lori vrba photog blog

Cheers

God I love New Years.  Its my favorite holiday because I am not required to do ANYTHING and mostly because I am always in need of a clean slate.  A fresh start. And I like hope.  The first day of a new year feels hopeful.  

On this last day of 2008...well, what a time.  It was my first full year in Carolina.  I freakin' love it here.

I traveled more than I ever have...both work and pleasure.

Santa Fe was pure magic.  It changed how I see photography.  It changed how I see myself and my work.  It spawned the big idea of Donnor coming to work for me.  Still can't believe he actually did. 

I bought a guitar.  I suck but its a blast.

I started running this year...who woulda ever thunk it?  

I made friends and lost friends.

My family stayed healthy and intact.  Aside from the lice infestation.

yes, 08 has been a very good year.  And today, besides reflecting and hoping, I'll cook up a pot of black eyed peas for good luck.  Pull out some party hats for the kids who I am sure will watch the ball drop right along side me.  I'll probably strum a really bad version of Auld Lange Syne on the guitar and go to sleep at 12:05 with a grin on my face.

And for all you wild party people out there...If you're drinking and drivin'....don't forget your car.

peace out.  

  

I'm on a Break

Alright, I'm seven days into this "vacation"...I should say "break" cuz being in the post Christmas clutter and chaos is not my idea of a vacation...but I'm not working so we'll call it a break...and I'm fidgety, bored, and chompin' at the bit to get back in the darkroom or take a road trip with my camera or SOMETHING.  Holy Hell, how could that be?  I invented vegging.  I can go days without changing out of my pajamas.  I can spend a good eight hours in mindless knitting...scarf after scarf after scarf...stopping only to eat and maybe play the same damn song on the guitar.  So I hardly recognize myself as I count the days till January.  

Now granted, January is exciting.  I've cleared the schedule and Donnor and I will only spend time on our personal work.  Shooting and printing what we really want to do.  Art for the sake of Art.  I've got a notebook full of ideas and I cannot wait to start.

Oooo, I just remembered I was keeping my trusty assistant's name under wraps in case any photographic vultures were out there circling...waiting to swoop in and steal him away.  Hey, bring it.  I'm pretty sure he likes his job so swoop all ya want...every man for himself.  Thunder's name is Michael Donnor...you can click on his website under my hot links.  He thinks, lives and works like an artist and has the talent to back his vision.  He has dedicated an ungodly amount of time over the last four months to move me and my work to a different place.  We are a good team.  I didn't know how I would feel about anyone in my space...having always worked alone.  Never mind a GUY.  bleh.  But he is good company and relentless in the pursuit of excellence.  There are days where he drags me kicking, screaming, crying, or whining, all the way to the excellence.  But he gets me there.  I told him on day one that he would be paid mostly to tolerate me.  Which he does quite well.  I also told him then that he should not try to manage me because I am unmanageable.  He is slowly catching on, but only after many failed attempts.  

So he's gone home for Christmas and when he returns, our brave month of photography begins.  Meanwhile I'm biding the time with domestic duties and Jenga marathons.  Purging closets and deconstructing Christmas.  

Come on January.

Who Blogs On Christmas Eve?

Apparently, when the camera is put away and the darkroom is locked up tight...I blog more.  I cook, play the guitar poorly, knit and blog.  And in case you are puttin' me up for crappy mother of the year...yes, I am spending time with my kids.

This morning Olivia made Ambrosia.  It is the only holiday dish I can remember from my childhood.  Its really just a jazzed up fruit salad but given that my own mother never cared much for holiday food...it is the one thing I remember having every year and I made it myself from the time I was six years old.  Ambrosia tastes like Christmas to me.

We just finished decorating gingerbread houses...a tradition I declared just last year.  The company I bought the houses from last year stopped carrying them.  I freaked.  My trusty assistant said he felt certain that Southern Season would have constructed, UNdecorated gingerbread houses.  I poo-pood his naivete but low and behold...there they sat, perched above the fine deli meat and cheese, like a Christmas Miracle.

My side dishes are in the oven and Jim is about to crank up the fryer to fry the hell outa our bird.  Holiday food is the one kind of cooking I can do in my sleep.  If you asked me to prepare a meal for my family on a Tuesday...I wouldn't have a clue what to make and even once I decided... I would really need the recipe.  But a full blown Easter, Thanksgiving or Christmas...I don't need a recipe or even a grocery list.  I love to make it, eat it, re-heat it and eat it again.  Next.

