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12.28.2013 paris polaroids

2013-12-28T15:39:00.000-05:00

Image locations, from top to bottom: somewhere near the Societé Française, Paris; the Seine from Pont Neuf, looking North towards the Eiffel Tower; the Louvre; Daguerre's gravesite in Bry; a small portion of Daguerre's last Panorama at Bry; Saint Gervais-Saint Protais Church, Bry, the location of Daguerre's last Panorama; Palais Garnier, home of the Paris Opera; the Tuileries; inside the clock tower at Museé D'Orsay

Better late than never? I've had some health concerns, which drew my focus the past couple months, but I'm finally ready to share more photos from my Paris/Bry trip. These are a few of the Polaroids, which are soon going to my Polaroid Patrons.

If you were a contributor to my Indiegogo campaign: All postcards were mailed from Paris in October. If you were a Postcard Patron, and you never received it, please let me know, and I will send you an extra. Photos will be mailed to Polaroid Patrons in the next couple weeks. I'm a presentation fanatic, so I've been holding off until I could do my own work justice. That's now in the works. Drawings, books, etc, will be a bit longer. Video Pals, I promised a video 'thank you' from Paris, and that did not happen. Again, I am a perfectionist, so I did not want to half-ass this. It is also in the works, and you will get your due.

You guys are still the best. Happy New Year.

10.20.2013 france has returned me to you

2013-10-20T14:30:00.001-04:00

I'm back! "Did you even leave?" you might ask. I have - perhaps wrongly - assumed that most everyone is following me on Facebook and Instagram these days, but I know there are still the wise few who cherish words and time and thought over blips. I only managed to upload a few pictures on Instagram while I was away. You can view those online by clicking over in the sidebar. Each day was packed, and I spent most evenings recovering.

I am a million emotions all wrapped in one. I never thought the departure day would arrive, and now it has come and gone. I had an amazing time. It's such a rare experience to have full immersion in something so relatively obscure. It's even more amazing to find 80+ people who can get as excited as you over something so relatively obscure. The Daguerreian Society planned an incredible trip. I will get more into the details as I share some of the many pictures I took, but I just wanted to take a minute to thank those of you who contributed once again.

The most amazing thing about this experience is that you made it possible. Each person who took the time, made the effort... each of you made it happen. I am so honored and so proud and like I said, a million emotions all wrapped in one. I thought many times on my trip about how I was only there through your efforts, and that made it an even richer experience.

Those of you who are expecting postcards should have received them or will be receiving them in the next day or two. Polaroids, etc, will be coming in the next couple weeks. The video message I had planned was foiled by pain. I decided instead to make a mini film in your names, which will also be coming shortly.

Perhaps the best outcome of this trip has been that after 4 years of feeling my life has been suddenly limited by what I can't do, you guys have shown me there is still a lot that I can do, and that is even better than a trip to France to look at daguerreotypes. Well, almost.

09.09.2013 you did it: i have a date with daguerre

2013-09-09T11:26:00.000-04:00

Three weeks ago I asked for your support to attend the 75th Annual Daguerreian Society Symposium at Daguerre's home in Bry, France, this October. I set a goal of $3000, the minimum necessary to fund the trip. That number seemed enormous. "Where will I find enough contributors?" I asked myself. "How will I convince them?" It turns out, all I had to do was ask.

Overwhelmed. Blown away. Verklempt. Agog. Honored. Mind-boggled. These are some of the words I dug up in an attempt to explain what you did. In the first weekend alone, you pledged over half the minimum of the fixed funding goal. It was fully funded after a week and a half. And then, you kept giving. By campaign's end, the total was $4132. I discovered that none of the above words could describe how this made me feel, what this means.

I know the value of money. I know what it means to some people who were only able to make a small contribution - and even so kindly apologized that they couldn't do more. As much as I watched the dollar amount go up, I watched the number of funders increase. There were 98 contributions from 88 individuals (some were repeat "offenders," who were generous enough to make multiple contributions). I tried to thank every one individually, because every pledge really meant the world to me. If I did not get to you, I promise I will. There were a few people who had problems with the platform, so if you haven't heard from me, there is a possibility your contribution never went through. I apologize for that and would love it if you could report your difficulty to Indiegogo.

The original plan was to list all public funders here on the blog, but I may not do so for a couple reasons. There was some confusion that showed some people as "Anonymous," when they intended to be publicly listed. Because of that, I am afraid of leaving someone off, or worse, listing someone's name who wished to remain anonymous. Due to this blog's Google ranking, listing your name here would in some cases cause this page to come up first on a search of your name. I'm not sure everyone would prefer that.

