Memories vs. Experiences

So right before I came back to school, I was cleaning up all my stuff out of the current guest bedroom, which also happens to be my parents bedroom (they're redoing it, so they temporarily stole my room) and right behind this one hutch, I noticed a number of picture frames.

Now, my parents have been married for over twenty years, and haven't faltered through any of it. They're both amazing human beings, filled with love and care. We might not always see eye-to-eye but they have always provided and have been supportive for my brother and I.

And well, you can only guess what I found.

Covered in what felt like an inch of dust was there wedding photo. One could think, "well they obviously hadn't looked at that in a long time, something must be wrong in that marriage." But rather, I think it shows how much they've been working on other things, that in the 16 years that we've lived in that house, they've never had a spare moment to hang it up. They do so much more for their two children, and love each other more than what that photograph represents.

Here's one of my very few critiques on photography: A photograph may show the past. A photograph may show what was once there, and is now lost. A photograph may withstand it's meaning, or lose it. But a photograph will never be anything close to the actual experience. It can trigger a memory, but you will never be back in that spot ever again. The flash of a moment is gone in ... well, a flash.

We live in a society where our memories are becoming obsolete. Why memorize the parts of the eye when you can just "Wikipedia it?" Why write down important dates when you can just tell your phone to? Why experience a party to it's fullest when you can just look at the pictures the next day on Facebook?

Because you'll never have the memory. We expect computers to be our extra storage our brains can't handle, but just like this picture, it will never be genuine.

When I look at this picture, I have memories of when my dad used to have that goofy mustache, or when my mom used to perm her hair. But I don't have a experience of that day (obviously.) I have my mom and dad now, and always, to remind me that this picture is genuine, and only to them, is it.

Last Week of the Semester

          Oh man, I have been so busy finishing things up and squeezing my last bit of love into Boston before I go home for the break! Here are some of the highlights of this week:

I went to the book signing of It's Lonely in the Modern World, a book by the same bloggers of Unhappy Hipsters! If you don't know what I'm talking about and you love interior design, check out their blog here! It was hosted at Twelve Chairs, this super chic interiors store in Boston.

My friend Lisa started her own blog after this adventure of ours, doing a Julie & Julia style blog through the cookbook of Joanna Chang.

Finally got my ceramic pieces from the kiln!

(I took ceramics this semester for the first time since... 5th grade?)

This is my, "HALLELUJAH I SOLD A PIECE IN THE ART SALEEEE, SOMEONE ACTUALLY BOUGHT MY ART!" face.

Came out with an $8 profit, and I am NOT complaining!

Christmas came early for my second-cousins ... aka the cutest babies you will ever see. Had a little get together today for them with some family, because they won't be spending Christmas with us (we must share them with the other side of the family, unfortunately.)

Hope you are all enjoying the holiday season!

 

Inspiration Thursday #1: Timothy Archibald

I decided that a lot of blogs have weekly "theme" posts, so I wanted to start my own. I am constantly being bombarded by artists, (mainly photographers) that people like, or that my work reminds me of such-and-such artist. So starting today, every Thursday will be dubbed "Inspiration Thursday" where I will enlighten my (small, but present) audience to an artist I think you guys will enjoy.

This week: Timothy Archibald

(All images in this post are credit to the artist, and not me whatsoever -- though I wish I had his talent.)

"I’m the photographer agencies call to make empathetic photographs of things that are a little bit different, a little bit curious. Human, humorous and sometimes subversive, these qualities seem to surface in every project we take on.

I was fortunate to discover photography as a teenager. At that time photography was this license to meet people and enter worlds unlike my own. Having the power to enter other cultures different from the suburban world I lived in was a powerful tool for a kid to have.

After leaving school with a degree in Art, I began using this human curiosity to support myself. Editorial photography allowed me to explore the subjects I was fascinated with: learn about them, humanize them, and view them with the full range of human emotions they deserved, in conjunction with a voice that was uniquely my own."

 I am completely compelled by his series called, Echolalia, which depicts portraits of his autistic son throughout the years of his youth. As someone who is very close to someone who is on the autism spectrum (my own brother was diagnosed when he was three) I feel like he captured the distance one feels when dealing with someone with this disorder -- at the same time his photos convey feelings of so much love and compassion for his son. I am simply stunned.

Check out his website which contains more awesome work here, 

or learn how to buy his photobook, Echolilia, here.

Like it? Hate it? Tell me in the comments below!

Meine Berliner Familie

I have been feeling a little uneasy lately. Maybe it's because of certain circumstances in my life, maybe it's because the end of the semester always carries some kind of emotion. I received a package yesterday from Germany, and I cannot express how happy it made me. My uneasiness quickly turned to reminiscing about my short study-abroad in Berlin, Germany a few years ago now.

I stayed with Juergen and Hanne, both of whom were pharmacists, and their teenage daughter, Clara. They were seriously the sweetest people I could have ever asked for as hosts. Every morning they made sure I ate before I left, and within 3 weeks I had become fully accustomed to walking to the U-bahn. I felt like I lived there, and their neighborhood was so quaint and lovely. I had the time of my life, and when I left they said I could come back any time. (Had I not bought my ticket home already, I would have stayed longer.)

In any case, I received this package from them yesterday. Made my day -- no, made my week.

 

The card reads, "Dear Cassie, We wish you and your family a happy Christmas and a ... (I can't read his writing!) and interesting new year! We miss you and hope you are doing well! Your Berlin Family, Hanne, Juergen, and Clara." So much candy! Knoppers are so good... and a Milke Santa? Simply divine.

For anyone who is curious, I took German in highschool and into my freshmen year of college (then studied abroad that first summer into college.) When I transferred, I had to cut back because the German class schedule was so intense, but I'm hoping to finish my minor before I graduate.

