It's one of my favorite pictures even though half of it was over exposed and seared during development, cutting off a quarter of my mother's beautiful face and more of the night (I still contemplate how I could frame this one). On the undamaged portion of the glossy colored print stands my mom and dad with my sister and I in front of them. My parents, dressed for a black tie affair, look elegant and young. My mother in a black spaghetti strap gown, her blond hair pin straight and brushing her shoulders, my father in a tux, bow tie tied perfectly. My mother is tan and and makeup free, a light cardigan keeping her warm on the summer's eve. My father has his arm around Jenny, my older sister, and I crouch in front on my mother--a toe head blond with a belly and a frilly cotton nightgown. Jenny is in a classic jersey sleeper of the eighties. The four of us stand, in this dark photo, in front of the paneled Mount Moroe Street house with a tiny two seater black Mercedes convertible, barely visible. I just know Jenny and I were barefoot--we must have scampered outside before my parents climbed into that classic car, and had Kara, our first babysitter, snap a family photo to mark the wedding / birthday / anniversary, of whomever, and where ever they were off to.
3.24.2010
The Art of the Photo Essay
I'm starting my second writing course at NYU's continuing education center, the first was about this time last year. I really enjoyed it and I particularly enjoyed the professor. One of our last assignments with her was a little taste of her next class (this). We were asked to choose any picture we wanted and write about it. Just a quick bit--not too much. I love writing about pictures. The scariest part of my class last year was knowing I would have to read my work out loud and it ended up being my favorite part. I've never shared any of my "creative non-fiction" on here, but here is what I left off with last year, and will pick up now.
It's one of my favorite pictures even though half of it was over exposed and seared during development, cutting off a quarter of my mother's beautiful face and more of the night (I still contemplate how I could frame this one). On the undamaged portion of the glossy colored print stands my mom and dad with my sister and I in front of them. My parents, dressed for a black tie affair, look elegant and young. My mother in a black spaghetti strap gown, her blond hair pin straight and brushing her shoulders, my father in a tux, bow tie tied perfectly. My mother is tan and and makeup free, a light cardigan keeping her warm on the summer's eve. My father has his arm around Jenny, my older sister, and I crouch in front on my mother--a toe head blond with a belly and a frilly cotton nightgown. Jenny is in a classic jersey sleeper of the eighties. The four of us stand, in this dark photo, in front of the paneled Mount Moroe Street house with a tiny two seater black Mercedes convertible, barely visible. I just know Jenny and I were barefoot--we must have scampered outside before my parents climbed into that classic car, and had Kara, our first babysitter, snap a family photo to mark the wedding / birthday / anniversary, of whomever, and where ever they were off to.
It's one of my favorite pictures even though half of it was over exposed and seared during development, cutting off a quarter of my mother's beautiful face and more of the night (I still contemplate how I could frame this one). On the undamaged portion of the glossy colored print stands my mom and dad with my sister and I in front of them. My parents, dressed for a black tie affair, look elegant and young. My mother in a black spaghetti strap gown, her blond hair pin straight and brushing her shoulders, my father in a tux, bow tie tied perfectly. My mother is tan and and makeup free, a light cardigan keeping her warm on the summer's eve. My father has his arm around Jenny, my older sister, and I crouch in front on my mother--a toe head blond with a belly and a frilly cotton nightgown. Jenny is in a classic jersey sleeper of the eighties. The four of us stand, in this dark photo, in front of the paneled Mount Moroe Street house with a tiny two seater black Mercedes convertible, barely visible. I just know Jenny and I were barefoot--we must have scampered outside before my parents climbed into that classic car, and had Kara, our first babysitter, snap a family photo to mark the wedding / birthday / anniversary, of whomever, and where ever they were off to.
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