Real People. Real Stories.

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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.

Put On Your Dancin’ Shoes

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Okay, I resorted to Wikipedia for this: Zydeco was born in southwest Louisiana as a blend of Cajun music and R&B. It relies on the accordion (traditionally, the button accordion) and the rub-board (an instrument invented for Zydeco), as well as guitar and fiddle. The tunes are up-tempo and perfect for the two-step and waltz. This music was originally created for house dances where family and friends gathered for socializing.

Sounds like we’ve got ourselves a party.

I love it when I have the opportunity to listen to quality live music. When I learned that my friend Patty Hammond was playing with Les Amis Zydeco on St. Patrick’s Day at the Penngrove Pub, it seemed like a great way to observe the holiday. Grace came with me, so that was extra fun. I expected great music and I wasn’t disappointed. What I didn’t anticipate was a crowd not content to simply tap their toes. As soon as the band began to play, they were on their feet, sashaying, shuffling, and two-stepping wherever there was space to move. When Les Amis Zydeco is in the house, there is an open invitation to enjoy yourself. Allons danser!

I was happy trying to capture some of the joy of the evening, but next time I’m gonna dance!

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Les Amis Zydeco musicians: Dwight Shackelford on accordion, Jim Scott on guitar, Patty Hammond on bass, Dave Rogers on drums, and Lou Rodriguez on rub-board.

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Go here to find out where Les Amis Zydeco will be playing next. Maybe I’ll see you there.

Presidio Art Walk

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Yesterday five friends and I, including the artist herself, piled into a minivan and headed for the Presidio in San Francisco to see Carol Newborg’s exhibition, Ways of Water. It was a beautiful day, and light poured through the windows of the China Brotsky Gallery at the Thoreau Center for Sustainability.

Carol is one of four artists in the show, which explores the element of water “to draw focus and awareness of nature’s impact on human lives as well as human impact on nature.”

Traces is comprised of cotton-and-wire ovals positioned on the wall in a rainfall pattern. Carol’s work is often three-dimensional. This one is a different experience when seen straight-on from a slight distance, or close up from the side. It invites the viewer to explore, even to touch.

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You get a sense of the scale when you see the artist stand in front of her piece.

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Her second piece, In Formation, is a series of teardrop shapes of paper mache and wax suspended from copper wire. They hang close to the windows, so the play of light is an important element. Just as light can change the color and mood of water, these teardrops appear to change as you view them from different angles.

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You can learn more about Carol Newborg’s work here. This show runs through April 5, 2013.

We left the gallery and set out to find the outdoor installations of Andy Goldsworthy. Wood Line snakes through a eucalyptus grove.

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Spire celebrates the life cycle of the historic forest that was planted at the Presidio in the nineteenth century. It rises more than 90 feet in the air, and will change over time as young trees planted at the base will eventually obscure the sculpture.

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As much as I enjoyed the art itself, I enjoyed experiencing it in the company of these lovely women. It was a treat to be able to celebrate one of our own, and to spend a morning together in such a beautiful part of San Francisco. It was fun, pure and simple. Thank you for suggesting this, Karen. I’m so glad I could go.

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Is It Better Now? Or Better Now?

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I’ll start with a little story, and then circle back to my point. I do have one, I promise.

I got my first pair of glasses when I was eighteen months old. I’m told my right eye was crossed and weak and I was letting my stronger left eye do all the work. There were periods when they patched my left eye to encourage me to use the right one, and then surgery. I spent my third birthday in the hospital for that, and I remember bits of the experience. That went a long way toward fixing things, but I still had to wear glasses. I can’t say I loved them. Those elementary school pictures are still a little painful. :-)

But I loved my eye doctor. I remember him as kind and patient and calm. Dr. Denny wasn’t a pediatric eye doctor. I don’t think they had those in the 1950s. But he was creative and found a way to help me read the eye chart before I could really read, using only the letter “E”. “Which way is it pointing? Up or down? Toward the window or toward the wall?” I’m probably embellishing the memories a little (hindsight isn’t always 20/20, you know), but my lasting impression is that he always treated me with respect. Like a person, not a child. I think we had conversations.

And I remember that big, cold, black machine. I’d lean my forehead on it and feel it pinch my nose. Then I’d hear the flip/clunk as one lens after another fell into place. In another office, with a different doctor, that machine might have been scary. In Dr. Denny’s office I just found it interesting. We were solving a mystery together, and my input was crucial. Over and over again, his calm soothing voice would ask “Is it better now? (flip/clunk) Or better now?”

Those words have stayed with me. I find myself saying them (In my head. Mostly. I hope.) whenever I’m puzzling over comparisons.

In photography, those comparisons are often between processing an image in color or black and white. Sometimes I don’t see a choice. The top image, for instance, needs to be in color, I think. It’s the pop of yellow in the road sign that makes this image strong for me. It just wouldn’t be the same in shades of gray.

But other times, I can’t decide. So I’ll ask you.

Is it better now?

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Or better now?

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Road Trip

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I’m a big fan of the brief getaway. Big vacations are fun, but they are too few and far between. Even though Todd and I enjoy our work, it can start to creep into off hours and weekend hours, until we begin to feel a little ground down. There is nothing like getting out of our routine and just getting away to help us clear our minds and really refresh. Even a day trip can do it. A long weekend is better. We are so lucky that California offers so much to discover. We can drive for hours in any direction but west and find something new and interesting.

