Nuff said”. Three days worth of booty-shakin’, screaming, shouting, singing, walking, sunshine soaking, shade seeking, bumming, wandering, laughing, walking, bouncing, white wine drinking, walking, finding, sharing, searching, waving, texting, snapping, while moving to the tunes of Temper Trap, Chiddy Bang, Frightened Rabbit, The XX, Mavis Staples (Hallelujah!), Blitzen Trapper, Mumford and Sons, The New Pornographers, Matt & Kim, The Black Keys, Spoon, Green Day, Arcade Fire and yes, Lady Gaga, has satisfactorily mooshed my brain.

Sometimes I forget to leave work and take time to walk, think, reflect, breathe. While gulping down cups of coffee and snacking on mini croissanwhiches I lose myself in designing, correcting, uploading, meeting, answering, organizing, lifting, directing, focusing and I forget there’s a living breathing summertime outside. There is a beautiful lakefront, old victorian houses, and oh just so many wildflowers and weeds to photograph. I remembered today to step away and wander for a little while. After meandering through the Mexican Shop, one of those unique boutiques I always forget until I remember it again, I strolled around South Evanston snapping shots assisted by my favorite new iphone app- Hipstamatic. I had to post this photo because 1.) i liked it a lot and 2.) Lina rolled her eyes at it and said “of course”.

July has been a whirlwind of summer sun soaking with good friends, food and fresh strawberry daiquiris. Aside from our neighbor getting upset and calling the cops on our little 2:30 a.m. campfire entourage after Ash and Ben’s wedding, Lisa and Richard’s adventure in Chicago was relatively flawless with nothing but a string of memorable moments that my mind can sink into and find a smile on this quiet humid Sunday afternoon. I’ve enjoyed our string of house guests this summer and I think I’m gaining some skills which set me on the trajectory to run a quite successful B&B. Our latest visitors last night were my old friend, Nick and his Mandarin teacher from Shanghai, Linda. Perfectly random is how I would describe the experience. We went to Whole Foods and Linda came home with five containers of various prepared foods from the buffet. She was excited and amazed at the variety in the store and with childlike wonder pointed, asked questions and listened intently as Pat described how to eat an artichoke.

There were several times over the past month when I meant to share a story, but the blogging would remove me from life happening around me, so I waited until a quiet moment, which is now. While Pat enjoys his standard Sunday afternoon nap in the other room I sat down and realized that I have absolutely nothing planned for today aside from a much needed run early this evening with Jenny. And rather than try to decide which photograph could perfectly summarize the past several weeks, I settled on this odd one of the eyeball installation in Pritzker Park. It’s weird, I’m not terribly impressed with the actual sculpture (I think public art should be interactive, which I think is lacking in this piece) yet either way I like this photo, so here ya go, I broke the silence.

I heard someone once say that God is a painter. I always remember that whenever a storm rolls through and leaves behind an impressionist’s dream of a sky. From my back porch the telephone wires cut across the sky and I can almost hear Patty Griffin singing softly about useless desires in the background.

“Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being in love which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. -Captain Corelli’s Mandolin

One of my earliest memories is my enchantment with Sleeping Beauty. I would watch it every day as a little kid while my older brother and sister were at school. I can see my five year old self, osh-gosh overalls, uneven home-cut bangs, nestle quick chocolate milk and grilled cheese in hand sitting in front of our old brown box of a television waiting for the movie to rewind in the VCR from the last viewing the day before. I would watch anxiously as Princess Rose walked towards the spindle entranced by Malefacent’s deep melodious coaxing voice. I would delight in the three fairies while they helped Prince Philip fight Malefacent’s minions, turning hot gasoline into bubbles and arrows into roses and finally breaking through an overwhelmingly thick labyrinth of thorny bushes. And finally, at last, I would exhale as the kiss broke the spell and happily ever after seemed imminent.

