tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53849578363576781022024-03-12T19:36:33.723-04:00godshomemoviessocial landscape documentation in photographs & words.shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comBlogger100125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-43388977953548180532010-06-25T07:27:00.001-04:002010-06-25T07:28:22.053-04:00Moved.Hey y'all!<br /><br />I've officially moved this blog over to <a href="http://godshomemovies.org">godshomemovies.org</a>. Check it out! It's got a better layout and a nicer typeface.shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-5151013296049972162010-05-09T12:10:00.001-04:002010-05-09T12:10:56.796-04:00Excavating the Space We've Left Behind.<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4557519013/" title="Front Door by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4032/4557519013_f81fea6476.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="Front Door" /></a> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4558166958/" title="Swing by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4028/4558166958_15e6f30601.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="Swing" /></a><br /><br /><i>2088, Swing.</i></center><br />With heavy clouds and muddy soil, I go home. When I pull into the driveway, off of Route 890, there are tires over gravel, there is me and there are the cars whispering as they drive by. Here is the house my mother grew up in, here is the house my aunt still lives in. Here lives parts of me as a child in another lifetime, here lives bits and pieces of my family's history.<br /><br /><center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4557527125/" title="Backyard by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3106/4557527125_7f225556a0.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="Backyard" /></a><br /><br /><i>Backyard.</i></center><br />I have wanted to photograph my aunt Cecelia's, my mom's second oldest sister, house for a long time, since I started making pictures.<br /><br />See, my mom's mom died was my mom was 20 of a heart attack. The details are vague to me, something involving elevator doors opening and closing and one minute being alive and the next not. I have never met my grandmother but the weight of her life and her death have been increasingly apparent to me. My mother marks time with the death of hers; the months before that day in 1978 and the 2-5-10 years after that compose the time line of her life.<br /><br /><center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4557549295/" title="Dining Room by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3299/4557549295_b0e230e269.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="Dining Room" /></a> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4557556975/" title="Bathroom by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3484/4557556975_4a334d0ae9.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="Bathroom" /></a><br /><br /><i>Dining Room, Bathroom.</i></center><br />In this house, she, her husband, and her 5 children lived and worked in a space no larger than 900 square feet. My grandfather a dairy farmer, she ran a country store and gas station out of the basement, which still exists in the heavy oak cabinets that now are home to photo albums, Christmas decorations, clothing.<br /><br />The presence of my family's history is so pervasive in this house that, at times, when I was there on a Sunday in April, I had to close my eyes a few times in order to push it out. Between being offered food ("Are you sure you aren't hungry? We have soup! What about a sandwich? Are you thirsty? Have some iced tea.") and talking about life's details, I took in all of the things that changed since I was young and all of the things that have changed from when my mom was young. The ironing board still comes out of the wall. The bathroom still has that wallpaper in it. The carpet is new, the metal cabinets replaced with a blond wood.<br /><br /><center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4557542949/" title="Basement Detail by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3366/4557542949_15796222b8.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="Basement Detail" /></a><br /><br /><i>Basement Details.</i></center><br />At six, eight, ten, I was terrified of her basement. It was dark, filled with boxes of stuff and felt seemingly unending. There were doors and hallways to places that I had never been in and the majority of it was lit by one single light bulb, turned on by the pulling of a string.<br /><br />It hasn't really changed much, except it is notably less terrifying than I thought it to be. It packed full of stuff, more stuff then I remembered. Several lifetimes full of stuff stacked to the ceiling, piled on shelves and arranged haphazardly in those oak cabinets.<br /><br /><center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4558145478/" title="Laundry Room by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3132/4558145478_096e8d5f66.