Bits and Peaces Photography: Blog

Tybee to the MOON!

(Bits and Peaces Photography) — Sun, 31 Dec 2017 04:47:42 GMT

Since arriving on Tybee Island in October I often feel as though I have landed on the moon... Immersing myself with sea and stars and SD cards, this landscape of ever shifting sands and shadows supports this lunar notion... indeed, I am walking on the moon...

(gallery of other worldly images soon to follow...)

Far from Rochester, NY (Rochester Have I Loved...) Tybee feels like another planet and I have to pinch myself -- I really do live here...

In my few short weeks of exploring on my bike or bare feet, camera slung over my shoulder, I am just barely scratching the surface of the many treasures to be discovered on this island called Tybee -- derived from the Euchee tribal word for 'salt.' Certainly, 'salt of the earth' are amongst the 3000 or so residents that occupy this three mile stretch of island I now call home. I have met a few already. I smile at the thought and also that the tribal name "Euchee" is only one letter away from Euchre, my favorite card game.

"You live on a barrier island" one insurance agent explained as coverage was denied. Although this comment indicated I would need to do more homework, I was delighted by these words, just as Conrad Aiken, poet and Savannah native was, in seeing the ship name, "Cosmos Mariner" and later discovering through the shipping news, two additional mysteriously enticing words, "Destination Unknown."

I think about attachment and impermanence, living on a barrier island, destination unknown. Living in liminal space -- between land and sea -- certainly adds another level. Barrier islands provide protection and are vulnerable at the same time. All these delightful words and concepts permeate my thoughts as i ride, and write and see...

Thank you for allowing me to share these moments of light and form, stilled in time by the press of a button.

Wherever this road leads, there is no other journey I'd rather be on and no other island I'd rather call home...
I hope I meet you here.

Namasté
Judy

both sides of the glass

(Bits and Peaces Photography) — Wed, 15 Feb 2017 05:21:04 GMT

through the windshield of my 5-speed Honda Civic packed to the gills, my eyes fix squarely on the 89 year old figure of a woman that is my mother staring back at me through the same glass barrier. Her little, aptly named, Ginger dog stands a few feet in front of her on the crisp frozen grass of her front lawn in rural upstate new york.

Our cameras raised, we simultaneously snap photos of each other — me with my heavy full frame and her with a light-weight, wallet-sized point and shoot. Clearer than ever, I see me in her, her in me. She sees me in her and her in me. Lives intertwined moving in opposite directions, our cameras give way to gravity and pensive farewell waves.

This is hard for her -- her youngest now in her 5th decade leaving for months on a long road trip to places she no longer visits and some she never will. She worries about my safety and wonders if she will ever see me again. I know quite well by now, how she thinks. On the other side of the glass I pause and wonder the same about her, the snapshot of her waving goodbye etched in my mind as I shift into first gear...

Travelogue ~ Stardate January 28, 2017

(Bits and Peaces Photography) — Tue, 31 Jan 2017 15:24:01 GMT

my first word.

Batman gloves and a fairy door are amongst the many treasured possessions crammed into my little Honda Civic as i ‘point my toes in the direction.’ Traveling through the finger lakes of upstate New York en route to the posh horse shows in Wellington, Florida to post - Fidel, pre - Walmart Cuba, I am at once exhausted, elated and extremely curious.

Road trips are great for thinking — but not so much for writing things down. Untethered by the steady hum of the motor and wheels on pavement my brain swirls with bits and peaces [sic] of blogs I hope —but doubt— I’ll recall later. As I race down route 89 South towards my 89 year old mother whose health runs in a similar direction, my past dances with the present and mingles with the future.

A friend called me batgirl when he saw the gloves. “Batman,” I corrected. I bought them several years ago — the kind with the open fingertips -- so i could hold and throw a disc (Frisbee) properly without the loss of contact with the rim and because, well…

“Batman” was my first word, I told my friends’ three young children at the beginning of our photo play date recently. True story. When I was very young — the age little people begin to formulate words — I would sit on the sofa between my two older sisters while they stared religiously at the small black and white teevee screen in our humble living room — same bat time, same bat channel. One fine, nana-nana-nana-nana day, “BATMAN!” passed through my lips — not mommy, not daddy. It’s in my baby book. My friends’ two boys whipped open their jackets revealing their shirts exclaiming, “I’m Superman!” “I’m Spiderman!” Their sister remained unimpressed, won over later by a fairy door and donut holes. :)

My gaze and thoughts drift across the familiar waters of Cayuga - the finger lake with bookends of Montezuma’s Wildlife Refuge and Ithaca, subjects of countless images I’ve snapped on innumerable treks between Rochester and Owego over the past two and a half decades.

and i wonder…

what will be my last word? will I know it when I say it? does anyone? Do people plan this? et tu, Brute?! Would my exit pronouncement be as atypical as, well, i am? Holy Toledo, Batman! I really hope my last word is ‘grateful’ or something along those lines — for each breath, for this precious human life and for all the beautiful beings sharing this ride on this amazing planet. “Remember to look both ways, Robin!” Holy Namasté.