Category Archives: Unphotographable

An Evening with Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer

An Evening with Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer
The Wilshire Ebell Theatre
October 31. 2011

iPhone photos because I was told
“Sorry, no photography permitted.”
by someone at the theatre who answered my email.

But I saw people with not only their mobile devices,
but point and shoots,
and DSLRs….

There is one moment I wanted to capture… when Amanda was in orange light…
I used my iPhone but the zoom wasn’t working, and it wouldn’t have been the same…
the photo is below…

Other than that it was a WONDERFUL EVENING!!!
Amanda and Neil sang together.
I Google You. Joan of Arc.
Amanda sang solos. Neil read.
They both answered questions from us.
They both made us laugh.
They opened with a costume contest judged by the Magaret Cho judging committee.
I loved all the costumes. The Fez Rabbits won.
One Fez Rabbit found me on Instagram so now we are Instagram friends.

My friend Meg dressed up in steam punk. I dressed up in masquerade, with cat ears.
Many unique and fun costumes.
Police call box. Dracula with powder blue suit. Robo-rina. Hester Pryne. Beetlejuice. R2-tutu.

There was a signing after… we didn’t go…
… a goal for next time.

Then an employee of Bill Maher took our photo outside.

It was a perfect Halloween evening.

An Evening with @neilhimself and @amandapalmer in LA at the Wilshire Ebelll Theatre

An Evening with @neilhimself and @amandapalmer in LA at the Wilshire Ebelll Theatre... Costume contest. R2-tutu isn't in the photo! So cute!

An Evening with @neilhimself and @amandapalmer in LA at the Wilshire Ebelll Theatre... Neil reading ...

An Evening with @neilhimself and @amandapalmer in LA at the Wilshire Ebelll Theatre... Amanda singing....

An Evening with @neilhimself and @amandapalmer in LA at the Wilshire Ebelll Theatre.... Amanda watching Neil reading. I wish I had my camera and lens.... But I see more when I use my naked eyes....

This was the moment I wish I captured.... Amanda was sitting here in beautiful light thinking and listening and watching Neil read.... it was beautiful. I didn't see the house photographer anywhere. That's when I wish I had my Nikon and my 28-200 lens....

An Evening with @neilhimself and @amandapalmer in LA at the Wilshire Ebelll Theatre... the end, before the Ukelele Song

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Books | Unphotographable

As far as I remember, my Grandpa always gave me books. He gave me books for each occasion or for no occasion. It was special enough that he did this for me, as he did a lot of things for me that I remember, but what made it more special was that he signed them to me “Grand Daughter Diana” and “Love Grand Father and Grand Mother” and he always added the day, month, and year on the next line. I still see his handwriting in those books. But I don’t have the books any more so I don’t remember all the book titles, or if he signed them with my name each time….  I only remember that he signed them and dated them. And sadly, I don’t remember when those books left my possession. I must have donated them but I have no memory of deciding that. I only remember deciding to donate the books I bought on my own after that, my mountains and mountains of books. My parents gave me books too. When book faires came to school, my parents gave me a blank check, and I could buy whatever I wanted. I am beyond grateful for my family for giving me books.

Here is my December 25, 2005 LiveJournal entry about Books & Storytelling

This Christmas, I’ve donated 14 boxes of books. You know those boxes that reams of paper come in? I’ve donated 14 of those boxes filled with books to Goodwill. And over the course of ten years, I have donated a box a year. I love books. It isn’t easy for me to give up my books. Only I’m not giving up on books. I just feel that someone else should read my books. I had meant to save them for my children (someday) but that will be a long ways off. And there are children now, and adults, who don’t have so much as one book. I had already donated my clothes and my cherished stuffed animals (I sent them off with a mission to take care of the child they would end up with). But I wanted to give more. This was the last remaining pile of books that I decided to donate. I have about 5 more boxes of books that I absolutely must keep, forever.

My favorite library, Santa Monica Public Library, is reopening on Jan 7th, 2006 (http://www.smpl.org), so if I want to read any book on my book list, I will go check it out from there, or a local library here. I am also getting an iPod this week. I want to try out eBooks and Podcasts, but I mostly want to save a tree or two. I think it’s wonderful and great that authors are able to sell so many books. I have a few favorite authors I must read and I wholeheartedly admire their writing skills. But how many trees does that mean? How much of that is recycled?

