Charles Marville: Photographer of Paris

A friend asked me if I live at the Museum of Fine Arts Houston. No, but sometime I wish it were so.

I attended this exhibit, Charles Marville: Photographer of Paris, with a Meetup Group. This gathering of people who appreciate art in all forms came together on Thursday evening to view a collection of photos by Marville, who worked as the official photographer for the city of Paris in the mid 1800's.

The photographs capture cityscape as still life and inspired in me feelings of sadness for inevitable sweep of change to come. Pay attention to the small details, for certainly Marville did. He caught the industrial bits and pieces that were new but also transient.

The technical descriptions of the photography were inspiring for this neophyte, as well.

Charles Marville: Photographer of Paris
Through 9/14/2014
Beck Building, Lower Level
Museum of Fine Arts Houston
Admission to this exhibit included with your general admission ticket

Super Sunday

It's another sunny weekend in Texas.  I love how that works out.  I'm about to go outside for a dose of it but first wanted to put down a few lines that are bouncing around in my head this morning.

I'm feeling homesick again. 

It's not so much Kansas as it is for my family.  It's funny how today seems like a holiday.  Super Bowl Sunday is a day for gatherings.  I don't care about this game.  I'm not invested one bit in either team playing.  I have a vague idea about a couple of coaching brothers on opposing teams and I imagine there will be plenty of talk about their parents and pride and yada, yada, yada.  I'd like to see the commercials and the half-time performance.  I can do without the temptations of chips and dips.  I'd totally cave. 

I miss stepping over my brother's legs as he sits on the couch with one of the kids nestled into his side, watching the game, a bottle of beer half-finished on the coffee table.  I miss leaning against the kitchen counter and listening while my sister-in-law tells me what's going on at her job.  I miss a crockpot on the table with cocktail sausages in a  bubbling, boiling goo of BBQ sauce and someone asking if we're supposed to stab these with toothpicks...or what?

I miss sheetcake with fingerprints of icing scooped out of the side.

I miss a trashcan standing by the back steps piled high with paper plates.

Last night I watched the History Channel's "Hatfields & McCoys".  Excellent movie.  I don't think I learned a lot I didn't already know about that bunch of warring hillbillies.  I was moved by the portrayal of family loyalty and (at times) affection.  I'm trying to think of anything our family held in common with those families besides loyalty and affection.

Hmmm...Don't recall any punchin', shootin', or spittin'.  Well the kids spit up plenty. 

The dogs.  We sure loved our dogs. 

And we understood our history.  We knew where we came from and we embraced our common bond.  Below is a picture of my grandmother's grandparents.  I keep this photo in my dining room.  They were of the same generation as Devil Anse and Randolph. 

Happy Sunday, Everyone.  I hope yours is super. 

Fam:   I miss you and love you.  Have a bite of Rotel for me today.  I'll be out taking pics in this city while everyone is inside.   :)))))))    M

Surface Tension

I work in a busy clinic. I live in the busiest part of my town. I've been known to go to sleep with pillows over my head. To escape, I walk. I walk miles and miles and then I walk more.

I rarely have music with me. No headphones. Oh, I have music playing in my head. I wish it was the last sweet song I heard on a long car ride home. More likely it's from some ridiculous commercial. I'd like to smack that Jack In The Box guy in the head. Just once. Jumbaca? Really? Of all the stupid jingles I've heard in my life, this one has convinced me more than any never to purchase anything from that company. Anyway...

I try to walk in relative silence: listening for my footsteps, for calling birds, for rustling leaves, for anything that signals life to me. It seems that when I attempt to listen past the cars and airplanes, past city noise and on to nature, I reach a point where I am no longer attempting. I move past reaching for soothing sound and I am open to receiving other calming sensation. Often it comes in the form of visual beauty. This feels like a form of disappearing and it feels marvelous.

I've found that I can disappear behind the lens of my camera easier than anywhere else. There (focused on something beautiful), I lose track of time. I don't hear inane commercials. I don't worry about what's for dinner later - when I'm most likely alone. My mind shuts down and I move in on one single object for as long as it takes.

I love to photograph water dropping off of almost any surface. I can't tell when the shot will "happen". It may never. Sometimes I stand up straight, look around and long to ask someone, "Do you see that?" Isn't it beautiful? The tension is almost as beautiful as the subject. Maybe you have to be there.









©Michelle Scofield, January 10, 2012 All Rights Reserved