How does your garden grow?

garden rows

Growth in the nursery rhyme garden of Mary, Mary quite contrary needed 'cockleshells and silver bells and pretty maids lined up in a row'. You won't find that in the garden I discovered.

It was a pristine New England October day, perfect for meandering along Boston’s waterfront and through its neighborhood streets and byways. My wife and I seized the moment and started our walking journey in the Seaport area then headed to the North End. That’s where we locked our radar on the popular Freedom Trail. Like Dorothy and her Oz companions, we followed, followed, followed the brick road, albeit red bricks this time stopping at the Old North Church. 

In the courtyard just beyond Paul Revere's statue, I froze taking in the sight of the Memorial Garden. This was a garden of a very different sort, not one lush with flowers and greenery. But just as in Mary’s fabled garden there were rows of silver. The rows however were made up of hanging dog tags. A late afternoon sun bounced shafts of light off the polished tags making it hard to decipher names. But there were no names, the tags were nameless. The Old North Church Memorial Garden is dedicated to soldiers of our armed forces and the civilians who lost their lives in the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. Without inscribed names, perhaps each represented Everyman, or an Every Soldier. 

          More than five thousand Americans have died during combat since these wars were launched in 2001. If troops are reinserted to the region during the current campaign to destroy ISIS, human costs of waging war, as represented in this garden, as well as questions about overall U.S. strategy, will continue to grow.

That’s how this garden grows.

(Click to read David's previous blog posts)

Boots on the Ground

These boots are made for working

With the term Boots on the Ground back in the news, I am reminded of a previous Boots story.  Having just returned from Israel where boots unfortunately but necessarily had to be on the ground in and around Gaza recently, I offer this 
tale ...

We were advised to bring thick work socks.

Volunteers arriving in Israel to provide essential civilian support services at various army bases had that advisory on their suggested packing lists. 

Here’s why …..

When the olive drab fatigues which serve as work clothes for volunteers are issued, the quartermaster at your assigned base makes an attempt to accommodate body-type diversity in doling out sets of Small, Medium, and Large trousers & shirts. Trouble is, the sets are not necessarily matched, nor do they fit! Boots are supposed to be another matter.

When my group was asked for individual shoe sizes, it sounded like good news and we anticipated a reasonably comfortable fit. In reality few of us knew whether a USA 10 Medium was a European equivalent 43, 44, or 45. So, even with metric precision, our boot sizes were an approximation. Hence the recommendation for packing thick work socks. If adequately thick, the inevitable blisters resulting from an almost fit might be avoided. Luckily my socks met the thickness challenge, adequately handling gaps between heel, toe, and the stiff, unforgiving leather. Overall, the uniform also worked out well …. so long as my belt was made tight enough to hold up my over-sized pants.

Somehow in the end my group actually looked like a unit …. and we performed our assigned tasks admirably.

(Click to read David's previous blog posts)

Where the flags are

waving the flag of Israel

“ …. and the rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in air ….” 

Unlike the red glare of Britain’s Royal Navy rockets arcing over Forty McHenry in the War of 1812, the fiery glare this time was from thousands of missiles launched towards Israeli cities by Hamas. Likewise, the flag defiantly flying throughout the current barrage was not our Stars & Stripes, it had only a single star and two blue stripes on a sea of pure white. Israel was under attack. The assault inspired throngs of Bostonians to assemble en masse in solidarity at City Hall Plaza. As hard as it may be to believe, my four year old granddaughter Sylvie, wise well beyond her years, wanted to be there too.  

The backstory: 
At a tender age of ten months Sylvie had already established a connection with Israel during a memorable family trip. She still loves to look at photos from that journey. Although she  "wanted to be there too", attending the rally with a start time of 5:30 PM presented a practical logistics problem, i.e., traveling to downtown Boston from outside the city during rush hour then returning home afterward early enough to avoid really Big Time disruption to her four-year-old’s nightly routines. It would be challenging ... perhaps too challenging. So, despite the imperative and a perfect alignment of head and heart, after assessing the prospects my daughter decided to nix the plan to bring Sylvie to the rally.

Then something happened...

On rally-day morning, while Sylvie and I were pushing her little brother’s stroller trying to get him asleep, I outlined a rally day alternate Plan B for her afternoon. For any non-rally day, Plan B would be perfect, but after barely a moment’s reflection she uttered these transformative words, “But I’m sad, I wanted to go where the flags are.” 
With that, Plan B instantly became history!

So, later that afternoon the family gathered and started trekking - first by car, then by foot, then by Red Line, and again by foot. Soon we were among three thousand like minded citizens at City Center all expressing rousing support for Israel in its frontline battle against a vicious terrorist foe. 

In the end, I know we did the right thing, proving once again, If there is a will, there is a way.