The final total - after Indiegogo and Paypal's 9.6% commission - will pay for the flight, the hotel, the symposium fee, ground transportation, meals, museum admission, an overseas data package (so I can update you on my trip as well as not get lost), film for two cameras, a French phrasebook and a CF card. There will likely be additional funds left over, which I will use to make a photo-book and maybe even an additional project.

No matter how many attempts I make, I can not fully express my gratitude for what you have done. When I fatefully clicked the button to begin the campaign, I was filled with excitement as well as a fair share of doubt. It is difficult for me to ask for anything. It is actually quite rare (Ok, once when the dog was dying, I asked you for cookies, and I got several packages of them!). I am stubborn and always want to believe I should be self-sufficient. This illness has proven that I can't always be. And this campaign has proven that sometimes it's better not to be. Not only have you made the impossible possible, you guys have shown me that you are behind me and my endeavors. You believe in me. Your 176 arms will be carrying me over the waters for a dream come true.

08.19.2013 my indiegogo: bandini in bry

2013-08-19T11:39:00.001-04:00

Self-portrait daguerreotype by Jen Bandini. 2007

Wow. My life has changed drastically in one week. Last week I discovered that The Daguerreian Society's 75th Annual Symposium is in Bry-sur-Marne, France, where Louis Jacques-Mande Daguerre lived. I nearly keeled over with joy. Daguerreotypes. Daguerre. His house. His dioramas. His grave. France. It was like some kind of fantasy, and I had no idea how I could make that happen.

Because of the financial difficulties my illness has caused, there is no way I could make such a trip. A friend suggested I set up a crowd-funding campaign, so I did it. I announced it on Facebook Friday afternoon. I figured I would take the weekend to mull over my announcement and see what the response was. And then I was blown away but what happened next.

With the help of some amazing friends who helped promote my campaign, we were able to raise over $1500 as of this morning! That's halfway to my goal! So many donations came in on Saturday evening alone - an avalanche set off by a particular network of incredible people on Facebook - that I was speechless.

I am halfway there, but that means I still have halfway to go! It's an all or nothing campaign, so if we don't reach the goal, nobody pays anything, and I don't get to go. The funds will cover my hotel, plane fare, symposium fee, and the fees charged by Indiegogo and Paypal (about 7%). Anything I receive over my goal will help pay for ground transportation and meals.

I would love it if you could take the time to check out my campaign and make a contribution - no matter how small - or share it on your Facebook page or blog. And of course, it won't cost you a thing to follow my trip on my Facebook page or here on escapetonewyork. Help me take the trip of a lifetime. Thank you so much for your help!

*There's a widget on the right that will track the campaign. Click to be taken there directly.

07.05.2013 seven years of escape

2013-07-06T20:59:00.003-04:00

Yesterday marked seven years of life in New York City, seven years of chronicles here, and seven years of wondering if I should give it up. When I started writing this - sweet naive little newbie, me - I had some idea of something happening. That something, of course, was going to be big and flashy as all artists new to the city expect. But the things that have happened were unexpected, and most of them have been small and slow - not the big explosions of dreams, but the more diminutive crackles of life, reality.

I moved here expecting my life would change - and it has - but the transformation has been more internal than external. I was thinking of what the city would give to me, not how it would help me become me. It's true that things took a more challenging turn than I expected, but these misfortunes would have befallen me no matter my address.

And after so many years, the city belonging to me and me to the city, it is terrifying to think of leaving, but I have to confess that I've thought about it.

It happens to nearly everyone who lives here; at some point you start to wonder if it's really worth it - the breakneck pace, the overwhelming cost of living, the underwhelming support for artist communities. The city becomes part your your identity, and it's almost as if you stop distinguishing yourself from it. This can be good, this can be bad. For the right person at the right time, there is nowhere in the world that can offer what this city can. But like a complicated break-up, unentangling yourself from such a place is, well, complicated.

When I read posts about why artists should give up the ship, I find them cynical and sad. No one can live your life for you. No one should be making wholesale judgements about others people's potential for success. You have to take your own chances, make your own mistakes, find out for yourself if the dream you have for your life is possible or not. It's your choice. It's my choice. And though I'm not sure what the best choice for my future is, I'll never regret the past.

06.08.2013 the self-absorbed women of hooper turner

2013-06-08T13:00:00.004-04:00

Hooper was recently interviewed about his work in anticipation of Volta Basel, where he will be showing with his New York gallery Frosch & Portmann. We won't make it over, but if you do, please stop by and say Hallo to the dynamic duo behind the gallery. They have candy.

