seen but not heard

knock your socks off

2009-11-03T22:26:00.005-05:00

Back in May Sarah and I collaborated on a huge project: a book of knit sock designs by knitting superstar Cookie A. - we photographed 20 socks, 23 looks on four models (plus a 5th for details) on at least 30 locations. It was incredibly challenging, lots of fun and has really yielded a beautiful body of work. The book itself will be published in February 2010, and truly I can't wait. If you are interested in carrying the book in your shop, PLEASE do not hesitate to get in touch with me or Cookie!

This is just a sampling of all the images (and I'm not sure what is actually appearing in the book), but all wardrobe styling is by Sarah Beaver, models include Marlo Meekins, Genevieve and Chloe at Reinhard, and Mercedes.

faithful © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Genevieve at Reinhard

in a clearing © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Marlo Meekins

double parking © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Marlo Meekins

stepping up © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Chloe at Reinhard

curtsy © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Mercedes

the window well © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Genevieve at Reinhard

vermillion © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Genevieve at Reinhard

climbing trees in stocking feet © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Marlo Meekins

parquet © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Mercedes

purple prose © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Mercedes

nobody is watching © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Mercedes

lo mein © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Genevieve at Reinhard

inhale © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Mercedes

More to come!!

blindhædir

2009-10-27T11:21:00.008-04:00

Nearly five months ago, I wrote this piece about my trek with Sandra to Iceland, though the first bit covers some of the same ground as one of my more recent entries, I wanted to post this in full. It was a supreme labor of love, enjoy!

troða húsið © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Every step leading up to my adventure in Iceland meant moving forward without any sense of what was to come. I was not sure I could afford the trip at all, which prompted me to launch an art sponsorship program; likewise, although we have been friends for years, my travel companion, Sandra, (who lives in Stockholm) and I had only met once in 2005. Then again, despite having seen many photographs and some movies of Iceland, nothing could really prepare me for what I was to experience. Similar to the all-too-common sign we would eventually see on one-lane roads in the more rural areas of the country – BLINDHÆDIR, which indicated that you were about to crest a hill blind, without any sense of what was approaching from the other side, this trip rested on a hundred leaps of faith occurring on an almost hourly basis.

It had been several years since I had traveled beyond North America and the need to travel was becoming quite strong. While planning for the week-long trip, I realized that even though I had a companion to share the costs and I was going to keep myself to a strict budget, it would still be a financial stretch. One of my friends, joking that she would like to live vicariously through my trip, offered to become my sponsor as long as she could have a print of one of my photos from the excursion. At first I scoffed at the idea, but soon it started to become clear that I couldn’t afford the trip on my own and might have to take my friend’s offer seriously. Around the same time, another friend alerted me to the launch of kickstarter.com, a website serving as a platform for users to gain sponsorship for creative projects, so I was one of the first people to sign on and present a project. In return for financial backing, sponsors would receive their choice of a print from the trip. Because of the generally turbulent economic climate, I underestimated how much interest there would be in such a project – and was genuinely surprised when I ended up raising close to $3000. Sure, most people could not afford a huge contribution, but so many people – friends, family, complete strangers, even kickstarter.com staff members – all became intrigued enough to become involved, with the result that the trip essentially paid for itself. The added dimension of sharing my trip and the images I would create with my backers created a certain level of excitement for me, and even posed a challenge to my abilities. Once I reached Iceland, however, I realized that the beauty of the country speaks for itself; for a photographer, it was more a question of being able to do it justice in the limited time I had.

While driving to JFK, I received a constant flow of text messages from my traveling friend, Sandra, who had arrived in Reykjavík much earlier in the day than I. Though she had made it quite clear in advance that “Iceland is PURPLE!” – the whole island seems to be carpeted in purple lupine flowers (the Nootka Lupin or Alaskan Lupine) – by the time I myself was looking out the plane window shortly before landing, as the midnight sun sat low on the horizon, the sky, the mountains, and the earth – everything was truly glowing violet. To all appearances, I was landing on another planet. The Flybus, an airport shuttle service well-equipped to handle the influx of travelers coming into Reykjavík, ferried me and the other stragglers on the last arrival of the day through a delightfully lavender but scarcely populated lunar landscape to drop off each of us at the door of our respective hotels. As one of the last two riders to be deposited outside Hotel Cabin on the waterfront around 2 a.m. local time, I was able to watch the single hour of Icelandic night pass – more of a twilight than a real darkness – and then track the sun as it went back on the rise immediately. Across the water, I could make out a huge, looming, deep purple mountain, with a thick, cottony indigo cloud obscuring its peak, and a sliver of moon hanging low in the sky… and the air was filled with the scent of flowers. Despite my delirium, I wanted to grab someone off the near-empty streets and dance from the thrill of this sight. Instead, I tried to keep my composure and checked into the hotel to find Sandra sleeping in our tiny room with paper-thin walls. She awoke and we talked excitedly until our eyelids grew too heavy.

We rose in time to catch the tail end of breakfast downstairs: simple but traditional Icelandic fare. Well before I had left Iceland, I had become addicted to the tangy yogurt-like breakfast staple called skyr – actually a traditional Icelandic cheese – so I was overjoyed to be greeted with a full bowl, topped with fruit and cereal, alongside toast with cheese, boiled eggs and cucumbers, and a much-needed cup of coffee. We set off towards downtown Reykjavík to collect our rental car, pick up something for a picnic lunch at the ‘big’ (though by US standards quite diminutive) Kringla Mall, and then indulge in what would be the most touristy of our day trips: the Golden Circle, which includes Geysir and Gullfoss – a full day of geysers, glowing blue pools, and waterfalls in the southwest region of the country, on the Reykjanes peninsula. Travel on the Ring Road, the main highway around the coast of the country, as well as most other roads on the Golden Circle area, is fairly smooth and fast-paced, and gave us our first taste of both the scenery and the experience of driving in Iceland. The roads both inland and coastal are generally punctuated by roundabouts, and on either side you regularly see clusters of tiny native horses, long stretches of flat ground carpeted with the vibrantly purple lupines, otherworldly stretches of lumpy volcanic rock thickly covered with gray-green moss, or distant snow-capped mountains. The contrasts and colors can’t be compared to anything I’ve ever seen, but if I had to draw a comparison, I would liken it to the Pine Barrens of New Jersey, the deserts of the West, the moors of England blooming with heather, the surface of the moon, and Alaska, all rolled into one. Vibrant lime greens, chartreuse, black, purples, sage greens, rich blue-greens, rich rusts and deep reds. As our time there wore on and we spent more and more time among such landscapes, it became easier to understand why the Icelandic people for the most part believe in what they call “hidden people” – trolls, gnomes, elves, fairies and the like. The strange rock formations, the traces of brute natural forces, the flora and the fauna are all so entirely unique and possess strongly anthropomorphic and supernatural qualities, one can not help but be charmed by the notion.

vivisection © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Our first stop was at a massive crater called Kerið. On the face of it, it seems difficult to muster enthusiasm for a large hole in the ground; when the powerful geo-forces of the island go to work however, this particular hole in the ground becomes an intensely blue-green pool of water, ringed in gold-white mineral deposits and black rocks, surrounded on all sides by volcanic earth of a warm maroon hue. Neither Sandra nor myself being keen on heights, we redirected away from perilous drops back to the safety of solid land.

gouge © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

In our few hours on the road it appeared that there are no longer any truly wild horses left in Iceland, as every herd we came across was fenced in, along with much of the burgeoning sheep population and scant numbers of cattle. Even from a distance, it was obvious that the demeanor of the Icelandic horse is quite different from your typical Thoroughbred or even wild pony from any other part of the world. We pulled over to admire some and they ran off towards their feed trough, apparently expecting us to fill it. When we caught up with them, they were inquisitive and playful, jumping, rearing, scrunching up their remarkably expressive faces, with thick manes whipping in the strong winds. Though we didn't have time to take a ride this trip, I know I will find time for a tölt (a gait that is unique to Icelandic horses- a fast and very smooth ride) on my next visit to Iceland.

Strokkur, the geyser situated next to the now-dormant Geysir (for which all geysers are named), erupts every few minutes, and burbles and steams constantly in between eruptions. The explosive drama of the geyser’s spout against the backdrop of the purple, June-time landscape, surrounded with jewel-toned pools of steaming water, rich blue skies and intense sun was quite rousing. The intensity and raw power of Gullfoss – the grandiose Golden Falls, our next stop, dwarfed even Geysir. When you pull into the parking lot, you can neither see nor hear this raging force of water cutting into the land, but after a short walk over the hill, the turbulent wind and mist grab you and start to pull you into the core of Golden Falls. Standing on a ledge a few feet from the edge, separated by only a single thin wire, the wind at your back edging you forward, it would be easy to get swept away by its force.

undercurrent © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

fervor © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

The map Faithful Navigator Sandra was consulting made it look as though the most convenient route to get back to Reykjavík, passing by Þingvellir (a large national park), would be Route 365, rather than double back the way we had come. As we turned off the main road, the terrain immediately changed as we crested our first (and certainly not our last) blindhædir and entered the most desolate lunar landscape we had seen yet: moss, volcanic rubble, and craggy mountains as far as we could see. When we stopped to take some photographs at one point, when we stopped speaking we realized the air was utterly silent. The occasional SUV was the only reminder we had that the road we were on actually led anywhere: there were no buildings, fences or animals, only the thick dust clouds that rose as passing vehicles disappeared – after forcing us off the narrow roadway, that is.

spilled milk © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

lupina © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Miraculously, we emerged on the other side of this no man's land back on a main road, hurtling towards Reykjavík. After dinner, we ended up taking a stroll through the streets of the city, taking in the last rays of daylight around 11 p.m.

fosswalk © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

tread © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

We did have to make it an early night, as the trip we had planned for our second full day was going to be quite an undertaking: driving from Reykjavík to the glacial lake of Jökusárlón in the southeast of the island and back again – about 12 hours on the road altogether.

life between the lines © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

The weather that met us each day seemed perfectly appropriate for the character of the day's wanderings, and the gray gloom of this day was no exception. Our first stop, about two hours drive from Reykjavík, was Vík (fully: Vík í Mýrdal), which greeted us with some characteristically stunning visual drama – deep black sand beaches, fast-moving gray clouds with a mist of rain, and towering cliffs dressed in lupines and fog.

flesh and bone © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

face of the dune © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

After a quick lunch of soup and bread, we walked the beach, admiring the Reynisdrangar – columns of black basalt said to be trolls petrified by morning light – and the swirl of nesting seabirds, mostly puffins and fairy terns. When we'd had our fill of rolling about on the black sand, we took off towards Vatnajökull and the glacial lagoon.

sandra and the strand © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

seraphim © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

The landscape changed quite distinctly at several points along the Ring Road on the south coast, and frequently hid the ocean from view although we were quite close to the shore. The glaciers of the Icelandic Interior (the remote central highland region that is off-limits most of the year), including Mýrdalsjökull and Eyjafjallajökull, were always visible in the distance, remaining the sole constant as the roadscape shifted from flat, lupine-covered plains to barren black lava fields to placid glacial rivers reflecting the gray sky. We stopped to take a closer look at the moss-covered volcanic rock and found the moss to be incredibly thick and bouncy – closer examination proved even more like walking on the moon than just appearances.

hitching © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

expanse of kilometers © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Even on the major roadways, there is a peculiar lack of signs indicating direction or distance to and from major points in Iceland. No matter how far removed you feel from civilization, however, it is rare that another vehicle is all too far behind you as the last disappears from sight. The road dips inland at Skaftafell National Park, close to the Vatnajökull glacier, and turns back out towards the water – and there, suddenly, icebergs are upon you! Sandra and I stopped dead in the parking lot and shrieked with delight in the car: unimaginably majestic, the icebergs were an amazing shade of pale blue-green, with veins of black.

backbone © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

aquamarine © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

They are constantly moving, but ever so slowly, out to sea – breaking, colliding, melting. Being in their presence is peaceful, like watching the ghosts of long-dead giants passing by. Tomorrow there will be all new icebergs, and those I saw will be long gone, but quite unforgettable.

thunderhead © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Doubling back again through the alien landscapes, hoping to see Svartifoss (a remarkable waterfall in Skaftafell which inspired Reykjavík’s most impressive cathedral) before returning to Reykjavík, we were told at the visitors center it would be a 45-minute hike each way. We decided that with 4 hours on the road still ahead of us plus a dinner stop, we couldn’t afford it. We carried on through to Vík where we paused long enough to stop at the Strondin Bistro; the service was fairly awful, but the burger that filled our empty stomachs at 10 p.m. could not be matched for divine flavor.

leap of faith © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

The weather was taking a turn for the worse: fog was darkening the skies and the rain was coming down more steadily. Driving up a very steep mountainside cloaked in milky haze, the edges of the road dropped off from imagined cliffs. It was a harrowing drive home, especially for someone who hates driving as much as I do (Sandra does not have a driver’s license) and is unfamiliar with the twists and turns of the road ahead. Still, it wouldn’t be the last of our death-defying driving. We made it back to our Reykjavík base quite late and packed our bags so that we could launch early for the West Fjords and Strandir Coast.

seaweed four © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

inlet © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

The drive northwest along the Ring Road was fast-moving, and we paused only a few times to admire the changing landscape before we were abruptly ejected onto one very rough road. We stopped almost immediately at a stretch of rocky beach when I was struck by a rainbow-like array of seaweed and kelp in every imaginable color washed ashore. Unlike every other beach I have ever been on, despite the massive amount of dead and decaying organic matter, it smelled fresh and salty and was a feast for the eyes. When we got back on the road, I was only willing to go about 30km/hr, but we soon realized we might never get to Djúpavík at that speed. The road from there on out was extremely rough, paved with only stones or dirt, and barely one and a half lanes wide. We pulled into Holmavík a couple hours later, which is the last “big” town on that route in the north – about 300 residents. After refueling the car, we stopped by Café Riis, a tiny pub, for some lunch. Expecting a rustic, pub-style meal, we both ordered a roasted bacalao (salted cod) dish with potato cake and salad. We were blown away when we were served beautifully presented platters worthy of a much more upscale restaurant: all locally-produced cheese, fish and shrimp. It was impeccably prepared, with delicate, bright flavors.

