I promise no more NaNo posts after this. My final word count was 52,729 words, 86 pages. Now all I have to do is write, write, write some more. Then do 6 months of editing or so. Should be a piece of cake.
Hopefully by next week I will have relapsed to my more normal blogging mode complete with memes and Sunday Scribbling. In fact, maybe I'll do tomorrow's scribbling. See you then.
3 comments:
When I first ran across your blog, I fell in love with your photographs, particularly of structures.
It's weird, taking pictures of living spaces in 'bad areas'. It's not like folks welcome picture takers.
I respect, and am astonished, by the honesty of your photographs. They are real, vital, and visceral.
You remind me a great deal of Mark Jury. Reading some of your blogging, and thinking, 'What does your husband think of you driving around in sketchy areas?'
Well, if he doesn't support it, he should, and he should go with you. Your photographs are amazing.
Thank you for having the courage to document the greater world around you.
Always a pleasure. Always. I'm glad I did that random blog search that day.
Thanks again.
Thanks, J. That is very kind. Actually, I don't tell my husband. I think he'd freak out a bit. I don't actually know why I love the urban grit so much. I feel there is so much beauty and fear the loss either to destruction or urbanization.
I'll have to look up Mark Jury. There is a guy on Flickr whose Chicago shots I really like. Here is his link.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/metroblossom/
He is braver than I am. He gets out of his car and at night too. I fear one day he's going to get himself hurt.
So many folks would see that storefront as an indicator of desolation; it is not. This is your genius.
Note the trash can; this place is occupied. Someone bothered to take out the trash. Note the bars on the obviously unoccupied place next door; it is wholly barred off. I love the spiritual leaders' terminology of himself; the humility.
The front of the building has in fact been painted, carefully, by people who cared; it simply didn't 'take' on all the staining.
This storefront is a testament to hope, not a desolate, empty hole.
That is what I like about your photographs in 'The Ghetto'; you have some empathetic ability to find the positive in these places which I find important.
These are not just kind words.
I know desolation.
Thank you so much,
J. White
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