November 8, 2018

When Mums Die  ©Tracey Grumbach

Dear Driftwood,

Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her,

Alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams

And our desires.

-Wallace Stevens

I came across this poem the other day and I was so struck with how well it fit with this digital art piece I was creating at the time. So many people just don't get why I enjoy taking pictures of dying or dead flowers. They think I am strange and perhaps I am. But, when I read these lines from the poem "Sunday Morning" by Wallace Stevens, it occurred to me just how much beauty I see in the downtrodden, the history, the life-well-spent, the dying. The beauty isn't always about when something is at its aesthetic peak. Instead, I find the beauty in the story and history of the flower, which is only revealed in the dying process. 

That reminds me of a conversation I had the other day. After my iPhone photography class, I sat talking with one of my students, a woman in her senior years. We were talking about editing portraits and how friends her age didn't want portraits of themselves anymore because they didn't like to see themselves with wrinkles, sags, and age spots. While I totally understood what she was saying and why people would be sensitive about having a portrait done at an older age, it made me sad. I told her that I thought the beauty of portrait of an older person is the lines, the spots, and the sags. The beauty is in the story that unfolds from those wrinkles-not the tightness and flawlessness of the skin. I love black and white portraiture of older people for that very reason. She was happy to disagree with me and tell me I only felt that way because I was only 46 and that I would feel differently when I am her age. But will I? Perhaps she is right, perhaps she isn't. Only time will tell how I feel about myself as I age but for now I do know that I absolutely adore images of older people.

Remember that time, Driftwood, that I bought an old potting table that was used in someone's barn and used it as my kitchen table (after cleaning it up,  of course). You always teased me about that table and would ask me if I got it out of a junk yard. Well, twenty years later I still have that table, crooked leg and all, in my art studio. It is the history of that table, the holes, the hammer marks, the chipping paint, that make it beautiful to me and I still use it today. 

Ok, so maybe I am strange for loving beat up, old, imperfect things. Or maybe I am just sentimental and see the value in history and stories. Who knows.

Well, goodbye for now. I will write again soon. All the mums are beginning to die off here and winter is knocking. Until next time...

Love,

Me

October 28, 2018

The Rose That Was Left Behind   ©Tracey Grumbach

Dear Driftwood,


I think you will be happy to know that I am teaching again. You were always a bit sad when I chose to be a stay-at-home mom all those years ago because you thought I was throwing my degree away. Life has a funny way of coming full circle and recently I have come back to what has always brought me great joy...teaching.

The other day I was teaching an iPhone photography course and after explaining something about the native camera app my student looked me in the eye and said, "The price of taking this course was totally worth it just for learning this one thing. I've had an iPhone for over 2 years and didn't know that!" It totally made my day. I love watching the expressions on my students' faces when they learn something new. Their eyes sparkle, their jaw slackens, and their face glows. That "a-ha!" moment is my reward for all the long hours of planning, organizing, and teaching. It brings me indescribable joy to know I made a difference in someone's understanding of the world.

Later that same week I was teaching a class of senior citizens how to use their iPads and iPhones. After class, one of my students stayed and asked for help in how to make audio and video calls from her iPad. When we finally finished her impromptu lesson and getting her set up on Facetime, she looked and me with the biggest grin and said, "My son in Arizona will be so excited I finally know how to do this.  It will help us stay connected."  Of course, my heart swelled and I almost teared up for the joy it brought me. I didn't realize it at the time, but I am helping these seniors stay connected to their loved ones in world where they feel left behind. It is such a small thing to do...to take the time to teach someone how to do something, but it can make a huge impact in their life. I'm so blessed and grateful to be a part of that...a part of helping people feel less alone in the world and more connected to family and friends.

Well, that's all for today. I've included a digital art piece I created from my original photograph. I call it The Rose That Was Left Behind. I hope you like it.

I miss you.

Love,
Me