Dunga Brook Diary

The rural life through the lens of an iPhone and notes from the field…

Archive for beauty

Zinnia Bud, 2012

Zinnia Bud, 2012

“The earth has music for those who listen.”
― George Santayana

I have been spending every extra moment searching for photos on my recovered hd files, photos for my show on April 6th, I can safely say I have looked at over 6,000 photos in the past month or so, enough that I can’t tell you anymore why I took them, how I took them, why one looks this way and another looks that way, there are so many pictures that I think, aha! this one! until I have a folder of over 500 photos that have to be culled down to 50, all I know is that this picture didn’t make the cut, mainly because there are three other flowers with dew drops clinging to spider webs that trump it and also because I had no idea this existed until I saw it just now…so much beauty in the world, it is crazy making, you know?

Advertisements

Tuesday, A Boy Adrift and a Quiver of Dylan Thomas

Tuesday,  A Boy In Water and a Quote from

“My tears are like the quiet drift of petals from some magic rose; and all my grief flows from the rift of unremembered skies and snows. I think that if I touched the earth, it would crumble; it is so sad and beautiful, so tremulously like a dream.”
― Dylan Thomas

Dunga brook Diary: A Year of Seeing Differently

Dunga brook Diary: A Year of Seeing Differently

April 6th at 5pm, opening reception at Cherry Branch Gallery, Cherry Valley, NY.

“When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence.”
~Ansel Adams

Leaving LA after 25 years felt like the right thing to do. LA was a pit stop, a very complicated, very expensive pit stop on my journey through life.

On the road from LA to NY, I followed my son in his truck and took iPhone photos through my truck’s windshield. Mostly of his tail lights.

I’m an old hand at leaving. But this cross-country move was different, I was uprooting someone else’s life.

Connor was off to college in the fall and somehow I’d justified it in my mind that moving the day after he graduated from HS in LA would be the best timing for both of us.

I didn’t cry during our going away party, I didn’t cry as we packed, when we drove away, as the hours and the miles across the deserts and mountains ticked by.

Across the plains, the skies were a cathedral of thunderheads, rainbows that went straight up and down, lightning that streaked sideways.

I took photos through my truck window of those things, too.

We landed in central New York to renovate an 1820’s farmhouse that I’d bought, sight unseen, from a post of Facebook.

As my new life began to take shape in the summer before Connor left for university, I took photographs of everything.

By the time the old house was renovated, Connor was at school and I had taken well over 20,000 photographs.

And I had carpal tunnel from uploading and editing all those photos but I couldn’t stop- the beauty of the land surrounding me was astounding.

I cried at night because my arm hurt so bad but the tears were different from the tears that I cried as I followed his red tail lights into those storms, heading east.

Those were tears of joy, realizing what a fine young man he had turned into, a brave soul, ready for adventure, a young man who faced the open road with open mind and heart.

My show at the Cherry Branch Gallery is a celebration of central New York and the life one can find in the middle of letting go.

Friday morning dreams of summer in CNY with a drop of Thoreau in your coffee

mistybarn

“One must maintain a little bittle of summer, even in the middle of winter.”
~Henry David Thoreau

A little Erma Bombek and a little Margo In The Kitchen

white gown

Sausage day and she is all in…

“No one ever died from sleeping in an unmade bed.”
~Erma Bombeck

Dunga Brook Diary, 2/28/13

Yesterday, I sat with Kristen, the gallery director at Cherry Branch Gallery. Prepping for my show, we were scouring each and every picture I have uploaded to FB in the past year and a half, she’s picking her favorites and categorizing them.

There are about 7 folders of pictures so far, my favorite being the “I can’t live without” folder, loaded with pictures that make her sigh, close her eyes and drop her head in exhausted ecstasy. There are a lot of pictures to look through. She might just be tired.

When I see my photos through her editing eyes, I can see we are going to have a kick ass show.

One thing I don’t have many of are “people photos”. This is Margo, my neighbor, making sausage in her kitchen last summer, you can’t see Tim who is half-naked with a tattoo across his shoulder’s that reads, “Grace”. Margo is in this lovely white Grecian gown that looks like it cost about a dollar but you could take her anywhere.