(Click to read more of David's previous photo-blog posts)

Fifteen Seconds

I had a different image in mind for this blog post, it will have to wait. Instead, my new offering is an update of an image/narrative that originally appeared in ShootingHoops, a previously published basketball-themed exhibit. The current post recalls my thoughts during the rocket barrage aimed at Israeli citizens in 2008. Once again I’m consumed with a recurrence of that nightmare.

Fifteen Seconds

For the photographic composition, I positioned myself so the unassuming basket & backboard would be overshadowed by the concrete and stone structure on the right. Loudspeakers visible within the tree branches above are not intended for game announcements. They are sirens. They sound the alarm for everyone on the court, or within earshot, to sprint for nearby shelter entrance #26. The bunker inside provides a temporary secure haven when an incoming missile lands …. if you get there in time.

Fifteen seconds …... That’s how long Israelis living within range of Hamas rocket fire have from the moment, any moment - 24/7, sirens blast a Red Alert signaling a rocket has been launched. That range has now expanded considerably putting eighty percent of Israelis in the crosshairs. Fifteen seconds to reach a shelter before impact. They hope they can make it. They hope all their family members, wherever they may be, can make it to safety as well. Fifteen seconds – 24/7 for years! Imagine trying to live your life that way. I can’t.
(Click to read more of David's Blog)

Tel Aviv Close Encounter of the Second Kind

         1952 - 1969

                                                                                     

It can’t be proven beyond a shadow of a doubt, but while wandering through narrow side streets of a Tel Aviv souk for my first time in 1969, I chanced upon an industrious cobbler I already knew. But that wasn’t possible ….. or was it?

Weeks later back in the States that Tel Aviv Close Encounter still mystified. Fortunately, the intrigue soon ended and the unsettling incident became ‘case closed’. Here’s how … I had liberated a photo anthology titled Israel the Reality from my bookshelf and kicked backed to relax, savor the volume's iconic photos, and reminisce about the trip. Flipping through the pages, I abruptly froze. There he was .... again, still seated and laser focused at his bench, just as he had been when recently spotted! The image was captured by French photographer Izis (Israel Bidermanas) in 1952, seventeen years before my journey. Shoes suspended from the walls in that ’52 photo framed him then just as now. My déjà vu sixth sense while in Tel Aviv had been spot on.

Technology, mass production, and The World is Flat globalization have forever changed the way shoes are made, but repairs are still performed the old fashioned way - one at a time, by hand. So, if just half the shoes hanging in the Izis image needed attention, the déjà vu all over again cobbler could remain fully employed for life. By the way, if you look really carefully, you just might find a pair hanging in its 1952 spot still awaiting a mending touch (Tel Aviv Close Encounter of the Second Kind).

D-Day Remembered

Omaha Beach ~ June 6, 2001

There are moments in everyone’s life during which an experience becomes etched into one’s consciousness, creating a filter through which the world will forever be viewed and personal values forged. For me, standing on the sands of Omaha Beach looking across the English Channel at sunrise on June 6, 2001, the 57th anniversary of D-Day was such a moment.

The mission I had set was to witness and record Normandy’s landing zone to get a better grasp of the immense struggle that took place there when Allied Expeditionary Forces launched Operation Overlord, the greatest land, sea, and air invasion ever. It marked not only the beginning of the end of the war in Europe, it changed the course of history. The after-images I hoped to create could help tell the epic story and inspire others to appreciate the scope of dedication and sacrifices made decades earlier by the Greatest Generation. It was their ultimate success which enables us to enjoy the freedoms we have today. 

The image above is a selection from Return to Normandy, the photo-essay of my efforts to visualize, learn, record, and teach.

fotoVisions

I only have eyes for you

When film was the only image capture medium, I devoted a sizable portion of my photographic artwork to curating collections of images with a common theme. Once satisfied a collection was 'complete' and accepted for exhibition, I made  the prints from negatives, matted and framed them to archival standards, and carefully hung them on the walls for month-long exhibits at selected venues. Personal narratives typically accompanied the images. 

Two of my favorite past exhibits concerned images of basketball hoops encountered during travel (Shooting Hoops ), and the artistry of exterior fire escapes (ESCAPE ART: the urban fire escape). 

So what would happen if I took a new photo to include in one of these 'completed' exhibits, or if I just wanted to write about it and not wait to curate a collection? That's where a web site and this new venture, a Photo-blog  comes in. Once a 'complete exhibit' is posted online, I easily add to it, and I can create a blog post for a new unrelated image or group.

There have been many  additions to my two favorite exhibits since each was last on view in a public gallery. I remain fascinated by these themes and continued opportunities the they afford to present the ordinary as extraordinary. 

My inaugural blog concerns Shoes. They play an important role in my family history. Their images intrigue me and frequently trigger thoughts I want to record. 
Stay tuned.