The road heading north from Holmavík was even narrower, and followed the bend of every fjord, making the drive woozily repetitive but ever more harrowing as the roads became increasingly rugged. Although as the driver, it was hard for me to appreciate it fully, the weather and the scenery were stunning. Golden sunshine was chased by brief bursts of showers inland, dramatic clouds played over the mountainsides and ocean views; breathtaking terrain rolled past, dotted with tiny farmhouses and clusters of sheep, and waterfalls appeared at regular intervals.

sandra and the strand © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

The last two fjords before our arrival were particularly treacherous, and I had to do everything in my power to keep my cool. Sandra would point her camera out the window to shoot the scenes for us to view later, averting her own eyes as the drop induced a bit of vertigo. The final kilometers of road into Djúpavík hugged a cliff face with falling rock tightly to our left, and went into a sheer drop without a guardrail abruptly to our right. Around the last turn of the fjord, our jaws both dropped when a wide rainbow touched down on the road in front of us. As we pulled into Djúpavík around 9pm, on the longest day of the year, we were both shaken and awestruck.

break of midnight © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

We were shown our room by our kind host, Eva, then unpacked and decided to take in some of the midnight sun. Before I even conceived of coming to Iceland, I had been told by several friends that I should watch the documentary Heima, which elegantly chronicled the homeland tour of one of Iceland’s best-known bands, Sigur Rós. The film’s portrayal of the landscapes was engaging enough alone, but it was the band’s visit to Djúpavík and its long-abandoned herring processing factory, closed since the early 50’s, that convinced me to visit this remote and astonishing region. Sandra and I took a walk over to admire the factory, the few buildings in town, and the stunning waterfall that runs into it. We were caught in a sudden rain shower and retired to the lounge for the night to process our photos.

shelter © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

the ark © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

buoyant © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

The hotel owners now also own the factory and provide tours to visitors. Eva informed us they wouldn’t be able to give us a tour our first day because a large group was coming to stay and they were short-handed. She suggested we drive further up the coast to where the road more or less ends and there is a geothermally-heated, oceanside pool. It took over an hour – at my breakneck pace of 50 km/h – but at this point, I was almost getting used to the mountain-goat-style driving. The pool, at any rate, was worth every white-knuckled blindhædir. The sun was shining brilliantly in the blue sky, and from the vantage point of the pool you could watch the rainstorms out at sea. After soaking in the comfortably warm water and taking photos there for a couple hours, we left when a large group of sightseers parked 4 SUVs on the beach, obscuring the view.

sun and moon © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

ewe & I © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

djúpa-foss © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

That evening we had a relaxing dinner at the hotel and took a little walk around the bay area,, photographing the fairy terns circling overhead. I also slid inside the massive concrete tanks that were once used to store the processed herring meal by the factory.

gone fishing © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

swallowing the sun © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

The next morning after breakfast we packed once again and were led to the herring factory by Eva for the tour. The main hall of the lower level was now a makeshift storage area for vintage cars belonging to the locals. They had converted some of the spaces for use in public events, including a recent chess tournament and a regular art exhibition.

wakeup call © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

checkmate © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

eva and the faeries © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

It was quite stunning when she introduced us to the flock of fairy terns through a large window that make their nests on the rooftop. Eva told us that the building had been built entirely by hand, without the use of any heavy machinery, in less than a year and a half during the late 1940’s. For quite some time, it was the largest concrete structure in Europe. It takes a particular kind of person to make a life in such a distant region, but Eva and her husband have gone to great lengths to preserve the history of the place and ensure a future for the town and its structures.

fiskur foss © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

On our return trip to Reykjavík, we promised ourselves we would stop back at Café Riis for lunch and also visit the famously disturbing necropants at the Sorcery and Witchcraft Museum of Hólmavik. At Café Riis, I sampled the local mystery meats via an ‘open sandwich platter’, including dark Danish rye bread, Icelandic flatbread, hardfiskur (fish jerky), green pea salad, smoked lamb, and heady smoked lumpfish.

Cafe Riis Icelandic open sandwhich platter © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

In the aftermath of the meal, my stomach felt a bit like an aquarium. The Sorcery and Witchcraft Museum was a bit underwhelming in terms of its displays, though the audio tour, at any rate, proved to be bizarrely engrossing. The necropants, however, are so richly weird that they could stand alone. To procure a pair of necropants – the surest way to secure wealth in an uncertain world – a man must make a pact with another man who is dying. After the man dies and is buried, the other man must exhume the corpse, remove the skin perfectly from the waist down, and rebury the body with a coin stolen from a poor woman tucked into its scrotum. The man must then wear the pants made from the dead man’s skin, whereupon they will bind to his own skin and bring him great and constant fortune, via the loins. Though the necropants in Hólmavik are a replica made of latex, they left an indelible mark on my psyche.

sandra and the necropants © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

muddy megane © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

The rest of that day was devoted to driving back to Reykjavík. Much to our surprise, about half of what had been gravel and dirt roads on our way up to Djúpavík on Sunday, had now become paved roads by that Tuesday afternoon. The responsible parties turned out to be an enormously industrious two-man team we spotted on the road south. This cut our travel time to a fraction of what it had been before, even with stops along the way at a number of shorelines, abandoned houses and farms we had noted on the way up.

drop © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

seaweed forty-one © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

seaweed thirty-seven © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

lunar eclipse III © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Our final rest stop in Reykjavík, the 4th Floor Hotel, was the accommodation on which we had decided to splurge. Located on a busy central block, the hotel was awkward to maneuver, the staff behaved in an unnecessarily confusing way, and the room, though clean, was plagued by an intense stench of sulfur emanating from the facilities in the bathroom. The evening was spent catching up on photos, emails, updates and preparing for our flight the next day.

mud mask © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

We were planning on taking a leisurely soak in the Blue Lagoon on our final afternoon and heading directly to the airport afterward. Foolishly, we had not done much research at all on the Lagoon, thinking that finding it would be a simple affair. We checked out of our odiferous digs in Reykjavík a bit on the late side and headed towards the Lagoon’s restorative milky blue waters. Little did we know that Icelanders are so confident in the mystical power of attraction exerted by the lagoon that they would not bother with an actual sign indicating its location on the main road to Keflavik; there was only a small unassuming sign for Bláa Lonið. After driving well out of the way, by the time we arrived, checked in, took the manadatory pre-dip scrub and conditioning treatment and photographed a bit, we had less than half an hour of quality soak time before we had to get out, rescrub, dress, refuel the rental (and scrub the mud off it), drop it off and get back to the airport. The white silica mud we glazed ourselves with did in fact zap all the stress and frustration of the day. Bláa Lonið is a truly extraordinary and bizarre place, the last of many we saw that week.

border patrol © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

slilca © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

We arrived safely in New York, bleary-eyed and jetlagged. After all the long uncertain drives, I was shocked to have avoided peril there, only to end up in a car accident on the turnpike on the way home! After a trek that was truly the smoothest and most sensational I have ever taken, that final east coast blindhædir threw me for a loop. The ineffable beauty, colors and stark contrast in the land will stay with me for a lifetime, inspiring and informing the artwork and photographs I have yet to make. With only a week to work in, there were too many roads I never got the chance to turn down, too many stretches of coast I did not get to admire, but every turn blind turn moved me to embrace the unexpected grandeur of a land to which I cannot wait to return.

......................

I have a LOT of catching up to do and I will be working on doing just that as soon as I can.

on safari

2009-09-04T15:53:00.003-04:00

Such a lot of catching up to do, including finishing with the Iceland madness, and roadtrips to Delaware and Luzerne County. In the meantime, I have entered the National Geographic Traveler/PDN World in Focus contest - I opted to submit a photo essay of images from my trip to Iceland, and while the main contest is juried, there is also a People's Choice award. If you would be so kind as to cast a vote - they do require a valid email address, where they will send you a link to vote from, a bit of a pain, but I sure would appreciate it!

The link to my voting page is here: http://www.worldinfocuscontest.com

cocolasia © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

THANK YOU!!

purple prose, part I

2009-08-05T23:54:00.003-04:00

Having just finished writing a 4000+ word essay about my recent trip to Iceland (which I returned home from a week ago) that will be published end of July/beginning of August, I want to give you patient readers a little taste of things to come once it goes live.

Icelandic summertime greeted us in Reykjavík so vibrantly: the perfume of the Nootka Lupines, the tall purple flowers that densely carpeted most of the Reykjanes peninsula in the southwest, was thick in the air, and they were a delight for the eyes. Even though I haven't seen Sandra since 2005, we immediately slipped into an easy rhythm, often comically anticipating each others words and whims. Even though we didn't spend a great deal of time with any of the locals, her presence brought me such insight into Scandinavian culture in general and the rest we learned on the fly.

With less than a week to accomplish a great deal we had streamlined everything possible beforehand, so we always knew where we would be by what time, but always had time to stop wherever we wanted along the way. Sandra was a very cool and collected navigator and trip adviser, not only keeping us on the right path but always spotting points of unexpected interest, providing both musical entertainment and interesting narratives on the road and feeding me nibbles to keep spirits and blood sugar up when we didn't have time to stop at the N1 to grab some skyr.

No one who knows either of us well (despite my penchant for abandoned building explorations) would ever have been able to picture the two of us going to the remotest corners of this country alone, with no clear idea of what to expect at any point along the way, driving on the edge of deadly cliffs with falling rock raining on the other side of us, appearing at a swimming pool at the end of the world, and coming back slightly shaken but still swinging. We scarcely could believe what we had proven ourselves capable of. Sure, it looks like I am going to drive off a cliff, over and over, sure a 4x4 could meet us at the top of the blindhædir hurtling at top speed, or there might be a small troupe of sacrificial lambs around the next bend. Onward! I was quite proud of us.

The drive from my house to JFK was plagued by heavy downpours that were nearly blinding at times. Once checked in I went to the gate and after sitting mostly alone for some time was approached by this guy who had emailed me that he was also going to Iceland - the same day I was - flying from JFK and he recognized me from flickr. I won't lie, it was a little weird. I probably came off stunned, confused or terrified... or maybe just a jerk, but I was completely caught off guard and just froze. Icelandair is the first airline in recent memory to provide a blanket and pillow to everyone on board, the TVs in the backs of every seat provided a broad variety of language lessons including Icelandic which I was acing.

AND they were showing Heima, which I watched for the third time and still managed to get a bit choked up while doing so. It made the short flight fly and miraculously I was seated next to a well-behaved (maybe 8 year-old) boy and his dad who were both quite pleasant. The airport at Keflavík makes the airport in Lancaster look expansive. The security processing coming in is incredibly low-tech and slow, but while standing in line I was able to watch the sun setting in a lavendar haze over the fields of purple lupines. I felt quite upside down, elated and anxious. After grabbing my bags and fidgeting with my phone willing it to start working so I could let Sandra know I'd arrived I hopped on a Flybus. The driver seemed a bit daffy, repeatedly asking everyone on board which hotels they were going to, skipping me numerous times and then making mumbled announcements and getting aggravated at the passengers who misunderstood. The road from Keflavík to Reykjavík was fairly barren, a few tiny houses, expanses of lupines, fields of volcanic rock that looked like heaps of blackened muscular men sleeping on top of each other, blanketed with dusty gray-green mosses, like ash. There were tiny towns here and there, ultra-modern Scandinavian architecture in bright primary colors. Barely a soul on the roads, and though it was probably around 1am by then, that was not unusual at any time of day.

We dropped passengers at a number of guesthouses, anonymous hotels, hostels and one what appeared to be a Viking-themed resort. The city was small and clean, very little graffiti and fewer familiar shops. As we drove onward, down to the last two people, the driver informed us we were seeing the hour of 'darkness' which was actually much brighter than the sundown at 9pm back home in the summertime. Moments later he commented that the sun was now rising. We pulled up in front Hotel Cabin, a big gray boxy building, at the east end of town on the waterfront. When I stepped outside I was again overtaken with the scent of flowers and nearly forgot that I was in a metropolitan area. Across the water huge indigo mountains loomed in the pale purple sky, capped with a thick layer of matching clouds, the sliver of moon hanging just above. I had officially landed on another planet.

I crept upstairs to our room and had awakened a dozing Swede. Our jetlag was straining us in opposite directions but we managed to stay up chatting for a couple hours. She showed me our amazing view... our window looked out onto the hallway. Bad for dramatic photographs, good for helping us forget the sun was currently just about shining full force outside. The walls were paper thin, so we spoke in excited whispers. I laid in bed for a few hours, drifting in and out of sleep until we both realized the other was awake and we dressed to partake of breakfast. The cafeteria room was bustling and the fair was very typical of what we would see (and essentially survive on for the next week): cut up bananas and oranges, sliced boiled eggs, cold cuts - cheeses and ham, cucumber, tomato, a big bowl of skyr, honey, fruit preserves, hearty breads, cereals, and coffee. We loaded up on skyr with fruit and cereal as well as cheese toast with eggs and cucumbers. And I plenty of coffee. We returned, showered and got our bearings to go collect our rental car. We took a brisk walk over, wind urging us onward and collected our chariot: a silver Renault Elf Megane, which though considered a compact car was quite a roomy hatchback, which we would basically be living out of for the coming days.

vivisection © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Our first stop, rather embarrassingly (especially as I hadn't taken a single photograph yet) was the Kringla Mall. Huge by Icelandic standards, but quite tiny on a US scale (and let's face it, all cultural crossover aside, it was A MALL), we were looking for the tourism center where one flickr photographer, Maja Paja works. Though we had given her no warning, as we crept into the shop, she recognized us immediately. Despite the sudden influx of customers, we made plans to meet up later for some people-watching on the town that night. After we bid her adieu, we stopped at the Hagkaup (a big chain supermarket) to pick up some things for lunch and to keep in the car for snacks. Finally hitting the road proper, the more well-traveled roads we were on did not afford many places to stop, but we did find a picnic point that looked there should be some Von Trapp's in action. After part of our salad took flight and we pranced around in the wildflowers a bit, we took off and shortly reached Kerið crater, a privately owned hole in the ground. But what a massive and ridiculously colorful hole in the ground it was! A steep drop of reddish earth, decorated with chartreuse foliage, into a pool of super-saturated blue-green water, with rings of white and gold on its shore.

gouge © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

In the southwest, the Icelandic horse is a plentiful beast, although it seems to have been almost completely domesticated, their numbers divvied up among the farm owners, and fenced in. They seem to have not lost any of their spunk regardless. While horses of standard stature, thoroughbreds - seem to have a more stoic, powerful air, the smaller Iceland breed are quite the comedians, frolicking, rearing, nipping and chasing each other... and such expressive faces, they seemed at times to laugh. We only pulled over once to attempt to photograph a herd near the roadside, and as soon as we pulled over they went running off... down to their feed trough. When we finally caught up with them, they were drawn to the fence, inquisitive and bashful. Whenever we would drive by a group, they seemed to all adopt the same activity simultaneously - all playing at once, or standing and staring off toward the same distant point, preening each other, such a familial unity.