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="Laundry Room" /></a><br /><br /><i>Laundry Room.</i></center><br />The weight of home, of history, of time passing, of silence. I think about the details of my family's life, especially it's women, that I am now just learning, have just learned in the past few months and I am overwhelmed with questions. Who I am, who they were, who they are are intrinsically linked together with laughter and bitterness, in the spaces we keep, in the food we eat, in the shape of our bodies.shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-78806185447584039732010-04-19T17:38:00.002-04:002010-04-19T17:41:03.679-04:00Lookit!The totally awesome Jaime K. of <a href="http://savethekales.wordpress.com/">Save the Kales</a> and <a href="http://heartofsteelcity.wordpress.com">Heart of SteelCity</a> featured me and my work on Heart of SteelCity today. <br /><br /><a href="http://heartofsteelcity.wordpress.com/2010/04/19/through-the-viewfinder-small-towns-and-ocds-with-photographer-shelby-skumanich/">Check it out!</a>shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-28378038322502733632010-04-15T23:48:00.003-04:002010-04-16T00:16:50.230-04:00Tying Faith Between Our Teeth.<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4510659901/" title="Tide. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2078/4510659901_0e309b831f.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="Tide." /></a><br /><br /><i>Tide, Ocean Grove NJ.</i></center><br />With the air warm and thick like its been, I itch to move around, to drive, to explore, to see. The mercury hit 70 one day and the only thing I wanted, needed to do was run to the Atlantic and wiggle my toes in it's bitter, cold waters. <br /><br /><center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4510661717/" title="Pier. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2751/4510661717_c1584969c4.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="Pier." /></a><br /><br /><i>Pier, Ocean Grove NJ.</i></center><br />Let my eyes fill with sunshine and let my skin redden. Let me find that teenage feeling, just one more time. Let the salt stick in my hair. Let it be July.shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-22940689769184770002010-02-18T08:30:00.000-05:002010-02-18T08:30:01.184-05:00Interior.<center> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4349935295/" title="Control Panel. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4051/4349935295_31b4efb93c.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="Control Panel." /></a> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4349924185/" title="Hardhats. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4069/4349924185_2378edd290.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="Hardhats." /></a><br /><br /><i>Control Panel, Hardhats. Meadowbrook Coal Company, Lykens Pa. 2006.</i></center>shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-3197341746548853712010-02-17T20:57:00.000-05:002010-02-17T20:57:01.571-05:00Strange.<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4349950661/" title="Pro-Life. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2729/4349950661_8b14687e14.jpg" alt="Pro-Life." height="500" width="500" /></a><br /><br /><i>Pro-Life. Route 309, Outside of Tamaqua Pa. 2007.</i></center><br /><br />While Santorum still held office and wasn't quite a laughing stock* yet, these signs popped up along highways, scattered around north eastern and central Pa, as I had seen a few on my drives through the area and near the town I grew up in. I have no idea of their maker or purpose and I found them to be really bizarre and random. They were well made, obviously constructed with care, and relatively large, as they could be read from the highway. Why the white cross? The flower? Why the text?<br /><br />I have always been fascinated by the signage along highways. My interest lies not in the billboards, not in the messages and images that want to convince me to spend money, but in the signage that has been put up by individuals. I am perpetually boggled at the maker of such text and signs. What's the intent? Why put something so nonsensical in such a visible place? What need does placing the sign fulfill?<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">*Depending on who you ask, I suppose.<br /></span>shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-13258027822493247362010-02-16T08:30:00.000-05:002010-02-16T08:30:01.203-05:00Sometimes, I Like to Pretend I am Alec Soth.<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4349938027/" title="Sleeping by the Strippings. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2795/4349938027_9834afd406.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="Sleeping by the Strippings." /></a><br /><br /><i>Sleeping by the Strippings. Williamstown, PA.</i></center><br /><br />What? Like you've never done it.shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-21124824510694306312010-02-15T08:07:00.000-05:002010-02-15T08:07:00.282-05:00Highways.