But then I remembered how much I love books, how much I love the texture of the paper, and the type styles, and the book covers, and the smells from each book. I remembered this quote from one of my favorite shows Buffy, and how Giles the librarian said it best:

Giles: [ruminating on why books are better than computers] Smell is the most powerful trigger to the memory there is. A certain flower or a whiff of smoke can bring up experiences long forgotten. Books smell… musty and rich. The knowledge gained from a computer is… it has no texture, no context. It’s there and then it’s gone. If it’s to last, then the getting of knowledge should be tangible. It should be, um… smelly.

And I am torn. Between holding & reading a good book or reading on my computer screen/listening to someone else (if not the author) tell me the story on my iPod.

Yet, in one of my favorite illustrated Sandman chapters by Neil Gaiman (“Tales in the Sand” in the prologue to the Doll’s House, http://lubakmetyk.infinology.net/others/sirocco/wtale.txt), the story begins with someone else telling the story. They are sitting around the fire and someone is telling a story. And really, this is how books first began isn’t it; with someone telling a story. It is the art of story telling. Whether in a book, or an eBook, or a podcast, we are all telling a story. It transcends cultures and generations.

The art of story telling… that is what I love the most.

– dee

(http://42explore.com/story.htm)

Storytelling is one of the earliest forms of folkart. Storytelling probably first consisted of simple chants that praised the dawn, expressed the joy of being alive, and were used to ease the drudgery and boredom of laborious tasks. Later the storyteller became the community entertainer by combining their stories with poetry, music, and dance. The storyteller also evolved into the group historian. This was the beginning of professional storytelling.

Storytelling during the Middle Ages was expanded into the art of the traveling troubadour, who journeyed across the land. They were welcomed in castle, court, and market place. They gathered the news, conveyed the best tales, and were expected to know the favorites in each region. The invention of moveable type and the development of the print publishing business led to reading replacing listening, and the decline of storytelling.

In recent decades, there has been a renewed interest in the art of storytelling. Professional storytellers tour the United States and Canada. Likewise storytelling conferences and festivals abound and attract a wide audience. In formal storytelling today, the teller prepares a story to present to their listeners. Some storytellers tell stories from their own imagination. Other stories have been gathered, sometimes adapted from books and other storytellers. Folklore stories such as myths, epics, legends, and fables continue to be favorites.

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reflexion (rɪˈflɛkʃən) | camera (ˈkæmərə)

reflexion  (rɪˈflɛkʃən) | camera (ˈkæmərə)

As you move forward in your life it is very natural to reflect upon the things you have acquired, the goals you have achieved, the people you have met. It is also very natural to feel dire detriment when any of these things are lost or your goals have not been achieved or these people have abandoned you. However, as you reflect upon your life, you remember very well that you were quite happy say, a year ago, without these things or people. It’s all really a matter of perspective.

Reflecting upon this past year, many things, goals, and people have come my way. I worked hard to make that all happen. I held onto things, I lost things. I accomplished goals, I changed my goals. I met people, I lost people.

I am very hard on myself. I am my own worst critic. I like to keep up with myself and excel above myself. But that makes taking photos and making art difficult for myself. So, in the past few months, I’ve been reflecting and looking at my own reflexion. I decided to turn it all off. The noise. The radio. The social media. The Facebook. The Twitter. Not a 100% but 90% isn’t bad. My own personal filter. I stopped caring about what other social personalities were doing. I stopped caring that I am supposed to get the winning photo. I stopped caring that I wanted to keep up with everyone else. Because I didn’t. I was only trying to keep up with myself.

I love the inspiration of art and music. The music. I fell into the music. The reverie and resonance when silence and sound meet upon chance. The art. I was always in love with the art. When creation is left behind it becomes a legacy after we are gone.

And some of those people understood that very essence about me and let me be who I am. These are my friends, they are my people.

Each one of them has inspired me…. Healing other people with her jewelry. Writing teen novels with her imagination and experience. Touring in the Middle East playing for our troops.

Inspiring.

Being inspired, I am able to run down mountains, I am able to listen to silence, I am able to touch guitar strings, I am able to go through another rigorous kung fu program, and most of all, I am able to take another photo. And being inspired, I am able to take my time, I am able to just show up. And when I look at the people around me, the things I’ve surrounded myself with, the goals I decided to achieve, I see a reflexion of me. A desire, not for a want of anything new outside but for a need of something old inside, so I can evolve into something/someone beyond all of Heaven and Earth.

