Showing posts with label visual. Show all posts
Showing posts with label visual. Show all posts

LYNSEY ADDARIO ... "It's What I Do"

I am deeply fascinated by all things photography.  Both of my parents have a love for the camera and I think it fostered a mutual desire to use the lens to capture what is going on around me.

I have also long had an obsession of sorts with newspaper photographers.  Recently there has been quite a bit of coverage relating to all matters concerning the reporting of news and the photographic images that go along with them.

First, the very famous photo of Samar.



During the Iraq war, the rest of us around the world relied on newspapers and news stations to keep us up to date with the latest happenings.  We heard about violent foot patrols and read about tragedies and deaths ... but until you see a photo like this, it doesn't seem to really set in or ring true.

As is stated in the article, because the country was dangerous for photographers, there were not many photographs of the Iraq war that hit a nerve.  The article goes on to discuss Samar and her life since the war.

(I had no idea that Mr. Hondros - who photographed Samar - was asked to leave his assignment after those photos were taken due to military rules)

In April of this year, New York Times photographer Chris Hondros, was killed in Misurata, Libya -- while on assignment.  One other photographer was killed and two photographers were also wounded, all working beside him at the city's front lines.  The piece on his death was moving.  Chris Hondros'  blog is also quite amazing.

Equally as inspiring and moving?  The follow up piece written by the Editor of the New York Times, Bill Keller.  Keller talks honestly about what our nation's media owes the people of the country and what risks should be taken to ensure that our insatiable and sometimes grotesque hunger for shocking news is fed.
Covering conflict is perilous for anyone — reporters, local stringers, the drivers and interpreters we depend on — but photographers are more exposed, in at least two senses of the word. They need a sustained line of sight to frame their photographs; a reliable source is never enough. And they cannot avert their eyes; they have to let the images in, no matter how searing or disturbing. Robert Capa’s famous advice to younger photographers — “Get closer” — translates in combat to “get more vulnerable,” both literally and emotionally.
Then there is Kevin Carter.  He shot this photograph while on assignment in Sudan.



After this picture made its way onto our laptops and television screens, Carter was asked "what happend to that child?"

Carter didn't know.

He had simply captured an image ... (which, according to another photographer, the child was not alone or in a menacing situation, as there were adults nearby).

Mr. Carter committed suicide just a couple of months after receiving the Pulitzer Prize ... receiving an award ... for this photograph.

“Sometimes we fail our own moral compass, our own emotional compass,” Greg Marinovich said (fellow photographer). “Kevin [Carter] was a bloody warm, generous and fantastic guy, and I’m surprised that he didn’t pick up the kid, just to make himself feel better.”

***

In March of this year, New York Times photographer Lynsey Addario was freed from captivity in Libya, along with Tyler Hicks, Stephen Farrell and Anthony Shadid. (more about their ordeal)

Some comments to this story about Lynsey's capture included words like “How dare a woman go to a war zone?” and “How could The New York Times let a woman go to the war zone?”

Lynsey's response?  
To me, that’s grossly offensive. This is my life, and I make my own decisions.
If a woman wants to be a war photographer, she should. It’s important. Women offer a different perspective. We have access to women on a different level than men have, just as male photographers have a different relationship with the men they’re covering.
In the Muslim world, most of my male colleagues can’t enter private homes. They can’t hang out with very conservative Muslim families. I have always been able to. It’s not easy to get the right to photograph in a house, but at least I have one foot in the door. I’ve always found it a great advantage, being a woman.

People think photography is about photographing. To me, it’s about relationships. And it’s about doing your homework and making people comfortable enough where they open their lives to you. People underestimate me because I’m always laughing and joking. That helps. They let their guard down.
I try to do women’s stories when I can, but I don’t want to be pigeonholed as just a women’s photographer, because my interest is in covering the whole story — and human rights abuses and humanitarian issues. Ironically, I don’t think I saw more than a handful of women the entire time I was in Libya.
I will cover another war. I’m sure I will. It’s what I do. It’s important to show people what’s happening. We have a unique access to what unfolds on the ground that helps our policymakers decide how to treat certain issues.



