Join me over on the new blog ! Don't forget to stalk me there!
muchLOVE
~H.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
catching up: twice the baggage
Mama B teases me about my compulsion to photograph babies in baggage. Let this be a warning: if you mock my fetish, your kids WILL get stuffed into a suitcase. Oh, and Mama B? Hope's suitcases = Mama B's horses. Ha. And neiner.
It's seriously SO hard to believe the girls are already 6 months old! As I've been sifting through the archives for the portfolio images on the new website, it's been like a stroll down memory lane, and yesterday I happened to come across the mat pics, which, if you recall, were taken with not suitcases but HORSES.
It's seriously SO hard to believe the girls are already 6 months old! As I've been sifting through the archives for the portfolio images on the new website, it's been like a stroll down memory lane, and yesterday I happened to come across the mat pics, which, if you recall, were taken with not suitcases but HORSES.
(Check out the mile-long eyelashes on Twin A!)
(I'm sure this means something not very nice in Italian...)
(As the one usually pointing a camera around, I have come to accept the fact I often have this effect on people. I'm used to it.)
(At least Twin B was able to turn on some million-wattage smiles for me - all it took was nudity for her, and a lot of weird farting and whistling noises on my part - cakewalk!)
I think these girls are delicious. Sweeter than ice cream. They'd go nice with a side of strawberry syrup.
(I'm sure this means something not very nice in Italian...)
(As the one usually pointing a camera around, I have come to accept the fact I often have this effect on people. I'm used to it.)
(At least Twin B was able to turn on some million-wattage smiles for me - all it took was nudity for her, and a lot of weird farting and whistling noises on my part - cakewalk!)
I think these girls are delicious. Sweeter than ice cream. They'd go nice with a side of strawberry syrup.
catching up: basket case
If I had to nominate the baby I'd like to photograph in more baskets, Miss L would top the list.
Miss L was deliciously sweet, with perfect pouty little lips and some of the longest baby feet I've ever seen.
Miss L was deliciously sweet, with perfect pouty little lips and some of the longest baby feet I've ever seen.
Even though she didn't weigh in like a pipsqueak at birth, I imagine by the time I get to see Miss L again for her 3-month session, she's going to be a relative giant.
Mom and Dad, congratulations - she is nothing shy of perfection.
(And, she looks GREAT in a basket. Remember - you know where to find me if you ever want to borrow the Magic Sleeping Egg Basket...)
catching up: a new addition
I've had a crush on little Mr. B since he was born. I've been telling Mom and Dad they make nice babies and should have more since he was born.
Mr B, though, wasn't nearly as excited about my opportunity to take maternity pics as I was. After regaling me with his rockstar prowess he spent the rest of the session (generally) hiding from the camera.
I was relieved to learn they had finally heeded my advice.
Mr B, though, wasn't nearly as excited about my opportunity to take maternity pics as I was. After regaling me with his rockstar prowess he spent the rest of the session (generally) hiding from the camera.
So... by the time I came back, I had missed all the excitement of her arrival. But I did make it out to visit her when she was just 5 days old. And look! Didn't I say they make nice babies? Miss A is absolutely precious. She cooed and pooed her way right into my heart beside big brother B, despite the fact she's already showing the same general attitude towards me as her brother. (I swear, she didn't do that with her finger until I showed up in her face with my camera. She KNOWS.)
As for big brother B, he's still far more interested in musical instruments than the doting gurgling face-making photographer. He did, however, play a song for his new sister.
Apparently, little miss A appreciates his talent.
I know it's selfish of me to say thank you instead of congratulations, but I'm going to risk it this time and say thanks to Mom and Dad for taking my advice and making me another nice baby to visit. MUAH to you all! (And Bear, too...)
catching up: C & A
While I was in the throes of getting ready to present to the Dominican bride and groom, I *did* actually finish up a whole thwack of sessions I shot before even leaving the country, and even a couple from right after I got back!
I'd be remiss if I didn't plug the fact one of the prime bonuses of going to take pictures of Sherry (mastermind of the designer delectables at Sweet Temptations) and her handsome boys is the fact you get to be a guinea pig for cookies under construction... the one Mr. A is eating, the newest addition to the cookie cornucopia, is called "Berried Treasure." Pics of her latest creation of moist, chewy oatmeal cookies stuffed with cherry and blueberry and wildberry and apple pie filling should be up on the new website soon!