I've been piling all of this year's digital snap shots into a slideshow.  For no good reason at all except that it makes me happy.  But I am noticing how long and lankey all three of my kids are now...and can clearly picture them in my mind for every single Christmas they've been alive.  I can tell you what they were wearing on any given Christmas Eve.  I can picture the twins when they still had baby faces and chubby wrists.  When we could call them The Babies without an uproar.  Aaron is now in some kind of boy/teen/tween/man/child limbo.  He is nearly as tall as me and has feet bigger than mine.  Olivia is graceful and feminine (as long as she is quiet)...and Grayson looks like a minature man, far too studdly to be seven.  He thinks like a man as well.  A 64 year old crank of a man who everyone loves and wants to be around but can't quite figure out how to go about doing that.  

And so, here we are on Christmas Eve...together...for better or worse.  I do wish we had gone home to Texas.  I miss the faces that complete our picture.  I miss Beck, Lisa, Jody and Cate.  I miss their children and even their husbands.  But I've never once spent Christmas morning anyplace but under my own tree.  Maybe next year, I'll work it out.  But this night, its just us.  I'll eat, bake, read The Grinch a few times and go to bed tired and content.  I hope all of you obscure, ambiguous blog readers out there have a beautiful evening.  Merry Christmas.  Happy Hanakah.  Joy To The World.  Peace.  

Whooville

I have officially closed up shop for the season.  To say that I am behind on Santa duties would be an understatement.  So the darkroom is locked up tight and I don't plan on seeing it again till next year.

Our day here started with the twins being tested for whooping cough.  Its moving through the community and they were both whooping and coughing all over the place so I got them into the pediatrician to avoid the Christmas Day trip to the emergency room.  They tested negative...croop.  We have croop.

Cross that off my list and head to UPS to ship gifts galore to Texas.  They were beautifully packaged with stickies on each one with the address of the giftee.  The woman behind me in the long long long line said, in a cheerful holiday voice, "My!  You are so organized."  "Well no," I said, "If I were organized, I would have been here a week ago."  I then proceeded to spend over 400 dollars for two day air so that all gifts would arrive by Christmas day.  Now the UPS girl informed me that really...they call it two day air but that UPS guarantees NOTHING IN DECEMBER.  You can imagine how the conversation went from there.  I had love in my voice, being The Season and all...but lets don't call it two day air if its really just, "We'll Do The Best We Can Air."

Next.  Shopped like an idiot with the rest of those panic stricken mothers...eyes darting from side to side down each isle.  Throwing any ol' thing into the cart.  I even had a miniature VESPA motorized scooter hauled up to the check out counter.  240. would buy a cute pistachio green miniature VESPA that holds up to 170 pounds.  I couldn't decide who to give it to since I know both of my boys would puke over the color and my daughter is getting the new bike she asked for...seems pretty lame to give her a bike AND a VESPA...I'm actually laughing out loud as I type this...God how ridiculous.  I didn't get it but I can't promise I won't be going back for it.

And now I'm addressing cards that MAYBE will arrive by the new year.  Going through my 18 year old address list is odd.  Sometimes heartwarming and sometimes sad.  Friends who have been around forever.  Some who have died.  Some who have just moved on.  This is a strange time of year for me.  Always has been.  I feel joy, melancholy, envy, exhaustion, gratefulness, peace, and mania all on any given day of The Season. 

I gotta get back to these cards.  Blog Break is over.  fa la la la la la la la LAAAAAA 

The Million Dollar Question...yet again.

I slammed into a very familiar wall a few days ago.  Same wall I've hit too many times to count.  Its not always the same circumstances that propel me there but the force of impact is predictable.  

This time...it was as simple as...just a couple of snags that could be expected when running a busy busy business.  But after months of working harder than I ever have before, neglecting much that I care about, doing little to refuel and still...there are problems, complications, fires to put out.  So first, I feel incompetent and then go directly to the age old screwed up question...Why Am I Doing This For A Living?

Pressing the shutter for fun, for personal satisfaction, or self expression is one thing.  Pressing the shutter because I am paid and the work will then be subject to approval CAN BE another.  Doesn't have to be but in my most screwed up state of mind...it is.