<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4349952569/" title="Routes 61 & 81. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4012/4349952569_867dc4e3d4.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="Routes 61 & 81."/></a><br /><br /><i>Routes 61 & 81. Frackville Pa. 2006.</i></center><br />For whatever reason, I have always really loved this photograph. The original chrome, however, was not well exposed (it was probably over about 1.5 stops) and when I first scanned it, it was hard to do much with it and get it to look the way I wanted it to. My photo editing skills have increased ten fold since I made the picture and I was thrilled to be able to clean it up and make the picture look like it should. The sky isn't quite what it needs to be but for now, I can live with that.shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-10816965937554877782010-02-14T12:30:00.000-05:002010-02-14T12:30:00.393-05:00Terry.<center> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4349920789/" title="Terry by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4058/4349920789_05ee438f75.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="Terry" /></a><br /><br /><i>Meadowbrook Coal Company. Lykens, PA</i></center><br /><br />I was always really hesitant to use the handful of photographs I took of people while I was photographing. The portraits I made, I always felt, weren't right, weren't quite good enough, didn't fit in with the images I was working with. To this day, I look at this picture and I go "I took that?!".shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-30718779491335712202010-02-13T09:30:00.000-05:002010-02-13T09:30:00.740-05:00Reclaim.<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4350675302/" title="Coal Reclaim. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2756/4350675302_1ed11a2e25.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="Coal Reclaim." /></a><br /><br /><i>Coal Reclaim Operation. Meadowbrook Coal Company, Lykens PA. 2007.</i></center>shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-65964869188334994922010-02-12T23:47:00.000-05:002010-02-12T00:18:03.229-05:00On Recent and Not-so-Recent Personal History.<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4349926523/" title="Jer 29 by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4014/4349926523_cd686b4428.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="Jer 29" /></a><br /><br /><i>Jer 29, Outside of Hometown, PA. 2007.</i></center><br />When I wake up in the morning, it is easy for me to forget about the time that I spent frantically, obsessively, and joyously making photographs for an audience. Then, I could hardly wait 7 whole days before coming home to photograph, to leave behind grades and work and school and bills and do nothing but make the photographs I wanted to make. Now, I swim, I shower, I eat breakfast, I drive to work, I work, I come home, I eat, and I go to bed. Somewhere in there, I spend time with my girlfriend, read books about things that matter to me, go to the library, do volunteer work and somehow, find meaning in who I am and what I am doing. I rarely spend time making new work and go months between picking up a camera to make new images. Then, the meaning that I need to have in my life was so ever present on a daily and on-going basis, I had little time to breathe, to think, to just exist. Now, I force myself to find it and the time between making pictures is long and punctuated. Moving forward (as I seem to need to always do), I hope to somehow find a balance between the two.<br /><br /><center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4350676868/" title="Jack O' Lantern. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4066/4350676868_d42af027c1.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="Jack O' Lantern." /></a><br /><br /><i>Jack O' Lantern. Pottsville, Pa. 2006.</i></center><br />Before stepping forward, however, I have wanted to turn my eye towards the past, towards the family I came from, the person I was and photographs I made when I was that person in order to figure out who I am today, who I am working towards becoming. There are gaps for me, in my personal past, that I cannot recall. There are months from college and the year that followed that I can't conjure up no matter how I try; I am missing pieces of my memory as it has been erased by anxiety, truncated by depression.<br /><br />I have spent the last month scanning, cleaning up and correcting images that I had made during my time photographing in the coal region. My neg binder from that time period is overstuffed with chromes of varying degrees of exposure (good, bad, in between) and images that I had long forgotten about. Editing them and paring them down so quickly in school did not allow me time to live with many of them, to think about them. I made the decisions about those images so quickly that <a href="http://godshomemovies.org">the edit</a> became the entirety of the project and the other images that were taken with them had been forgotten about until recently.