Beautiful Daughter Kate and Husband Matt ( April 1, 2005) — Image by kenne
Love is not found in someone else,
but in ourselves; we simply awaken it.
But in order to do that, we need the other person.
from Eleven Minutes by Paulo Coelho
Archive for the ‘wedding’ Tag
Kate & Matt Eleven Years Out Leave a comment
Deciphering Visible And Hidden Meanings. 1 comment
Bride & Bridesmaids On Oceanside Pier — Image by kenne
Some may call me a photographer,
having an eye for the moment
always looking for the duende.
Catching the edge of life
creating a visual narrative
of what was, what is and will be.
Every moment I capture
starts a journey from
what I found to what found me.
Many layers blending together
shaping a visual attitude
as of my mind’s eye —
Poetry without words,
an expression of existence
in life’s fleeting moments.
Looking for photos within a photo
Catching what others see
Through their camera’s eye.
Having a camera is not
a photographer to be
without being drunk with life —
A passion to do something
without knowing what or why,
making the invisible, visible.
Forming a communication circuit
laminating a soulful spirit
linking an image with viewer —
As with Klee’s quirky angels
where we try deciphering
visible and hidden meanings.
kenne
“View From Above” — Image by kenne
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Capturing the Moment — Wedding at DeGrazia Gallery In The Sun Leave a comment
. . . the moment is not about now, but about forever!
Image by kenne
As we have with previous visitors, we made a quick run over to the nearby DeGrazia Gallery In The Sun with Kate, Nick & Matt. This moment was captured after a wedding in the Chapel on the DeGrazia grounds.
kenne
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Pete Schmieler, RIP 1 comment
Pete was someone I knew only when we were in high school, yet I still remember the fun conversations we often had while killing time at track meets. (This was back when he was a tall skinny high jumper.) He had the kind of spirit that has always attracted me to very creative people. I don’t recall our physically crossing paths after high school, yet he has always remain the bigger than life figure I had of him from high school, occasionally embellished by stories told by the nieces’ (Vanessa & Lisa) Pete and I shared.
One story I recall my brother Tom telling me had to do with Pete leasing the gatehouse to an estate that my stepmother and I had previously leased. Tom was visiting with Pete when he noticed a painting of a woman on the wall. Tom asked Pete where he got it, and his reply was, “it was here when I moved in and I like it.”
The reason why Tom asked about the painting was he recognized that it was my painting of a former girlfriend. When I heard the story, I was impressed to hear that Pete kept it because he liked it. We all appreciate compliments from those we admire and respect.
You may know, from previous posting, Joy and I traveled to Seattle to attend Lisa and Michael’s wedding on Lummi Island. One of the reasons I wanted Joy and I to be at the wedding was the opportunity to see Pete. I was really looking forward to the opportunity, since I knew he would not miss your wedding. But, as fate would have it, his health didn’t allow him to make the long trip from Fort Myers.
I know Pete will be dearly missed by a lot of people. The Emerson line in Lisa’s blog posting is so fitting. (“It is not length of life, but depth of life.”) Some of the most endearing people have been those with whom I have only briefly traveled in life’s journey. Pete was one of those endearing, unforgettable people.
I share these feelings now, yet regret having waited too late to share them with Pete. At least, with all of today’s social media connections, I was one of Pete’s Facebook friends. We linked up in August of 2009, but like many of our generation he said, Hello. Have no idea what I’m doing with FACEBOOK. 🙁
Sometimes, it’s the little things that mean a lot. Pete passed away January 10, 2011, just a few weeks before his 71st birthday.
kenne
(Image: Pete Schmieler with niece, Lisa Wheeler — Source: http://wheelskeeponturning.wordpress.com/about/ )
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Capturing the Moment — 41 Places to Go in 2011 2 comments
San Juan Islands as Seen from Lummi Island — Image by kenne
Five New York Times foreign correspondents (past and present) have identified places they would go back to if they got the chance. One of those places is the an archipelago, the San Juan Islands in the northwest corner of the continental United States and Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada, and are part of Washington state. One year ago August, we spent a few days on one of these paradise islands, Lummi Island. Not one of the larger of the islands, but located a short ferry ride from the mainland. We were there for the wedding of my nice, Lisa, where she and he future husband, Michael, would go on bike rides through the beautiful landscapes. The time we spent on the island was brief, but very memorable, from the wedding at Willows Inn, the island’ s nature beauty to the bed ‘n breakfast on the north end of the island. It is easy to see why correspondent, Sara Dickerman listed it in the cover article for Sunday’s New York Times Travel section. We would love to go back and also visit some of the other islands in the archipelago.
