Rear Curtain is an online and print magazine dedicated to visual storytelling. As the creative team behind the magazine describes it, “Images hold the potential to share some of the most powerful stories that connect us no matter where in the world we live. Finding stories that link people to one another and that reflect how we are all the same can make the world a better place.” Through very different, very specific stories, universal themes are explored. Rear Curtain is unique in that it both exhibits the work of the very best visual storytellers, and it offers a forum for those of us who aspire.

Last year, Editor-in Chief Ray Ketcham and Managing Editor Sabrina Henry traveled to Thailand on a one-month Rear Curtain field trip. The two of them took their cameras, their curiosity, and the philosophy described above, and set out in search of stories. Friends like me were impatient to see their images, but Ray and Sabrina let the experience sink in so they could tell the strongest stories possible.

It was worth the wait. I received my copy of the special Thailand issue last week, and it’s been on my mind ever since.

Ray and Sabrina didn’t spend their time taking photographs of iconic landmarks in the golden hours at the edges of day. They didn’t seek out — or worse, manufacture — scenes that depicted their preconceived notions of “Thailand.” They traveled to connect with people, to listen, and to truly discover. That approach is surprisingly rare, perhaps because it’s not easy. It requires a personal investment that has nothing to do with money. It takes a willingness to slow down, reach out, and regard another culture with sincere respect.

The stories in this issue deepen my thinking about travel, and travel photography. What’s the point, really? Do I want to visit a foreign place and view it as a museum (or a zoo) and come home with trophy images? Or do I want to have a genuine exchange? Can I strive to overcome the challenges of shyness and language to make a connection that, even if just briefly, matters? Ray and Sabrina couldn’t have made the images they did any other way. They tell real stories of real people. And I know they were changed by the experience.

Sabrina and Ray are two generous souls who spend much of their time encouraging other visual storytellers. But they are also artists. It’s so nice to see their work in the spotlight. I hope you’ll take a look.

Hilary came home on Saturday after spending two months in Beijing. She was there on a UC summer program, learning to speak Mandarin. Todd and I headed over to the San Francisco Airport to pick her up. It made me think of lots of things.

Whenever possible, we like to fly out of the Oakland airport. It’s so much easier. But for most international trips we must fly out of SFO and that is appropriate. It’s a big important airport for big important trips. Driving over there this time I paid attention to the journey. The Bay Bridge and the city skyline are iconic; they are the sights that mean we are home. I think it feels that way for Hilary too.

The approach to the airport itself always makes me think of old movies and the romance of travel, even though airports are often more ordeal than romance these days.

And there is something special about the International Arrivals Lobby. Everyone there has a story, and I always wonder what it is. Who are they waiting for? How long have they been apart? Is the traveler a visitor or someone making their way home? I know how exciting those long waiting minutes — hours — can be, watching the monitors and checking for texts. About a dozen plane loads of people were going through customs together, so we had plenty of time to watch people and make up their stories while we waited for our own happy ending.

It’s hard to tell, but there is a Hello Kitty suitcase at the bottom of this pile. That makes me smile.

It is very likely that in the coming years my girls’ adventures will take them farther away for longer periods of time. That’s not my favorite. Up to now I knew the path, but we are entering the uncharted territory of parenthood and it is definitely bittersweet.

So I will savor the homecomings.

Welcome home, Hilary.

I like coffee. Have I mentioned that here? It’s a very important part of my day and I am disappointed on a deeply personal level when coffee is bad, or lukewarm, or — and I’m not proud of this — too slow in coming. Don’t believe me? Talk to my girls. They have stories.

And I like coffee paired with other treats like books and music. I’m a big fan of the coffeeshop/bookstore combo. But the newest addition on Solano Avenue surprises and delights me: coffee and a garden store. Over the past year or so, Flowerland Nursery has become my go-to place for special gifts. It’s lovely. But now, with the addition of Local 123 coffee served out of a 1969 Airstream Streamline trailer, it has become my plain old go-to place. Where better to sip a finely-crafted hot beverage than surrounded by the fragrance and beauty of all those luscious plants? It’s genius.

(So that’s what those are for. I always wondered.)

And I love coffee when it’s pretty. I know it’s not a novelty anymore, but I remember how excited I was the first time I was served a latte with a design drawn in the foam. It was too fancy to drink. Almost.

With the string of beautiful days we’ve been having, it has been such a pleasure to drop by Flowerland. I bring my book and linger. And since I’m in the process of sprucing up my garden, I often come home with just the right plant for this spot or that.

There is even a shop cat. It’s just about perfect.

My happy place.

I’ve been feeling a bit under the weather lately, and like I’ve been a little too busy for too long. Yesterday it was kind of gray outside. Todd was gone for the day, so the house was empty. I took the opportunity to slow down and recharge.

I know Ferris Bueller would have handled it differently, but I’m pretty happy with my day off.

Well, I learned something about myself this weekend. I have always been curious about butterfly groves and put that on my list of Things I Want To See Someday. Not a “must do” — just a “that would be interesting” type of thing. This past weekend Grace and I went to Santa Barbara for a short visit with Hilary and made a quick stop at the butterfly grove in Pismo Beach to have a look. I almost said “to scratch that itch”, but that brought back the skin-crawling feeling I experienced when I looked through the powerful telescopes that bring this natural wonder too close for my comfort. Turns out one butterfly is beautiful, several can be quite interesting, but hordes? Creepy.

