A Rich History

by Carol



"We are not makers of history,we are made by history."
Martin Luther King, Jr.

I spent this past week as the "first wave" of family helping my parents move out of their house of the last 35 years. It contains most of the belongings from their previous house which they lived in for most of their married life. And that is quite a married life - on December 18 they will celebrate their 73rd wedding anniversary!

Honeymooning in NYC

Significantly downsizing is an interesting task (and a lot of hard work)! My kids and I worked dawn to dusk every day, and made it through only about 3/4 of the attic. There were/are many lessons through this process, as I am sure many of you know, but writing here on a completely egocentric note, that attic taught me so much about me! It has never been more clear where I came from, what is important to me and what my influences are. In the give-away piles were chairs, clothing, giftware, ornaments, electronics (but not the old records that went with them).

Then there were the hard-to-give-away piles.

First, for me (and this will come as a total shock to you all, I know) PHOTOGRAPHS! I came home with two suitcases full of photographs from 4 generations - almost back to the first photographs made. And the majority of them are labeled! I can see the faces and houses of my great, great, great grandparents that embellish the stories I've been told about them. These will generate many future posts I'm sure, as they are all now in my possession (since I have the capability to copy them for my sisters.)

One of the few unlabeled, but I couldn't pass up the tiny frame (2")

Secondly, historical artifacts. My daughter took a 1920's art deco, black iron ashtray with a panther on it. She doesn't smoke, but it is a very cool looking piece of art right out of Gatsby's salon. I took newspapers from Nancy France during World War I when my grandfather was stationed there. I also took artwork my grandmother made while a student at Pratt Art Institute in NYC. And framed paintings from each generation. There is a photo of my great grandmother at age 7 wearing a coat sewed by her mother - and the coat itself which will be hung together. 

My grandfather's World War I stripes

From Gram's art school portfolio 

And finally - close to all of our hearts - books, books, books. My mother's first priority in her new home is her bookcase and which books she will fill it with. She found her lifelong collection so hard to part with, and each of us daughters wanted some of it. I took some antique children's books for now. Someday the ancient family Bible will become ours too.

I saw in concrete form what has always been important to our family. Education, Art, Music, Literature. Beauty. I am engaged in cleaning and "minimalizing" in my own home, but these treasures will find a home with me. I'll toss the mass-produced stuff to make room. I am filled with such gratitude for the legacy of my family that made me who I am.

Living history. Personal history.

"History cannot give us a program for the future, 

but it can give us a fuller understanding of ourselves, 

and of our common humanity, so that we can better face the future."

                                  Robert Penn Warren

The Seanchai Within

by Carol

Did you ever consider that within your photography you are part of a long tradition of story telling? 

This was brought to my mind recently while listening to Elizabeth Gilbert's Magic Lessons podcast. She was counseling a woman named Colleen, who wanted very much to join the story telling movement - people who literally take the stage to tell their stories. (You might be familiar with public radio's broadcast called The Moth Story Hour, or with the podcast called Mortified, in which people (hilariously) read their childhood diaries out loud.) Colleen was struggling because her first generation parents came from Ireland and worked hard to establish themselves in this country, and to afford their children college educations. Her father eventually owned a bar in Philadelphia, and with working in that bar for years, and having a very large family, she felt that she was chock full of stories. However, she was stuck working in finance in New York, and her heart was longing for expression. Yet simultaneously she felt that she would be letting her family down if she gave up all the things they had allowed her to attain and ran off to tell stories.

You really should listen to the whole podcast. I love the way that, each week, Elizabeth listens through all the concerns  that keep people from creating, and boils them down to the nitty gritty. In this case, she prefaced her advice by saying that this is not an "all or nothing" situation. As many of us here at FOL can relate to, Colleen could use her career to support her creative habit. She could perform, join groups, travel and pursue your art while still supporting herself and using her education. 

But I was more interested in the way Liz Gilbert delved into the story-telling tradition. She assigned homework, as she often does, asking Colleen to read the Irish poets and writers. There are few countries more associated with the written word than Ireland. Even earlier history finds the oral story tellers, who kept Ireland's history alive through the ages. The podcast introduced a new word to me, and I went down the rabbit hole when I looked it up! Irish social history speaks of the seanchai .