06.07.2013

2013-06-07T13:30:00.000-04:00

I am trying to be like a massive redwood or the prow of a giant ship

and not the shrinking flea or a broken levee.

04.29.2013 philadelphia: academy of natural sciences

2013-04-29T12:00:00.000-04:00

Academy of Natural Sciences at Drexler University, Philadelphia

04.28.2013 philadelphia: a glorious enterprise at the academy of natural sciences

2013-04-29T09:00:00.000-04:00

A Glorious Enterprise at The Academy of Natural Sciences at Drexel University, Philadelphia, a survey of 200 years of collecting, which I saw just prior to its closing last month.

I have a deep appreciation for the work of collecting, identifying and preserving specimens of the natural world. This exhibition was a far cry from the dusty dioramas for which natural history museums are known (though I also have a fondness for dusty dioramas). The room was dominated by a great wall of wood and glass, gridded off to separate and frame plants, animals, and minerals. A waste high display cabinet ran the length of the wall below the larger display and detailed the history of the Academy's collecting practices.

I was enamored with the gridded display - it was a brilliant aesthetic choice that recalled both the cabinet of curiosities and the scientist's storerooms ("Beauty is truth, truth beauty.") The smaller displays below the great grid elaborated on the extensive lengths to which researchers will go to acquire their specimens and the sometimes tedious nature of the scientific method. Of course, my photos (above) focused on the more aesthetic aspects of the exhibition, but if you'd like to read more on the fascinating history of the collection and the people behind it, do check out the book A Glorious Enterprise: The Academy of Natural Sciences Philadelphia and the Making of American Science.

02.20.2013 or

2013-02-20T13:00:00.000-05:00

*or*Jen Bandini, 2013

01.31.2013 hooper turner at frosch&portmann

2013-01-31T09:49:00.001-05:00

Hooper's second solo show at Frosch & Portmann opens tonight from 6 to 8pm at 53 Stanton St. More details about the work available in the press release, and if you can't make the show, you can see the work on Hooper's site.

(Above - Hanging the show & my favorite wall.)

01.28.2013 the catskills

2013-01-28T11:11:00.000-05:00

Last summer in the Catskills, when we were reminded that we don't spend enough time in the woods. Pippa's bounding around like a rabbit at surprising speeds made us wonder yet again what breed she is mixed with. In the city she is timid on walks; in the woods she was fearless - leaping over logs, scaling giant rocks, and even having her first swim in the creek.

10.31.2012 hurricane sandy: in my neck of the woods

2012-10-31T11:33:00.002-04:00

In case you were wondering, we are alive. And safe. And dry.

My apartment is located on higher ground, just outside any of the likely flood zones. That does not mean that the night of the storm was not nerve-wracking. I watched the myriad online reports as the water creeped much higher than anyone expected. I listened as the wind whistled through the caverns of our buildings, causing many huge trees in my neighborhood to fall. I heard the sickly noises as they went down, though I did not recognize the strange sounds as what they were - the heavy trunks easily crushed the cars parked in the street. It sounded like metal trash cans being hurled against buildings. Fortunately, most of the trees here lean toward the street; most houses were spared.

Throughout the night, there was an eery lack of human presence. Very few cars passed, and there were no pedestrians. The subways that run a few blocks on one side of us and the commuter trains that run a few blocks on the other were both silent, shut down in preparation. All I could hear as I lay in bed was the wind, the rain, and siren after siren after siren.

I awoke before dawn yesterday morning and lay there for a minute, making a mental check that I and the immediate world around me still existed. Shortly thereafter, I received one of my two favorite communiqués from friends checking to see that we were ok. They provided airy moments amidst a heavy couple of days.

My friend in England texted at 5:30 AM to make sure we were safe from the fires that were ravaging a huge section of homes in the Rockaways. Before I could answer she'd looked up my address on a map and saw that we were not in danger. Also, she remembered the time difference. An email later in the morning informed me that in between her two communiques, her husband and she had worked out a plan for our accommodation in England, should we need to escape our devastated home.

My less expressive friend in New Orleans checked in later in the day with a text that read, simply: "Alive?" "Yes." I answered.

...

By late afternoon, much of my neighborhood was attempting a return to normal. Ours is a quiet, "family" neighborhood, but there is no shortage of the "business as usual" attitude our city defines. Many streets and sidewalks remained taped off due to downed trees - and with thousands of trees reported down in the city and workers needed for emergencies still transpiring, who knows how long they will remain? Signs and broken lighting fixtures dangled outside of stores that opened nonetheless. The neighborhood's numerous dogs came out in full force after a day cooped up inside, many in their anxiety-relieving compression shirts.

