Last week, unbeknownst to me, the Westminster Kennel Club held their annual show at Madison Square Garden, just a few blocks from our studio.
As luck would have it, I was walking down 7th Ave at 34th St when a vision of pure beauty crossed my path. But I just couldn’t figure out what type of dog he was. Now I know.
A Newfoundland!
Allie by Laura Jess
I’m on a bus from Washington DC to NY. Off in the distance I see Newark, power plants, highways and powerlines. But just out the bus window I see brown fields and bare trees, snow-covered swaths of land and flocks of geese in their standard Vs. It reminds me of one of my favorite music videos by one of my favorite artists, Emiliana Torrini.
A mother in the unofficial refugee camp at Tal, Bangladesh
About a year ago I was in Kutupalong Refugee Camp in eastern Bangladesh, 40 kilometers from the Burma/Myanmar border. It was a dusty, bumpy ride from Cox’s Bazaar, the Bangladeshi resort town where I had celebrated the new year and my birthday with Mark, my friend, traveling companion and business partner. In the evening, we sat on Cox’s Bazaar’s long sandy beach and watched the sun set over the Bay of Bengal.
But on this early January day, in the dusty and neglected camp, the beach seemed much further than a two-hour drive. Instead of upper-class Bangladeshi families, dressed in their finest, we were touring the camp through the eyes of some of its younger inhabitants, the eleven youth we were training in photography. The camp is for the Rohingya, a Muslim minority from Western Burma. Stripped of their citizenship by the Burmese military government, since the early ’90s hundreds of thousands have sought refuge in neighboring Bangladesh, but this refuge is tenuous and not without its own challenges.
We had been traveling along Burma’s western border meeting with Burmese groups, but we had a specific mission at this camp. Thanks to the generous support of What Kids Can Do, we were in Kutupalong to create a collaborative photo/audio slideshow with youth in the camp. The camp commander was friendly and open, and helped us gather a mixed gender groups of youth between 10 and 14. He then left us with two young translators to have our run of the camp.
The next few days were joyous and utterly exhausting. Most of the kids had never seen a camera before, but they were quick learners, and working in teams they documented happy, unhappy, the disabled and peace throughout the camp. We quickly bonded. After hours of happy shooting throughout the camp, we would return to a community shed where, using our computers and recording equipment, we worked with them to edit the photos and record the audio that would tell their story behind their photos. Clutching the microphones, they laughed over their favorite jokes, spoke of their daily routines and families. Told of life in the camps, the desire to return to the homeland which many had never seen. I bonded closely with Hasina, one of the youngest, and the only girl in the group without official refugee status.
When I asked what school was like for the youth, Hasina replied that she didn’t know because she wasn’t allowed to attend. “I am a new refugee. We are not able to get food whenever we want. We beg rice from other refugees. Unhappiness is always with us.”
See the audio slideshow of the Project Einstein kids’ photos and words.
Yesterday I had the pleasure of joining my dear friend and soeur Carol Ann at a dinner party in Williamsburg. I was surprised to learn that I had previously met our host, an accomplished artist, Jenny Lynn. This summer, I photographed the launch of the Voss Water Foundation, and Jenny and I shared a meal. We also marveled over the dancers, led by the stunning Rose Marie Guiraud, with whom Jenny Lynn had studied in Abidjan, Côte d’Ivoire.
To my delight, Rose Marie was there last night as well. She led us in dance and graced us with songs, including a beautiful rendition of one of my favorites, Leonard Cohen’s Suzanne. (Here’s a fabulous cover by Nick Cave.)
The party also marked a few birthdays. We sang to an older woman, a baby, a father, and then even me, in honor of my New Year’s Eve birth.
On cold winter nights, when the sun has long since set and warm breezes are far away, what could be better than a gathering of creative, inspiring people (babies and toddlers to boot), so long as there is good food, laughter and song?
August memories of Rose Marie and her dancers:
Rose Marie introducing the dance
Working their magic on the crowd
I started my first blog at 19. It went through variations and manifestations, eventually becoming a friends-only place for poetry and inspiration. Now, it’s a record and testament to my experiences as an undergraduate, and and my first few years of working.
At 21 I kept a blog while living in Afrique de l’Ouest. Aptly titled “A Midwesterner in Mali,” it didn’t outlast my sejour à Bamako. The writing is forgettable, but here are some visual memories.
Last Wednesday was my birthday. Being a New Year’s Eve baby has instilled in me a healthy appreciation for fireworks, and gratitude that I am able to start every new year at a new age, granting time for reflection and growth as every December comes to a close.
2008 was rich with stories … people I met, interviewed, photographed, befriended. And I was enriched by the blogs and writings and media of so many friends.
2009 is time to give back: to glean from a world of stories, anecdotes, contradictions and struggle. In distilling their meaning, weaving details into narratives, I hope to share the gleams of light that make every day, and every person, a gift.
Glean & Gleam. Welcome.
Emily Jacobi 