by christine wong yap
"take charge of your happiness" 2011. ribbon, thread, pins. 83 x 2 inches.
"hopexpectation" 2011. ribbon, thread, pins. 101 x 18 inches.
at the jenkins johnson gallery
521 west 26th street, 5th floor
ny, ny
***
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Friday, July 29, 2011
rollin' - rollin' - rollin'
i wish i had a zoom lens for this scene, but was happy to just be rink side for a little while... photos seem like a bonus.
i might try to head over there a few more times before it folds (maybe even with skates?)
***
all photos from july 28, 2011
© anita aguilar
Thursday, July 28, 2011
read a good poem: pleasures
pleasures
I like to find
what's not found
at once, but lies
within something of another nature,
in repose, distinct.
Gull feathers of glass, hidden
in white pulp: the bones of squid
which I pull out and lay
blade by blade on the draining board—
tapered as if for swiftness, to pierce
the heart, but fragile, substance
belying design. Or a fruit, mamey,
cased in rough brown peel, the flesh
rose-amber, and the seed:
the seed a stone of wood, carved and
polished, walnut-colored, formed
like a brazilnut, but large,
large enough to fill
the hungry palm of a hand.
I like the juicy stem of grass that grows
within the coarser leaf folded round,
and the butteryellow glow
in the narrow flute from which the morning-glory
opens blue and cool on a hot morning.
(via the poetry foundation)
***
if you like grass and posies and "urban jungles," maybe you'll like some of the shots from the high line.
(a sure sign that i've lived in ny too long--i got snap happy for GRASS.)
what i envisioned for each shot was a little more remarkable than what i caught. sort of frustrating. i almost didn't post them here. but the poem reminded me of what i loved about being there on saturday, and what i loved on sight.
the appeal of some things are obvious: a tall stalk with lavender buds, standing strong against concrete and broken glass, or the wild way a sunflower sweeps across a small plot--lazy, but like it owned the place. i liked that the planting is an attempt to force a bit of symmetry, but that much of it is left to grow in its own raggedly beautiful way. i like the thicker, more exotic and fragrant brush of the south end. all the dark greens and deep purples. but maybe more than anything i like the feeling of remembering, rediscovering beauty, every time i'm there. it's hard to not want to try to capture that, and take it home with me.
so while maybe no individual shot is strong enough to stand on its own, perhaps --perhaps-- as a collection, they give you a good view.
I like to find
what's not found
at once, but lies
within something of another nature,
in repose, distinct.
Gull feathers of glass, hidden
in white pulp: the bones of squid
which I pull out and lay
blade by blade on the draining board—
tapered as if for swiftness, to pierce
the heart, but fragile, substance
belying design. Or a fruit, mamey,
cased in rough brown peel, the flesh
rose-amber, and the seed:
the seed a stone of wood, carved and
polished, walnut-colored, formed
like a brazilnut, but large,
large enough to fill
the hungry palm of a hand.
I like the juicy stem of grass that grows
within the coarser leaf folded round,
and the butteryellow glow
in the narrow flute from which the morning-glory
opens blue and cool on a hot morning.
(via the poetry foundation)
***
if you like grass and posies and "urban jungles," maybe you'll like some of the shots from the high line.
(a sure sign that i've lived in ny too long--i got snap happy for GRASS.)
what i envisioned for each shot was a little more remarkable than what i caught. sort of frustrating. i almost didn't post them here. but the poem reminded me of what i loved about being there on saturday, and what i loved on sight.
the appeal of some things are obvious: a tall stalk with lavender buds, standing strong against concrete and broken glass, or the wild way a sunflower sweeps across a small plot--lazy, but like it owned the place. i liked that the planting is an attempt to force a bit of symmetry, but that much of it is left to grow in its own raggedly beautiful way. i like the thicker, more exotic and fragrant brush of the south end. all the dark greens and deep purples. but maybe more than anything i like the feeling of remembering, rediscovering beauty, every time i'm there. it's hard to not want to try to capture that, and take it home with me.
so while maybe no individual shot is strong enough to stand on its own, perhaps --perhaps-- as a collection, they give you a good view.