Speaking of soldiers and the frontline ... did you happen to read the article "After Coming Home"?  It's the final article in a series following the First Battalion, 87th Infantry Regiment in Afghanistan

A snippet ::

For a year, they had navigated minefields and ducked bullets, endured tedium inside barbed-wired outposts and stitched together the frayed seams of long-distance relationships. One would think that going home would be the easiest thing troops could do.
 The whole series can be found at the New York Times.    The video is quite long (10 minutes) but there are some great the photos are amazing and it's worth a poke around.

There is a lot to digest here.  If you stuck with the whole post, what say you? Did anything strike a nerve?




LIFE AND LEMONADE

(ok - we are testing this out ... can you comment?  I'm holding my breath to see if it got figured out/adjusted.  Humor me and comment JUST because ... to prove that it's working again?)




We went to Singapore about a month ago and one of the ABSOLUTE things on my list of things to do was a visit to Ikea.  I know.  It's lame to include Ikea on the list of things to do when you are in Singapore - the land of SO MANY THINGS TO DO!

The last time we were there (2010), I wanted to get some glass bottles for lemonade, but decided against it (I'd already exceeded our return baggage allowance) and they have been on my wish list for an entire year.

(Little did I know that I could have bought the SAME bottles here ... already full of lemonade ... to then reuse.  I wonder about myself sometimes)



I love lemonade.  I love it mixed half and half with iced tea ... I love it just barely frozen as a slushie ... I love it with beer (yep ... thanks Lynden and Tats!) ... I just love it.

What I don't love is the absence of decently priced Countrytime Lemonade drink mixes here in New Delhi.  You can find lemonade drink mixes, but it doesn't taste quite right and it comes at a price of about $8.00 USD.

It had been YEARS since I'd made lemonade by hand ... and the other day it dawned on me that it was the cheapest, easiest way ... and tasted FAR better than any old tub of powdered mix.

(yep, we took all of those seeds out)

The lemons here in Delhi are teensy ...




























So teensy that little Mia can cup one in her hand and you'd never know she was holding a lemon.


Instead of halving 4-5 lemons and calling it a day, you can count on about 45 minutes of cutting, squeezing ... cutting, squeezing ... cutting, squeezing.  Oy.




Until I realized that 1/4 of these teensy lemons was about the size of my handy dandy garlic press.

Brilliant.



There is nothing better than fresh squeezed lemonade.

Well, there is the feeling when you accomplish something.  It doesn't have to be something huge.  It doesn't have to ring bell tones into the rafters.  It doesn't have to make the front page of the newspaper ---

When you set out to accomplish something, and you reach your goal, it feels good.  It tastes good.  It warms you up a bit and revitalizes you.

There is something to be said about starting a day with an end goal -- whether it be to lace up the shoes and run a mile, or put away all of the laundry, or figure out how to make an additional $1,000 for your favorite charity.

We all have a different size of box that we lay out for ourselves every morning.  I'd like to think that I can continue to expand the size of my box --- expand the size of the goal that I hold out for myself.

Accomplishment ... sweet success ... it's like fresh squeezed lemonade.



AND ... SHE'S OUT !

 "And ..... ..........  ............... She's out."

This is the phrase I hear nearly every day that I'm in the car with my littles.

(or "they're out" or "he's out" ... you get the drift)

Dare to take a gander at what they're talking about?

They are referring to whether or not the pedestrians make it across a busy street.

I wrote about traffic in Delhi once before, but it was more about vehicular traffic. 
In addition to crazy vehicular traffic, there is also a real issue of pedestrian traffic and I'm still not "over" it ... two years later.

At any point during a routine trip to the market, we encounter rickshaws



cows




carts being pulled by bicycles


families on motorycles



and the pedestrians.



I will probably NEVER understand that concept of pedestrians crossing an incredibly busy street.  



I'm talking about cars whizzing by at speeds of 95 km/hour (60 mph) and at a rate of about 170 vehicles passing any one stationary post per minute.

BUSY STREETS.

They step out off of a high curb and hold out an extended arm and hand.

Requesting the oncoming boxes of steel to miraculously stop because ...  lo and behold THEY want to cross the street.



Two years later, I still suck in my breath and squinch my eyes shut and subconsciously feel my shoulders tense and raise up ... my head ducks a bit ... hoping that all continues as it has been - in chaos and at top volume. 

Then one of the littles says .... "She's out!"