Kristen would drop sigh, drop her head and close her eyes at this photo, too, but she hasn’t seen it yet. When she does she will drop into the folder “special effects” because I photoshopped it. She will ask me to find the original. She likes purity.

And I will. But I couldn’t resist photoshopping it last night, Margo is a work of art.

A big hug and XO to you, Kristen.

V

Wednesday scene from (one dreams) the last snow of the season…

Wednesday scene from (one dreams) the last snow of the season...

I love old barns, each one a snowflake and their elegant dissolve, slow motion as it is, is a thing of beauty to behold.

A nip of Einstein and A Dragonfly for your Miracle Monday

dragonfly

“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”
~Albert Einstein

Well, it’s settled then. Monday’s are miracles. Period.

A little Steinbeck and a click of Dunga Brook last February

Dunga Brook, Feb 2012

“What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.”
~John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley: In Search of America

County Highway 19 and a tiny slap of Bukowski…plus Dunga Brook Diary in which I confess my Dream of being an iphone Ansel Adams…

County Highway 19

County Highway 19

“I loved you like a man loves a woman he never touches, only writes to, keeps little photographs of.” ~Charles Bukowski, Love is a Dog from Hell

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dunga Brook Diary, looking back, spring/summer 2011…

I bought a farmhouse that I found on Facebook.

I bought a farmhouse that  I found on Facebook named Dunga Brook, the original homestead of  a 2,000 acre dairy farm built in the 1820’s.

I bought a farmhouse with an acre of land, in a place I had never heard of,  for $10,000, because of a post on Facebook.

Why did I do this? Because , because, because, because, because…

Because, I was on Facebook. Because back then I had that much money in the bank. Because I was without ties, because I was over my career in fashion, because I had a number one and only son who was going off to college in August, because if I didn’t do something drastic I would lose my mind when he left, because I had 25 years in LA under my belt (because 25 of those years had been spent wishing I was somewhere small town USA else), because, basically, I had to.

I wrote a poem once with the line, “the tragic leap is the only dance-step I know…”. Melodramatic, yes, but what I meant was, I don’t do things in half-measures. All in or all out.

My moves aren’t predicated on logic, wisdom, reality, time and space continuums, obligations, duty, society…when the voice inside my head says, “its time,” I dance.

So, when Tim Giblin, a man I  barely new from an LA poetry class, posted a picture of a farmhouse on Facebook somewhere in New York on an April morning in 2011, I bought it.

Dunga Brook was for sale by owner and Tim, who lived next door, wanted someone he knew to be his new neighbor.

Turns out, you want to like your neighbors in the middle of nowhere.

I don’t think I was what he had in mind but if he was disappointed, he never let on.

That summer, my son and I had to live in a campground while Dunga Brook was being renovated. God knows we couldn’t live in her, she had been torn down by the elements (rain, snow, rain, snow, wind, rain, snow) and had been sorely mistreated by the last tenants who were, literally, squatters.

The squatters had destroyed a few of the things that the elements hadn’t yet (like the stairs to the second floor and the electrical panel in the stone basement) as a good ole country FU and goodbye.

Seems, the owner of the house had called the squatter’s closest relative, an uncle who once rented the house, and told him to deliver this message…”get out or we’ll burn the house down with you in it.” They did get out.

The KOA campground was the only place left for long-term rental that summer. I had no idea when I bought Dunga Brook that she was in the middle of the Cooperstown Dreams Park baseball summer mania.

Turns out that this little nowhere land turns into baseball central all summer long- there are baseball parks, baseball memorabilia shops, The Baseball Museum, baseball Hall of Famers are inducted out here, and the families of all the little baseballers from all over the world rent every little home and hotel room there is to be found while they pursue their mini major league Dreams in that Park.

So, into the last  rental camper trailer at the KOA we went. Which thrilled my soon to be off to college son, Connor, to no end. His Dream had always been to live in a trailer.

That trailer magically led to a reconnection to my Dream. I practically grew up in a camper. My dad dragged us to every campground in the state of Florida and up the coast to Maine in back when I was a child. Camping is in my bones, my heart and my soul.

What camping meant to a shy little girl was hours and hours of roam time, commune time, Dream time with all the little creatures and plants and water bodies of the earth.

And here I was, iphone in hand, lucid dreaming in a land of such staggering beauty that I couldn’t understand what the big deal was with all that migration west . Who could leave this place?

