In the Labyrinth

The Mystery of Family Photos

This post is really for my cousin François, who has been visiting the blog to see what photos of our families are appearing -- and happily identifying those I don't know. I have these three photos that I love for the way the people are grouped, smiling and staring back at the photographer. I am not sure who everyone is -- but I know I am related to them all and that makes them seem even more mysterious to me. I can't help but search their faces for a sign of myself, a gesture, a smile. So here is what I do know of the photos and I am hoping François, that you can identify the others in the pictures. (Click on the image for a larger version.)

The sepia photo above is of my grandfather Frederick Snyder -- standing there so rakishly among those women. I am not sure if any of them is my grandmother Madeleine -- their hats are pulled so low that it is hard to be sure. But if not her...then perhaps they are three of her six sisters? Perhaps it is Madeleine who took the photo? And they look like they are having so much fun, leaning against Madeleine's big American boyfriend. I wonder if they knew he was already married in America when he married Madeleine in France?

This is a later photograph -- Fredrick now in the pose of a doting father, with my father Emile and his sister Rosine perched on Frederick's knees. And the children behind? I love their postures --especially the oldest one, leaning against the wall with all the humor and panache of an adolescent.  I have some guesses...but I'll see if François can enlighten me.

Here is the last one, and it is later still. I think some of the adults here are the children from the photo above. For some reason, I feel like the photo must have been taken before the war. People seem so relaxed, playful -- the younger ones mug in the back. (Even as I look at it now, the two young men holding up the girl are the same two older boys from the photo above. And the women! How much like an older version of the two girls!) But judging from the clothes, it also seems later, late enough that the war is hovering not far away.

Terri Windling's Studio Online At Last!

I am very excited to invite all of you to browse throughTerri Windling's terrific new website, blog, and art galleries! (The Etsy shop is coming...). It is a truly wonderful place, filled with Terri's reflections on the craft of editing, writing, myth and folklore, recommended books, and finally, all of her wonderful art available for viewing. It's like Terri, knowledgeable and generous, beautiful and welcoming -- sharing her love of the mythic arts with all of us.

Here's a list of the sections: The Studio Doorway, The Entrance Hall, The Drawing Board (all of her sketches), The Easel (paintings and collages), Writing Desk, Editing Desk, Inspiration Board, and Speakers Corner.

Happy Birthday EP

Happy birthday to the Garlic Queen-slash-birthday pig! Hope you guys are able to take time out from farming long enough to eat something decadent and delicious.

Happy Mother's Day Mom!

Figured it was high time to post some pictures of my mother, Jeanette, and found this one of her just after I was born, as well as a strip of photo-booth pics taken when I was just a wee one. I've also included a photo taken just after my birth as I was the first baby of the New Year in Santa Monica that year, so this photo appeared in the newspaper. I love how young and glamorous she looks wearing what was probably a fabulous red lipstick just hours after delivering me. Even as a young woman (and she sure is young here, I think all of 22 or 23 years old when I born) she looks so sure of herself, with just a bit of attitude. Awesome. Love you, mom.

Have a look at the killer article she wrote for the Journal of Mythic Arts on the Tibetan Opera, A Lce Lha Mo. Her photographs are amazing.

Frog and Toad (with apologies to Arnold Lobel)

I couldn't resist the title on this post. The above picture is of my Navy frogman son Carl holding a wayward toad that came visiting the bottom of the drained pool, which had just enough cold water left to make it inviting. The last week has been a long and much anticipated visit from Carl. Every time he goes away and returns he is both the boy I knew and the man he is gradually becoming. Pretty spectacular.

If we weren't hiking, rock climbing, eating, doing archery, or sitting around reading, we were spending a lot time on the floor, rolling around with the dog who was in heaven to see Carl again. (Managed to get one photo of Carl, Taiko, and Buju that wasn't blurred from the rough housing!) Every night the dog made the rounds of beds, ending up on Carl's so as to have a chance to sleep in after the rest of us were up and off to work.