My husband is back at the gallery where he works in Chelsea to begin clean-up in the dark. Generators and pumps arrived in the gallery district last night as he was leaving. The city below the 30s remains without power, and the flood's waters remain in basements and subways. The trains are still silent and will remain so for the foreseeable future. The sirens continue.

We have been fortunate, and most of the city and its people were spared complete loss of home or life, but my heart has ached for two days for those I do and don't know who have been affected by this madness. The future holds considerable unknowns about how we will change, how we will move forward. Of course, times like these remind us of important truths and teach us critical lessons, but that's after the fact, after the healing. Now is the time after the wound and before the healing, the limbo that is mourning, the purgatory that is wondering how to put your life back together when things will never be the same again.

10.24.2012 l.a. story 3 (l.a. moca)

2012-10-24T09:00:00.000-04:00

*January 2012

10.23.2102 l.a. story 2 (the getty)

2012-10-23T08:00:00.000-04:00

*january 2012

10.22.2012 l.a. story 1 (the ocean)

2012-10-22T09:00:00.000-04:00

*january 2012

10.18.2012 claire & garth

2012-10-18T11:41:00.000-04:00

Claire Joyce & Garth Johnson

09.25.2012 richter's stripe paintings

2012-09-25T11:40:00.000-04:00

Gerhard Richter at Marian Goodman

09.13.2012 update from the ear

2012-09-13T10:28:00.003-04:00

The ear reports it can hear almost as well as before and does its best to ignore the ringing. The docs continue to monitor its progress. A full recovery may not be imminent, but the ear is quite happy to be a nearly normal participant in the world of sound. It thanks you for your kind words and encouragement.

Sometimes we win.

08.30.2012 sudden sensorineural hearing loss (sshl)

2012-08-30T12:59:00.000-04:00

If I told you all the details of my melodramatic summer, you wouldn't believe me, and not just due to my hyperbolic tendencies. Rather than tire you with the litany of events, I will share just the slice that ended somewhat happily:

Did you know you can go suddenly deaf? I'm serious. Suddenly. Like you wake up one morning and one of your ears has gone completely silent. Except for the ringing.

For once, this health crisis wasn't mine.

A few weeks ago my husband, after having suffered no sign of illness whatsoever, awoke one morning to find that he could hear nothing in his left ear. Nothing. Not my ever sonorous voice, not the dog begging him to play, not the car alarms that steadily ring out in front of our house. Assuming it was an infection he called his internist and saw him that afternoon.

The doctor was concerned by the progression and the lack of evidence for infection. He prescribed drops and sent him off to an ENT, who was similarly concerned. Another couple ENTs and a couple audiologists later, and we had little hope that he would recover his hearing at all. He was diagnosed with Sudden Sensorineural Hearing Loss (SSHL), an apparently rare condition. It is treatable - especially when treated early - but the profound loss had all of them doubting he would recover any of his hearing. They began talking about hearing devices that would carry sound from his silent side to the hearing one.

The possibility of never fully hearing music again devastated Hooper. It was days before he would turn on the stereo. Even longer before he dared put on a pair of headphones. With no directional hearing, he felt lost in the world and a little unsafe. Imagine standing on a street corner surrounded by the whoosh and hum of traffic, crowds of chattering people, the insistent sounds of construction, without the ability to place the source. Worse than the lack of hearing was the tinnitus, an incessant cacophony of whining, whirring, and "fax machine" screams that often overwhelmed what he could hear.

What revelations about his condition were revealed to us, doctor after doctor? Not much. It's one of the apparently many things that can happen to the human body about which little is known. You just have to throw things at it. He was given anti-virals as there's a possibility the condition is caused by HSV-1, oral herpes. Since the majority of Americans carry this virus, the majority of us may be at risk of SSHL. He was also given Prednisone to quickly knock down the swelling in an attempt to reintroduce blood flow and restore his hearing, but it had no effect after a week of treatment - another fact that left the docs doubtful.

And then I watched them stick a needle in his eardrum and inject cortisone. I am not in any way squeamish about blood, guts, or the like, but Ew.

After several days, his hearing started to return. He hid this at first so as not to raise my hopes too high. Then he told me, and I didn't believe him. I made him cover his good ear as I spoke at different volumes into the bad one. He began to make out words, and as the days passed, he continued to improve. Another audio test revealed that he was still deficient in some frequencies, but much of his hearing was almost normal. The doctors were pleasantly surprised, finding each other in the hallway to share the news and clap Hooper on the back.

It's been two weeks since the injection, and he still has some deficiency and some ringing, but he's worlds better off than he was. There will be more tests to search for the cause, and he may get another injection in his eardrum.

I think I will sit this one out.

