Last night I met a friend at a photography opening at Through This Lens in downtown Durham. Aside from the exhibit - ChemoToxic, there were some great prints of Durham by K. Brown that were just lovely. The photos have a surreal quality and showed Durham, which gets maligned sometimes in comparison to Chapel Hill, in a really lovely light - both literally and figuratively.
Durham is clawing her way up in the world. Downtown has been revitalized, old tobacco warehouses are being turned into lofts, and restaurants - really good restaurants - are popping up all over and making the most of the bounty of the Piedmont.
In the January 7, 2011 issue of the New York Times there was an article on The 41 Places To Go in 2011 - and right there, between number 34 - Iraqi Kurdistan and number 36 - Kosovo, was number 35 - Durham, NC!
After buying some note cards (affordable art), my friend and I braved the arctic chill that had descended and walked around the corner to Dos Perros - one of the great newish restaurants in town. I had the Kale, Turnip and Bread Soup (so good), the Sweet Potato Empanadas with Chipotle Fig Sauce (repeat performance for those), and finished off with the jalapeno-lime sorbet.
Look out Kurdistan - we're gaining on you!
Showing posts with label photography. Show all posts
Showing posts with label photography. Show all posts
1/22/11
Kodachrome
Turns out SAHS was PERFECT for me. They provided pencils, paper, anything you needed. There were no lectures. If you came to class for five days, you got credit for six. All one had to do was show up, complete at least one chapter out of the textbook for the class and turn it in. I regularly completed three to five chapters per class. After I was finished with the textbook, I read or helped grade papers.
In my three student "English" class, I edited and typed the newsletter, the other two wrote songs (they were in a band). Mr. O'Malley was also a photographer and donated his own black and white development equipment to the school; in a large storage room by the office was a darkroom. I was smitten.
I loved seeing the picture form in the gentle rocking bath of chemicals - pure magic.
My camera - a Kodak Instamatic. That's right. The one with the square flash cubes. I don't remember where or when I got the camera, perhaps for Christmas or a birthday. (It's not the camera - just remember that.)
Lord knows we were not allowed to touch my mother's SLR Minolta.
It's surprising:
A.) there are any pictures of Mom at all because she could barely bring herself to relinquish the camera to anyone - even my father, a responsible adult.
B.) that the rare pictures of her aren't all of her reaching towards the lens and mouthing - no! no! don't TOUCH that! Just push that button - no! Don't TURN anything! I had it all set up! Hurry...oh just hurry up! Give me the camera!
And then she would whisk it away to minster first aid and wipe off any offending fingerprints, muttering condolences and apologies.
I'd love to post some of my photographs from that era, but I THREW THE NEGATIVES AND PHOTOS AWAY. It's like getting punched in the stomach every time I admit that. Ah, the dangers of being a purger.
Mr. O'Malley hung one of them in his classroom. When I came back to visit several years after graduating, it was still hanging in his classroom. I confess, it made me feel good.
Once he let me borrow his Pentax (with a light meter!). I walked across town taking pictures, but got lost going back - I kept walking past the street I needed (had not paid attention to the name of the street) and was late by about an hour for the after school ride home.
Mom of course thought I was laying in a ditch somewhere and her and Mr. O'Malley were getting ready to send out a search party.
Ah, life before cell phones.
In my three student "English" class, I edited and typed the newsletter, the other two wrote songs (they were in a band). Mr. O'Malley was also a photographer and donated his own black and white development equipment to the school; in a large storage room by the office was a darkroom. I was smitten.
I loved seeing the picture form in the gentle rocking bath of chemicals - pure magic.
Lord knows we were not allowed to touch my mother's SLR Minolta.
It's surprising:
A.) there are any pictures of Mom at all because she could barely bring herself to relinquish the camera to anyone - even my father, a responsible adult.
B.) that the rare pictures of her aren't all of her reaching towards the lens and mouthing - no! no! don't TOUCH that! Just push that button - no! Don't TURN anything! I had it all set up! Hurry...oh just hurry up! Give me the camera!
And then she would whisk it away to minster first aid and wipe off any offending fingerprints, muttering condolences and apologies.
I'd love to post some of my photographs from that era, but I THREW THE NEGATIVES AND PHOTOS AWAY. It's like getting punched in the stomach every time I admit that. Ah, the dangers of being a purger.
Mr. O'Malley hung one of them in his classroom. When I came back to visit several years after graduating, it was still hanging in his classroom. I confess, it made me feel good.
Once he let me borrow his Pentax (with a light meter!). I walked across town taking pictures, but got lost going back - I kept walking past the street I needed (had not paid attention to the name of the street) and was late by about an hour for the after school ride home.
Mom of course thought I was laying in a ditch somewhere and her and Mr. O'Malley were getting ready to send out a search party.
Ah, life before cell phones.
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