<br /><br /><center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4350673714/" title="Landscaping. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4045/4350673714_b4417a5597.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="Landscaping." /></a><br /><br /><i>Landscaping. Hometown, PA. 2007.</i></center><br />Going through the images and seeing them again for the first time in well over 3 years brought me back to those places. Those moments in and around the shutter opening and closing were present for me so suddenly and vividly. It conjured up all of the thoughts and sensory input that are linked to those places and I remembered why I started making those images, started exploring that place to begin with.shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-84030943708849240872010-01-13T20:44:00.002-05:002010-02-09T15:01:01.749-05:00...<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4129527153/" title="Little Round Top. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2561/4129527153_ff33f21b53.jpg" width="333" height="500"></a><br /><br /><i>Little Round Top, Looking Towards Bloody Run. Gettysburg PA.</i></center>shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-28095556686469596812010-01-08T09:00:00.002-05:002010-01-08T09:00:04.162-05:00Show.<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/2078737380/" title="One Hundred and Seventy Seven Vintage Bone Buttons by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2111/2078737380_64eabec033.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="One Hundred and Seventy Seven Vintage Bone Buttons" /></a></center><br /><br />Three of my photographs from the <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/sets/72157603347770393/">Confessions of an Obsessive Compulsive</a> series will be hanging at <a href="http://climategallery.com">climate/gallery's</a> Focal_Resolution-1 show in Long Island City, NY. It opens January 9th. If you are in the area, go and tell me how they look, please.shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-52123035493771852052010-01-05T08:38:00.000-05:002010-01-05T08:38:00.548-05:00Sacred Spaces.<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4010881448/" title="Labyrnith I by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2632/4010881448_185c32f55a.jpg" width="333" height="500" alt="Labyrinth I" /></a> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4010118283/" title="Offerings. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2521/4010118283_6bd918936b.jpg" width="333" height="500" alt="Offerings." /></a><br /><br /><i>Labyrinth Path, Offerings. Columcille Megalith Park, Bangor PA.</i></center><br /><a href="http://www.columcille.org/">Columcille Megalith Park</a> is a beautiful, spiritual place up the road about an hour or so in Bangor. Nestled along a local, tared and chipped road, it is a place of mediation and silence. That fall day when A. and I visited was warm and sunny, the air sharp. I was taken with it's meandering paths along the woods and the texture of stones. My favorite part of the park was the labyrinth and it's center. There, when you reached the inside of it, was a rock covered with bits and pieces visitors had left behind as an offering, a thank you.<br /><br /><center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4010121559/" title="Split Stone. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2535/4010121559_c76c6a516e.jpg" width="333" height="500" alt="Split Stone." /></a> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4010119625/" title="LR + SC by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2496/4010119625_74dba03b31.jpg" width="333" height="500" alt="LR + SC" /></a><br /><br /><i>Split Stone, LR+SC</i> </center><br /><br />I long for the warmth and the sun from that day. January's thin air and heavy cold has settled into the earth and I am perpetually chasing the chill away with thick socks, sweatshirts, and big cups of tea.shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-5371951770504003302010-01-05T01:24:00.000-05:002010-01-05T01:24:22.650-05:00Transformative.<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4130299228/" title="R. J. Gibson's Studio. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2758/4130299228_5b801e3fbd.jpg" width="500" height="333" alt="R. J. Gibson's Studio." /></a><br /><br /><i>Freshly Fixed Tin Type, R.J. Gibson's Photography Studio. Gettysburg PA.</i></center><br /><br />The medium of photgraphy is so intrinsically linked to the transformation of subject and the manipulation of reality. I have spent my adult life clinging to a camera, my eye searching and searching for photographs of places and other people that I rarely allow myself to step in front of the camera, to allow myself to be seen in any other way besides what is represented to me in my head. I fear cameras and their steady gaze in the hands of the untrained for fear of seeing myself as I really am, physically.