Category: Photos

  • The illumination of a city

    From my rooftop, 9PM September 11, 2008

  • Camp Jewell, back again . . .

    . . . Alumni Corn Roast, let’s begin . . .

    When the Universe
    asks, “Hey Em, where you wanna
    go?” I’ll say, “Right there.”


  • Happy.

    Will: Now you look like you’re posing for a picture.
    Emily: I’m aware of that but now I can’t stop laughing.

  • Halfway between Ryder Beach and Fisher Beach

    My dad and my brother and I went off on an amateur art history scavenger hunt down the Cape Cod Bay beach this afternoon to find the house where Edward Hopper and his wife spent summers painting, journaling, and sailing from the 1930s until the artist’s death in 1967.

    We surmised that the big bay window that takes up the whole north side of the house had been added in the last fifty years, but here is a portrait of Edward Hopper, his wife Jo in the background, showing the window as is in 1960. A great perspective for Hopper’s naturally lit, moody dunescapes.

  • This is what I see on the way out of my bedroom

    One thing I have tried to do in my apartment, both out of necessity and desire is decorate and accessorize with objects and images that look beautiful to me even if they aren’t high art.

    This is the north wall-lette of my bedroom. It’s pretty narrow (the door is just to the right) and impeded by both the radiator and the light switch. It also gets a lot of sun through the three large windows on the front wall.

    I didn’t want to hang a print here because it might fade from exposure. It would have been awkward to place one individual item with the light switch in the way of any symmetry.

    The first thing I did was change out the switch plate. The gold one that was here when I moved in clashed with the silver coating on the radiator. I don’t think my landlord thinks himself an interior designer, but hello! That’s a catastrophic aesthetic error. I bought the matte white switch plate at Target or Home Depot for less than three dollars. I couldn’t have any distraction from the aged Victorian radiator.

    The zinc letter E is from, yes, Anthropologie‘s monogram collection (8″ high, $18; 25″ high, $98). I staked out two different stores for two weeks until I found one with perfect texture imperfections. I really like the “drop-shadow” it casts on the wall in the early afternoon.

    I got those four silver frames on clearance at Urban Outfitters last winter. They were meant to be magnetic, but the tiny disc magnets on the back had all popped either out or in leaving holes—which happened to be perfect for hanging on flathead nails. I think I spent about $10.82 on two sets of two. They are very lightweight and I wouldn’t want anybody from Antiques Roadshow to see how faux they look up close, but I love the baroque-y shape.

    I’m really crazy about what’s in the frames, though, and this is where the “use whatever looks beautiful” philosophy comes in. I replaced the halftone portraits of Ghandi with images clipped out of catalogs. You can decorate more than the coffee table with junk mail!

    On the left is a deep purple velvet tufted chair that I saw in an Urban Outfitters catalog. I cut it in two, so it’s pretty obvious what’s in the photo if you look at just the top half, but the bottom half is meaningless without it’s mate. On the right is a scrap from a J. Crew catalog. They did a photoshoot with lots of distressed furniture in a pristine living room, and one model posed beside this slender, white table with peeling paint and a chandelier on its side on the table top.

    On their own, none of the framed clippings would mean much. Even as a set they don’t really convey a distinct message other than, “This is Emily’s aesthetic style, and since she can’t afford any upholstered furniture or a chandelier and she doesn’t have room for furniture that serves only one purpose, she decorates with pictures of all of those things.”

  • One country, caught in a rebel birthday shout

    We were saying that you did the best you could.
    —Party Generation, Dar Williams

    We went down to the DC waterfront to watch watch the fireworks from Will’s coworkers’ boat, The Reckless Abandon, II. We had brownies, beer, and a blast.

    Fireworks do not photograph well.

  • Prospect Park is my backyard

    Seen in Prospect Park this weekend:

    • a woman jogging with a lit cigarette and a bit of a stagger
    • a bride wearing a yellow sundress and a white straw hat
    • a bride wearing white boots with stilleto heels and buttons at least half-way up her calf
    • a puppy chillin’ in a cooler
    • a dog catch someone else’s frisbee in midair
    • another dog wearing a flower on her ear
    • two people watching a movie on a laptop
    • a man wearing an All Blacks jersey
    • two dragonflies mating
    • two lightening bugs (not mating)
    • lightening

    The weather was treacherous on Saturday night.  Sadly, these magazines drowned on 8th Avenue.

    Don’t think I didn’t stop to look for survivors.  That Dwell could have thrown herself over a Domino to protect it.  But everything was pulp by the time I reached the scene.

  • It’s a sinking feeling, pulls me through the seat of chairs

    Wednesday afternoon. Gmail.

    Subject: pizza

    Me to Jonathan: Tell me not to go eat the pizza in the kitchenette.
    Jonathan to Me: DON’T GO!
    Me to Jonathan: But I want it. And nobody’s watching.
    Jonathan to Me: BUT I’M WATCHING.
    Me to Jonathan: Okay. FINE. I’m going home. I had a bad day.
    Jonathan to Me: I did too. Let’s pout!

    Thank you, Jon.

    “Sometimes you need someone to tell you that it’s okay . . . that you messed up—even if you’ve done it before . . . someone to shake you out of your weariness.”—on Snow Day

    Thank you, too, Lisa Loeb.

  • I see a caffeine headache in my future

    I love the sign for the psychic who communes with the spirits (and offers a $5 special!) on Fifth Avenue in Park Slope. The hand-painted cursive doesn’t remind me of stale incense baked into black and purple velour, which is what most neon PSYCHIC READING signs call to mind.  I love the hot pink on the white door.  The entrance looks so girly and hand-made in a Disney Princess Clubhouse Lemonade Stand kind of way.

    I’ve never been to a psychic. I don’t think it’s for me.

    What could she predict in my future? It could be “keep truckin’” or “you’ll be hit by a truck.” I’d find out for myself eventually, no charge.

    The first floor is occupied by a botánica, a shop that sells medicinal herbs and elixirs and images and objects associated with Catholicism, Santeria, Espiritismo, among other spiritual practices. There’s a talisman of faith for everyone on Fifth Avenue. Even superheroes need something to believe in. I worship the gorilla.

  • Imaginando la ciudad fantasma

    The Chaitén volcano in Chile erupted—continues to erupt—this week.

    And once, I was there.

    It’s hard to admit now that, before I fell asleep that night, I rolled over in my sleeping bag and pressed my hands into the soft black sand and thought it was special, a beautiful thing, to walk on a volcanic beach. I wanted that to be my last thought before I slept. I wanted to end the day on that feeling, to epitomize the day with that special thing I got to do, the special place I got to be.

    It’s hard to think about people evacuating their homes in Chaitén and wonder where everyone was on the night I was there. I saw people at the restaurant and a few at the market, but—thousands of evacuees? It’s as though the eruption roused them just to chase them out of the woodwork.

    It’s hard to read about the irreversible devastation, the abrupt loss of flora and fauna, the halt to the agricultural industry, when the volcano seemed to me the gentle face of Mother Earth on that one night. Now I remember, the sand was so brutally black.

    Nothing can stop a natural disaster like a volcanic eruption. No one can anticipate it, though now it seems like it will be impossible not to just wait for the next one, even if it takes another nine thousand years.

    Here is a collection of photos of the violent eruption as the volcano’s contents sparked into a “dirty thunderstorm” taken by United Press International photographer Carlos Gutierrez: Tormenta eléctrica en erupción del volcán Chaitén. The caption translates to, “The startling (moving) beauty of two natural phenomena. An electrical storm (thunderstorm) above the gigantic column of ash that rises from the Chaitén volcano, reaching an altitude of 14 kilometers.”