The hill upon which the geyser Strokkur explodes is thickly covered in lupines and the runoff from the mineral- and algae- rich blue waters of the original (now dormant) Geysir and the nearby pools. As we were just starting to scale the hill, Strokkur exploded grandly.

undercurrent © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

fervor © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Sandra decided that because the geyser had blown its load before we actually had a chance to enjoy ourselves, it would need some dirty pillow talk to get things moving for us again. So as we stood by, cameras ready, trained on the pulsing, sloshing pit before us, Sandra whispered sweet and sultry nothings to coax Strokkur on. When it finally performed, the high winds created a ghostly steam and mist mass that hovered and drifted away before dissipating. In our jetlagged and near-constantly-euphoric state, we started to make our way up the nearby hill setting our sights on a dense patch of lupines, where we both decided we should just set up camp. We plopped ourselves down in amongst the rather tall plants and basked in their perfume and the intense sunshine.

spilled milk © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

lupina © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Not far down the road is Gullfoss, the Golden Falls, the force of wind and mist coming from the well-hidden source suggest raging turbulence nearby. Removing our hats for fear of their taking off, we crested the hill on foot and made our way down into the wide chasm that was roaring with the power of the misty, rainbow tinted falls. Gullfoss is one of those places so vast and much more exciting as an experience... one which literally nearly pushed us over the edge, and less so as a photographic impression.

fosswalk © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

tread © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

It was a bit late, though the sun was still radiant and high in the cloudless sky, so we decided to take a miss on Þingvellir State Park and go directly back to Reykjavík. The road which seemed most direct path was Route 365 according to our map, so we turned onto 365 which appeared to be partly under construction at the junction and once over a hill deteriorated into rough, dusty gravel road. There were no buildings, no animals and the landscape had changed dramatically. We hand landed on the moon. Only the occasional passing of a 4x4 indicated we were on the path to somewhere. And when they did pass, a dust storm erupted every time, completely obscuring the road and blotting out the sky. Hurried drivers would pass our slow moving car every so often, leaving us feeling like we might drive off the edge of the earth. At one point we decided to pull over to examine the terrain a bit more closely.

moonwalk © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

I pulled over to a spot where I would be visible and walked over to what appeared to be the footprint of a small stone building. As Sandra crouched down to admire some tiny lichens and flowers, I stood perfectly still. Though I could see three sheep, tiny dots on a near-distant hillside... the air was so perfectly still and silent, not a bird or a gust of wind was heard. It was so perfectly silent, my ears began to ring. When I finally spoke to Sandra my voice felt more like a shout, it was uncanny. A truck drove by suddenly stirring up another massive cloud of dust and we took shelter in the car, then drove onward. The terrain started to change, greening up a bit, more horses and lakes, until we passed the entrance for Þingvellir. From there on out, the scene took a turn for the urban, at least as much as Reykjavík's suburbs allow: sporadic small homes and shopping centers peppering the vast plains of lupines and moss.

freckled © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

The sun still high in the sky belied the late hour as we got back to our hotel. We performed our awkward unloading dance between and on the beds, zipping and unzipping our bags, taking turns standing and checking our social media as good nerds should. Maja said she was waiting for her friends to bring her beer to their place and she would meet us at a bar later - since it is very expensive to go out to bars to drink in Iceland, as is alcohol in general - it is common for Icelanders to purchase beers to drink at home with friends before going out and then once they've had a few, venture out to bars for one drink, or go dancing. We decided to go downtown leisurely-like, and do some small-scale people-watching. In a city less populous than Lancaster where I grew up (which was a painfully small city to grow up in), immediately you had a sense, just walking down the main drag, that everyone knew each other and we were very obviously fresh meat. Every eye was on us.

directive © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

It was close to 10pm by the time we walked up into the bar, with a bit of the Icelandic-hipster vibe about it, and things were evidently picking up for the evening. Maja was nowhere to be seen so we hit the streets and just wander and shoot in the dwindling light. There were quite a few half-finished now-deteriorating construction sites, high rises, along the waterfront. Reykjavík's most famed cathedral, Hallgrimskirkja, was completely shrouded with scaffold and mesh. After finding ourselves walking in ever-decreasing circles, we decided to drive back to the hotel and call it a night early since tomorrow morning we would have to leave quite early to make it to Jökulsárlón and back to Reykjavík. Of course we ended up packing, talking, and making travel notes until almost 3am anyway. The collective asses would be dragging the following morning....

under my skin © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Stay tuned for the next installment!

góða ferð

2009-06-17T20:08:00.006-04:00

By this time tomorrow I will just be landing on foreign soil. Looking for a Skybus to ferry me into the long cool arms of one Sexy Swedish Babe.... who will probably be unconscious. Two days ago I was finally able to turn my full attention to trip planning again for the first time in weeks. We are both of "do enough research to get by, go where the road beckons" school of traveling thought. We are both also worn a bit thin by the freelance work schedule of the past couple months and are running low on sleep and stress-free days...so we will both probably get exceedingly emotional over some ridiculous thing and break into a chorus of weeping.

I already feel like my body is pre-adjusting to the jetlag, waking at strange hours, alert and ready to go. 24 hours of disorienting sun, a friend I haven't seen in four years, the surface of the moon, icebergs, moss, tiny horses. An alien paradise dotted with abandoned buildings. If you are interested in updates while I am there, I should be able to post a few while on the move overseas here or on the very successful kickstarter sponsorship page. If you missed out on becoming a kickstarter sponsor, prints will be available on my etsy shop not too long after I return. I will eventually be writing a proper post here so keep your eyes peeled.

I know I haven't blogged since... forever. so many projects have been cooking at a full boil for months, I scarcely could breathe. And most of what I shot I can't share until November (sadly - Sarah and I just recently wrapped up an epic project that we are both extremely proud of and are chaffing at the bit to make public). You can also peek over at Terrain for their new weekly web photo updates which I will be doing (Yay!). Already many of the sub-pages feature almost all my photos!

One last thing which I won't have time to promote - a reminder to Harrisburgers/Central PAsians - I will be in Harrisburg for the opening of the long running The Art of the State, 7pm, June 27, 2009 at the State Museum of Pennsylvania. I have a piece in the show and can't wait to see the other work! If you are in the area and free, come on down!

Now I should really try to get a little sleep before the early rising to pack the last of the bags before I leave for the Much-Anticipated Icelandic Art Extravaganza. Góða nótt!

spring-loaded

2009-04-30T00:19:00.002-04:00

Since I am about to disappear into the depths of a rather involved fashion-book project for the next month, I just wanted to show some signs of life while I am busily planning shoot locations and trips now lined up through mid-july, much further than the eye can see. A little taste of spring at much-loved Terrain, to counter the summery heatwave of the past few days:

© Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

© Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

© Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

© Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

Also, in other big news, one of my abandoned interiors was accepted into the annual juried exhibition Art of the State which is showing from June 28-September 20 at the State Museum of Pennsylvania in Harrisburg. Details about the opening to come when I have them. It is a pretty huge honor to hang on a museum's walls!

(happy dance!)

kickstarter

2009-04-29T12:16:00.006-04:00

As an amendment to the last posting, because Etsy banned the sponsorship idea, I have found a new and WAY better venue. I just discovered it yesterday by way of my friend and talented artist/businesswoman Linda Plaisted: It is call Kickstarter.com

Essentially it is exactly what the doctor ordered: a program for artists and other creatives to pitch their ideas for projects that they cannot execute without backing. They create a presentation on their idea, if there are rewards for people who pledge towards the goal, they can be detailed, update photos and videos can be posted on progress and backers and project managers can be contacted. All payments go through Amazon payments with a credit card payment, which is connected to my bank account - like paypal. Nothing but a username you choose is ever seen by me and the amount you pledge. If you want a print, I will need a mailing address, if not, you may remain anonymous.

If you are interested but have questions PLEASE do not hesitate to contact me at but you can read about it in more detail on my kickstarter sponsorship project page!

EDIT 8-29-09: I NO LONGER HAVE KICKSTARTER INVITES AVAILABLE SO CALL OFF THE SEARCH PARTY - THANKS! LOVE, MANAGEMENT
I have already gotten 16 sponsors (!!!) by way of my own horn tooting and kickstarter combined. I cannot thank those who have supported me enough and cannot wait to get my butt on a plane this June. Can I please just fast-forward?
EDIT 8-29-09: I NO LONGER HAVE KICKSTARTER INVITES AVAILABLE SO CALL OFF THE SEARCH PARTY - THANKS! LOVE, MANAGEMENT

NOTE: kickstarter.com is a by-invite-only program, so far. if you have a great, creative project in mind, try asking other kickstarter participants if they have some invites left they might be willing to share or go here and ask nicely!

ice. ice. KICEY

2009-04-18T00:48:00.002-04:00

true north © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

KICEY to ICELAND or how to become a patron of the arts

In about two months (mid-to-late June) I will be going to take a trip to Iceland for 5 days for the sole purpose of taking photographs and making art. My flight is already booked! I expect to spend some time in the southwest around Reykjavik as well as going to the northwestern fjords around Djupavik. I haven't really gone anywhere outside of driving range in two years so I'm really quite hungry to travel somewhere truly unique and a bit remote.

One of my friends suggested that she would like to sponsor my trip in exchange for a print of something I take while I am there. At first I thought it was ridiculous but then it dawned on me that it was a brilliant idea... I decided it would be a both an incentive for me to make beautiful things and great way of raising funding to create a little art sponsorship program. Shockingly, I already have a few people sponsoring me which makes me very excited, and hugely appreciative. I can't thank them enough and it makes me even more excited to do great work while I am there.

I have set up a kickstarter.com sponsorship project page which is a great way to pledge - keeping in mind if I do not reach my goal by the end date of June 17, I will not get any of the money- nor will anyone get a print so if you are interested or have some questions please send me at lk{at}laurakicey{dot}com and we'll discuss!

****************************************************

In the meantime I've been wildly not blogging. There have been an inordinate amount of exciting shoots and little daytrips a-plenty plus the brewings of projects big and small... and of course no time to breathe between, thus the extreme lack of writings. So again I will attempt to whiplash the bloggings up to speed. Hold onto your pants.

Quite high on the list of excitements is one of my pieces has been accepted to The Art of the State juried exhibition, being held at the State Museum of Pennsylvania in Harrisburg, from June 28 - Sept 20, 2009. When I have details on the opening I will post them. VERY exciting - my photography in a museum. FOR REAL!

The shoot that Ms. Beaver and I had been planning on doing for aaaaaaages finally was about to come to fruition and then model GONE, makeup artist GONE, another makeup artist GONE. It looked like it wasn't going to happen, but quite miraculously, the magical Mezone managed to find us a great MUA, Ruby Miro -and- model, Blair. And aside from the creepy guy who appeared to be waiting for his drug dealer, and stared holes in the four of us to kill time... it was a great shoot.

landing © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

plotting © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

climber © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

off the cuff © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

A unique opportunity presented itself to myself and one of my favorite people, my friend and repeat model, Tanya Dakin. One of her coworkers has an amazing house in Philly built in the 20s, and behind the house was a garage/carriage house - the lower story of which they kept their car in, the upper story remained more or less untouched since it had been occupied by the original owner's driver - full of original fixtures, including an amazing telephone/intercom device, a claw foot tub, a tiny water heater and radiators... plus a gorgeous coat of peely blue paint. Oh and did I mention the unearthly light. Yeah, that too. All makeup and wardrobe styling by the model, Tanya Dakin.

withdrawal © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

rhombus © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

change of season © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

submersible © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The following week I had a chance to work the very lovely Jenn An. We'd been trying to get together for over a month, I had a very specific dreamy look in mind, the perfect location... all I needed was a perfectly sunny day to make it all work and after a couple of rainfails - we hit it perfectly. The gorgeous abandoned greenhouse glowed from within... and Jenn shone with it. She was an absolute pleasure to work with.

All makeup and wardrobe styling by the model, Jenn An.

painted on © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

cathedral © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

peer © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

One amazing jampacked weekend of art on art on art, it started with the 're'-opening of the juried group show at the Artist Friendly Exhibit, Skylight 307 Gallery at 307 Market Street in Philadelphia, which I had two pieces in - one of which won an honorable mention. After an appearance there, I went to The Shanners opening, Say Hello to my Little Friends over at Cafe Estelle (which is still going on!) where much fun, furriness and jumbo shrimp were happening in a big way. Beautifully individual pieces- vibrant and sweet, unbearably cute, and the whole show was so beautifully visualized down to the smallest detail. And since then she has had a huge in flux of very exciting offers including a very big show at a VERY big venue. More details soon.

The adorable artist herself...

shannon's show © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The next day I buzzed out to West Chester to hitch a ride with Ralph and Adrian to go on a much-anticipated roadtrip, to meet long-time-but-never-met friend Linda Plaisted at the opening of her show The Arborist at the Delaplaine Center for the Visual Arts in Frederick, MD.

A meeting that should have happened aaaaaaaaages ago, finally materializing- Linda was exactly as I pictured her, every ounce as warm and just... easy. Just like we'd always spent time together talking about life and art every day. Well we have, just never face to face. The trip down was a blast with 'Major' Nardell and Mr. Adrian and the time spent with all of them warmed me to the core. Her show was not just impressive, but an exquisitely executed reflection on her life and loves. It made me so happy to see her and her work together and meet her family, who I have been watching grow for so long, from afar.

muy linda © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The very next day, because I just couldn't get enough driving wedged into the weekend, Goldberg and I drove to Asbury Park to take stock of all that has changed in the three years since I last visited. I was shocked to see how gentrified it has become. There are still quite a few abandoned places. The sprawling Metropolitan Hotel has been mostly demolished, save a tiny portion... which honestly I don't understand why they bothered keeping. The former casino/roller rink has been hacked in half, the walkway and non-beach-side remaining are under renovation. Some of the formerly sketchiest neighborhoods were now overrun with likely overpriced boutiques and cafes and yuppie couples with hotrod baby strollers. It was like another city, completely.

longrider © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

forces © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

On Easter Sunday, because I not only cannot get enough driving, I can't get my fill of The JERZ, Goldberg and I returned to NJ to visit the sprawling Sandy Hook & Gateway National Park. As it was formerly a military installation there are a bevy of interesting (and abandoned/crumbling) structures, just about everywhere you turn. Goldmine.