<br /><br />In November, I had the pleasure of sitting for <a href="http://www.wix.com/kentcourtney/GibsonPhotoGallery">R.J. Gibson</a>, a photographer working in the tradition of the wet plate process. I knew when I went to his studio I wasn't interested in being photographed as a typical female of the 19th century, not in ballgown nor in day dress. I definately knew that I wanted to be dressed as a male character; originally I figure I would be dressed as a Confederate infantry soldier.<br /><br />While I know that "reenactment" photographs can conjure up unpleasant associations for a lot of people, Gibson's process of making the photograph for the subject was really incredible to witness. The final portrait is very much a collaborative work. In talking to him, he figured out a way to photograph me as my 19th century alter in a way that was both fun and thoughtful. After telling him that I was a photographer, he felt it would be better to dress me up as a photographer from the 1800's. I got to pose next to a gorgeous piece of photographic history, an 8x10 wooden view camera with original lenses, constructed around 1865. The photograph it's self had an exposure of about 14 seconds. I could blink and breathe but my eyes could not move. It was strange to stand in front of a camera lens and be photographed for a full 14 seconds. While my mind was totally blank while standing in front of the camera, I couldn't help but wonder if, somehow, 14 seconds could somehow capture something more than 1/30 of a second could.shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-79522811466992804802009-11-26T08:30:00.001-05:002009-11-26T08:30:01.476-05:00On Light.<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/3939967094/" title="Puget Sound. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2467/3939967094_edee418d2e.jpg" width="500" height="333" alt="Puget Sound." /></a><br /><br /><i>Puget Sound. Seattle WA.</i></center><br /><br />I had a conversation with A. about the properties of light in different geographic locations. She talked of Venice, I talked of the South. It led me to dreaming about the light out on the west coast, before I set foot on the damp earth there. Here, in Pennsylvania the daylight has a density to it that I can't describe. It is a thick daylight, heavy and long limbed.<br /><br />Seattle's light was crisp and bright, defining the edges of the landscape with clarity. I was a little dumb founded when I stepped out the plane and was surrounded by the grey, sharp light of the 6 o'clock hour on the west coast. It felt like someone had focused my eyes.shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-86878390427723580942009-11-25T09:10:00.001-05:002009-11-25T09:10:00.653-05:00Aw, Shucked.<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4010865650/" title="Shucking I by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3528/4010865650_03ba534484.jpg" width="333" height="500" alt="Shucking I" /></a><br /><br /><i>Last of the Sweet Corn. October.</i></center>shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-36739435802979249572009-10-15T08:00:00.002-04:002009-10-15T08:00:03.610-04:00An Unintentional Beast.<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4010138903/" title="Groundhog Pelvis. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2188/4010138903_82a70fd283.jpg" width="350" alt="Groundhog Pelvis." /></a> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4010904548/" title="Tulip Bulbs. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3492/4010904548_9a6f35c022.jpg" width="350" alt="Tulip Bulbs." /></a> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/4010905434/" title="Groundhog Hip/Spine. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3514/4010905434_6345910b91.jpg" width="350" alt="Groundhog Hip/Spine." /></a> </center><br /><br />The act of putting something in a jar is about preservation, is about keeping that object around as it is for a long time. I have a collection of glass containers and inside that collection are objects that have been picked up and kept out of sentiment, value, or interest.<br /><br />Last year, I went to <a href="http://godshomemovies.blogspot.com/2008/03/alvira-pa.html">Alvira PA</a> with my aunt and picked up a groundhog skeleton. Between then and now, my attempt at curing the bones failed and it began to grow some very neat looking mold which attached it's self to a bird's nest. The bulbs were from the backyard of my old apartment. While gross in formation, I found the results to be gorgeous.shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-79702730274621534882009-10-14T18:10:00.001-04:002009-10-14T18:10:00.312-04:00Texture.<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/3939200307/" title="Texture. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3456/3939200307_816e9daa2e.jpg" width="500" height="333" alt="Texture." /></a><br /><br /><i>Pike Place Market Parking. Seattle WA.</i></center>shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-49902024310673716142009-10-13T23:42:00.004-04:002009-10-14T00:02:44.086-04:00Puget Sound Shore.