Archive for Sharon Springs
BANK Gallery presents Vicki Whicker’s iPhoneography
Dunga Brook Diary: On The Road
204 Main, Ste. B
Sharon Springs, NY
“This is my Love Letter to Central New York.”
BANK Gallery@Decades Showroom is the location for the Friday night, May 31st, opening of iPhoneographer Vicki Whicker’s exhibit, Dunga Brook Diary: On The Road.
Dunga Brook Diary: On The Road features evocative 8x 8″ limited edition photo images of Central New York infused directly to metal and float mounted. Each image sold at the opening will be signed and numbered and will be on exhibit at BANK Gallery for the month of June.
“Coming from LA, this is another paradise- the lush trees, the long country roads lined with Queen Anne’s Lace big as pie plates, the crimson and gold fall leaves, those first pristine snow flakes of winter.”
Dunga Brook Diary: On The Road is opening, Friday, May 31, from 6-9pm at BANK Gallery@Decades Showroom, 204 Main, Ste. B., Sharon Springs, New York. http://www.DungaBrookDiary.com
Praise for Vicki Whicker’s Images
“Looking doesn’t have to get any better than this, Vicki Whicker demonstrates a mastery of this genre through wit, heart, critical awareness, style, technique, and an infectious appreciation of her subject matter.” Kristen Henderson, Director Cherry Branch Gallery, Cherry Valley, NY
“Vicki Whicker has an eye and a heart that go together to create images which are both profoundly moving and beautiful. She has an especially fine and original take on micro images, showing us in close up magnification the glory of nature around her, things we would never see on our own.” Ronee Blakley, Actress/Singer/Songwriter, Los Angeles, CA
“Such an eye! We are blessed that Ms. Vicki Whicker is able to capture and reveal the glory of natural reality with such exquisite precision, taste and charm. If her photography was music, it would sound like Beethoven, Sinatra and the Beatles combined…”
Miss Pamela Des Barres, Author, Founder, Groupie Couture, Venice Beach, California
“Coming from nearly 20 years as a professional graphic designer and now a full-time, fine arts painter, I have always appreciated the style and care in which Vicki has portrayed in her photo works. Her images transcend the usual “pretty picture” snapshot… capturing another level of thought passion and narrative. They are scenes that I can get lost in and the more I look, the more they tell me. Truly works of art and passion.”
Steve Curry, Fine Artist, Ojai, CA
“Looking doesn’t have to get any better than this, Vicki Whicker demonstrates a mastery of this genre through wit, heart, critical awareness, style, technique, and an infectious appreciation of her subject matter.” Kristen Henderson, the Director of Cherry Branch Gallery, Cherry Valley, NY
EARLY FALL CORN
I LOVE MY TREE
COUNTY HIGHWAY 19
FALL S CURVE
YOUR DAILY BUCOLIC
“What if we use these tomatoes to help other small farmers pay off their mortgages?”
Just last year at the Sharon Springs Garden Party, I saw some of these brilliant green starter tomato plants with the funny name and I thought…hmmmm, Mortgage Lifter.
Of course, Brent and Josh, The Fabulous Beekman Boys, saw them and thought, hah! Mortgage Lifter!
After winning The Amazing Race last fall and paying off their own farm mortgage, Brent and Josh got to cooking up a great idea with their crop of Mortgage Lifter tomatoes.
For every jar purchased they will donating 25% of the profits of this sauce to directly help struggling small American farmers. Maybe even pay off a few mortgages.
If you can, buy a jar, taste a bit of heaven and spread the word.
It is what we country folk do.
If you are a retailer and you’d like to learn more about the fabulous range of Beekman 1802 products, email me…director, wholesale for Beekman 1802!
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…
“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.