I suppose Goldberg thought it might be unpopulated on Easter, alas no. Instead it was overrun with heathens like us and Orthodox Jews... who we witnessed come face to face with a naked man jogging on the beach. Unreal. Completely. I missed photographing said incident by a couple minutes:

thirds © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

breach © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Every turn was a surprise. Including stepping on a beach and into a pile of rotting lady's slippers and being swallowed by black flies, then hit with a strong biting nearly wintery wind. Luckily the wind escorted us quickly out when we were done, and blew us into the Mad Hatter for some killer pizza.

The hour is late and I've babbled on long enough... don't forget to consider becoming a patron of the arts - June is not far off! And I have rent to pay. lk{at}laurakicey{dot}com and we'll discuss! Thank you to all those who have already become sponsors! Much love y'all.

internal monologue

2009-03-07T18:37:00.009-05:00

Why I do declare, its been so long it feels like it is my first time blogging ever.

Activity has slipped into a bit of a lull so while I have this window of opportunity, I might as well crack that window wide open and throw some stuff out it.

I will actually have to go back and look at the photos to recollect the events of the past two-ish months. The day I never thought would come, the day the Butcher declared a state of you are healed, one month shy of two years from when this whole ugly mess began.

(clears throat)

2009 has been a roller coaster of emotions, work, and health already. Family Kicey decided to take it easy on the winter holiday celebrating, calling for gift exchange shut down. Ain't nobody gettin nuffin. Goldberg and I were holding out for what was to be our big gift to ourselves: the new year's road trip.

Never has there been a trip so anticlimatic nor so unrestful a vacation in history. It started off with so much gusto. We tore out through Delaware towards our first night's stop in Chincoteague, the golden winter sun and wind at our backs, stumbling upon familiar spots and some exciting new-old sites.

by a hair's breadth © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Our plan was to spend no more than 4 hours on the road a day so that we had optimum daylight while on the road, in case we found something worth exploring, plus a couple hours to cruise around our night's destination town. Chincoteague Island straddled the line between run down beach-bungalow paradise and ultra-swanky beach condo awkwardly. We glided into town just a bit before the sun went down, and decided to skip hotel check-in to go explore the island, and, as I been secretly yearning, visit the stinky Assateague ponies.

great white © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Assateague is a beautiful but rather stinky place on the whole. At a snail's pace we made our way through, stopping frequently so that I could squeal enthusiastically over the plentiful big water bird-flavored wildlife as well as make a fool of myself stalking small, distant, backlit horses.

stay golden © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

As the sun started to sink into a pinkly tinted sky, we crossed an especially odiferous stretch of marsh and landed on a pristine strand of white beach, dotted only with those walking off into the sunset.

the chariot © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Before the winds had a chance to cut all the way through us, we turned back toward Chincoteague to check in to the hotel and to case the local restaurants. We settled upon the least sinister 'seafood restaurant' that was open and enjoyed some cheese masquerading as butter and shrimp with shrimp and shrimp. Being the nightlife fiends that we are we went back to the hotel, downloaded our photographs and watched some food network before knocking out for the night.

Little did we know this would be our one and only night of peace and pure vacationing.

We got an early start on New Year's Ever, so we could once more make the most of daylight and the especially unique stretch of road between Chincoteague and the next night's stop in Kitty Hawk, NC. We made a couple stops to investigate the scenery here and there to either admire or photograph what we came upon. And there it was.

solo salva © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Iglesia Cristiana el Redentor

The makeshift churches on this stretch of road had been especially intriguing. But this one had something else. It had a tiny abandoned house RIGHT next door to is. Goldberg pulled the chariot into the lot by the church, actually oblivious to the house's existence, mesmerized by the hand-lettered cross and purple drapes. While he was in a trance I took off next door without a word. I stood by the road, admiring the way the cloud cover dwarfed the tiny shack, and waiting, like a girl pacing herself to leap into double dutch jump ropes, for the traffic to clear so I could take a running leap at the house.

Traffic cleared. Thereupon I launched.

shotgun shack © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The grass which seemed so innocent from a distance, started to gain depth and strength and as I was about to cross the threshold of the door at top speed, it took me down, flying through the door, camera arm raised high above the head (SAVE THE CAMERA AT ALL COSTS!!!) landing with a slam on my knees, ground into the busted wood porch, which was baring its rusty nail teeth at me.

the downward © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

GET INSIDE NOW. This was all that occurred to me. Not oh shit ow I just destroyed my knee, hey tetanus.. So I stood up and leapt over the broken wood pile and had a look round the pink-n-blue room. I was shaking but was much to enamoured with being in an abandoned house to realize the OW.

boys and girls © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

I moved to the peach room, and the senses were all on edge, quaking from the wind smacking the back door, thinking Goldberg was joining me. I ceased to be able to concentrate on what I was seeing anymore, trying to make sense of the weird opening in the wall or the strangely cushioned on the floor and I started to realize that my knee really hurt a whole lot. And then whimpering.

peach fuzz © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

I came back out of the house chanting I fell over! I fell over! I fell over!, flailing and Michael comes over and I attack the car door, frantically trying to get in and only then look down at my gored knee (not for the faint of heart) and torn tights. We cobbled together some ointment, failing other means of cleaning it up. Freaked out, worrying that I had actually hit a nail without knowing it because I was too wrapped up in anything but damages to actually check... we started off down the road in a search for some bandaids and ice packs for my swelling appendage.

At this point I realized I had just completely sabotaged my ability to do sly explorations from that point on for the duration of our trip. We managed to find a well-appointed mega-Rite Aid in a very new, sprawling strip mall where once there was vast nothingness on this coastal Virginia road. We did a few driveby shootings, including what seemed to be the site of a KKK home-burning. I gathered myself and we made a stop at the end of Virginia, at the bizarre and well-weathered Fabric Outlet.

buttoned up © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

I had stopped here once years ago to chat with the equally well-weathered owners and then spent some time digging around in their piles of accumulated junk outside. This time I made sure to look around inside.

alignment © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

50mph winds blew us over the 13 miles of Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel-Bridge-Tunnel-Bridge onto the back roads North Carolina. We were losing steam and the brutal winds coming off the water as we rolled into Kitty Hawk kept us mostly in the car but for a moment to step onto the beach to gather a bit more sand and crud on my sensor.

We drove the length of the Outer Banks, down to Roanoke and back north, checking out the dining prospects, deciding upon a recommendation from The Butcher. Since our dinner reservations were quite late, we set up shop in the rather morose hotel. I started to feel off. A headache had crept in, I felt a little dizzy and my stomach felt a bit unsettled. I thought it was just because I was getting hungry and shrugged it off. By the time we headed out to the restaurant I was feeling mildly nauseous even though I hadn't eaten in over 8 hours. The restaurant was a little overly yuppy and incredibly loud and I was growing close to that point of being overwhelmed by every noise, movement and smell as the pit in my stomach deepened and we ordered. A wave of weakness washed over me, I could barely focus enough to pick at my meal. A couple bites into my entree I told Michael we had to go. Now. We rushed back to the hotel and before I could get back to the room, I had put my take out bag to unintended use. I spent the rest of the night being very, very ill. Michael felt fine, so we assumed it was some food poisoning. I rang in 2009, curled up, semi-conscious on the bathroom floor moaning. Mind you, the body, amazing piece of machinery that it is, turns off one pain when another is more important. So my knee felt fine that night! And while my broken ass also felt fine I was deeply worried that I might be doing damage I couldn't feel.

breezeway © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

New Year's Day I woke up so weak I could barely raise my arms to dress myself. I still felt horrible in my stomach and couldn't bring myself to eat or drink anything, except for a constant stream of pepto-bismol. Our route was to take us west into North Carolina, just south of Great Dismal Swamp into Roanoke Falls. Exhausted and frail I laid very still and rested while Goldberg drove us onward. Just past the swamp, we stumbled upon a house that beckoned us, a huge old farmhouse in the middle of a barren field. And for once, the ubiquitous ditch at the edge of the road did not impede our approach. Without a tree to hide behind, we drove most of the way up the dirt (well, mud) road toward the house.

the grand stair © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

I knew if I didn't get out of the car, I would regret it we made our way toward the house, ever so gently. We were fully visible from the main road, such as it was, but nary a car even slowed down. Though it was missing most of a side wall and the ceiling was suggesting the second floor was not going to be an option, the two front rooms were stable enough to welcome me. It must have been incredibly grand in its day. I took a few turns around its pale peach and green walls and felt the winds blowing me back towards the car.

the ruritania sinks © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The sick came back for round two in another random ditch so after a few quick stops, we decided to step up the pace toward Richmond. We checked into what ended up being a tie for nicest hotel I have ever stayed in, Linden Row Inn, which was actually some converted colonial row homes. The very little we got to see of Richmond included the well-trod path between the inn and the Rite Aid to collect rehydration reinforcements in the form of massive quantities of gatorade and ginger ale, as well as saltines. Once we settled in to the room with all my artillery close at hand, I was out like a light ensconced in lovely fluffy bed with soft sheets, though I promised Goldberg I would stay awake while he popped out to get himself something for dinner. When he returned and I woke up, he looked distressed. He told me that he had been quite hungry but by the time he finished his burrito he knew something was wrong. That 'food poisoning' I had was a bit of loving norovirus and now, it was Michael's turn. Fortunately (comparatively), he had the spotless, marble bathroom to spend much of the night in, while I was passed out recovering deeply in bed.

The next morning at the last moment to check out, we hit the road for home, while my stomach had finally calmed, I had an unbearable headache from being dehydrated and Michael was experiencing the same weakness I had been the morning prior. We hit the interstate and tore home, holding on by a thread. In the longest four hours on record we made it back to my house and both immediately collapsed for a several hour restorative nap. It took a full week before either of us felt anything resembling normal.

cut © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

As part of the new year ringing-in, my friend and occasional model, Tanya, asked that I come to her house to document her shaving her head. She has been dealing with Trichotillomania since she was very young and when she was 12, her mother shaved her head against her wishes. Since then, she's worn her share of wigs and grown out her hair. This time round, she wanted to start afresh and made the choice to shave her to give her hair a chance to rebound.

shear © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

reveal © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

It was an incredibly intimate experience to be a part of. Her man Anthony manned the clippers and transformed her in about 45 minutes time. In a couple weeks, I will be having another model shoot with her in a coworker's 'abandoned' space in Mount Airy.

I had been dreading the visit to The Butcher, since my bodily awareness was rebounding post stomach-virus. Much to my surprise, when appointment in question rolled around, The Butcher declared that everything felt like it had healed up, despite the trauma. Really the best news I had heard in nearly two full years. I don't think, even now, that it has fully sunken in, but it was enough that I have now started trying to do everything, things that I could not do and things that I have been avoiding, both.

The first order of business after I returned home was to make all the arrangements for my show that was hanging at Café Estelle for the month of Janaury. Hitch after hitch ruined my flow a little, dark prints, mis-cut and missing mattes, misprinted postcards that took forever to be delivered... but I managed. Even though I wasn't planning on it, I decided to bring a bunch of food and booze along. Michael and I got there an hour early to start setting things up, but someone showed up a wee bit earlier and most unexpectedly. Longtime flickr friend Irina snuck out of a side hallway and scared the crap out of me!

opening preshow with a special guest from Toronto © Michael Alan Goldberg. All Rights Reserved.

She had left Toronto the day before, without a word, and appeared at my own show a bit before I did. She had just had the week from hell, having lost her job the day before and needed a break, as well as an emotional palette cleanser. I was so taken aback by the gesture that I got a bit weepy.

strike a pose © Irina Souiki. All Rights Reserved.

The evening was a great success on the whole, I was told at least 70 people showed up, much food and drink was consumed. Some print sales were discussed and later made. Many friends passed through and new people met. It was very exciting and much too short a night. Afterwards, Goldberg, Shanners, Shua, Irina and I all went to Johnny Brendas for some late night grub, since I had been too beside myself to do anything but talk and drink wine all evening.

wirina © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The rest of that weekend was spent showing Irina the grand tour of the greater Philadelphia area. This included stops at Peru House, Terrain, the Italian Market, and parts of Center City.

oyster © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

crawlspaces © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

We covered lots of ground for two days time and forged an even closer bond than we'd had over the precarious states of our current lives and mutual love of photography and decadent food. It was an unforgettable weekend, one I hope to someday parallel in Irina's neck of the woods some day sooner, rather than later.

swans © Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

hatch © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

the ghosts of © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The following weekend I had made arrangements with my friend Matt to do my first fashion shoot with a male model. As King Landscaping Design, he is exceedingly comfortable outdoors, so with that in mind I selected some inspiring wild surrounds for our shoot.

white pine © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

lumberjack © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

tied © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

navy © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

brushfire © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

As has become tradition, the Chinese New Year Parade in Philly always manages to draw me and a posse of flickr friends every year. And children on parents' shoulders yield a little high-riding slice of delight.

lion cub © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

wishes © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

hyena © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

blimp © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Ah mother of all catch-up blog posts! I've been busily collecting new sites for shoots, lining up new jobs projects, making headway on a book of my own work, and working on getting gallery shows. The most recent fashion shoot was another collaboration with Ms. Beaver, Mercedes - our lovely ne'er modeled model, and April, our MUA. We had hoped to shoot at a nearby abandoned greenhouse, but the weather forced my hand and kept us almost entirely indoors.

border crossing © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Of course, the moment we wrapped up the shoot, the sun comes out in all its golden splendor.

navy blue © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

the morning hour © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The construct series has been growing steadily as well in 2009, spurned on by the release of this book, now available in the US. I have added two more since my last post, inspired by Fairmount and West Philly neighborhoods respectively.

impartial © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

labyrinthitis © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

This past weekend was my one year anniversary with GOLDBERG! and so we did it up in style. I dropped off some work at a fairly new gallery in Old City, the Artist Friendly Exhibition located at 307 Market Street, 2nd floor - just above the art supply store. I JUST got a call from an organizer to say both of my pieces were accepted. So make sure you come to one of the two openings, the first of which is this coming Friday the 13th, from 7-10pm. I'll be there! The second will be on First Friday, April 3, 2009, from 7-10pm again.