Michael Pajon's American Standard Series

I have to say I am absolutely enchanted with Chicago artist Michael Pajon's incredible collages.  Of his collages he says: "This group of work contemplates the most humble of human remains: old matchbooks from junk shops, antique postcards and books, sheet music from my great aunt's collection, crackerjack toys that belonged to my mother, and other objects once lost and resurrected." His work pulls together all these small ordinary and fantastic elements to create a composite visual identity of American culture.

But these rich and complex collages also are filled with story. The collage above is a detail of "American Standard XXXVI: Jimmy's Adventures in the Inland Empire." I find myself "reading" the series as I did when I was child -- unable to follow the words and instead finding the story in the concatenation of images. Parjon has provided detailed explanations of the symbolic imagery for some of the individual pieces from his American Standard XXVI series, such as the two below. One is a memorial to his brother who was in the air force, and the other is the story of a young woman's journey to the city -- inspired by the vintage letter which forms the ground of the collage. Do stop by the site -- it's really fabulous.

The Literary Tattoo

Here's an interesting post from Yuppie Punk -- on the new literary genre of tattoos. I find it fascinating that folks would inscribe whole literary passages on their bodies. There's even an invitation to send in a picture of your own literary tattoo. And I am astonished at the range of literary choices...not sure in my 80s if I would feel the same way about a scrap of J.K. Rowling on my chest -- but maybe I could go in for a Flannery O'Connor quote, such as "She could never be a saint, but she thought she could be a martyr if they killed her quick." The big question is where to put it...

Not so long ago, I taught a high school English class called "Literature and the Visual Arts." One of the units was a look at the tattoo -- as story/text/memoir/visual art inscribed on the body. We studied all manner of tattoos -- from traditional Polynesian, gang and prison tats, Naval history, Yakuza, and those from the current popular culture of folks just wanting to say something about themselves to the viewer. I was greatly helped in this endeavor by a terrific book, Dorothy Parker's Elbow: Tattoos on Writers, Writers on Tattoos, edited by Kim Addonizio and Cheryl Dumesnil, which contains wonderful essays, poetry. and short fiction on tattoos. My favorite tattoo stories here were "Parker's Back," by Flannery O'Connor, and "The Fifteen Dollar Eagle," by Sylvia Plath. (I also gave the students a copy of Junchiro Tanizaki's "The Tattooer," which is an eerie little fantasy story.)

My only warning to the class of all boys was if they got too carried away with the unit and got themselves inked, I'd fail them. I didn't want parents calling me up to complain I'd encouraged the boys! Their response was to lift up their shirt sleeves, t-shirts, and pant legs and reveal a whole art gallery of tattoos.  And every one of them had a story behind them.  My favorite was a beautiful tattoo of Arthur's Excalibur with a dragon wound around it. The student had designed and drawn it himself. He regarded it as a call to honor, a challenge to live in a certain "heroic" fashion.

While we're at it, take a look at Shelley Jackson's fascinating project Skin -- a 2,095 word short story, tattooed one word at a time on as many volunteers. It's a really interesting use of narrative and tattooing -- although, I figure it would have been my luck to get the word "the" ... still, that word alone could have a kind of zen fullness I suppose.

And, if you need more...stop by Literary Ink, a blog devoted to showing off the literary tattoo and a really cool older post from Darren Barefoot's blog. I sure wish these had been around when I was teaching!

And May Day Snakes...

Usually I think of celebrating May Day with flowers -- but it's definitely been a bouquet of reptiles today instead. Yesterday, they drained the pool where we are staying to make some repairs, and this evening, the dog discovered this very large, Sonoran Gopher snake trapped at the bottom. We've had quite a few snakes as pets, so my son rather casually jumped down, and gently grabbing the snake by the back of the neck in one hand, and the body in the other, carried him out of the pool. Mr. Snake wasn't too pleased with the handling (a good deal of hissing ensued) -- but seemed mollified once he'd had a chance to return to the cool shade of the Mesquite tree. He even stopped long enough for me to snap a picture...he sure was long...