Be happy with what you already have. You may build upon yourself with experiences with people, things, and goals. But a bee and all of nature has all it will ever need, and have been quite content with that for centuries.

Placerita Canyon

Placerita Canyon

Placerita Canyon

Placerita Canyon

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Unphotographable | Sun Rays & Moon Beams

A small group of friends gathered on the 4th, sandwiched between the high desert and the high clouds. The sun cut through with its golden rays and accentuated our natural glow of love and energy. Everything was covered in magical godlike dusk, and I could not move out of it to capture it. I myself was captured, along with the blades of grass, the rose petals, the light between the trees, the shine in our eyes, the highlights in our hair, the warmth of our faces, the laughter echoing out into the sky… And when after the darkness finally covered us and when the sky exploded with stars, … the Moon smiled upon us as tiny universes taunted us with their cannons.

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Unphotographable | The Joys of Kung Fu

One of the joys of Kung Fu: Kids

Kaitlin: (pointing at my belt and smiling with excitement) I am going to have a black belt one day!
Me: Yes you are!
Kaitlin: When I was in Karate, I had a yellow with a stripe.
Me: Well now in Kung Fu you are testing for your yellow. You’ve come so far!
Kaitlin: Yes I have!

Judari: (speaking to his little brother) I’m Big Bones and you’re Little Bones.
Michael: I’m not Little Bones!
Judari: When you were little, Grandpa used to call you Little Bones.
Michael: Oh…. (smiling)
Me: That’s awesome because my name is Bones.
Judari & Michael: (grinning big) Really?!!

Unphotographable | DTLA

Tonight I walked down the deserted streets of DTLA, away from ArtWalk, into the unknown.
I met a man who I presume to be homeless*. He wanted a quarter. I gave him a dollar.
It wasn’t as simple as that. A whole universe traveled by me as I crossed the street, looked him in the eye, gave him a dollar, and shook his hand.
And an eternity went by as he recited a poem to me for his dollar by his request.
My heart shattered and floated into the midnight sky.

My photography professor instilled in me that as a photographer, as an artist, I have a responsibility to never exploit the homeless for my art.

I had my camera and my iphone but my hand did not move to use these to paint my canvas. Maybe one can say it could only be captured with a soul.

He spoke of angels and…. yes I know…. I’m crazy. But I am also open hearted and accepting of all creatures on the Earth.
I don’t remember the entire poem but he spoke of love and being loved and sunshine and smiles…

Maybe that is my tragic flaw.
Two homeless* guys. One reciting a poem to me. My guy friend is worrying that we are going to die.
And I’m falling in love with a poem.

Is that my tragic flaw? Or is that my beauty within?

*They were actually two big black guys. ‘Homeless’ isn’t actually correct. They looked like gangstas

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I read, a lot <3

“Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.”

-Rosemary Urquico

Unphotographable | Cold War Kids

Live this morning on KCRW on Mornings Become Ecclectic

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Unphotographable | Sunday

As I stepped out of the house to go to dinner last night at 5:45pm, I realized I just missed what must have been an amazing sunset. The sky was still tinged with glowing orange red. I could feel the beauty of it all. So I chased the sunset while the rest of the sky fell into night. I found out later my friend was riding back on his bike to meet me and so he was absorbed into most of it. What a beautiful ride that must have been.

I didn’t take my camera out last night. I needed a night off to enjoy life. And it was perfect. I felt lighter, more carefree.

We had dinner at a Korean BBQ place, drinks at Hotel Figueroa, and True Grit at the Regal Theatre.

Yellow orange lights under around entwining leaves and black curving iron swirls.
Laughter, smiles, quick steps, a touch and I’m swinging around…
Under the dark star lit sky.
Music. Cool air. A beautiful life.

Also posted in Friends, iPhone Tagged , , , , , , |

Unphotographable | 11:11 & Shooting Stars

While I was screen capturing this and making a wish, it changed to 11:12 then 11:13…
Angels: ok. we will consider it
Me: NO
Angels: ok we are stirring the pot of stars
Me: YAY! THANK YOU!

Last night I saw a shooting star… it glowed and floated out of the ether and then burned into ash and ember… stardust falling out of the sky. I made a really good wish.
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