Stories from Behind the Camera: Turning Glass into Art

Float Boat by Dale Chihuly

Okay. I am just going to admit it. Until a couple of years ago, I had never heard of Dale Chihuly. If I had heard his name, I might have responded by saying, "Gesundheit." 

If you have never heard of him, first, let me thank you because it means I am not the only one who had no idea what a Chihuly was. Secondly, it also supports my theory that I do not indeed live under a rock. For the uninitiated, here is a brief primer in Chihuly:

Beluga by Chihuly

Five Orange Baskets in Glass (Chihuly)

Red Reeds on Logs (Chihuly)

Seaforms (Chihuly). There are several pieces in this study.

Scarlet and Yellow (Chihuly)

Dale Chihuly is a sculptor. His medium is glass. His creations can be mammoth or small. All are intricate. Some are colorful. Others are not. Some are plain. Others have impossibly tiny details. Whether you love him or you hate him, it is hard to deny that his work is amazing. It is certainly unique. 

Chihuly came to my attention when the college I attended installed one on his pieces in the multi-story entryway of the library. The school sent out emails and publicity, printed photos in the alumnae magazine, and generally promoted this as the greatest thing since sliced bread. 

Second confession. My response to all this was, well, "meh."

And then I saw it live and in person on a visit to my alma mater in 2015.

Clear and Gold Tower (Chihuly) at the Williston Memorial Library at Mount Holyoke College.

The piece was so enormous that I could not get it all in one photograph. It filled the foyer. It was, to use a word I hate to use, awesome. Tall, white, swirly, and pretty darned spectacular.

But I returned home and forgot about Chihuly, utterly and completely, or so I thought. Oh, sure, I read an article about him in a newspaper, something about his employees suing him, but that was more my professional interest as an attorney than any real interest in the artist. The occasional photo showed up in my Instagram feed. A classmate may have mentioned the piece from college. Overall, though, I lost interest.

And then articles started appearing in the New York papers and online. The New York Botanical Gardens was having a showing of his work in various locations in the park. Hmmm. I was mildly interested. When I started seeing photographs of the pieces lit up at night, I became somewhat more interested. When there was less than a week left for the exhibition, I bought tickets and my husband and two friends decided to make the trek from Joisey to da Bronx. 

[It was not a trip for the feint of heart or for people in a hurry as there was a football game about to begin across the street at Fordham University, but that is a story for another day - or not.]

And, in addition to the photos above, this is what we found. . . .

Beluga (Chihuly)

Glasshouse Fiori (Chuhuly). There was an entire wing of the main building lined with fingers of glass,
perfectly placed to blend in with the flora.

Persian Pond and Fiori (Chihuly)

Seaform (Chihuly ) - another piece in the series.

Sol del Citrón (Chihuly)

  

Sapphire Star (Chihuly)

Blue Polyvitro Crystals (Chihuly) - made from a resin rather than glass

My husband and I, along with our friends, wandered the Botanical Gardens on that beautiful Saturday in October, the last good day of the exhibit. We scoured the map provided by the NYBG to make sure we found every single piece of glass. We followed the app on our phones to make sure we missed nothing, not even the ones quietly hanging high up on the ceiling near the restaurant, pieces that could easily have been missed, pieces I failed to photograph.

Most everyone must have checked the forecast and decided to descent upon the exhibit that day as the gardens were packed. The rains came the next morning. That would not have been a good day to spend with Dale Chihuly.

We may not have seen the exhibit at night, but, I suspect, seeing all that glass on a gorgeous fall day may have been just as good. 

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These photos can also be viewed on the Echo Glen Photoarts website at www.echoglenphotoarts,photoshelter.com or on Instagram @echoglenphotoarts. Because Mr. Chihuly's work is copyrighted, of course, the photos are not for sale.

Stories From Behind the Camera: A Childhood Dream

When I was in middle school, we were offered two options for studying a foreign language, French and Spanish. As my father spoke French, it, too, became my language of choice at the tender age of eleven.  Although I have forgotten the names of virtually all my middle school teachers, the name of my french teacher stuck with me, Monsieur Dupuis.

I remember thinking it was the quintessential name for a french teacher.  

Monsieur Dupuis was known far and wide in the halls of our school for his rakish mustache and his popsicle stick constructions. He would collect the sticks from students who purchased popsicles and other such treats from the "canteen," the snack store that the eighth graders ran during afternoon recess to raise money for something I no longer remember. As the weeks and months passed, the secret project would grow. Sometimes students recognized it immediately as was the case when I was in the sixth grade and he constructed the Eiffel Tower. 

The following year presented more of a mystery. It was not until the school-year neared its end that we discovered he was building a guillotine. He even added a blade made of copper sheeting. Monsieur Dupuis was gone the next year and we, his students, always wondered whether his threat to cut off the tongues of those whose pronunciation was lacking could have been the reason for his departure.

Monsieur Dupuis was succeeded by Miss Fitzgerald whose name did not conjure up images of the Eiffel Tower or Versailles. However, Miss Fitzgerald had something that Monsieur Dupuis did not - the desire to take her students to France. By this time, I was in the eighth grade and she planned on taking eighth and ninth grade students to Europe during spring break.

