A few posts back, I wrote about how Debra and Brian invited me to New York City to document their engagement session.  Since my hubby and I had never been to NYC and rarely get to take vacations during wedding season, we decided to make a weekend of it.  Normally, when we visit new cities, we try with all our might to avoid looking like tourists, to look like we belong.  But as our giant airport shuttle drove us into the heart of Manhattan, my face pressed expectantly against the tinted window taking in the mass amounts of people, gritty streets, ornate architecture, street festivals, sidewalk vendors, endless, endless, endless buildings forever disappearing into the horizon...I knew that I was going to be one of those open-mouth, looking-up, camera-around-the-neck tourists. Meh, c'est la vie.

We spent three days wandering, eating and sightseeing our way through Little Italy, Soho, Greenwich Village, Chelsea, Midtown, Murray Hill, Times Square and Central Park.  I thought I would create a million images.  I thought my camera would be permanently affixed to my face.  But it turns out I was so mesmerized by the city, by the stunning architecture, iconic movie locations, the subway, the sidewalks, the shopping, the people, the heat, the Empire State Building, the food, oh sweet baby Jesus...the food, the heart-wrenching artwork at MoMA, the Brooklyn Bridge, the tops of buildings disappearing into tiny specks in the sky, the sprawling, historic, endlessness of it all...my mind couldn't process it fast enough. 

I was sure that I would be taken by the glamour of the city, you know...bright lights, big city.  But what resonated with me was the sense of personal history, the thought of thousands of hands that touched thousands of bricks, the raising up of buildings, families, careers, hope, and the comforting connectedness of a past that left grounded, physical evidence of it's existence.  I'm certain on my next visit, I'll have some much needed perspective and will create lots more imagery. But for now...this is a tiny handful of what was in my heart that weekend.

Last week my mother-in-law treated me to a three-day getaway at The Greenbrier.  And it was, in three simple words...vintage southern luxury.  I must admit...from the time I was twelve, quietly immersed in the 1024 pages of Gone with the Wind, I've secretly wished to visit that charming, chivalrous, ephemeral old south.  And now, I'm absolutely certain we traveled through time to a place of courteous, elegant, southern perfection.

We visited about four weeks shy of the peak summer travel season...so my glimpse of the resort was a quiet journey through impeccably designed, immense, vacant spaces.  It felt the like a reception ballroom before the guests arrive...perfectly poised, quietly waiting for the arrival, the rush of conversation, joy, movement, laughter, life.

Ten years ago, on a crisp mid-autumn morning, my dad and I went to Virginia Kendall Park in Cuyahoga Valley to photograph the sunrise.  It was the first time I held an SLR camera.  I was overwhelmed by the apparent complexity of it, but stood still and listened intently as he described the relationship between film speed, f/stop and shutter speed.  Poised behind the tripod, my warm breath shocked into the cold air...I was so proud of that first CLICK, snap and spin of the advancing film.

Ten years later...my dad and I ventured out once more.  This time, we explored the streets, alleys and architecture of downtown Cleveland.  This time, the camera wasn't daunting at all, but rather an extension of me.  Our photography journey this weekend was an emotional exploration of neighborhoods I haven't visited in over ten years, and nebulous memories of neighborhoods that only exist in a distant corner of my mind.