But of course, I wasn't there (just) for the cookies. Look at these two? How could I not want to visit? Free cookies AND cute boys?
Little Mr. C was pretty funny while doing the nekkid shots - he may have a career ahead of him doing boudoir. Watch out, ladies..
Of course, I LOVE babies in vintage suitcases even more than babies in beertubs or baskets...
And Sherry? Explain this one to me. She didn't really want to get family pictures done but I said, no, we have to do at least one - you'll regret it if you don't. (A timely statement - she thanked me for it after this post.) Anyhow, Sherry was hesistant about headshots (which I got), and hubby was hesitant about foot shots (which I also got), but I had no trouble convincing them I should take a picture of their asses. Go figure. This may well be my new signature shot. I'm going to call it the "Seymore Butz."
I'd be remiss if I didn't plug the fact one of the prime bonuses of going to take pictures of Sherry (mastermind of the designer delectables at Sweet Temptations) and her handsome boys is the fact you get to be a guinea pig for cookies under construction... the one Mr. A is eating, the newest addition to the cookie cornucopia, is called "Berried Treasure." Pics of her latest creation of moist, chewy oatmeal cookies stuffed with cherry and blueberry and wildberry and apple pie filling should be up on the new website soon!
But of course, I wasn't there (just) for the cookies. Look at these two? How could I not want to visit? Free cookies AND cute boys?
Little Mr. C was pretty funny while doing the nekkid shots - he may have a career ahead of him doing boudoir. Watch out, ladies..
Of course, I LOVE babies in vintage suitcases even more than babies in beertubs or baskets...
And Sherry? Explain this one to me. She didn't really want to get family pictures done but I said, no, we have to do at least one - you'll regret it if you don't. (A timely statement - she thanked me for it after this post.) Anyhow, Sherry was hesistant about headshots (which I got), and hubby was hesitant about foot shots (which I also got), but I had no trouble convincing them I should take a picture of their asses. Go figure. This may well be my new signature shot. I'm going to call it the "Seymore Butz."
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
under a rock
Not sure how I missed this - it's been a very busy week. I almost tossed my lunch when I read this. Do these zealots even know what they are fighting for anymore? Because I sure as hell lack the capacity to understand it. I don't think I ever want to be able to grasp it.
Below is a diagram of how microcephaly vera, the genetic disorder my little sister has, is inherited. Without getting into fancy-speak, she's mentally retarded. I cannot imagine anyone abusing her trusting nature so she can go fight their selfish wars. Pardon me while I go puke.
Below is a diagram of how microcephaly vera, the genetic disorder my little sister has, is inherited. Without getting into fancy-speak, she's mentally retarded. I cannot imagine anyone abusing her trusting nature so she can go fight their selfish wars. Pardon me while I go puke.
sometimes you just need a little kick in the pants
This morning, my dear, dear friend Christine posted a link to this blog entry, and it kind of put back into focus why it is I am so passionate about photography. I don't ever discount teh value of taking pictures, even though I hate getting mine taken. Someone, sometime, will want to remember you (and me) and they will remember and love you exactly as you are, whether you ever lose those last 5 (or 50) pounds or manage to cover up that zit on your nose.
True story: I have this set of pictures of my Daddy that I snapped in my backyard. It's early summer and I have JUST gotten my very first digital SLR, and the sun is going down so there's this intense yellow light everywhere. He's wearing his fishing hat (oh, how my stepmom hated that hat!) in some, showing off his new stubble growing back from his annual headshave to support cancer research in the others. He's grinning at me.
Those were the last pictures I got to take of my father alive. He liked to take pictures, too, of any and everything. After he died, my sister and I took copies of the multitude of images he had on his computer as well as an ancient photo album containing pictures of us as little girls. Looking through his pictures let me see a whole other part of him, about what he cherished, found interesting, or found funny enough to take a picture of. I imagine my Daddy enjoyed looking at those pictures of his friends and family, of his daughters, as much as I enjoy looking at pictures of my own friends and family and especially of my own children.
Pictures are worth far more than 1000 words.
Thanks for the reminder, Christine.