Afterward we took a cruise around the city starting with the future site of the new Barnes Foundation, just down the street from the PMA. It is currently the home of a crumbling mass of reinforced concrete and the ghosts of juvenile delinquents. I shot a series of details of the chaos before it comes all the way down next week.

delinquent seven © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

delinquent six © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

We decided to relive our first date - at least in part - by revisiting the Korean restaurant where we first dined together. Goldberg had never had Korean food prior to our date and although he wasn't that into it, he demanded we go for our anniversary, which I couldn't argue with because it is one of my all time favorites. He is extra super sweet for making us go and he ended up liking it a little better than his first time.

misdirected © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

To complete the weekend fun we decided to drive northwest until we found something. And find something we did. We stumbled upon an abandoned farmhouse and barn near Pottstown. We thought we were in hot water momentarily when a guy pulled up and got out to walk his dogs near the property but he was friendly and shrugged off our presence once his dogs were done getting some scritchers from us. It was a exciting way to spend the afternoon and start the second year of a beautiful thing. Happy anniversary to us!! I love you baby!

see yourself out © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

unexpected guests © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

build on this

2009-02-20T18:40:00.004-05:00

better

2009-01-05T18:33:00.004-05:00

This is the beginning of a wild week and a wild year it seems. Updates will be forthcoming on the New Year's Roadtrip, my CLEAN BILL OF HEALTH, and the Shaving of the Tanya... but all that after the show:

This Friday, January 9th, 2009, from 6-9pm my show will be opening at Café Estelle, featuring a selection of abandoned residential interiors from the central and southeast Pennsylvania area (mostly the greater Philadelphia area). Complimentary light refreshments will be served and probably some free box wine! The show runs through Janaury.

Cafe Estelle is located at 444 N. 4th Street, between Callowhill and Spring Garden. www.cafeestelle.com

malfunctionaire

2008-12-16T17:56:00.001-05:00

Apologies for the appearance. I broke my blog and I don't know how to fix it properly. Yes I made a copy of the CSS but I 'upgraded' my blogger and now it won't accept the coding I had been using and I don't know why!

Please bear with me through the ugliness...

the immobile moving picture review

2008-12-14T13:29:00.004-05:00

In the past two weeks of being a lady of healing and leisure, I have consumed great quantities of movies and TV, far exceeding my normal intake. Along with lots of painkillers, antibiotics and ginger ale. As both an aid to those who might be stuck in a similar situation or just in need some movie recommendations... and as a light counterpoint to my last post of misery. Some of these were viewed prior to being in the hospital (though some would have been better avoided altogether, or postponed for pleasant escapist viewing during my rest) but should be included.

Synecdoche, NY: Cinema Overwhelmité. If you see this with so much as a headache, I promise it will be amplified tenfold by the end and you might end up in the hospital yourself, suffering from mysterious boils, pustules, anxiety and a general sense of malaise.

The Fall: Probably the ultimate recuperation film. The story outside the story is of two patients in a hospital, a man telling a little girl a story. The story is very simple but the visuals are whimsical, so if escapist you need, escapist you get.

Eraserhead: I'm not sure there is a good frame of mind in which to watch this. Certainly not when you are on the verge of throwing up and/or passing out while on a clear liquid diet while alluring scents of Thanksgiving dinner are filling the air, wasted on codeine. But it sure did make that story a lot more real to me.

Persona: Though I am opposed to b&w film and movies made pre-1970 rarely appeal, I actually enjoyed this bit of very eloquent and understated visual poetry. It is a slice of a very intense relationship between a struck-mute actress who has had a breakdown and the nurse caring for her and the tale of how their thoughts and beings merge and overlap. My first Ingmar Bergman film.

Tideland: I really wanted to like this movie. It had all the makings of something great, beautiful art direction, Terry Gilliam at the wheel, awesome abandoned houses, interesting if freeform story, and Jeff Bridges playing an evil version of The Dude. But it also had this overwhelming undercurrent of pedophilia and child-directed violence. Sure it was about the resilience of children. But damn. Never have the words "special secret" made me want to vomit. This was very hard to watch.

Northern Exposure: I had such fond memories of this show which I had not seen since its original airing back in the 90s. Alas Netflixing it now, 18 years later, I realize that certain things are better left as memories rather than relived. One of those gems that has not aged so well. In what must have been a sea of really bad television in 1990, it was a bright kooky light on the horizon... now its more than a few of its charms and is kinda creepy in certain respects. I don't think I recalled Shelly being just barely 18 years old getting married to Holling.

The Young Ones: At the opposite end of that wish I hadn't TV shows of yore spectrum is this gem. I remember watching it on Comedy Central in the mid 90s and loving it, but now I realize that I really didn't get it fully. Viewing all these years later, it has retained all of its incomparable irreverence. It is still truly hilarious and bizarre as it ever was. Eternally quotable and still fresh and applicable 26 years later.

Renaissance: The animation was beautifully done and it was always very compelling to watch, even after I lost interest in the kind of thin story line. It was entertaining, better with drugs no doubt.

Cube: This seemed too simple to work and some of the performance were a little shaky, but it was still kind of engrossing, if only to see how they can resolve something so abstractly defined.

The Human Stain: So many layers of implausibility to this I don't know where to start. I don't feel like Anthony Hopkins was ever anything but an old white guy and watching him get it on with a poorly cast Nicole Kidman... eh no thanks. I think the story would be better served in its original form, as a book, where your imagination can build the perfect characters for the roles. Seeing this is not believing.

Vatel: I realized a little too late that I had already seen Vatel, but it was worth a second viewing. It seems at first to be all about the spectacle, but the story of the subtle interactions between the characters behind closed door, underneath the carefully choreographed acts is quite intriguing. Yeah and the sets were quite awesome... and I have a thing for Tim Roth.

Mad Men: Is there is a show more beautifully styled, acted, written and polished.... cripes I feel like I am slinking around drinking scotch and having discreet liaisons with handsome strangers. And hot damn you could butter bread with Joan Holloway. Sheeeeeeee-it.

Sweetie: Darkly funny throughout and the frustration of the characters is quite palpable. Particularly Australian feeling, something which Jane Campion has seemed to have lost touch with over time. Comparable to The Price of Milk which I found slightly more enjoyable in its lighter-sweeter mere melancholy and loopy alienated misery.

Dexter: Three seasons in and this show just does not lose its razor sharp edge. Funny, naughty, cool and smart. You could probably cut off some of my limbs and I would still be thoroughly entertained and distracted.

Happy Accidents: A friend sent this DVD to me to watch while recovering and from the case, one would take it for your run of the mill rom-com. Now I have to say, there is never a bad day for Vincent D'onofrio in my book and the idea of him as a romantic lead was odd, but I had to know. It was a rom-com only for about 15 minutes and then it took a rather unexpected Sci-Fi turn and never looked back. It was surprisingly entertaining. Especially on lots of painkillers.

I actually watched quite a few more DVDs than this alas I am running out of steam to review them all. These were just the glowing highs and lows. I need to flex by brain muscle by doing something other than vegetating in front of the television or my laptop for weeks on end.

two for the price of three

2008-12-11T19:41:00.005-05:00

As a child I used to lay in bed at night and invent a strange bargaining dialog with the witchmonster that lived under my bed. If I held my breath for 10 seconds, laying on my left side with one eye open, I would be safe for another another night, allowed to live.

© Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

© Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

© Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

© Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

Sometime a little over two weeks ago I reopened this strange dialog with an unseen force: the one holding my body together. This time round there was a bit more gravity to it all, at least more than a sound night's sleep. I've avoided updating the blog for ages as I didn't need to give voice to the chorus of fears leading up to the surgery. There have been some unforeseeable twists in this road but it seems like we are headed in a positive direction, though nothing is certain.

© Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

© Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

Just prior to the surgery I was frantically trying to fit in some work, including visiting Terrain for Christmas Open House and at the last minute and getting wrapped in a freakishly early snowstorm I was set to document the Holiday decorations at Terrain. Despite it taking over two hours in sluggish slip-sliding traffic to get there, it ended up being gorgeous and totally worth the trek. It transformed the site to an exquisite winter wonderland.

© Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

© Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

© Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

© Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

Though by day's end the snow had melted, the lights at night made me, Grinch of the Century, feel a little warm holiday tingle... though my fingertips were losing sensation. Having never done a large scale night shoot before or really that much snow shooting, the results were pretty exciting.

© Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

© Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

© Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

© Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

Only days later I was chugging fluids in anticipation of a colonoscopy-style prep for surgery the next day. The Butcher and I had discussed that it wouldn't hurt to empty me out and keep me on liquids for some time after surgery to give the system a rest. Not especially good timing, being discharged the day before Thanksgiving, but I decided I could handle the temptations in favor of being CURED!!

© Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

7am Michael and I appeared at the hospital which was unexpectedly buzzing with patients. Familiar faces all round, except an anesthesiologist who was struggling to find a vein without going through it. All of the usual hazy memories, saucy thigh-high Teds, a stylish blue mesh hat, peppy words of encouragement from the Butcher, wheeling into the refridgerator-chilled OR, rolling myself onto the table, going awkwardly limp in the arms of one of the OR nurses while the nurse anesthetist gives me a sedative that leaves me mumbling "Oh my I feel that" as they push the spinal needle into my back.

© Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Next thing I remember is half-awakening a few times to ask the nurse anesthetist if I can blow my nose... he hands me gauze to honk while I am flailing to remove the oxygen tube from my nose, laying on my belly. Then my mind wonders and I try to look over my shoulder only to find my back end draped... incoherently trying to peek at the action going on behind me. It is times like these that I wonder at the variety of bizarre things that must transgress between the partially sedated patients and the crew in OR. I'm always very busy and chatty for one who is supposed to be asleep.

© Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

© Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The surgery went off without a hitch and after hanging out in Recovery waiting for the spinal to wear off, flexing my legs and feet with enthusiasm, I was wheeled up to my room to start slurping on the first of many hospital ginger ales and jellos. This time I was awarded the PCA armed with the not-so-magic dilaudid. After a few hours and the spinal effects of the spinal were nowhere to be seen the pain became so insanely intense, despite much dilaudid-button-pushing, I was writhing and in tears... until my good friends Rob and his lovely lady Leah appeared to help distract me from the epic ow in the bottom zone. Rob had recently accepted an amazing job off to work with the people who developed Guitar Hero and Rock Band at Harmonix.... in Boston. Had he gotten the apartment he had been vying for, he wouldn't have to had to return to Philly at all and I would have missed seeing him off altogether. Luckily for me (but probably most unfortunate for them having to keep a weepy wild-eyed me company) I got to bid him a fond farewell... though I was rather close to telling them I wasn't feeling up to company, it picked me up a little.

After my hospitalization in July for this same surgery which was generally a really positive experience, I had high hopes that this would be equally as smooth. Alas as the daylight faded so did the appearances of my nurse... until of course I was starting to feel sleep come on, then naturally they couldn't stop appearing. I got a roommate around 2am and they spent a couple hours getting her settled in. Then I snag an hour of zzzs only to be startled awake by some random resident or idiot intern who comes in to cross exam me about my low blood pressure. Ms. Kicey, we are concerned about your low blood pressure! Its always low! How do you know its always low!!? I'm always at the doctor's office and its always low when I'm there and my mom takes my blood pressure a lot too Why is your mom taking your blood pressure so much!!? She's an LPN and just checks it from time to time! That doesn't explain why she would be taking your blood pressure!!

If he had actually looked at my chart he would have seen that my blood pressure is always low. Always. Except when I have been jogging to doctor's appointments which I am late to. Even then its low for someone with high blood pressure. A few more hours of being ignored by nurses, getting tangled in blankets and the Butcher swings by to keep me company for a while, nerding out over iphone apps and A Christmas Story. When visiting hours begin Shanners comes by for a visit and about an hour later I am trying to make a break for it.

© Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

(During my bed rest, I worked on completing this wedding gift to my girl Shanners, in her wedding colors of blue and brown to keep myself continually distracted.

That all seems like so long ago. I got home and we had a wildly-downsized Thanksgiving celebration. Michael had prepared some things on Wednesday night but by Thursday was too entrenched in a nasty cold to make more than a quick appearance lest we infect me... since coughing and nose-blowing are rather painful activities even now, weeks later. The Butcher allowed me a mini-Thanksgiving meal but there was little to be had so I returned to liquids after a couple bites of filling. The next few days were spent not moving much and chain-watching DVDs. The most ill-thought-out of which was Eraserhead while the scent of Thanksgiving yummies were filling the apartment. Five days post-op and my body was beginning to catch up with its normal functions which without graphic descriptions means I spent an entire 8 hours trying to do something very natural, but wound up in oodles of pain to the point of graying out repeatedly. At the end of the day and many phone calls to the Butcher later, there was much relief that I didn't have to return to OR and I enjoyed some real Thanksgiving dinner. During the carving of the turkey, my mother declares she will be having a leg and will be eating it 'like a bohemian', which would translate to most people as eating like a barbarian. Leave it to maternal malapropisms to lift the spirits.

© Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Early that week I felt fabulous and trying to take over the world from the horizontal position on the sofa. I tentatively agreed to do a shoot for Terrain later in the week for a new project of theirs, currently top secret. The night prior to the shoot and my one-week Butcher visit, suddenly the pain is getting worse and my lymph nodes are sore.

© Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Failing to sleep because of the pain and despite taking a whole bunch of pills, I am up early to get ferried to the Butcher's office. The Butcher sees nothing out of the ordinary, no signs of infection, just normal, expected swelling. I had a little temperature but he seemed unconcerned and sent me on my shoot with his blessing and said to rest up immediately afterward. I spent three hours with my Terrain crew but the site was not actually fully ready for shooting.

© Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Mid-way through, the pain is getting a little out of hand and Michael suspects I should get myself home for resting. I was a whole lot delirious and popping codeine pills every 3 hours and sobbing while my lymph nodes were starting to inflate. I explained to my mother it could wait until the next morning and neither she nor Michael were buying it. She called Dr. Butcher and he calls me back, I am incoherent and babbling and he calmly tells me I should get my ass to the ER. He would tell them to admit me directly and get me on IV antibiotics and fluids. Then the next morning he would check me out in OR.

© Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Michael comes tearing over to my house, frantic, and we take the now too frequent ride to ER. No beds are open and no one I talk to has heard from the Butcher. We wait a couple hours, long enough for my mom to materialize and finally they give me a bed in ER and (awkwardly and painfully) get my IV started. With my mother and Michael bobbing nervously over his shoulder, the ER nurse tries and fails to take blood for a culture, blowing out a vein in my arm in the process of wiggling it around trying to tease a few drops out. The veins in my right arm were wimpy at best but he was not to be daunted. He then start the IV in a miniscule vein in my hand and tries to draw blood off that by digging the IV around for a few minutes. Wa-hey that felt great!

© Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

A distracted doctor comes through and then finally the best resident ever comes in and she is the Butcher's chosen one. She tries to tap my left arm with great and painless success and even manages to extract some laughs from the weary crowd. I finally get rolled up to a room around 1am and my itty bitty vein gets flooded with so much Benadryl and dilaudid I feel drunk and 10 minutes later I am in the long, cushy arms of sleep.

© Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Friday morning the Butcher comes by to tell me I will probably go into OR around 2pm because they are fairly backed up. The antibiotics are kicking in and making me feel a bit better but starvation is setting in and everything is forbidden by mouth. I get a sponge lollipop dipped in mouth wash around 2pm when they come in to tell me it looks like it will be later. Nothing like IV fluids to fill you right up!

© Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

5pm, the trouble begins. The orderly came down to transport me. The Butcher told me they weren't going to give me a spinal and we'd be in and out in no time. I took a leak just prior to wheeling down, IV fluids do fill you up in some respects. When I get down to pre-induction the anesthesiologist tells me I am having a spinal... annoying but not a big deal, though I would prefer being back in my room in time to see my mom and Michael after getting the word on what he finds.

© Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

I wheel into recovery with the Butcher leaning over me saying the flap is breaking down, but there are no visible signs of infection. Still partially sedated and fueled by the really atrocious news I start to sob uncontrollably for the next hour. One of my nurses from way back takes over. I've had at least 4 spinals in past and normally they start to wear off almost straight away once I get to recovery. This one is not moving out and despite catheters being de rigueur for spinals, I seemed to have escaped without one. Two hours in recovery and I still can't move my legs. This only makes me more upset and panicky. Visiting hours are over and I don't get to see my mom or Michael... one very unhappy girl. Around 8.30 I start the bargaining... pleading with the nurse to go back up to my room, promising not to try and get out of bed. By nearly 9pm I am barely starting to be able to move my legs but they let me leave recovery and return to my room.

© Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

© Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Apparently when you are post-op, visiting hours are extended to 10:30. My mom, much to my relief, is still in my room. She tells me that they will be keeping me for the weekend for pain management and IV antibiotics and that the Butcher told her that even though the flap is necrosing at the edge, it is still managing to do its job, so its just holding together enough to still be working. No signs visible signs of infection. I'll be on clear liquids through the weekend. As it gets later and sensation starts to return to my lower half a weird feeling sets in, part burning, part freezing and a building pressure in my lower belly. Going on 10pm and I still can't feel my butt from the spinal and the pressure in my belly has become incredibly painful... they finally call in the resident who pokes me in the belly and recognizes I might be full of pee! Oh genius. I still can't walk or feel things properly so after losing the battle with a bedpan they give me a bundle of painkillers and cath me, drawing a full day's worth out. Genius figuring out that five hours later I might have to pee a little bit. Worst pain I have ever experienced, bar none. Thanks hospital!

Keeping me company over the three nights and three days were two amazing roommates both of whom my mother likened, rather accurately, to Flip Wilson. They kept my spirits aloft during the drudgery. My second roommate was suffering from a similar ailment and her surgeon also had her on clear liquids. Moral support and ample moaning about the flavorless chicken broth could be heard throughout the day. "Mealtimes" were low points in our days. My mom stuck by helping both me and my roommates out in lieu of nurses who would repeatedly 'forget' our requests. Fortunately my iphone was always with me so that I could constantly distract myself from the upsetting circumstance, the repeated searing burn of IV flushing and having orange jello meal after meal... taking pictures, twittering, obsessively playing solitaire and on flickr and facebook for lack other entertainment in the form of moving or decent TV.

© Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Late Sunday afternoon I was discharged with orders to be rest, continue with antibiotics, low residue diet and let Michael wait on me hand and foot. And that is where I find myself still. Every time I shift my position, I wonder have I broken something? Did I just bend over too far? Why is it hurting I didn't move at all? And the silent bargaining continues. If I lay here and don't move all day, I'll be fine, right? If I drink lots of liquids and eat the beige foods like a good girl, I'll be ok, right?

© Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

A couple days ago I went to see the Butcher again. He said it appears to still be holding. The tissue is doing what tissue that is healing is supposed to do. This is not over yet... until I can move freely and live my life as a normal healthy person, this is not over. I can sit up for a couple hours comfortably and I agreed to go back to work for a half day Monday. Maybe my body can handle it but we'll see if the brain will follow. It feels a little soon but I am going nuts and have run out of Mad Men and Dexter... and the Netflix can't come fast enough to keep up.

Tomorrow I'll have been out of the hospital a week. I'm scared. Impatient. Nervous. My hand still aches where my IV was. Weak and tired but getting a bit better. Still playing solitaire obsessively to help lull me to sleep at night. My cat is still keeping close at hand to watch over me, playing nurse. I'm transitioning to normal food from low residue slowly, waiting for my body to feel more normal to match. A lot of other things are cooking, a couple more photography jobs, preparations for my January show at Café Estelle which opens on Friday January 9th, 2009, from 6-9pm... and plotting a New Year's Eve week road trip with Michael.

Perhaps 2009 will see another update here, hopefully no more visits to the ER or OR... stay tuned.

rise

2008-11-06T14:26:00.004-05:00

The last post here was about as political as I ever tend to publicly verbalize. Michael and I were talking about how much anxiety we must have felt about the election because now in the wake of it all, we have both felt this incredible weight lifted from us. Now I just feel kind of exhausted.

I'm so very proud of Obama and what he accomplished. I'm proud of my country for making the right choice for our collective future. There is a lot of work ahead for us all, and none of it will be easy. Having watched McCain and Palin stir up so much hatred and racism, Obama's job is made that much more difficult, and frighteningly dangerous.

Yesterday I was looking for a map that showed all the results of how each state ended up voting on Tuesday's election, because when I went to bed at 3am, there were still some gray states whose results had not been represented. I came across this website that had several different breakdowns, some that were more representative of actual votes cast than others, using state scale to represent voter weight as well as red blue and shades of purple to designate turnout by districts and counties.

As a lover of maps and of color there was one that really stood out:

In its own abstract way, I thought it was rather beautiful. It also had a rather phoenix rising out of the flames quality about it... this collection of stats, numbers, opinions is representative of our greater desire for a fresh start and a break from the past.

Let's get to work, USA.

voter registration

2008-10-30T19:50:00.004-04:00

I know, I know. Two posts in one day. And a political entry at that! But this relates to my photographic interests and impacts them directly. Whenever I drive places, familiar and strange I am on the lookout for abandoned houses/structures and will routinely check out the ones I know of to see if there are any changes, new points of entry, signs of life/demolition. Today on the way to lunch with M, we were sitting in traffic and noted an unfamiliar campaign sign out front of a long-abandoned house.

It read Another Democrat for McCain. We had a laugh, having never seen another such sign in front of any house, let alone an abandoned house. Thought little of it. Then on the way home from lunch, we drove by another obviously abandoned house on the same stretch of road WITH THE SAME SIGN in the yard. This was just too much. Then at the intersection there was a vacant gas station on the corner with a THIRD sign on the property.

So for all those people who are looking for abandoned houses in Montgomery County, a surefire way to tell if no one lives there: look for the Another Democrat for McCain sign in the yard- the calling card of The Nonexistent.

URBN development

2008-10-30T12:12:00.004-04:00

Currently on hold with the offices of Dr. M, only the eighth or ninth doctor in nearly two years for just the one problem. So surgery is getting moved up to who knows when while I have another special ultrasound and consultation. That is the bad news. The head cold is out of control so perhaps it is for the best that I am not going to have anaesthesia in a week.

But there is a lot of good news. Terrain has invited me back to shoot the Holiday Set, and their Christmas Open House is November 8 & 9. In the spirit of the end of Harvest, I wanted to post some more from that set that I recently processed.

the dead trees © Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

lichen and white © Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

spritzer © Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

lamplight © Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

pink and pale © Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

budvase dusk © Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

babyblue © Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

the mushroom house © Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

harvest spread © Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

circle and arch © Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

oxalis © Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

And as if that wasn't enough from URBN, the big news I have been sitting on for a month is that Urban Outfitters wants to sell one of my constructs as wall art in their stores. How exciting!! I don't have the specifics yet but add me to your holiday shopping list:

disintegration © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

how the mighty have fallen

2008-10-27T22:30:00.008-04:00

Over exertion while pursuing the absolute maximum photographs per day is the name of the game. Goodness, good morning! Good night.

the orphanange © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

I am still dizzy from a full weekend which included hanging out with the collegiate posse that has recently relocated to The City proper from points beyond. Lopping off all my hair.

the fix © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Crack of dawn rising to greet fellow photographer of abandoned things Tom Bejgrowicz and his lovely partner in crime Jennifer, whereupon we made our way to the House of Smoke and Mirrors which lent us some special sunrise sleight of hand. Curiously, though it showed no other signs of human presence, two rooms that had been previously locked up were open to us.

basement baygrowits © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The morning light favored the basement more than the afternoon light I was used to seeing it in. Tom and I examined the mad stash of booze, 70s style wet bar, and a cabinet of plaster casts and a kiln, which seemed to be used to fire the tiny vessels from the casts. Pompom fringe and silk flowers caught the morning light... and the basement door, once locked, was hanging open to the greenhouse. Maybe the house has had some brawny inquisitors in my absence.

up and coming © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

mulled cider © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

tinder hooks © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

apricot © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

fall of the empire © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Immediately rushing off to another shoot with Michael and a model-friend I have been wanting to shoot with for ages- tanya dakin. Wherein we hit up not one but two abandoned houses I'd visited in past: Peru House and Riddle House.

frankincense © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

nightshade © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Allowing Tanya to take the styling reigns, I provided her visual clues about the houses and she ran with it much to my delight. Despite the chill in the air, she was fairly fearless, trash picking for props, climbing up on precarious ledges, scaling questionable stairs. Tanya came out unscathed, but I managed to fall through the floor.

velvetine © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Yes... it was bound to happen sooner or later. Second floor of Riddle House, Michael was shooting some portraits of Tanya and I was milling about scouting my next spot and I walked into an adjacent room and was looking at a fire-damaged corner.

seizure © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

As I went to leave the room, the floor gave out under my right foot and I plunged knee deep into the floor. Fortunately I was wearing knee high boots and I came out without a scratched... the boots are looking a little rough. We fought the fading light and broken glass the rest of the afternoon to great effect. Many thanks to Tanya for keeping it fresh and both of us on our toes.

Last weekend, Ms. Beaver and I teamed up once more for our most elaborate collab to date. We had to put this shoot off for several weeks, twice getting ditched on by model number one, we finally pulled together a new model, Danielle Guldin, and a pinch-hitting makeup artist, Jessi Liberatore. I had originally asked Sarah to play on the theme of patterns. I wanted to draw in pattern through light and backdrop/environment and I wanted her to carry it through the clothes' textures, textile patterns and accessories.

arise © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The four of us prepped at my apartment and spent a bit of time shooting in my bedroom, where Sarah and I pulled together some props from around the house to set the scene. The light loved us.

We headed down to Wales House. Last time I had visited there, we noted that there was a contractor's trailer nearby, but the construction site was across the street. Saturday afternoon... who would be working?!

nestling © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

I go to turn in the driveway and there to greet me is a heavy duty pickup and backhoe, whereupon I sloppily swerve back onto the road to avoid hitting them head on.

underneath © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Rather panicked, we pulled into a parking lot up the street and paused to collect our thoughts and wait for them to clear the area. About ten minutes later, we returned to the lot and ended up being in the clear for the rest of the afternoon.

beaming © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

home on the range © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Danielle was energetic and very instrumental in the process, bringing her performing background to the 'characters' and drawing out a beautiful narrative. The farmhouse and the vintage pieces from the 30s, 40s and 80s set the stage for what is perhaps my favorite editorial to date.

Michael and I decided to take a scenic get-lost tour of Durty Jerz. We managed to shirk responsibility for several hours and finding our way back to life.

mum's the word © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Today I found out that the constructs along with my relatively new Viewville representation have been blogged over at the extremely popular design-for-home blog, Apartment Therapy - Chicago.

Though I am coming down with a cold, it looks promising (if that is the appropriate word for it) that I will be having what had damn well better be my last surgery in about two weeks' time. I am meeting with the Butcher this week to discuss the ins and outs and I am filling with the expected amounts of dread which I have been doing everything I can to offset with hyper-busyness. With the promise of colonoscopy prep to start and three days of clear liquid diet afterwards, plus the two weeks of bedrest into two more weeks of laying low, I am doing all I can to not think about it until absolutely necessary. My friends at the hospital will be happy to see me again no doubt. I should bring a party platter for them.... and jello shooters for me.

At the very least, it should keep me from falling into holes and getting caught by the authorities for a little while. That being said Sarah and I have been discussing another wintery shoot which I am rather excited to dig into once she is back in the US and I am back on my feet... and lacking work of substance.

Oh and one last thing, this Friday I will have been blogging here for THREE YEARS!! Happy Bloggiversary to me!

EDIT TO ADD: I loved this blog post that Tanya wrote about her experience shooting with us... I can't recall if I ever wrote about the party where we met, but we were in fact both bearded ladies and have been talking about working together for the year and a half its been since.

I like you....

2008-10-13T11:51:00.004-04:00

Just a few of the 2000+ photos needing processed from this weekend's bachelor/ette party, rehearsal dinner and wedding of the Shannon and Josh McLaughlin conglomerate. A real blog entry to come... for now enjoy what I got finished before passing at at 2am.

domino effect

2008-10-05T21:36:00.006-04:00

Allow me to start by fulfilling a meme since I was tagged by The Fabulous Miss B whereupon I must reveal SIX, count 'em, 6, secrets about myself.

topiary © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Here goes nothing:

1. I have an irrational fear of perishing from radiation poisoning/gamma rays, not that I act upon it in any manner, but I do have a hard time watching movies where that comes into play, like K-19: The Widowmaker totally horrified me.