Thanks to that migration, CNY – as compared to LA – was essentially empty, save the baseballers and their families crowded into Cooperstown Dreams Park.

Suddenly, I understood what I was meant to do with that iPhone in my hand. Take pictures. Take a million bazillion gazillion pictures of my Dream. Lay down in the grass with my face in the dirt and breathe. Look up to the sky at the clouds marching by and breathe. click. click. click.

Suffice it to say,  I took over 20,000 iPhone pictures that summer while I waited for that house to be rebuilt and not one human besides my son and my shadow got in the way of a sunset, a sunrise, a crystal clear lake, a wild flower, a you name it.

By fall, I had carpal tunnel. Turns out you can’t just take 20,000 iPhone pictures, edit them and upload them to Facebook, regale everyone with the beauty you have found, the Dream you have landed in the middle of, without paying a price.

I would lie in bed at night, my right arm in the air and cry, it hurt so bad. I googled iPhone and carpal tunnel and ah ha, yes, of course.

Luckily for me, there are a lot of great people up here, that is the yummy  little secret of this place.

Yes, it is in the middle of nowhere, NYC is 4 hours away, Boston, the same, the nearest Starbucks is 90 miles away (this is how a LA person views the world)…but the people who live up here are amazing, educated, brilliant, fun, artistic, earthy, gorgeous, adventurous, and exactly what I wasn’t expecting to find.

Somehow, between taking a picture of everything that did and didn’t move, I met all of them.

My carpal tunnel was cured by one of the best massage therapists I have ever met who also, to my great delight, somehow ended here. Cheryl Rosen of The Spring House Spa in Sharon Springs saved my life. Well, my arm. And a lot of sleepless nights.

This April, 6th, 2013, I have a *photography show at the Cherry Branch Gallery, two years from the day that Tim Giblin posted a picture of a little broken farmhouse named Dunga Brook on Facebook.

*Vicki Whicker shoots all her photos with an iPhone, edits them in iphoto and pic monkey and Dreams of being an iPhone Ansel Adams.

https://www.facebook.com/cherrybranchgallery?fref=ts

https://www.facebook.com/SpringHouseSpa?fref=ts

https://www.facebook.com/cooperstown.koa?fref=ts

https://www.facebook.com/search/web/?q=cooperstown%20dreams%20park&form=FBKBFA&wssk=FR0AS0&wssp=1&wspq=Cooerstown&wssrc=2&wssc=6-10&wsbp=6-1&fref=ts

 

 

Yellow flower with a touch of Keats for your coffee…

Widflower, Summer 2012

“Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and trouble is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?” ~John Keats

 

Via Kevin Sessums: “John Keats penned this in 1819, to George and Georgina Keats in a letter that has become known as The Vale of Soul-Making.” 

https://www.facebook.com/kevin.sessums.7/posts/10151512124153708

http://www.mrbauld.com/keatsva.html

http://pinterest.com/pin/55169164157570691/

The Angelena

Life in Los Angeles and Beyond

A Life in Poetry

The rural life through the lens of an iPhone and notes from the field...

Feather, Pencil, Trowel & Moon

The rural life through the lens of an iPhone and notes from the field...

Magpie's Nest ~*~ Patty Szymkowicz

"It is a happy talent to know how to play" --Ralph Waldo Emerson

Old House | New Life

A City Girl in the Countryside

theflexifoodie.wordpress.com/

Delicious plant-based, whole food recipes & my healthy living tips!

Just A Patriot.com

This WordPress.com site is the bee's knees

Mickey Math

Calculating the happiest place.

visit jess janz.

thoughts and adventures of a girl with a song.

artgland

the secretion of art by Rhian Ferrer

Denise in Detail

Things that make me tick

Zenkatwrites's Blog

Musings from an Artist + Writer

Davide Capponi photography

Photographic art by Davide Capponi

Demberisms

Hey, I was just thinking...

Painting Stuff to Look Like Stuff

The rural life through the lens of an iPhone and notes from the field...

California Girl Exploring Art

Exploring art, architecture and design

Dave's Point of View

The finest technology, entertainment and life source on the web

Paul Toussaint

Mobile Master, Curator, iPhoneographer

kara fox

things