True story: I have this set of pictures of my Daddy that I snapped in my backyard. It's early summer and I have JUST gotten my very first digital SLR, and the sun is going down so there's this intense yellow light everywhere. He's wearing his fishing hat (oh, how my stepmom hated that hat!) in some, showing off his new stubble growing back from his annual headshave to support cancer research in the others. He's grinning at me.
Those were the last pictures I got to take of my father alive. He liked to take pictures, too, of any and everything. After he died, my sister and I took copies of the multitude of images he had on his computer as well as an ancient photo album containing pictures of us as little girls. Looking through his pictures let me see a whole other part of him, about what he cherished, found interesting, or found funny enough to take a picture of. I imagine my Daddy enjoyed looking at those pictures of his friends and family, of his daughters, as much as I enjoy looking at pictures of my own friends and family and especially of my own children.
Pictures are worth far more than 1000 words.
Thanks for the reminder, Christine.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Hope and Bill's Dominican Adventure January 2009: Day 5
For as eye-opening as Day 4 was on the Outback Safari, it paled in comparison to our day out and about with our new friend Jose, who we were introduced to by my friend Christie. Bill and I were joined by another couple as we took a tour around town that most people probably wouldn't take. The things I wanted to check out included the richest and poorest areas of town, the street prostitutes, and a dance club.
If you recall, I mentioned in Day 4 how the tourism industry, despite providing the greatest number of jobs and contributing more money to the economy than any other single industry in RD, also has a shady underside. First off, it's necessary to have a population of people who are willing to work for mere pittance, which requires a low level of education and intense private entrepreneurship we are very unaccustomed to here (everyone who was annoyed by the cheapie cheapie vendors on the beach will attest to the high-pressure sales tactics used.) It is also very competitive, with top-paying jobs in the industry requiring you to speak a minimum of three languages fluently; if you speak five, you will bump the guy beside you with two years of college who only speaks three even if you can't add two and two.
Jose works for a tourism company in the DR. He speaks English and Spanish, and is planning on taking French in March when the off-season begins so he can move up in the company. He has 3 children to support, and his entire family plays a part in helping to raise the boys, aged 3, 4, and 8, as the mother of his children decided to take off two years ago and hasn't been seen since. As a favour to our mutual friend Christie, he agreed to rent a car for the day and take Bill and I out on the town. Having never met him in person and not knowing what kind of car he had rented, we obviously couldn't have recognized him on sight. However, we had agreed to meet at the front gates, and as we were walking along several cabs stopped to offer us a ride. You see, you can take any ride you want BACK to the hotel, but if you are leaving hotel property, there are select drivers who have a contract with the hotel.
Jose called as we were standing roadside and said, "I'm in a black Camry..." so we were on the lookout for a man in a black Camry. When the next cab - a big white van - stopped, I was getting a little exasperated, and when the guy slowed down I kind of sarcastically said, "No, we're waiting for Jose, are you Jose?" Well, OK - if I said Rick or Steve or John here in Canada I might have had the same problem but wouldn't you know it, the pinhead's name was Jose... whom we'll refer to hereafter as Pinhead. Just as I was trying to explain that no, we're waiting for our friend Jose, the Camry pulls up. We go to jump in and this PINHEAD starts freaking out. I mean, full on crazy man talking a mile a minute freaking out! He pulls his van in front of the rental car (which WE are paying for, by the way) and calls another cabbie to block him from the rear. Starts yelling, "Policia, Policia!" Some other taxis stop, with passengers in the cabs wondering what the hell is going on...
And, of course, this was the first time the language barrier REALLY hurt us because try as we might to explain that he wasn't some nasty illegal cabbie stealing business but a friend who was taking us to meet his Mama and to look for prostitutes no one except out Jose was fluent enough to understand us. Pinhead kept yelling, and some of the other cabbies were getting a little close (physically) for comfort... I was personally willing to go to the hotel concierge and sort it out, but with about 7 cabs (still holding their fares INTO the resort, I might add) everyone was feeling pretty awkward, especially poor Jose... By the time we finally had things sorted out, we ended up paying some other jackass cabbie $20USD (twice what we would have had to pay) to take us into town, so we could meet Jose at central square and continue with our day. I was LIVID, and when we got back to the hotel I complained VERY loudly. I also sent in a formal letter describing our wholly unpleasant experience with their designated cabbie Nazis.