Princess Rose and Prince Philip had fallen in love in the forest right around Rose’s fateful sixteenth birthday. They serenaded one another and yes, it’s slightly embarrassing that I still know the words which occasionally get belted out in the shower on days when the high notes come easy- “I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream, I know you, the feeling inside is so familiar it seems, yes I know it’s true that feelings are seldom what they seem, but if I know you I know what to do, to love you at once… the way we did once upon a dream.”

I know it’s not a novel thought and hardly a revelation to think about how fairy tales impact perceptions about romantic love during the critical stages of child development, but it’s still interesting to think about and certainly worth an inspired conversation. I’ve always paid attention to representations of romantic love and where contradictions arise I try to reconcile the ideas and remember that they are always rooted in one of two places-  fantasy or reality. And while it’s fun sometimes to think that  “Love is passion, obsession, something you can’t live without, it makes you want to sing with rapture and dance like a dirvish” (Meet Joe Black) it’s important to remember that’s only the beginning and any love that stays like that is probably destructive.

Anyway, I took this photo while walking around with Julie in Buenos Aires. When I took it I remember thinking, love is… playing guitar to your lover in a park in Buenos Aires.

I have about five hundred and twenty eight thousand pictures of campus. For really no good reason other than the fact that I am on campus every day. It sometimes bothers me that I shoot without purpose. Something inside me wants to do something with the little squares of time that I capture and tuck away in the abyss of folders on my hard drive. I never can make decisions about what to do with them. I uploaded a couple to Ritz Pics one day with the intention of framing them and hanging them up in my apartment. And then I couldn’t click the button to submit my order because I second guessed, just like a kid standing at the vending machine starring, stuck in indecision…sweet or salty? sweet or salty? Printing seems so permanenent and important and meaningful. Printing would mean that I consider one image more important than another, that the reason for printing one particular image somehow would say something about what I care about or find worthy of hanging on a wall.  I feel the consequences of my silly indecisiveness when I’m confronted by people who make decisions about inconsequential things with ease- I was over at Lina’s last Friday and walked around her apartment in adoration of all the paintings she had adorning her hallways. Some of them were hers, some from friends, but all unique and part of some little story in her life. I want that.  I hate that I waste time considering options only to get distracted and not make a decision at all about little things that don’t actually matter at all- like what picture to put on an empty wall.

“Did you know that the word dandelion comes from the french word dent de lion?” Emily and I practice saying it, letting the words roll around in our mouths, hoping we can sound as cool as unassumingly-fascinating-world traveler-Magy does when she speaks french to us. Emily always makes Magy say things, and we make her sing in the car on the way to work (which felt perfect with the rain sprinkling down this morning and the smell of coffee infusing the air). Even the casual phrase sounds sexier in French. It’s just a fact, so Emily and I pretend to make plans to learn- but Ashley reminds me that I’m too old to learn things like languages now.

Proudly sporting her little boy haircut, Magy is back in Chicago from her brief jaunt to Massachussetts where she lived for about a year after graduating from Northwestern. Magy is Emily’s friend and they’re the kind that pour out their hearts over a bottle of wine on an idle Tuesday night and can pick up and leave off and pick up again without any of the awkwardness that time and distance can sometimes have on relationships. Needless to say, they showed no reluctance in posing for an impromptu photoshoot outside Schuba’s before the Team Band concert.

Crowds of Kellogg alumni floated back to campus this weekend and congregated in the tent on Deering Meadow. Old and young faces searched for familiar faces from one year, five years, ten, twenty years past, greeting with smiles and embraces, sharing stories, taking photos, reminiscing. After standing in the Ketel One line for my plastic cup cosmo I ventured outside where the wind was starting to pick up and rain seemed imminent. Standing with a crowd of people I took this photo. After sorting through a bunch of busy photos packed with posing people I rested on this one for a minute. Because no matter how much craziness, or chaos there is surrounding me often it only takes one upward glance to remember that there is peace and quiet in whatever kind of day it is and all that matters is perspective.