<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/3939965504/" title="Rose Petal, Rain Water. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2519/3939965504_51eb5789b8.jpg" width="333" height="500" alt="Rose Petal, Rain Water." /></a><br /><br /><i>Rose Petal Filled with Rain Water, Gravel. Seattle WA.</i><br /></center><br /><br />Lately, I have been really interested in being very close to things when I photograph them, flattening the space and leaving only a few hints of depth in the images. I have spent so much time in my photographic life taking two or three steps back and to the right. I think being as close as possible to my subject creates new possibilities for images and enables me to explore both new and old places with ideas that I have yet to mull over. I force myself to look closer.shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-794387028385102982009-10-03T10:35:00.000-04:002009-10-03T10:35:00.473-04:00August.<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/3783566132/" title="Nadine's Front Porch. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2461/3783566132_4ba1699f57.jpg" width="333" height="500" alt="Nadine's Front Porch." /></a><br /><br /><i>Nadine's Front Porch, Drums PA.</i></center>shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-55290089654886753842009-10-02T09:02:00.000-04:002009-10-02T09:02:00.110-04:00Photographs.<center> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/3854428479/" title="Photobooth! by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2573/3854428479_531de9c25a.jpg" width="500" height="333" alt="Photobooth!" /></a><br /><br /><i>Photobooth, originally located at the Palace Arcarde. Asbury Park NJ.</i></center>shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-15549744474776035402009-09-30T23:32:00.007-04:002009-10-01T08:23:43.290-04:00Me, I Just Got Tired of Hanging in Them Dirty Arcades Banging Them Pleasure Machines.<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/3855211988/" title="Madame Marie's. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3426/3855211988_fa5b54d11a.jpg" width="500" height="333" alt="Madame Marie's." /></a><br /><br /><i>Madame Marie's, Asbury Park NJ.</i><br /><br />"Well the cops finally busted Madame Marie for telling fortunes better than they do." <br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/3854416675/" title="Viewer. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2609/3854416675_a66fa45820.jpg" width="333" height="500" alt="Viewer." /></a><br /><br /><i>Viewer, Ocean Grove.</i><br /><br />"This boardwalk life for me is through, you know you ought to quit this scene too." </center><br />Sometimes, most of the time, particularly in the dead of winter or right before spring's wild explosion of life and green, I am seeking out what summer feels like. Stifling heat brings a sense of wide open youth, playful desire, endless twilight and wonderment to the world. I want a perpetual summer. I perpetually want sand in my hair and around my toes, I perpetually want sun-licked skin and sticky sweet ice cream and a light heart to make life brighter, easier to bear.<br /><br /><center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/3855207010/" title="Sea View Avenue. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2605/3855207010_1f97413787.jpg" width="300" alt="Sea View Avenue." /></a> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/3854415713/" title="Jesus on the Beach. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2515/3854415713_b32ed5fe10.jpg" width="300" alt="Jesus on the Beach." /></a><br /><br /><i>Sea View Avenue, Beachside Jesus.</i><br /><br />"Sandy the aurora's rising behind us, the pier lights our carnival life forever."</center><br />So, during a phone conversation I impulsively suggested to A. that we go to Ocean Grove, New Jersey for a long weekend by ourselves. Admittedly, I wanted to be close to Asbury Park, enchanted as I am by the mythology that is Springsteen. I wanted to explore the place more, intrigued as I was by what I saw the last time I was there. I loved Ocean Grove's obvious preoccupation for it's past but it's attention for it's present and longing for it's future. Ocean Grove, tucked away from the interstate, sleepy-eyed and quiet seemed like the best place for us to spend our short but much-need time away.<br /><br /><center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/3855202202/" title="The Boss. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2566/3855202202_ecc45cd5c7.jpg" width="300" alt="The Boss." /></a> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/3854424637/" title="Pleasure Island Detail. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2667/3854424637_81f1218118.jpg" width="300"></a><br /><br /><i>The Boss, Pleasure Island Pinball Game.