These are the historic story tellers. In pre-literate Celtic culture, laws were not written but were sung by bards in long, lyric poems. The seanchai were well respected servants to the clan chiefs and kept track of all important information. They used all kinds of expression and speech conventions to tell their histories and their skills were passed down through the generations of their families.  Law and history existed because of them. And that defined their people and their place in this world. Their stories have been preserved in Ireland and are often performed at Gaelic celebrations. 

And so Liz convinced Colleen that the skills of story-telling are far from frivolous, are born of your heart and your history, and indeed, preserve your true identity. Story tellers are to be honored for giving us our past and our present.

Everything in these lessons related in my mind to my own pursuit of photography. We and our followers at FOL are all readers, and preservers. Whether we approach it by appreciating our pasts, or by preserving our family's future memories, our photography makes us part of the story telling tradition. Sometimes each individual image is a story in itself. Sometimes we create series or composites. Sometimes we are scrapbooking or thumb-nailing our immediate families lives.  But we are always preserving our history and defining our place. Tell us some stories in the gallery this week. Who are you and where do you come from? And remember not to belittle your contribution. Your love of  and place in the world show throughout your photography, whether or not your shots are technically perfect!

"People think that stories are shaped by people. In fact it's the other way around..."

                      Terry Pratchett

Life Reviewed

by Carol

image from titanichonorandglory.com

Deanna's thoughts about the movies last week brought to mind an idea for a post that I have long been pondering. Do you remember the beginning of the final scene of "Titanic!" ? As Rose, now elderly, lies in her bed passing away in her sleep, the camera pans over to her night table. The table is filled with framed pictures of Rose doing all the things she dreamed of doing when she was fighting for her survival in the cold waters of the Atlantic. Here is Rose riding a horse in a pair of pants. There is Rose getting ready to fly in an airplane, and there climbing on an elephant! And here with her children - there her grandchildren. Dreams big and small, come true. Cherished memories of a life well-lived; carefully framed in gratitude.

I have just returned from a visit to my parents. Every time I go to their house I pour through the family photographs. My one grandmother's family was wealthy before the depression, and my other grandmother was an artist. Round that out with a father who loved photography, and I am so fortunate to have many, many photographs and drawings of my family history. I just love to look closely at the clothes they wore, and the cities behind them. I even have grocery lists, showing a loaf of bread that costs 5 cents, a movie ticket, a telegram; clues to life in another time, and clues to their lives in particular. I would just love to talk to my grandmother who bobbed her hair in the 1920's causing my grandfather to stop speaking to her for days. Or to ask my artist grandmother what it was like to commute to Pratt art school in New York and be one of the only women on the bus. 

My paternal grandmother and grandfather

My maternal grandmother proudly holding my mother

I love to look at the expressions on their faces. It gives me a sense of timelessness. The same range of human emotions visible there in the 1920's (of course) as those we all feel  now. There is my three year old mother looking none to happy about the new baby sister who has just come home. My grandmother is looking quite flirty there on grandpa's lap. Parents from the 1800's showing off their babies at the beach with pride. People  bustling through New York, trying to get to work - model T's flying by, stirring up the dirt roads. A trip to Europe, standing near the Eiffel Tower, where I stood two summers ago.  It all just stirs my imagination.

Priceless expression - dethroned by the new addition!

Mother , happier, with her new umbrella

Anyway - it occurs to me that I am working on my collection, as are you all. It's what we all hope and pray for - dying safely and comfortable in our own beds, after long lives, surrounded by family and memories. I think of my nightstand. In recent years I have been fortunate to add favorite photos from New England, Arizona, France. I have beautiful portraits that I have taken of my family and my friends. I have a shelf that holds portraits of each pet who has shared my life. I have a picture of my childhood home, Mom and Dad outside. I know - I am a hopeless romantic!

Tell me - should we be so fortunate - what will your nightstand hold?