Tell me how your week is going in the comments!

Some Holiday Shopping

So I went to Portsmouth, NH yesterday. To anyone who is not familiar, Portsmouth is a little quaint town settled in the 1600s. Home to Strawberry Banke and other attractions, it isn't overrun by strip malls or anything. The downtown is really pretty and has many little stores and small businesses.

I thought I'd share just some of the things I've bought.

 

Bought some ornaments for my cousin and his wife, who just had twin boys this summer. A veggie cookbook for my aunt and uncle, a gag-gift for Tyler (Mustache Grower's Guide... hehe), some stocking stuffer notepads, and a stamp set and magnet set for myself ... I couldn't resist!

Did you do any shopping this weekend? What did you buy? Let me know in the comments!

Cassie                                                                                    

Puzzle Pieces

Last week in one of my photography courses, our assignment was to create an installation larger than ourselves. My teacher, professional photographer Sandra Stark showed us examples such as pieces known as perspective-localized artwork, which is essentially a form of art that can only been seen through one perspective. I was initially intrigued by this type of installation, even though it looks rather difficult to complete – not to mention time consuming.


Felice Varini

Over the week, I thought about what I could do to complete one of these. I talked to other classmates about they were doing, and everyone I talked to seemed to disregard the entire idea of perspective-localizes installation, and were planning to do something less time consuming.

I knew I was going home for a few days before the project was due, so I called up my father to see if he would be willing to help me out with the idea. “Sounds good to me,” he said, after I sloppily explain the idea behind the project. Well, on a Saturday afternoon, my father and I went to the local hardware store to buy some painter’s tape. Little did we know what we were getting ourselves into.

First I had to decide where I would set up this project. I didn’t want a place that would be too difficult or intricate – it was after all the first time I was trying out an idea like this. I thought a family space, such as the living room would be interesting and not too difficult. I decided to pick the fireplace/hearth area because throughout history it has been a symbol of family connection and life. From the good ole’ days, the family gathers around the fireplace for warm, stories, games, and conversation. It seemed like a decent idea. I also decided that puzzle piece would be an interesting shape to do in this space, and I had not seen it before by other artists that do this kind of work. I knew I didn’t want words, but I didn’t want just lines, either. Puzzle pieces have always kind of been a symbol in my life, whether it’s my family fitting together like a puzzle, or how my brother’s autism tends to be symbolized with puzzle pieces (in charity work, cause ribbons, etc.) Especially because I wanted to do this project in the living room of my house, I could see these themes of family and life beginning to pop up – and I liked that aspect.



We worked well into the afternoon, breaking for dinner and some family time at the movie theaters, and then resumed our work after that. For hours, we would put down tape only to move it, or alter it’s angle so the perspective was reformed into the puzzle shape. It started getting bad when all the regular scheduled programmed shows were done for the night and were replaced by bad CD collection infomercials. Alas, around 2AM into Sunday, we finished. (I have to give a lot of credit to my dad for this one, he was seriously a trooper – though I think he was just as excited to see the final product as I was.)



The next morning we took the final completed picture, along with some improvised ones including my family members and myself to break up the puzzle. Although it was not the best photo project I’ve ever done, I was rather proud with how it came out, and the fact that I had the dedication to follow through with it (not that I don’t usually have dedication, but I didn’t know if we’d finish on time.) Upon returning to school with proof, the class and my teacher really enjoyed it, and all the effort I put into it finally seemed worth it.

New Hampshire

Although a part of my teenage rebellion was to get away from the only state I had only known, New Hampshire is my home. In fact, I’ve never lived anywhere else. I was determined in leaving the state upon applying for colleges a few years ago. I was accepted into 8 schools, only one of which was in New Hampshire. And despite that, which college did my parents think I should go to? The only one in New Hampshire.

So I did, for a year.

And I don’t regret it, but I think I’ve found my place here, among the Bostonians. Being in the city allowed me to explore a different part of myself, one that I probably wouldn’t have explored otherwise. Going to art school allowed me to meet new people, make new friends, and everything else that comes along with college experience – but what made it most bittersweet was the fact that I was away from the place that had shaped me for some many years. This town I now only resented, the town clogged with brown-nosers and snobs, the exact image of New England suburbia. Being in the city was the perfect distance away. I could visit occasionally, and could bring home dirty laundry without taking a plane. But sometimes disaster struck and all I could do was imagine myself being at home. An overwhelming load of work, a fight with the boyfriend, a sickness – all made me wish that I was at home, the smell of the pine trees overwhelming my senses.



On my latest trip home, I took some shots in hopes that looking at them would give me a sense of serenity and peace that I can only experience when I’m home temporarily. In a short walk from my house (wicked short, now that I can relate it to walking in Boston) there’s a bike path the juts into the woods off of the main road. I've known it since I was little, and the neighbor boys often dragged me to it to “hunt” for frogs and toads. Between too giant bodies of water, it’s confusing how it still exists after all these years, what from all the recent floods the region has experienced.



But it does, and it’s beautiful, and it makes me forget the politics of my small town in the suburbs. It makes me forget the drama that I lived in for the past nineteen years of my life. It reminds me of my family is simpler times, it reminds me of the little neighbor boys. It reminds me of past experiences that nobody else is attached to except for me – when my old friends Meaghan, Allison, and I ran down the path only to almost run into a giant pheasant standing in the middle. Or when the boyfriend Tyler and I ventured down, thinking we were brave adventurers, only to see a large black snake and realize we’re both cowards.



Photography will never do it justice. You cannot get a smell through a photograph. You cannot feel the sensation of the branches scratching your skin as you walk through. But whether it’s there for a hundred more years, or there just until next Thursday, it’s still a place that needs documentation – if only for my sake.