Thursday, December 18, 2008
Sunday, November 23, 2008
A tribute to my Mom
My Mom, Beverly Rosen, passed away the morning of November 21st in her home. My Dad and I held her in our arms as she passed.
This is what I said at her funeral just a few hours ago:
My Mom had more than her share of health challenges. She went through five bouts of cancer, years of stomach problems, arthritis, and on and on. When someone would find out about her medical history, they'd say "You poor thing, you've had such a hard life".
She knew that this came from a good place in people's hearts. But it still drove her crazy because she never thought of herself as being a "poor thing", and she never wanted anyone to feel sorry for her.
She wasn't a victim, she was a fighter. A ferocious fighter who faced down cancer and managed to beat it four times. And each time I could see her come out of it treasuring life that much more. She had truly learned how precious life is, so she held the most important thing in her life, her family, that much closer to her heart, relishing each day, and savoring each moment.
She loved the way the warmth of the sun felt on her face, and she would go to great lengths to sit in the sun.
If it was a chilly day, she'd take her lawn chair outside and find the one tiny sliver of sunlight so she could sit down, lift her face up, and warm it. As the sun moved its way across the sky, she would drag the lawn chair to follow it. Once, I sat with her. We started at the front door, and we ended up moving all the way across the lawn and down to the sidewalk, six inches at a time. She'd sit and sigh and say how wonderful it felt and then she'd move six more inches and do it again.
That was my Mom. Able to find the tiny sliver of warm sunlight on an otherwise dark and dreary day. So when you remember her, please don't think "Poor Beverly".
Instead, hold you're loved ones a little closer the way she would, relish each day and savor each moment a little more the way she would. And turn your face up and let the sun's rays wash over you, and when you feel that warmth, remember, that's my Mom.
This is what I said at her funeral just a few hours ago:
My Mom had more than her share of health challenges. She went through five bouts of cancer, years of stomach problems, arthritis, and on and on. When someone would find out about her medical history, they'd say "You poor thing, you've had such a hard life".
She knew that this came from a good place in people's hearts. But it still drove her crazy because she never thought of herself as being a "poor thing", and she never wanted anyone to feel sorry for her.
She wasn't a victim, she was a fighter. A ferocious fighter who faced down cancer and managed to beat it four times. And each time I could see her come out of it treasuring life that much more. She had truly learned how precious life is, so she held the most important thing in her life, her family, that much closer to her heart, relishing each day, and savoring each moment.
She loved the way the warmth of the sun felt on her face, and she would go to great lengths to sit in the sun.
If it was a chilly day, she'd take her lawn chair outside and find the one tiny sliver of sunlight so she could sit down, lift her face up, and warm it. As the sun moved its way across the sky, she would drag the lawn chair to follow it. Once, I sat with her. We started at the front door, and we ended up moving all the way across the lawn and down to the sidewalk, six inches at a time. She'd sit and sigh and say how wonderful it felt and then she'd move six more inches and do it again.
That was my Mom. Able to find the tiny sliver of warm sunlight on an otherwise dark and dreary day. So when you remember her, please don't think "Poor Beverly".
Instead, hold you're loved ones a little closer the way she would, relish each day and savor each moment a little more the way she would. And turn your face up and let the sun's rays wash over you, and when you feel that warmth, remember, that's my Mom.
A portrait taken by me a few years back. The closest I could get to having her pose for a formal. Taken in a hotel room by the window with a lamp providing the golden glow.
A formal studio portrait taken not long before she got married. She must be in her late teens here. She looked like a movie star.
Me and my Mom at my Aunt's wedding. I wish I still had that suit. I'm looking pretty damn spiffy. And my Mom should have worn a tiara every day.
Picnic time with me and my sister.
My Mom holding my sister Randi. There's something mysterious about the expression on my Mom's face that makes this picture fascinating for me.
The happy family. Right after I was born. The first and last time I ever wore an athletic uniform.
The whole family, mid sixties.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Civil War reenactment.
I found myself on Governor's Island this past weekend where an encampment of Civil War re-enactors were teaching us all about the Civil War. They were all wonderful models, and I had a great time afterward working on the post processing of the image. I did research on Matthew Brady, who was a famous photographer of the period, and worked hard to come up with an approach that looked authentic to the period. If these folks went to so much trouble to dress and act authentically to the period, it was the least I could do.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Shanghai Vice
This Saturday I went to another party by Dances of Vice at the beautiful Montauk Club here in Brooklyn. The theme for this party was Shanghai in the twenties and the wonderful creative period dress didn't disappoint. I love shooting portraits at this event using the dark ambient light to create my version of hand painted tintypes. Below are just a few of my favorite images from that night.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
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