So, we had a taste of the darkside of the tourism industry in Puerto Plata. Jose explained that it's pretty typical - competition for tourism dollars is fierce and if you miss a ride, a sale, an opportunity, you're fishing in the creek for your supper. In Jose's case if you get a tour group that doesn't tip, you're going home with 400 pesos (about $12USD) for a 16-hour day. Which is still better than what the Haitians get paid for cutting down a tonne of sugarcane by hand, or what a Dominican whore gets paid for an entire night...
If you recall, I mentioned in Day 4 how the tourism industry, despite providing the greatest number of jobs and contributing more money to the economy than any other single industry in RD, also has a shady underside. First off, it's necessary to have a population of people who are willing to work for mere pittance, which requires a low level of education and intense private entrepreneurship we are very unaccustomed to here (everyone who was annoyed by the cheapie cheapie vendors on the beach will attest to the high-pressure sales tactics used.) It is also very competitive, with top-paying jobs in the industry requiring you to speak a minimum of three languages fluently; if you speak five, you will bump the guy beside you with two years of college who only speaks three even if you can't add two and two.
Jose works for a tourism company in the DR. He speaks English and Spanish, and is planning on taking French in March when the off-season begins so he can move up in the company. He has 3 children to support, and his entire family plays a part in helping to raise the boys, aged 3, 4, and 8, as the mother of his children decided to take off two years ago and hasn't been seen since. As a favour to our mutual friend Christie, he agreed to rent a car for the day and take Bill and I out on the town. Having never met him in person and not knowing what kind of car he had rented, we obviously couldn't have recognized him on sight. However, we had agreed to meet at the front gates, and as we were walking along several cabs stopped to offer us a ride. You see, you can take any ride you want BACK to the hotel, but if you are leaving hotel property, there are select drivers who have a contract with the hotel.
Jose called as we were standing roadside and said, "I'm in a black Camry..." so we were on the lookout for a man in a black Camry. When the next cab - a big white van - stopped, I was getting a little exasperated, and when the guy slowed down I kind of sarcastically said, "No, we're waiting for Jose, are you Jose?" Well, OK - if I said Rick or Steve or John here in Canada I might have had the same problem but wouldn't you know it, the pinhead's name was Jose... whom we'll refer to hereafter as Pinhead. Just as I was trying to explain that no, we're waiting for our friend Jose, the Camry pulls up. We go to jump in and this PINHEAD starts freaking out. I mean, full on crazy man talking a mile a minute freaking out! He pulls his van in front of the rental car (which WE are paying for, by the way) and calls another cabbie to block him from the rear. Starts yelling, "Policia, Policia!" Some other taxis stop, with passengers in the cabs wondering what the hell is going on...
And, of course, this was the first time the language barrier REALLY hurt us because try as we might to explain that he wasn't some nasty illegal cabbie stealing business but a friend who was taking us to meet his Mama and to look for prostitutes no one except out Jose was fluent enough to understand us. Pinhead kept yelling, and some of the other cabbies were getting a little close (physically) for comfort... I was personally willing to go to the hotel concierge and sort it out, but with about 7 cabs (still holding their fares INTO the resort, I might add) everyone was feeling pretty awkward, especially poor Jose... By the time we finally had things sorted out, we ended up paying some other jackass cabbie $20USD (twice what we would have had to pay) to take us into town, so we could meet Jose at central square and continue with our day. I was LIVID, and when we got back to the hotel I complained VERY loudly. I also sent in a formal letter describing our wholly unpleasant experience with their designated cabbie Nazis.
So, we had a taste of the darkside of the tourism industry in Puerto Plata. Jose explained that it's pretty typical - competition for tourism dollars is fierce and if you miss a ride, a sale, an opportunity, you're fishing in the creek for your supper. In Jose's case if you get a tour group that doesn't tip, you're going home with 400 pesos (about $12USD) for a 16-hour day. Which is still better than what the Haitians get paid for cutting down a tonne of sugarcane by hand, or what a Dominican whore gets paid for an entire night...
Monday, February 2, 2009
happy groundhog day 2009!
Ah, yes - it's my favourite day of year, the day we should all be watching that existentialist Bill Murray classic, "Groundhog Day," and deciding if we're throwing our pasts up and eating them for breakfast every day. If you skipped New Year's resolutions, here's a perfect opportunity to re-evaluate your life and decide if you need to change something.
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