The adventure will begin again

I think I was around 11 years old when I first became aware the dire prognosis of climate change for humanity. Back then, and it was back then, (let's see if anyone can figure out when 'back then" is), the condition was known as "The Greenhouse Effect" but the treatment prescribed was the same - reduce carbon emissions.

Clearly we have failed. And every year, the signifiers and warnings grow less and less abstract, looming as large as an iceberg over a rowboat from the Titanic. Yet, nothing changes politically.

Back in the 80s, a grassroots campaign that evolved out of fear of global warming managed to produce a ban on Hydroflourocarbons in aerosols and greatly diminish the use of styrofoam. All the fast food chains stopped using styrofoam. It's clear that popular movements that lead to, wait for it, widespread government! action, can produce change (that goes for causes i don't so much like too, unfortunately).

We humans could still change things, but the lifestyle adjustments required have proven to be severe. And I think the only people not to blame are those who live off the grid. Not a lot of them around. I live in New York and could pat myself on the back for not driving a car to work every day. But Kevin and I fly so much we negate any of that. And I love flying. I love going places. I really want to do things like journey to China, which we did in April.

Speaking of China, the reports about their hideous air quality have been greatly under-exaggerated. I do believe the US was like that in the 1970s, but government took action - banned lead-burning gasoline, enforced emissions standards, and the economy survived such regulation hassles JUST FINE.

I speak of my own lifestyle adjustments, or lack thereof, but it's everybody. Humans want to fly, they want to get around, they want to produce and ship and travel and visit, and see and explore and consume. If we didn't, we wouldn't be in this mess. And no amount of brow-beating will change that. Nor, clearly, will any slow-moving apocalypses.

However, humans are also extremely innovative and have a wonderful track-record of problem solving at the last minute. That is what I am hoping for. However, this seems to happen only after a truly unnecessary amount of hardship has occurred.

Who do I hope this will come from? Some mythical cadre of scientists and engineers I suppose. Could we please learn how to make these professions sexier?

I am about to set out on my next life adventure - the first of a couple big ones I presume I will be embarking upon in the next couple years. If I were a less selfish person I would not have chosen art for a graduate degree, I would have chosen something to do with climate change research. But there is no reason I cannot involve research or science in my art practice.

I could envision the apocalypse. Or perhaps I can document it. Speaking of burning carbon, another road trip lies in my immediate future. And the purchase of an automobile (never happened before!). We will be journeying out to California so that I can attend graduate school. I will earn my MFA in Photo / Video and Interactive Media at California Institute of the Arts -- CalArts - just north of Los Angeles. And my fabulous husband, Kevin Cooley, is being gracious enough to come with me, at least part-time.

In preparation for imminent loans and income slashing, I have been doing nothing but working - as a front end web developer no less (who knew?). This has not been a summer for creativity but that is okay.  New York suffers no drought, but the rest of the United States is combusting like an ant under a magnifying glass at a boy scout camp.  As we burn through the Great Plains and the West, I plan on documenting the scorched earth policy that we've launched against ourselves. Maybe we humans really do have a death wish.

But I wish to bring more to this project than mere documentation. Photographs of withered wheat in Kansas will not be fascinating. It's kind of a problem with photography these days in general.  I do not know what to do yet. I am open to suggestion. And it would probably be a good idea if I did some reading. Send over the recommendations, come on!

The blog has been... well, on hiatus for many months, but generally just a content-mess reflective of the content mess of my mind. I never really picked a theme and stuck to it. And maybe i never will, maybe it will continue to reflect that mushy mass of brain mess that floats around up here every day. I think about work, about art, about my baby a lot, about the world and politics, and i try to avoid the presidential campaign because it's all generally disgusting. Although all you people disappointed by Obama, he was never the messiah to begin with, i don't know what they were thinking. See, mess of tangents. I don't know if that's ok. I am kind of looking to the experience of grad school to tighten me up conceptually. And no one is going to appreciate that more than me.

Wish me luck, i am wishing it for all of us!

After writing such a paean to air travel, I was at the airport the next day, flying to Buffalo. The plane was a tiny one, and it was early on a Sunday morning, yet the flight was completely full.

The Delta line was terribly slow, blockaded by a woman who not only couldn't manage enough English to say "Hello" but also had apparently never seen a line before, and two "real American" firefighters who thought they shouldn't have to pay checked baggage fees. But even when those barriers were removed, the other customers took just as long to sort out the fact that their bags needed sticky tags to get to Omaha. I know, we are experienced travelers, but isn't everyone in a hurry at the airport?

Perhaps my anxiety comes from years of perilous near misses at the jetway. At age 19, I did actually miss a flight from London to Paris. Even though it was my final night of a semester spent studying in London, I was out too late the night before and had not finished packing my belongings. The next flight over the Channel did a fine job of delivering me and those belongings. Another time, I waltzed into JFK 15 minutes before my flight took off for Miami, where I was to meet my mother and sister. This was after 9-11. I have no idea why they let me on the plane. My mother would have been so angry at me.

Behavior like that now would probably lead to a divorce, an option unavailable to my mom. These days I pretend I am more responsible.

I often work as a photo assistant, for my husband. This is an interesting thing to do. When we first met, in a color darkroom, not on a job, I had freelanced as a photographer's assistant for a couple years. He begged me to work for him but I refused. I do not know how well most photo assistants get along with the photographers they slave for, but I do know that I resent authority and a photo shoot is a dictatorship.

But Kevin gets jobs in Miami, South Africa, Copenhagen... it's hard to say no to that. This job, in Niagara Falls, maybe wasn't quite so glamorous. But three days outside in the mist at the honeymoon capital of the world with my new husband couldn't be so bad. As it turns out, the working relationship is 60% brilliant, 20% quite good and 20% profoundly annoying. I keep taking the 4 out of 5. On the morning of our departure, our only skirmish involved bringing (or not bringing) a small trolley for the heavy equipment carry-ons. I wanted to save my back. He insisted it wouldn't work. Not such a bad skirmish. Oh well, lifting heavy things gave me a nice, muscular back for my wedding gown. And he's the boss. He's not always a dictator though. I get to play around a little on these jobs....


Niagara Falls, from our hotel room