How I wanted to go. Although I was not one to beg my parents for anything (we will not mention the clock radio I desperately had to have when I was 12 which followed me all the way to law school), I made a case for being allowed to go on the trip. There was one small, itsy bitsy problem: My confirmation fell smack in the middle of the trip. This did not deter me from my mission to get on that plane. Eventually, my parents relented and I was confirmed weeks later in another church.

That trip began my love affair with travel. We flew into Paris and made our way around the city before venturing further afield, to the chateaux of the Loire Valley, to the beaches of Normandy and, finally, to what became my favorite place on earth, Mont St. Michel, the iconic fortress off the coast of Normandy.

I had only my Kodak Instamatic back then in 1974 and the years have dulled the colors of those 3x3 inch photos. Now, all these years later, I think my thirteen-year-old self did not do a bad job in taking photos of this amazing fortress. For some reason, however, this odd little picture was always my favorite. I always wondered who, if anyone, got to live in that little house outside the walls.

Years, of course, passed. I was blessed to be able to return to France several times - as a recent college grad and then, much later, as a wife with my husband. 

But I never returned to Mont St. Michel.

And then children arrived and European travel became a pleasant memory with a hope for the future.

During all those years, though, I sang with a chorus in northern New Jersey. In 1989, the chorus went on a concert tour of Italy. Later, there were trips to Prague, China, Vienna, and Australia, but I had small children and sadly remained behind.

By 2014, however, my children were grown and I was ready to hit the road. In 2014, my chorus went to France. The plans included the beaches of Normandy, but not Mont St. Michel. My appeal to the trip planners was successful and thus came the day, exactly forty years after that first visit, when I returned to Mont St. Michel. A dream fulfilled at long last.

Of course, the Kodak Instamatic had been replaced many times over and, therefore, the photographs of that remarkable, unique island improved accordingly.

During our tour, I began looking out the windows. I wanted to find that little structure on the beach, the one that seemed to be outside the walls of the fortress. Having no luck, I was about to give up when it accidentally came into view.

Almost completely obscured by trees now, I could only make out the edge of the roof and the chimney as well as the small round tower at the corner of the walls. Nonetheless, there it was. 

When people ask me where it is I would go on vacation, the answer, no matter where I had just been, is always France. 

And I would give anything to climb the hundreds of stairs of Mont St. Michel yet again. By now, I bet that little building and the guard tower are completely hidden by nature. 

No matter. I know they are there.

Prints of the 2014 photographs from Mont St Michel as well as other photos of France are available from echopointphotoarts.photoshelter.com.

Stories from Behind the Camera: Home to Italia

Well, okay. The title of this post is not exactly accurate. I do not nor have I ever lived in Italy. I have been blessed, however, to visit this gorgeous country on three occasions, twice with my beloved New Jersey Choral Society

In 1987, I joined a small and fledgling organization that existed from concert to concert on donations and ticket sales. We were a tight family and, thankfully, we still are after 30 years. Back in 1989, our music director brought us a proposition, a concert tour of Italy. Another organization had put the trip together and then, it seems, abandoned it, but everything had been arranged and the tour company was searching for another group. We accepted the challenge.

Arragonia Castle, Ischia - 1989 (scanned film photo)

This trip took us to Sorrento and Pompeii, to Ischia and Orvieto and Orte, to Perugia, Assisi and, finally, too briefly, to Rome. It was a whirlwind trip over 14 days with six concerts. The tour arrangements were terrible - nasty hotels, tiny rooms and, of all things, terrible food. Our group of intrepid singers and a few spouses, though, had the best time ever. Even all these years later, we still talk about it. In fact, there are six of us from that trip who still sing with the same chorus.

But no other concert tours followed those amazing two weeks in Italy.

Until now.

Since 2006, the chorus has travelled to many other places - China, Australia, Austria, England, and France. Now it was time to return to Italy. Two of us who went on that first trip were, in a sense, coming full circle, coming home.

Our trip took us to very different places - Como, Milan, Venice, Verona and the amazing Sirmione. The participants were very different. In fact, many had not even been born yet when we went on that first trip. Others were just children in elementary school. The performance was also very different - just one, in an ancient theater in Como. Singing Verdi's Requiem in that place with a professional orchestra was thrilling despite the incredible heat. Europe was in the throes of a heat wave and it was very nearly unbearable.

And yet despite the differences, the feeling of camaraderie and affection and fun was exactly the same. The players may have changed, but the song was just the same.

Back in 1989, digital cameras were not even yet on the horizon. Home computers had yet to hit the stores. Photoshopping was not yet something anyone would have even dreamed of. By 2017, of course, everything had changed. Taking, editing and sharing photos is commonplace.

So, here goes. . . .

Venice

Verona

Piazza San Marco, Venice

View of Venice from the island of Giudecca

Venona

Verona

Prints available at echoglenphotoarts.photoshelter.com