and maybe you'll want to head over there, too.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
ladies' day: hitting the highline (summer 2011 edition)
there seems to be no middle ground for us ladies when we hit the high line together.
flash-freeze temps in january (though, why was i not wearing a hat?)
on the last saturday in july, it was a slow boil all the way.
but the place is pretty in all kinds of weather, and it's especially fragrant on the southern end right now.
here's the first of 3 sets (i think):
flash-freeze temps in january (though, why was i not wearing a hat?)
on the last saturday in july, it was a slow boil all the way.
but the place is pretty in all kinds of weather, and it's especially fragrant on the southern end right now.
here's the first of 3 sets (i think):
***
hmm. i am not looking so fresh-faced, but i love contrasting this with the shot below:
how do the ladies stay so cool-looking?
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Friday, July 22, 2011
i don't know/but i like (heart it races)
there's an installation at the sprint store, in the flatiron-- an explosion of colorful twist ties, vinyl tape, yarn, cellophane paper and hair tinsel -- by miles neidinger. it's called "everything we see is never enough." i don't know if i like the art as much as i like the title, but i do love how the surrounding buildings look, reflected in the windows, against the messy bright strings.
i tried taking a few photos; of them, this is my favorite. though i'm not sure if the rorschach-y, shadowy black looks like anything to anyone but me?
but as i was thinking about all of this at work yesterday, i heard this tune (love the groove). i have no idea what the lyrics mean, but for some reason, to me, it goes with the photo. might be as simple as the "knots in our laces line."
i don't know, but i like it. hope you do, too
i tried taking a few photos; of them, this is my favorite. though i'm not sure if the rorschach-y, shadowy black looks like anything to anyone but me?
but as i was thinking about all of this at work yesterday, i heard this tune (love the groove). i have no idea what the lyrics mean, but for some reason, to me, it goes with the photo. might be as simple as the "knots in our laces line."
i don't know, but i like it. hope you do, too
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Monday, July 18, 2011
paris postcard: downtown trains
"all of my dreams just fall like rain..."
at gare montparnasse
at gare montparnasse
ah yes, i remember her well: i would see this girl, 2 days later, in st. germain.
***
all photos © anita aguilar
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
paris postcard: brief encounter
there was one day during my stay in paris when the sky seemed to promise a storm. it was so haunting and magnificent, of course i had to try to make a worthy photo.
monsieur crepe-maker is joseph karadeniz, and when he is not making "the best crepes" (in montparnasse? in paris? i don't remember exactly how broadly he defined it, but he definitely said his are "the best"), he is a photographer. (he incidentally informed me that the canon lens i just bought, the 24mm-70mm 2.8, was "the wrong one." everybody's a critic.) his takeout space is decorated with really nice black and white photos that he took of his customers and friends.
i really didn't mind his judgment--i thought it was funny. i was mostly pleased that he wanted to chat. i don't speak french, so most interactions i had while i was on my own in paris were limited to nodding and sign language. this was a welcome exchange, the kind of encounter that wasn't anticipated --nor was it really necessary. but in retrospect it gives some dimension, a local touch, to the collection of memories from the trip. and i'm grateful for it.
it wasn't long before he'd convinced me to try one of his sugar crepes, even though i wasn't hungry at all at that moment.
i love crepes when they are lightly dressed with sugar or with lemon and sugar. this was my first crepe of the trip--i would only have one more--so, hard to vote "best." but it was good, and it will remain a sentimental favorite.
i couldn't get the balance quite right--to get the true color of the clouds meant the foreground was almost completely obscured; to expose the street and cafe meant the sky would appear too light. i gave up after a few shots and trained my lens on a line that was forming in front of cafe de la place. there was a little "annex" -- a crepe take-out window!--that i hadn't stopped to notice earlier in the week. there was steady business there, especially considering how quiet the neighborhood was that morning.
i stood across the street for several minutes, trying to get a shot of "the scene." and then the yelling started. it was the crepe maker-- he waved me over. it wasn't angry yelling--though my first impulse was, still, to flee. but then i realized, he wasn't really gonna be able to do anything to me, trapped in that little glass box as he was. so i approached him.
