I think about this cartoon at moments in my life, such as my first trip to San Francisco, when I spent half an hour trying to capture macro images of tiny succulents planted on the side of a hill, and only when my back required straightening did I turn around and behold... The breathtaking San Francisco Bay. Bright blue skies and wind-whipped water, occasional sleek clouds racing across the sky like a varsity rowing team, the Golden Gate Bridge, luminous in the afternoon light. Alcatraz! Or moments like today, when, a full year after my friend Hillary gave me a moth trap due to an unfortunate situation with a wool rug in our building, during which time I'd checked on it frequently and been smugly pleased that I had not a single moth, I discovered the trap had a protective film you had to peel off in order to expose the sticky entrapping surface. Or the time Steven told me the bright green sports car in front of us with the eye-like headlights was called the Lamborghini Kermit, and I absolutely, 100% believed him - I mean, It looks like a frog. A fast frog! All this to say, there are lots of things I don't notice. But the things I do? I notice 'em hard.
When I first moved to New York City, I felt like I was nothing but eyes, noticing everything. And one of the things I gave my full attention was The New York Plaid. (You probably thought I was going to talk about the World's largest collection of cast iron building facades in SoHo, or that the price of a slice of pizza and the price of a subway ride have historically stayed in tandem, or that the idea that skyscrapers can only be built where the bedrock is nearest the surface might be a myth! Nah. Who had time for such things?) This plaid, though, this plaid! It was often in scarf form, but spotted also on hats, coats and umbrellas, and it was for sale on every street vendor's cart, many a store window, and wrapped around a truly surprising number of necks. And because it was so ugly, I assumed it was some insider "you have to be a New Yorker to understand" thing. This beige plaid scarf. Maybe it was a NY sports team's colors. In which case I'd never find out, and just live with the delightful mystery! What a glorious city.
Eventually, some number of years later, I pointed out the NYP to someone, who said, incredulously, "...You mean, the Burberry Classic Check?"
I have formed other opinions about Burberry since. But I still hate beige.
Sigh. Burberry calls it "tan." It's still hideous.
One of my favorite Ani DiFranco songs from these early years in New York has the line "...when I look down, I just miss all the good stuff. When I look up, I just trip over things."
I'm trying to strike a balance these days. Macro photography AND the awareness that the sky is falling. Passion for my beliefs, but space for the chance I could be wrong. Hope that there's a public square where we might actually learn big ideas from each other, where there's also a delightful little Tom Otterness creature. I try to keep my eyes and ears open. I still treasure the tiny and the ridiculous. I hope to look New York Chic photographing those tiny succulents, with the help of my vintage Burberry bowler bag. Which is red.
Oh, by the way, regarding the images I pull for these posts, I do put some effort into finding ones that are not copyrighted, although, to paraphrase what my friend Kelly Wolf wrote in her blog, Powered by Dragons, since I'm not making any money off this, who would really care? However, I bet Burberry has a legal team, so... voila. Proof that I did NOT miss a calling as a visual artist.
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