A few weekends ago we drove south to visit Hilary in Santa Barbara. Along the way we made stops in Cambria and Morro Bay. Hilary introduced us to beautiful landscapes in the rolling hills west of Buellton, planted with grapevines as far as the eye can see. The wine tasting was nice too. :-)

It was lovely to have no real agenda. To just explore. And, as often happens, we stumbled upon some very cool stuff — like this “meetup” of classic car enthusiasts in the parking lot outside Frankie and Lola’s Restaurant in Morro Bay. Todd was thrilled to get up close to a four-speed dual quad positraction 409. She was real fine.

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And this one was for my Dad, a life-long Packard man:

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We came home relaxed and happy and singing Beach Boys songs. Do you like little road trips? Where do you like to go to get away?

Knit Well. Do Good.

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This town continues to surprise me, with the interesting things people do here and the fascinating stories behind their work. Learn more about Ellen Graves and her knitting shop K2Tog after these images.

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Ellen Graves opened her knitting shop on Solano Avenue in 2007 as a second career. She grew up knitting in a small town about 90 miles outside of Dallas, Texas. She can’t remember a time when she didn’t knit: when she was a little girl, through school, as a graduate student in molecular and cell biology at Cal, working on the Human Genome Project at Baylor College of Medicine in Houston, and even when she was studying the genetics of alcohol and drug abuse at UCSF. Knitting was challenging, creative, and relaxing for her. She calls it a scientific art.

When Ellen realized that she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life in front of a computer, she began to reflect on the elements that would make up the perfect occupation for her. And then she engineered it. K2Tog promotes the art and craft of knitting with an inventory of gorgeous yarns. Ellen calls her brand of business “service retail.” She hires staff who know how to knit or crochet or both, and then trains them to be experts at answering questions and helping customers. She offers classes and simple “knit togethers” where people can drop in and enjoy each other’s company as they work on their projects. People tend to linger in her shop, and not just because the yarns are so enticing. It’s a friendly place.

Seven women are gathered around the work tables in the classroom at the back of the shop on the morning I visit. I crochet, so I understand the tactile pleasure of working a string of yarn into something soft and real and growing. But I never really watched the process before. There is something very beautiful about these women’s hands on the knitting needles. And the moments when Ellen bends down to help a knitter solve a problem are so personal. There is a genuine connection here.

And Ellen extends those values of service and community beyond the four walls of her shop. She organizes projects that her customers are happy to contribute to, and that benefit the local area. They celebrate students at Richmond High School who pass a particular test with bright and silly proFISHency hats. It’s kind of a goofy tradition, but the fish hats are much more memorable than a certificate and the kids seem to get a kick out of them. This year, moved by the events at Sandy Hook Elementary School, Ellen is teaching her customers to knit Friendly Monsters that have the power to chase the scary monsters away. They will donate them to local police and fire departments and shelters, to be given to children who need them.

There is something very special about making something useful and giving it away. At holiday time she collects hats, scarves, and fingerless gloves and donates them to local homeless shelters. She heard about an older man who came in to a shelter and was invited to choose from the colorful selection. “Really?” he said. “I never get to choose. I always have to just take what is given to me.” Ellen is clearly moved when she tells that story. “It’s a small but powerful thing to give someone a little dignity. We who have abundance can share our abundance with others. That’s my philosophy. That’s what this shop is to me.”

Knitters seem to be generous folks. Many who came in to the shop on the day I was visiting were working on projects that they would end up giving as gifts. There was a lot of laughter as they shared tips and stories. Many are returning customers, and many have become Ellen’s friends. “I have laughed and cried with people as they have gone through stuff. They have supported me through challenging times.”

The shop just celebrated its fifth anniversary, and Ellen knows she has found home. This is what she wants to do: knit well and do good.

Pop-Tarts

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It has been pretty quiet on the blog for a while. I have been immersed in a long-term project and just didn’t feel like I had anything interesting to say here. And you might well wonder what the title of this post and the image above have to do with each other, but — trust me — I do have a point.

The project I’m working on is a story about life and work at Golden Gate Fields. I’m at the point now where I’m trying to edit and sequence and lay things out, and it’s difficult. Not surprisingly so, but difficult. I’m fortunate to be working with The Mentor Ray Ketcham, and to be inspired by the contributors to Rear Curtain. I’ve studied the work of master storytellers William Allard and Michael Freeman. I return often to advice from my boyfriends heroes Ken Burns and Ira Glass.

But today I am grateful to Jerry Seinfeld. In this piece he talks about his 2-year-long process to write a joke about Pop-Tarts. He’s got the broad outline done, he knows the story. Now he’s down to the specifics of shaving syllables to get the beats just right. Comedy depends on rhythm. So does storytelling. So does visual storytelling. He’ll know when it sounds right, and he’ll keep tweaking until he hears the music.

I really like this image, and it’s probably not going to make the cut. It doesn’t really fit within the beats of the story I want to tell. I wonder if Jerry is ever sad when he crosses out a word on his yellow pad.

All the people listed above set a mighty high bar and I’m not pretending I’ll reach it. That’s not my point. What I love about them is that they are all generous teachers, and that the work is still hard for them. But it’s worth doing.

Even for a joke about Pop-Tarts.

By the way, if you miss Jerry Seinfeld like I do, check out his YouTube series Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee. It’s funny, informative, and beautifully shot.