he wanted to see the photos. i dreaded this, only because i knew they weren't so good. he gave me grudging nod. in between crepe-ing, he started a nice talk.
monsieur crepe-maker is joseph karadeniz, and when he is not making "the best crepes" (in montparnasse? in paris? i don't remember exactly how broadly he defined it, but he definitely said his are "the best"), he is a photographer. (he incidentally informed me that the canon lens i just bought, the 24mm-70mm 2.8, was "the wrong one." everybody's a critic.) his takeout space is decorated with really nice black and white photos that he took of his customers and friends.
i really didn't mind his judgment--i thought it was funny. i was mostly pleased that he wanted to chat. i don't speak french, so most interactions i had while i was on my own in paris were limited to nodding and sign language. this was a welcome exchange, the kind of encounter that wasn't anticipated --nor was it really necessary. but in retrospect it gives some dimension, a local touch, to the collection of memories from the trip. and i'm grateful for it.
it wasn't long before he'd convinced me to try one of his sugar crepes, even though i wasn't hungry at all at that moment.
i love crepes when they are lightly dressed with sugar or with lemon and sugar. this was my first crepe of the trip--i would only have one more--so, hard to vote "best." but it was good, and it will remain a sentimental favorite. ***
cafe de la place is located at 23 rue odessa, in montparnasse (at the triangle between boulevard edgar quinet and rue du montparnasse, and near the entrance to the edgar quinet metro stop, on the 6 line)
***
and you can check out joseph's photos here
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
paris postcard: pedal pushers
"anita can't ride a bike."
that's one of our big family secrets/jokes. i mean, i can. now. sort of.
we moved to paramus when i was in the second grade. we lived in a new development of two-family houses, on the edge of a cul de sac. we had lived in the bronx before then and play time outside was always a coordinated event after school or at a park, so it was neat to have, with the mere sliding of a glass door, a wide green space for cart-wheeling and a whole block that we could own in the afternoons. all the kids had bikes, and so my sister and i learned to ride, too.
i don't recall needing training wheels for too long--it was the turns got me. i always felt like i'd fall over! i'd breeze along, on my hot pink number, with the hot pink and white striped banana seat and the little vanity plate (which, trust me, took forever to find in paramus in the 1970s) and at the end of the cul de sac, i'd hop off the bike, walk it around the turn, and then get back on.
ridiculous, embarrassing, and no one in the family could figure out how i -- such an athletic little thing-- couldn't navigate a damn turn. it must have taken me a really long time to learn it--or it was just that compelling a picture--because it fed into the "can't ride a bike" reputation that haunts me now. part of me must believe it too, since it doesn't seem like a natural activity for me to pursue.
but paris makes you dreamy about such things. i considered renting a bike a few times during this trip but i remembered a promise to my aunt, that i'd send her a post card. i couldn't possibly risk riding along the streets of paris until i wrote to her...dear tita celia. paris is in full bloom. i love the big sky and the strong coffee. i thought of you as we dined at closerie las lilas. will rent a bike this afternoon...xoxo...
***
some cool riders
first bike shot.
ooh la la --lace dress!
in st. germain
riverside--left bank
in st. germain
rue bonaparte...
in st. germain
in st. germain
my favorite guy: in montparnasse
Sunday, July 10, 2011
paris postcard: mo-tor-in
guy or gal? cool anyhow. snapped this one while waiting for a taxi, near roland garros...
in the nameless 17th.
she's driving--love it.
and you can't tell from this photo but she's got an interlocking N-Y on her pink helmet.
a yankee fan in paris. hooray.
st. germain...
in the 1st...love the glittery shoe, barely got it in the frame
coz the cool "mamas" moved too fast.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
long beach: the a**es over elbows edition
i forgot how much i love an early evening nap after a day at the beach.
and anyone who tried to fight the waves today surely earned a good, long one. the waves were fearsome and strong, and most beach-folk stayed tight to the shore. the dozen or so who ventured out kept the lifeguards whistling all afternoon.
it's not unusual for me to get knocked down or sideways by a wave or two, but today i got flipped over, in stuff that was only a couple of feet deep.
FUN.
***
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