WATERMELON JUICE and A DAY OFF

In the not so recent past, I randomly gave our staff the day off (including the driver).  In fact, I gave most of them two days off.  I needed a bit of a break.  I needed to spend an ENTIRE day in pajamas.

I needed for the doorbell to not ring for ONE day and I needed to be in 100% control of everything that happened at our house for ONE day.

(OK, so obviously no ONE person can be 100% in control of EVERYTHING, but I wanted to FEEL like I was in control)

We woke up at 7:45 to the dog barking furiously at the front door.  (We were sound asleep - who knows how long we would have slept if he hadn't felt the need to be a ruthless guard dog)  We rubbed the sleep out of our eyes, and stumbled toward the front part of the house to see what the ruckus was about.


SA was standing there with a very fierce "I got this" look on his face ... and when I looked out of the hole in the door (what is that called? Peek hole?) there was no one there ... just our morning paper.

Since we didn't need to take any affirmative action, we all plodded into the living room, plopped on the couch and flipped on the morning cartoons.

It's now nearly 6:00 pm when I type this and we are all still in our pajamas.  

We've done more crafting, purging, organizing, recipe creating and movie watching than anyone could possibly stuff into a 12 hour time period ...

We made ::

watermelon juice


Apple Juice Slushies (everything tastes better with itty bitty spoons)



A scrumptious dinner of mashed potatoes and beef in the crockpot.



Two more boxes filled for donation at the Thrift Shop.

Poked our heads out the door every couple of hours to hand the guard on duty a cold bottle of water.  

Spent some time on some handwritten cards to mail to friends and family

I slowly nursed a pot of coffee over the course of the day with my favorite creamer, and put a "coffee" scented wickless candle on.  



I struggled to respond to Mia when she said "Mama, is Shanti coming today?" after she found a recipe for applesauce muffins because "Mama, you don't know how to cook" (hence the mashed potatoes and pulled beef for dinner vs. McDonalds delivery).

(Guess what we did then?  Made homemade applesauce!)


We spent over an hour deciding where to hang our prized artwork in the newly created craft room in the basement.

I took some time out and read a couple more chapters in the completely engaging book, Unbroken (a MUST read).

We finished setting up the new pingpong table (it's ready for a match this weekend!)

I watched a knock down, drag out fight between the littles.  Like a crazed free-for-all where Mia threatened to scratch out Tony's eyes and Tony was screaming at the top of his voice "YOU ARE NOT NICE, MIA SARICE!!!!" -- I was so amused by their ridiculousness, that I just sat there and watched them.  I got my camera out and started taking pictures, which remarkably made them stop immediately!

We all took some time out and worked on our journal books ... (more on that in a later post).

We recently had a little visitor in the house ... well not so little.  He had a long tail, was black and nasty and ... ran OVER MY FOOT in the middle of the afternoon.  Blech.  Gave me the heebie jeebies.  He seems to have disappeared, thanks to some green colored "poison cakes" ... 

I decided today was also the day to ON MY OWN clean out the area where he came from.  I could easily have waited and asked our housekeeper to do it when she came back to work, but for a reason that maybe no one else will understand, I needed to do it myself.

I mustered up my cojones and walked in.  Shut my eyes and grabbed blindly at the closet door ... flinging it open with one very NOT graceful movement as I - at the same time - jumped as far away from the door as I could.  Really silly, I know, but ... 

I bleached everything that had a surface and felt automatically like I had actually accomplished something! (yea ... that's what happens when you barely do anything for yourself anymore ... even the little things feel like huge success stories)

Now that the sun is slowly beginning to set, and little tummies are starting to rumble, we may think about laying down some sleeping bags in the living room, lighting some wicks and having a 'candlelight' movie night.  

(Just now, I whispered that idea to Tony and his little eyes just sparkled ... yep, I think that's exactly what we'll do!)

INDOMANIA POTTERY TOUR ... part V

The final installment in the Indomania Pottery Tour series - - - 

(contact Piyush at (91) 8860223456 or info@indomaniatours.com if you're interested in having a tour of your own!  It's THAT good, people!)
 





























INDOMANIA POTTERY TOUR ... part IV

More in the series about the Indomania Pottery Tour.  

Photos only this time ... my words don't do this experience justice.



(Living in Delhi and ready to go on the tour??  Contact Piyush at (91) 8860223456 or info@indomaniatours.com) 


























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