So a while back, Best Friend Beck was discussing this concept with me..."Why Am I Doing This For A Living?"...she is an artist herself and almost exclusively makes Art for Herself...and she said that I have far more drive than she does.  Which led me to the next question..."What the hell am I driving to?"  So I thought about it and all I came up with was that I need validation.  Which I don't even like typing.  Ick.  I'll skip the whole inner child psycho babble...fill in the blanks here.  But interestingly enough...I keep putting the work out there in every way imaginable and when validation DOES come my way...I fight it off like Wonder Woman with those bullet proof cool ass wrist cuffs...DING---KACHOONG---BING---won't let it touch me.

So hey, I don't know if it will ever go away.  The book "Art and Fear" talks about how the great majority of artists quit.  Its just too hard.  And the only difference between the artists who quit and those who don't, is the latter learn how to not quit.  

My reason for working over the last several years...when I most wanted to be one of the quitters...was that I promised my husband that I would be capable of supporting our family when he retires early in two years.  I promised.  Now..once a month...with the Amex bill in hand...he repeats this exact phrase...(read this part with emphasis)..."Uh, I don't know if you've heard but WE ARE IN A RECESSION."  I know damn good and well he ain't retiring in two years.  He makes money.  I don't have to.  So I'm back to square one with me and my work and how to keep going when it feels impossible.

All I really know is that I don't have to have the answer to keep going.  If I deflect the question as forcefully as I deflect the validation...ya know, like Wonder Woman...I keep taking the pictures.  That has to be enough for now. 

with wine in hand...

I never know what to title these things.  Tonight I considered calling this one "with WHINE in hand" but you can't really hold your whining in your hand so that would be stupid.

The manic printing is slowly letting up and there is now manic shopping.  Grabbing the last little girl Christmas dress that would MAYBE fit Olivia. (It doesn't).  Midnight online shopping...paying top dollar for lightning speed delivery.  Praying that some brilliant idea will come to me regarding...what in Jesus name DO you give a thirteen year old boy for Christmas?  An appropriate, informative book about the facts of life?  A nerf gun?  An Abercrombie & Fitch hoodie?  A poster?  What?

So while Christmas keeps blowing in like a freight train, still...there is work.  There are dental appointments for multiple children.  I am still required to feed people.  Not to mention my own well being.  Is there such a thing anymore?  Is there any time left to even wonder what I need or would feel good?  So while I"m out doing the manic shopping...oh I buy.  Would I like it?  Done.  One for you, one for me.  I realize its not a particularly thoughtful or grown up way to move through this Christmas...especially during a RECESSION...my husband's new favorite word.  But hey...I don't have time to be adult and civilized.  Today, I'm going for instant gratification.  

Which brings me right on back to this glass of whine in hand.  chill.   

tis the season...

Its confusing here these days.  I never really finished packing away Halloween decor.  The turkey placemats are still sitting on my kitchen table.  There is a pumpkin on my front porch that the squirrels have hollowed out...they climb inside to eat the seeds...like a little squirrel hut.  This is not what December is supposed to look like.  My halls are not decked.  Jim put up the tree but it is unadorned and standing right smack in the middle of the living room...waiting for my attention.

This is my first crazy busy season where I am printing all of my own client work.  And knowing what kind of hours I will be spending in the darkroom over the next few weeks...with every client having the same deadline...well, its daunting.  Cuz ya know...I'm the mother to three kiddos who expect Christmas to show up the same way it has their whole lives...BIG.  So, feeling the pressure of all that...I've been a bit of a scrooge.

And then yesterday...the first day of December, I figured it out.  Thunder and I decided that if we were going to be printing our asses off in the cave for most of December...we should bring Christmas in with us.  So we went to my woods and found a little Charlie Brown Christmas tree.  We cleared out a space in the corner of the cave, loaded the branches with red lights, tested those lights to be sure they wouldn't screw up our prints, made garland from 35mm negatives, polaroids became ornaments, and snacks were sprinkled around the tree skirt.  It is lovely.  And that little tree speaks to me.  It says...girl, get over it.  Do the best you can with what you've got.  Find the time to latch on to the the spirit of the season wherever you can...it may not be perfect...it may not be calm...it may not be easy...but work with what ya got.  Embrace the imperfection...wrap your arms around the chaos and squeeze tight.  Yup, I'm in.  I'm gonna be slingin' Christmas cookies one way and silver gelatin prints the other.  I'm scanning negs  and printing invoices while strumming Away In A Manger on the guitar.  I'm gonna have myself a Merry Little, Not So Tidy, But Oh So Joyful Christmas.

That Charlie Brown Tree worked a li'l magic.