2. I cannot read analog clocks. Well, I can eventually but it takes me a little while to...um... sound it out.

3. I am left-handed.

4. I was obsessed with birds and insects as a child... and kept a large number of insect pets, including praying & Chinese mantids, several varieties of katydids, Colorado Potato Beetles, a bunch of butterflies and moths including hummingbird moths (which are amazing), and June Beetles.

5. I am mostly Ukrainian. My last name was "americanized" from a name which in the original Cyrillic sounded like "Kit-see".

albinos © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

6. I had very blond hair as a child.

Alas my friends who blog are lazy, its late and it is unlikely that I will hunt down anyone to tag to carry on with the meme.

bromeliads © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

I have good news coming in a matter of days that is far too secret yet to share here. Patience! But I will be having photographs in the December issue of Food & Wine magazine and an interview in a major Chinese magazine. Details, soon.

In other news:

Last week, to continue with my ongoing documentation of Terrain, I returned for the Harvest and got my pumpkin on. Autumn is in full swing, going from 96˙ evil-humid days to 60˙ days with chilly breezes in the blink of an eye. I picked an especially gorgeous day, arriving at the crack of dawn and leaving only after the golden hour of evening. It was also really lovely to see the Terrain posse again who are always a pleasure to work with... or near.

harvest spray © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

lotus © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Spectacular light, and not too shabby results.

An anonymous tip put me hot on the trail of an abandoned, burnt-out diner in inner the Philly burbs this week. Today Gwyn, Michael and I decided to take it on. Before we met up with Gwyn, Michael and I decided to case it and see if the entryway was still clear, look for eyes on us and parking. It was fairly out in the open but we decided to run with it... collected Gwyn and returned and slipped right in.

pumpkins and mushrooms © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

There had been an accidental kitchen fire several months ago, but despite this, everywhere but the site of the fire was in surprisingly good condition. Tables were still set with silverware, paper napkins that were slightly singed, and coffee cups sitting upside down on their saucers, booth seats barely covered with dust. We crept into the seating area, moving slowly behind the slightly-tinted glass. Gwyn followed me into the kitchen to look at the damage, while Michael wandered off around the counter.

orchilette © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

lace © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

As I backtracked towards the booths, Michael whispers "There's someone coming, there's a guy on a bike and he is coming this way, we gotta get outta here." We grabbed our stuff and made our way out the back door, Michael saying he couldn't see him clearly, but he had a blue shirt and might be a bike cop.

arterial © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Peeking around the corner, we saw nothing and shuffled back to the car, while the bike guy continued to stay put, staring into the diner door, barely visible to us. I turned for a moment just in time to see him slip around the corner and ride off.

albinos © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

We decided to see if we could get a good look at him (like if he was actually a bike cop or not) and get moving in case he saw us and called the cops.

apricot © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Failing to catch up with him, we returned and waited in the parking lot to see if anything would "happen" and try to decide whether or not we should make a second attempt.

And thereupon we bailed. Not one photograph was had, not a camera unsheathed from its bag. Amped up on jittery adrenaline I snappily decided we should go check out one of the Peru House neighbors, Riddle House. This particular approximately mile stretch of road in Delaware County may have no less than 10 abandoned and/or vacant houses, some locked, some visible from the road, some posted, some not. Gwyn led us down a woodsy drive to a stupendous, rather strangely organized Victorian-ish house. There was grand front porch that was mostly surrounded by railings, though at one end, there was a bank of windows... with curtains.

the wind through us © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The drive that encircled the house had a roofed portion that extended from the front porch, presumably to protect you from the elements while you hopped in your carriage. Around back there was a structure on top of which there was watchtower-like room, large and octagonal with big windows all the way around.

ashes © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The front door was hanging open, its padlock busted and while the first floor was boarded, moving through the front room quickly lead us to the main stairway which was so bright by comparison, it seemed almost artificially lit. It was painted with rather unusual patterns that could have been painted really anytime... deco-y and abstract in pale pinks, yellows and greens. It had obviously been sepearated into apartments at some point during the 70s (noting the harvest gold kitchen appliances). There were signs of small fires on the second and third floors, no graffiti to speak of, no solid signs of squatters.

tissue © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The watchtower had become a rather impressive grave for two turkey vultures. Strangely, there was one huge window wide open (maybe broken out) but the one vulture had died with its wings spread out in the center of the room. The other folded and tucked in the corner. It would seem that one would cancel the other out, but there they died together, looking like they had died at almost the same time.

nevermind © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The house was filled with all sorts of interesting slopes and curves, rippled old glass, and subtle colors. The evening light made it so magical, but the trek earlier in the day, made me jump at the none-to-distant woosh of traffic and the scuttle of squirrels and birds outside the open windows.

marshlands © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Having neglected to bring a flashlight we were cut off from the excitement that apparently is the other half of the house. Return is essential, with model, ideally. More photos to come, naturally.

The last few weeks of October are chock full of action to make up for the quickly approaching November deficit... of action and income. I'm starting to dread it more and I've been having some unexpected pain the past couple of days... hoping it just passes before I run into the Butcher for our ladder match. The hospital posse might have even forgotten about me by now. Next weekend by bosom friend Shanners becomes Mrs. McLaughlin and Michael and I are devoting our weekend to being her paparazzos. I have a few special visitors, models and a touch of trouble to get into... then hopefully, I will go vote, put Senator Obama into office, and then wizz off to the hospital.... A few drugs here, a few weeks of laying around there... and I will be good as new, we hope.

sprig © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

aging grace

2008-09-22T15:56:00.011-04:00

The end of summer always seems to feel as though I am scraping the bottom of the barrel... and every year September manages to become the Great Turnaround Month. I had been working my tail off doing visual merchandising at Terrain for a few weeks, rearranging the store for harvest time, sweating it out under the beating sun, marching back and forth across the acres of property, goring myself on a tree trunk and coming within inches of getting myself a heatstroke... trying to bounce back from months of not working and non-existent print sales. Last year I had a fairly horrific birthday and did not have great hopes that turning 31 would go much smoother.

new growth © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Shanners and Michael had been acting suspiciously for some weeks and I had a feeling they were plotting something. I had asked Michael if he would get me a new watch for my birthday. Mine had died and I gone through the two amazing-yet-tacky $3 watches I bought online which lasted 5 wearings each on average, prior to self-destructing. A couple days before my birthday he told me the watch we both liked was out of stock so he'd have to think of something else.

peril's comet © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

When I got home from work the night before my birthday, I wandered into the bathroom and noticed the lid of the toilet was open. Because The Magnificent likes to drink out of the toilet, I generally make a point keeping it shut. I thought it was odd, but I had been running late that morning and imagined I might have forgotten. I stepped into the kitchen and immediately all the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end... I spied a sign stuck to the cupboard next to the kitchen sink. It said Open Me!

candle © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

I had the feeling someone was in the apartment. Looking over my shoulder I opened the cupboard a crack, and there was a box, with a note. Lo and behold, Michael had snuck into my apartment while I was at work and hid a box of cupcakes, since he couldn't be there at midnight to be the first to wish me a happy birthday, he wanted to leave a little something for me.

electric © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Before the sun was up I was heading off to my last day of visual merchandising work. I spent the day putting the finishing touches on the harvest section (most of which had been erected while I was away) with Matt.

bay breeze © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Just before it started to rain I was asked to do a quickie shoot for an email blast for harvest.

harvest time at terrain © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Wrapped in the creative director's jean jacket and an unruly poncho, Matt and I filled in displays with hay and pine needle fill in the increasingly monsoon-like weather. I was soaked to the skin and coated in mud and wet hay.

seaside © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

It didn't seem like an ideal way to celebrate but I was in good company all day long... and I headed home to get cleaned up and heave out to dinner with Michael. When I got to his house he was anxious to lay his gift on me. I was rather taken aback to see that he not only gotten me the watch we liked, but he also got me the MiniDigi Rolleiflex I have been pining for for quite some time. It was too adorable... and ridiculously generous. We hustled out to get out super-Mexicans on at the warm and intimate Xochitl in south Philly. It was a totally killer birthday.... little did I know it was nowhere near over.

hair on end © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Eager to use my new camera I got up early to make a run to Best Buy to get a new card reader for my new itty bitty toy fire engine red toy. Michael had told me he was picking me up at my house at 11am to take us to brunch. He had been promising to fill my day with excitement including the highly unlikely Ukulele Fest featuring Uke Skywalker and Tuba Fett. I wasn't buying it either.

dried flowers © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

I called Michael to ask him if it was ok if I ran out and got back a couple minutes late. He repeatedly hedged between telling me to stay put and to go quickly until it was too late for me to leave. I had called my mom while waiting for Michael to show up and she sounded uncharacteristically chipper before 11, for someone who doesn't normally awaken before noon (she works night shift). Scooping me up at the stroke of 11, we made our way down to Cafe Estelle... I was sleepy and needed coffee desperately, my normal uncharming morning self. As we stepped out of the car and approached the door, I spotted Shanners just inside the door. Knowing I was about to be surprised I braced myself. A whole bunch of my friends had shown up for brunch... and then not 20 minutes later, my parents appeared. I did not see that one coming at all. A whole lot of love, gifting, coffee and cake mania gathered up together for me... courtesy Shanners, my mom and Michael all tirelessly planning my where and whenabouts for the weekend. It was a really great morning. I planned to meet up with a few other people later that night for drinks. Not having seen most of these people in months, it felt pretty spectacular.

singular © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Sunday morning Michael and I set off to fulfill my very special birthday request... I asked for a house. For some weeks I had been eying up a house I spotted on my way to work. Sitting on a long stretch of road that was lined with abandoned houses, slated for development, at the top of a hill, wildly overgrown and hidden away. I stopped by one night after work to see if there was a way in, sure enough... though it was boarded at the front the back was hanging wide open. It was a huge white house with green trim, missing most of its windows, probably built in the 60s. From what little we found, it appeared to have been abandoned at an unknown date and attempts were made to renovate it and then they just kind of gave up on it. There was very little vandalism, and it didn't appear as though there had been squatters. The last family to reside there left in no hurry, most of their possessions left with them. They were awfully fond of their wallpaper. There were no less than 9 different wild patterns used in the house, most of which was sagging or had fallen completely and was making a paper waterfall down the main staircase. It was a grand house... it made me sad to think someone gave it up. If only I had the money to save it, I would in a heartbeat. I'm sure it was suffering from a bit of rot, but it seemed to be almost entirely stable throughout, aside from the bathrooms which had been pillaged for its copper piping fairly thoroughly. It was a blindingly hot day and we spent a few hours there, climbing over wallpaper and broken glass; I tested out my new camera. It was the most spectacular birthday weekend in memory.

tang © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

A few days after, one of the most-read arts/crafts/design blogs out there, ohjoy!, which happens to be based in Philly, wrote about the constructs. Since then I have seen about 8 other blogs following in her footsteps.... and the etsy sales have been flowing back in after a very long dry spell. The boost has brought incalculable eyes this way and I am very thankful... from what my stats tell me, about 600 hits to my portfolio website, and probably about 200 to my blog (hey I really needed a fresh post, obvs). Thank you so much Joy!!

{A few other equally exciting things led to this point, but until they come together, I will hold my tongue.}

Did I mention I've been beaming non-stop for days?

Yeah a lil bit...

Michael and I had to postpone our camping trip indefinitely, which we were planning for next week, so in lieu of getting earthy, we decided to hunt down Omar Little. We played tourist in B-More for a day this last weekend. I think the aquarium, while still fun, was most amazing in my childhood memories.

diving bell © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

No longer are the dolphins out for all to see, hidden behind extra admission, no jellyfish, no bother cleaning up the glass so you can actually see the fish, once you fight your way through the irritable parents and the rowdy children. There were still delights... like a little kid, remembering the unbelievable things I used to know by heart about the more bizarre species on display.

thirds © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

On the advice of just about everyone, we visited the American Visionary Art Museum. Unfortunately they were between rotating exhibits, so they only had a smidgen of what they would normally have on display.

bedazzler © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

One piece in particular really struck me- a mental patient had embroidered her 'last will and testament' on a piece of fabric... what she had written was described as word salade, partially coherent text, mixed up with random words, accusations and names.... which is exactly what I have a prime example of here. To finally have a term for this abstract and otherwise indescribable thing, which apparently is fairly common, not the just language of Violet.

outsiders in © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved. Michael and I at the AVAM.