</i></center><br />My hunt for the elusive light, playful essence of summertime completed it's self on the Jersey shore, in a second floor room of a historical <a href="http://www.purpleroofs.com/melrose-nj.html">B&B</a>, along the stretch of Asbury Park's boardwalk. I fell hard for both A. and Ocean Grove. That sandy strip of beach and the town's narrow streets lined with quaint Victorian houses and the soft skin of her palm in mine gave me that feeling of summer that I hadn't felt since I was young. Enormous, weightless, in love.<br /><br /><center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/3854419943/" title="Asbury Waterpark. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3470/3854419943_411e4e2db7.jpg" width="500" height="333" alt="Asbury Waterpark." /></a><br /><br /><i>Asbury's Waterpark.</i><br /><br />"Love me tonight and I promise that I'll love you forever."</center>shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-58030470975470955132009-09-25T08:18:00.004-04:002009-09-25T08:51:40.047-04:00Roberts' 100th Reunion.<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/3783542038/" title="Gathering for the Big Group Photo. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3547/3783542038_900c20afea.jpg" width="500" height="333" alt="Gathering for the Big Group Photo." /></a><br /><br /><i>Gathering for the Big Group Photo, Roberts' Reunion. Drums PA.</i></center><br />The first Sunday of every August, since 1909, the relatives and (now, since there isn't anyone actually named Roberts there) decedents of the Roberts family gather in Drums, PA to "reunite" with one another. August is not August unless the first Sunday is spent eating food, chatting with people who's names I can only sometimes recall, drinking birch beer from the tap jutting from the side of the green refrigerator, and gazing out across the pond/lake.<br /><br /><center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/3783526794/" title="Summer Cabin & the Pond. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3430/3783526794_006838c382.jpg" width="500" height="333" alt="Summer Cabin & the Pond." /></a><br /><br /><i>At the Pond</i></center><br />It is like any place I go that is populated by my former selves, by my family's history. There are photo albums containing the group photographs from the time I was born until present day and all 25 of us, all different incarnations of me linger there in the cat-o-nine tails and the swampy ground, around the stream that feeds the lake, with mud-caked feet and a full belly. See, every year each cluster of families is photographed together and those photographs stretch all the way back to the mid 30's.<br /><br /><center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/3782737861/" title="Food Stuffs. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2624/3782737861_a13a895f7c.jpg" width="500" height="333" alt="Food Stuffs." /></a><br /><br /><i>Potluck.</i></center><br />Like it's very existence, the reunion is punctuated by ritual. The potluck lunch is at noon sharp, preceded by a brief thanks given to the Lord for the bounty and nourishment that he's provided. There is the 50-50 drawing, the meeting to discuss affairs regarding the fiances and future of the reunion, the Chinese auction where my uncle always wins my aunt's quilt. There are the photo of the families and then there is corn, which has been steaming quietly over fire and under wet burlap sacks the majority of the afternoon.<br /><br /><center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/3783540582/" title="Gaby & Rafle Tickets. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2606/3783540582_3052e48742.jpg" width="300" alt="Gaby & Rafle Tickets." /></a> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/3783554804/" title="Steaming Corn. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3458/3783554804_c479803146.jpg" width="300" alt="Steaming Corn." /></a><br /><br /><i>Gaby Takes Charge of the 50/50 Tickets, Steaming Corn.</i></center><br /><br />This year had little to no variation on these themes. Inhaling the sweet, damp air, eating my aunt's macaroni and cheese, flipping through the albums filled with photographs, and wondering around the lake was like most years before. The sensory input at the reunion, forever unchanging, fulfills and marks the beginning of August, to mark the beginning of the end of summer.<br /><br /><center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/3783538488/" title="Cake! by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3421/3783538488_1e19cb4ebf.jpg" width="500" height="333" alt="Cake!" /></a><br /></center>shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384957836357678102.post-73148206520013281832009-09-22T21:12:00.002-04:002009-09-22T21:26:38.744-04:00Behind but Still Here.<center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/godshomemovies/3783535276/" title="Steaming Corn. by melanie, still waiting, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3550/3783535276_29f768098c.jpg" width="333" height="500" alt="Steaming Corn." /></a><br /><br /><i>Steaming Corn, Roberts' 100th Family Reunion. Drums PA</i></center>shelby marie skumanichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08871907339550873606noreply@blogger.com