I know there are science-types who will disagree. For them I recommend the butterfly grove at Pismo Beach.

Beautiful:

Interesting:

Hmmmm….

Looking around for Alfred Hitchcock:

WAY too much of a good thing:

For me this is a classic instance of when less is preferable. I’m prepared to be in the minority here. And I’ll gladly give up my spot at the telescope.

Storytelling.

I think that’s what 2011 was about for me when it comes to my journey with photography. I spent more time in study and practice than ever before, I became an active member of a world-wide community of passionate and generous photographers who inspire me to keep improving, I enjoyed some special travel and developed a deeper appreciation of my world close to home. And all of it reinforced my belief that photographs matter.

It was a privilege to help tell the stories of the many talented people in town through artist features on Albany Patch. It was a joy to help people record who they are right now through portrait sessions. It was a thrill to have an essay published online and in print by Rear Curtain. And — always — it warmed my heart to spend time with family and friends just doing what we do.

Moments are fleeting, but moments tell our story. If I can capture the moment so that the story can be repeated for those who were there and enjoyed by those who were not, I think I have done something of value.

Here’s a look at moments I treasure from the year gone by.

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Looking ahead, I wish for you a new year full of stories of joy and growth, laughter and love.

Happy New Year!

When you live with someone who likes to take pictures of people, the camera is pointed at you a lot. My family is used to it. Sometimes they ignore it. Sometimes they play to it. That reaction in particular can be challenging for the photographer. For instance, Grace and Hilary can go from zero to smile-for-the-camera in no time flat. Only problem is, their cheese-y faces aren’t my favorite. I consider it a win when I get past that to the authentic moments and the genuine goofiness that I know is under the facade. Sometimes it takes a quick shutter finger, or patience, or just letting them laugh at me. It’s worth it when I’m rewarded with their beautiful laughing eyes.

Here are a few favorite images that remind me of the year gone by.

It’s fun to review the year in pictures and to find the ones that really make me smile. When you find those keepers in your archive I hope you take the time to enjoy them, share them, back them up, and maybe even print them out. Photographs have the magic power to bring back those favorite moments and make us smile all over again.

I think by now, if you are familiar with this blog at all, you know that I love to be around talented people. It is just so interesting to me to see the many ways people express themselves creatively. This past year I have been able to spend time with painters, musicians, jewelry makers, even bakers — but never a dancer. I wanted to see if I could capture the movement and exuberance of dance, so I asked my friend Toni Silver if I could tag along to one of her classes. Toni happens to be the mother of the amazing T-Sisters. There’s a whole lot of talent in that family. Toni does traditional modern dance, but she also loves hip-hop and that’s the class I attended.

The cardio hip-hop class was taught at New Style Motherlode dance studio in Oakland. Teacher Momo LeBeau allowed me to be right up front. As I anticipated, it was fascinating and challenging and fun. I have such respect for dancers. I’ll let this series speak for itself. Many thanks to Toni, Momo, and the class for letting me hang out with you. You rock!

Isn’t it beautiful?

I’ll remember opening this package for a long time. It’s so fitting that it arrived on the day after Thanksgiving. The premiere print issue of Rear Curtain is a delight to hold and read and linger over and it contains — I can hardly believe it — my photo essay on my talented friend Catherine DeCuir. So much to be thankful for.

Rear Curtain, in both its online and print versions, is a gift to visual storytellers from the minds and hearts of Ray Ketcham, Matthew Connors, and Sabrina Henry. They believe that photographs, through the stories they tell, have the power to connect people by demonstrating just how much we have in common as human beings. This issue features stories that are thought-provoking, moving, encouraging, and fascinating — stories that have something to teach all of us, no matter where in the world we might live. And Mark Krajnak can suggest an entire shadowy world in one evocative black-and-white image.

But even more than sharing compelling visual stories, Rear Curtain is dedicated to educating photographers in the art and craft of storytelling with images. This inaugural issue includes photo essays from documentary photographer Stephen Urhaney and travel photographer Gavin Gough that show us the form at its best. Then interviews give us a glimpse into their process. It’s a very accessible and effective way to learn. Another essay by Brian Hirschy, who lives in China, reminds us that understanding and appreciating our own culture is key to an authentic experience of a different one.

Visual storytelling as a means of making the world a better place? It’s a big idea, but one best articulated in small stories. Often those pieces that are individual, specific, and personal are the ones that speak most eloquently of what we share as human beings. I love the small stories.

And I love holding this magazine in my hands. I am reminded that my very first post on this blog was titled Why Prints Matter. I have read many of these essays online, but seeing them on the printed page changes my experience of them. It’s slower, richer. And seeing my own essay on these pages? As the saying goes . . . priceless.

So . . . thank you to everyone listed above. I’m honored to be in your company. And thank you especially to the talented and generous Catherine for letting me tag along. You inspire me and now, perhaps, many others.

Would you like a copy of Rear Curtain for your very own? Click here.