The next couple weeks hold at least one more exciting shoot, and more extensive explorations near my last conquest. Not to mention more Terrain action to come. Stay tuned.

the exacta

2008-09-01T22:37:00.003-04:00

Despite the heat, the hospital visits, and the lack of shooting, the summer is flying by at a mad clip. It can't have been that long ago I was bemoaning the length of time before my next check-in with The Butcher.... and it's been and past already. I'm plotting another shoot with The Beave and a camping expedition with Michael. Work with my new favorite client is broadening by the day. There is nothing quite like being someone's Everything Girl. I like it.

all-terrain days © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

I could not have imagined such variety in the things I have done and seen in the past short weeks. Every day has been filled to the gills. The Shanners has been cooking on the wedding front, with copious shower action.

adjustments © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Thereafter, I disappeared into the shadows of Lancaster, unearthing the questionable treasures of college art & design classes along with embarrassing journals from high school. As little as I remembered about my social interactions in both college and high school, the things I made I remember clearly still. But reading about the things that happened brought them back with surprising vividness. Much to my wild blushing.

penumbra © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

headstone © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Along the path of our normal let's get lost weekend drives, Michael suggested that we take a detour to the racetracks for a day... to see what stumble across.

leader © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The Philadelphia Park track is certainly not amongst the grander in the area, but did provide us a slightly unsettling glimpse into the lives of hardcore gamblers and the curious lives and relationships between the jockeys, horses, owners and handlers on the other side. The element of excitement lost out of the creepy grit that laid over the place like the scent of stale cigarette smoke.

gallop © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The uncharted territory of visual merchandising was stumbled into last week as I began a stint of very hands-on work at Terrain. I had no idea what to expect and though my picture is slightly clearer, I still do not know what to expect for the second week of work. They are in the midst of their Autumn turnover, new product comes in, holes from the summer need to be filled in and re-mingled with new... new displays, replanting, renewing. Now I have always had a soft spot for moss... after lunch on the first day, I embarked on a two and a half day intimate journey with moss, quite unlike anything I have ever worked on. There is a moss wall in the spa-product room that is planted with a few ferns and finished with some orchids.

watering cans © Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

Along with one of the staff display artists, we had to remove almost all the moss section by section, soak it and replace what we could, pitch what did not revive. My time was split between collecting dry moss and working in the mushroom house, submerging, draining, sorting.... and making chicken wire planters lined with sheet moss. Altogether it took us a day and a half to replace the moss, attach the planters, plant the ferns, rearrange the ground plants and water it. The third day we started on a major project, creating a huge wooden arch which would be covered with 40 moss-covered planters. It was not long before I found myself with my same mossing partner elbow deep in giant hunks of chicken wire and huge bags of moss, covering planters. While also wrassling with the design for some cashwrap signage. Weeee!!

pincushion plant © Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

After spending five years working basically alone in an attic I had forgotten how much fun it is working with people. Not only was it nice to be social again, but it was also refreshing to be outside, away from a desk, a computer. It was very physically demanding, every day going home with soil and mysterious organic debris in side my clothes, dirt under my nails and barely able to move from being so stiff. Going home and taking a shower after a ten hour day and flopping down in bed, I haven't felt this accomplished in some time. It was very invigorating. Friday night before Labor Day weekend, we hoped to finish the hothouse refixturing. We stayed extra late and managed to fill it in and erecting the wood arch with planters. We were all sweaty and filthy at the end of it, but it was a very satisfying finish to the week.

for sale by mummy © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Following that I didn't think I would be able to muster energy to do much of anything. But I had three shoots lined up nonetheless. I had to complete a photo essay I am doing for a magazine (no details until after release, naturally).

backstroke © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Shhhhhhhhhhh!

grasses in the wind © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Shanners and Shua were asked by the Shannersmom to produce some engagementy-style photos for her enjoyment. To help a sistah out, Michael and I took them over to Valley Forge Park, in the insanely intense sun and goadded them into being cute together in front of us for an hour or so.

lawn care © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Then, ice cream to help everyone get over the heat.

the clothesline © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Holiday Monday was the perfect opportunity for Gwyn, Michael and I to visit a couple of abandoned houses near where developers were actively working on some new McMansions. The first of the two sites was a house that appeared to be built in the 70s. The first story was boarded up but the second story was filled with a lot of of interesting remains of the last families inhabitants.

thinking back © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Several photo albums, one dated 1998; love letters from the late 60s from a man in the army, Peter, to his (later) wife, Rita; several sports trophies, dolls, a weight bench, and a bowling ball. The latter appearing to have been used as a wrecking ball on the toilet by squatters who put some holes in the walls, drank lots of terrible beer, played paintball and wrapped themselves in the amazing assortment of crocheted blankets all over the house.

second story © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Though it is not something I normally do, I was drawn to this amazing painting I found in the 'girls room' of a red-haired lady on a green field with flowers. I had to take her home with me.

center stage © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Two weeks remain until my 31st birthday. I had to share a phenomenal find today, I was forced to purchase for a birthday present to myself, from etsy's maid of clay, I give you flower child - poppy, © Felicia of MaidOfClay.

Just my flavor of bizarre beauty.

Also in the spirit of sharing great things I have stumbled upon, my sweet internets friend meeralee posted this very eloquent and insightful series on sharing yourself on the internets for a Utata project and I think you should check it out.

There are about 4 other adventures I believe I neglected to mention, but I the bedding down hour draws near. 6am is my new hour! Good Night!

etched © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

lady luck

2008-08-07T19:37:00.009-04:00

It was a complete accident. Who goes to a shop and takes photographs and expects to come away from that with a fabulous new client? Evidently I can.

intravenous © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

You might recall in my last entry that I mentioned visiting a certain eye-candy-filled nursery. Well in the most sweet thereafter... I got myself discovered by way of the photographs. To quote my friend Meera, I just gotta kiss the Internets. What a beautiful gift. Bringing me together with a client who not only loves my work, but who I have long been wishing I could work for.

Last week I had my first two half-day shoots for them and I am totally in love. Can I just say dream job? Over and over again? I am so excited. This is a match made in right here on terra firma... albeit a heavenly stretch of it.

tie one on © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

rooted © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

silver and glass © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

I am very fortunate. This afternoon, I received an email blast and that photo seemed awfully familiar....

Very exciting to see them in action already! If you have a chance and you live in the area, you should definitely check out the store. Makes me wish I had a garden and unlimited funding. And better than grayish thumbs.

This, surprisingly, is only a smidgen of all the things falling into place. I've got a few shoots in the works for the summer. Planning a mini-vacation. Renewing on all levels. Taking some of the treks into the hinterlands Michael and I have been promising each other.

the split of the canal © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Most recently, we decided to find some excitement in the Durham County area. After my shoot at Durham Press it was recommended I check out a few towns up that way. While it ended up being a lovely drive, vast majority of the towns we passed through had nothing but gorgeous, nicely restored stone farmhouses... not the sort that would be in our best interest to bust into unannounced. When we had just about given up we found our target. Easy pickins. In a park, unposted, easy entry. Lovely and haunting.

undercarriage © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

wishing well © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Despite the fact that every time we go to a sketchy neighborhood, the next day/hour/week there seems to be a violent crime perpetrated right where we were, this last weekend, in what would prove to be a bit too much of a test for my new iPhone's GPS to handle, we decided to tour Camden for construct material.

admiral wall © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Now perhaps I am just growing used to it, but North Philly honestly scares me less than Camden and I didn't think that was possible. When we hit the cap on the fear level and just wanted to get the hell out of Jerz, iPhone decided that we were already on 676 when we were stuck next to it... driving in circles. Now I know why I should never go to Camden. You may never leave and not for even dying there. Lesson learned.

Onward! Upward!

Also:

Check out my recent interview - not to mention the rest of the beautifully designed zine - design this design that!

when one has spent a long time undressed from the waist down...

2008-07-22T21:55:00.001-04:00

...one should consider going Down The Shore™, so that one feels, by comparison, less naked.

scrub © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The past couple weeks have finally started resembling the life I remember having a long time ago. Despite the lack of work... or perhaps because of it, I've been getting around. Gwyn, Michael and I decided for my first shoot-outing in a month, we should do it up right. Destination: Pennhurst State School and Hospital. We were given explicit directions on how to get onto the campus so as to avoid certain problematic situations. Little did we know that the rugged mile and a half trail on a near 100 degree day, in the very wrongest shoes, carrying a maximum of equipment would totally kick our asses before we actually even made it into a building. Magnificent blisters! Hobos! Humidity!

fire door © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

But! Wow. Once we settled on a building to investigate, we spent the next couple of hours, slowly making our way through the Christmas-themed rubble of the Assembly Hall, which looked as though it had been abandoned in the midst of a holiday pageant. Admittedly I felt a little off my game... having not shot in ages, feeling so totally drained before even digging in, not to mention having to literally take baby steps so that my feet didn't self-destruct... it took us almost an hour before we discovered what appeared to be living quarters above the auditorium.

organgrinder © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Pennhurst has suffered a great deal of vandalism, naturally, over the past twenty years it has sat vacant, more recently scrappers have really taken their toll. They were probably responsible for the destruction of just about every bathroom fixture. Most of the residents' possessions in this building were long gone, with the exception of a couple office-like rooms with some desks, toys, and some papers, including what appeared to be a music teacher's teaching aids - drawings of musical notes.

pageantry © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

We started to fade pretty fast, so we cut our visit short knowing we had a long, hot walk back to the car. I wasn't overly pleased with the resulting photos, but it inspired some curiosity and fears about the site and what I found made me question whether or not I wanted to take the risk and return. Better planning and a cooler day will probably make all the difference. It took me a two days to recover from that visit, but I am rather invigorated now, so bouncing back should happen faster. Walking now whenever I can, Nordictracking it in between.

vanities © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

scent of sleep © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The following week, finding herself temporarily unemployed, Shanners recommended we do something cheap and fun. We had been pining to visit Terrain at Styers for some time now and with a gorgeous day on our hands, we trekked out. With all of its parent company's inventive flair.

the opening © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Slackjawed and whimpering at the loveliness, we walked through, doubling and tripling back to admire and re-admire the copious gorgeousness, over the course of two hours. I could barely put down my camera. We enjoyed spritzers in the cafe and mused about how much more exciting our abodes would be if we were both independently wealthy. Ah if only.

the light from within © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

altar © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The mercury has been fast on the rise for weeks now. Michael and I collective blood was boiling at the thought of staying in the city another weekend, with little choice but to hide out indoors. We whittled down the options, but the low 80s with low humidity with a breeze offered up by the OC, proved too tempting to ignore. Doused in sunscreen, we set out on the most backasswards route to avoid the well backed-up AC Expressway. On the to-do list du jour: walk walk walk, good-bad food, photographing. We walked the entire length of the boardwalk and then some. Admired wiry, sweaty jogger, obnoxious nearly naked youth, saggy swimsuited old ladies. And then steamers. Fried shrimp. Scalllops. French Fries. Gelato. Saltwater taffy. Ocean air.

cyclical © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Did a body good. And a mind.

Just before we busted a beachward move, I paid the Butcher a visit, the last for a long time (comparatively). After the last procedure, I swore he said we'd only wait a month before we could try to repair me again. The next time we spoke, I swore he said two months. This time, he said he wanted to see me at the end of August to see how we were progressing and then we would wait until the end of September to try again. My heart sank. Shanners and I talked and we realized that if I had the procedure at September's end, I would more than likely not be in any shape to shoot her wedding a couple weeks later. So I have decided that I will wait until mid-October at the earliest to attempt the surgery again. It is difficult to imagine that much time between here and health. Healthy birthday, no. Happy birthday, perhaps I can manage. Maybe healthy holidays. Goals are hard to set. Nay. Impossible.

descent © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Meanwhile... Happy New Year! I have a show in January at Cafe Estelle!!! Something to tide me over until I can secure a gallery showing with the constructs in mind. So this will likely feature my more recent abandoned interiors. First Tuesday of the month, opening, that is January 6th, 2009. Be there!

cloud number two © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

there's more where that came from

2008-06-30T10:55:00.008-04:00

An evening walk speckled with fireflies... what's that you say? Am I all better now? Up and out and moving and shaking like that.

It might seem like I take some perverse joy in this... or am making it all up for the number of times I have written the words it didn't work.

That little sliver of hope that it would just scar down and everything would grow golden peach fuzziness died with a delightful infection over the weekend, following my visiting with the Butcher. We discussed how to proceed in the short term and long, with the now-familiar pall of disappointment over us. To ensure my comfort for the interim period, he wanted to perform an intermediate comfort procedure before the 4th of July weekend... a procedure I have now had four times. Then for the worse news, instead of waiting only one month to try again, he said we should really wait two... on top of that the rather horrifying and more invasive procedure he mentioned last time... yeah, that one.

tangle © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

So last Wednesday, back to the Surgicenter we went. After my last visit, where I assured all the nurses that I wouldn't be back, this is the last one for real this time... Michael and I both have become all too familiar to well... everybody now. We got razzed at every turn, starting with the inimitable Georgette. My favorite German, red-headed-surrogate-mother nurse was in recovery and visited me while I was in Pre-Induction.

escapist © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

This process has become so much a part of my way of life. Despite that, I am still surprised at how uncomfortable and drained I am for ages following it all... I always expect to just bounce. But I don't. The added weight of having just been in the hospital two weeks prior to the day, and scarcely moving in that time, took its toll. So this week I decided I needed to step up. Since I have two months, I've decided to start a light workout routine, including walks and my Nordic Track... which hasn't been touched in so long it got stuck at max resistance where I left it, making it especially challenging, now. Its been very upsetting watching the hard work I put in for some four year basically go to waste because of pain, exhaustion, explicitly being told to rest and eat weird things, and lack of desire to start something I would have to stop again repeatedly. I need to get a step ahead of this next one. I want to feel stronger going into it... hopefully the result will be that much better. Exercise plus regular art fagging with the gang and shooting onward and upward should make the two months fly, and looking forward to doing it again afterwards makes it a little easier to process.

fear to tread © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

At long last this weekend Gwyn is taking Michael and I to a special location that I attempted to visit some two years ago and chickened out of and I am buzzing with the thrill of what we'll find there. Also everywhere I turn I have been featured on the front page of art e-commerce sites including imagekind and trunkt. There was even a little spike in etsy sales. Always welcomed. LAB v02 came out as well, which features some amazing collections, including a vibrant bunch of Indian handpainted street signs from Meena Kadri and mac 'n' cheese packaging amassed by Pete Jordan. Plus my constructs make an appearance.

Also its come time to showcase some things I shot aaaaaaaaaaaages ago and finally can post them publicly. First off, from a shoot in February for the American Institute of Architects, Context magazine, I was asked to do a portrait of the fine gents who lead a sustainable development/design/build team in Philadelphia, The Onion Flats. I opted to do some traditional group portraits but then also wanted to take a slightly different approach: take four individual portraits and then digitally composite them afterwards. Sort of a portrait version of a construct. While it was not chosen for print, I still liked how it turned out. First, the singles, then the recombined version:

tim mcdonald © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

johnny mcdonald © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

pet mcdonald © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

howard steinberg © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

forward thinking © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Two months ago I had the opportunity to shoot the workings of a printing studio in idyllic Durham, PA. I documented the studio assistants working on an edition of floral woodblock prints by renowned artist Polly Apfelbaum. Afterwards I met with the owners of Durham Press for a series of portraits around with pieces from their private collection.

crossfire © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

awash © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

woodblock print © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

the perfect stroke © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

jig © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

I had a passing fancy this morning that I might ask some people to contribute photos of random architectural elements and façades so that I might build a construct of them. It half way seems like cheating and half way seems ideal for the circumstance. It would bring fresh stock to the dwindling pot, help me keep creating without moving, and allow me access to foreign architectures without an airplane ticket or wasting gas. Credit gets sticky... and I hate not taking my own photos... and I don't know what quality of camera I am working with when others shoot on my behalf... and if I sold the piece would I then have to divvy up the profits... and who would actually do it?

In the meantime I am working on a presentation book for the constructs to shop around to publishers, hoping I can find someone to produce it and I am considering also self publishing a smaller photography book featuring my abandoned interiors. Should keep me distracted for a little while I imagine. Keep your eyes peeled I should add to that particular set of images this coming week.