08.21.2012 the world of pippa lee

2012-08-23T12:51:00.000-04:00

play

sulk

play

pose

watch rain

do tricks

nap

pant

listen

cuddle

nap

08.19.2012 queens

2012-08-19T13:49:00.000-04:00

08.14.2012 i'm published - 'making mini books'

2012-08-14T10:19:00.002-04:00

In a wonderful full circle occurrence, I was asked to participate in a new How-to book on hand-bound books. It's full circle because I first learned my bookbinding skills in Asheville many years ago from my wonderful mentor/boss/friend Coral Jensen, who also made me aware of Lark, which was then a sort of crafts mecca that published and sold their own line of books as well as offering workshops on a wide range of arts and crafts. Along with my entry on how to make a basic, small coptic journal, the book is filled with many other interesting projects to add to your litany.

08.01.2012 threshold

2012-08-01T12:37:00.001-04:00

I am looking at a vast building. In the outer wall there is a narrow door which stands wide open; beyond the door a gloomy haze. In front of the high threshold stands a girl – a Russian girl.

There is a breath of frost in that impenetrable haze; and from the depths of the building an icy current of air carries the sound of a slow, faint voice.

“Oh, you who would cross this threshold, do you know what awaits you within?”

“Yes,” the girl answers.

“Cold, hunger, hatred, ridicule, scorn, injustice, imprisonment, sickness, even death itself?”

“I know.”

“You will be spurned by everyone, you will be utterly alone?”

“I know... I am prepared. I can bear all blows and hardships.”

“Even if they come not only from your enemies, but from relatives, from friends as well?

“Yes, even so.”

“Very well. You are ready to make the sacrifice?”

“I am.”

“It will be an anonymous sacrifice, you know that? You will perish and no one... no one will even know whose memory to revere.”

“I have no need of gratitude or compassion. I have no need of a name.”

“Are you prepared to commit crimes?”

The girl hung her head. “Yes, even crimes.”

The voice did not immediately resume its questions.

“Do you know,” it went on at last, “that you may come to disbelieve in the things you believe in now, that you may realize that you have been deceived, and have cast away your young life for nothing?”

“I know that too. But I still wish to enter.”

“Enter then.”

The girl stepped over the threshold and a heavy curtain dropped behind her.

“Idiot!” someone exclaimed from behind.

But from another direction a voice was heard to answer, “Saint!”

-Threshold (Porog) by Ivan Turgenev *

First appeared in Russia illegally as a tract – The People's Will – on 25 September 1883 at Ivan Turgenev's death.

*Translator unknown, copied from my own journal where I transcribed it in June 1998.

07.25.2012 the value of the spoken word

2012-07-25T10:25:00.003-04:00

Visitors to New York generally, classically, make one of two comments about our fair city: 1. It's so dirty. and 2. Everyone says that New Yorkers are rude, but I thought everyone was so NICE. The former I shrug off, and to the latter, depending on the speaker, I might respond that it's all about perspective, and while some of us may be happy to take the time to tell the visitor how to get to Canal Street, the general goal for everyday life is blinders in place, engines at full throttle.

Except sometimes. Sometimes the train will stall out on the track for an hour, at which point all aboard have something in common about which we can connect... er, complain. Or a rider might leave his phone on the seat, resulting in a lightning speed human conveyer belt to get it out the door and into its owner's panicked hands. Or a big game is on a radio, around which three strangers will crowd, discuss, cheer. It's enough to keep us sane.

I was on my way to an appointment last evening, head buried in my latest read, when a sharply dressed woman, a dozen or so years my senior, settled in next to me and asked how it was. We go on to discuss the author, the book, her previous work, which then leads to a conversation about e-readers versus print. We concur on the tactile qualities of analog, which then leads to a conversation about letters versus email, and then finally, the loss of the art of conversation. We make the obvious points in favor of the internet's ability to connect people from far reaches of the world, the sometime need for speed, the access to knowledge that would be difficult or impossible to access, but the general conversation tended towards a lament for those things lost.

We both arrived at our stop, and we said goodbye, nice talking to you, etc, and she made some little joke to two twenty-somethings boarding the train with suitcases large enough to fit a wardrobe ("Running away from home?"). Then one of the two glanced down and saw my book and asks, "Did you like it?" "Oh yes," I respond, and as I'm exiting the train, I ask if he also read and enjoyed it. "Loved it!" he called out, as the doors were closing.

The sharply dressed woman turned back to me and remarked, "See, none of that would have just happened if you were using a Kindle!"

* The galvanizing book is Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking, an account of her husband's death - heart-rending without hyperbole, grief dissected.