Kenne
(Below: Brother Tom at Willows Inn – Left: Lisa & Michael — Image by kenne)
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L&M Snapshots — Still and Motion 1 comment
The Brothers Turner
The Lummi Experience
Living the now
gathered on the island
where
if you listened carefully
you could hear
the whispering voices
of ancient spirits,
giving worth to the past
and value to the future
Living the now
an island place
of romantic sojourns
to drink the potion
of this sacred place
nurturing our lovers
burgeoning love
linking the now
with the ancient
voices becoming sirens
Living the now
to live out loud
drink the potion
sharing an affair
removed of uncertainties
fashioning one of life’s
peak experiences
in which each moment
deserves its own face
a futile attempt at best
kenne
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Tears of Love 3 comments
Joy and I returned late last Thursday after attending Lisa and Mike’s beautiful wedding on Lummi Island, and spending some time in Seattle and Vancouver. The weather was very cooperative, making it a photographer’s holiday. (You can see some of photographer, Rika Manabe’s photos by clicking here.) As with other family weddings Joy and I have many photos/videos I will be placing on Flickr later. I have also completed a ten minute movie of the wedding ceramoney, which I will be uploading later, but want to share one a two minute movie titled “Tears of Love.”
kenne
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Wedding, Patio Table and Basketball Backboard 2 comments
Micheal & Lisa
As we prepare to attend Lisa and Michael’s wedding on Lummi Island this Saturday. Lummi Island is part of the San Juan archipelago, twenty minutes from Bellingham, WA., and ten minutes by the Whatcom Chief ferry. Lisa is my brother Tom’s youngest daughter and her wedding will probably generate several blog entries over the next week.
Tom has written on himself, usually in the third person, as someone who felt and thought like a certain kind of person that Samuel Beckett was interested in; “… someone having nothing to express, nothing with which to express, but a desperate need to express.”
There was a time when Tom would write rambling stories on James Talbott, his pseudonym. In June of 1988 we received thirteen typed pages on his annual struggles with the patio picnic table. With Tom and Lisa on my mind, I thought I would share a little segment of Talbott’s thoughts.
“It was one of those late June days when the clarity of light and the greens of the foliage in the yard combined with the azure blue of the Pacific Northwest sky to mesmerize, if not invite a momentary reverie. Talbott sit down at the table. Light has a way of swaying our imaginations, our emotions. He had always known the effect of the absence, the dulling or the clarity of light on his sensibilities. On cloudy dull summer days, he never gave a thought to that table, but now in this mesmerizing light of a beautiful late June day.
“Dad,” the voice of his oldest daughter, Vanessa, rang out from the house. A few years ago, he couldn’t distinguish his two daughters apart from the sound of their voices on the telephone. But, she was now seventeen and her voice carried her unique identity.
“Dad, what are you doing?”
He was about to respond, but another quick question displace it; “Where’s Lisa?” she was his youngest daughter. “I thought she was going to have dinner with you tonight.”
Lisa had just recently left the house and home she had lived in since before first grade to live with her mom. She was now entering her sophomore year in high school. Talbott had taken on the duties of caring for her cat and goldfish, which she did not take with her. He felt ambiguously sadden and confused that she had not taken them.
“Oh, she is,” he said. “She is across the street at Jenny’s.”
How many times had he said that Lisa was over at Jenny’s? The echo of his words reverberated through his mind.
Events and circumstances, which appeared to be so simple were so damn ineffable. He thought of the laughs and good natured sneers of derision that he and his daughters would delight in the years from now as they looked at all the old photographs from those years when the picnic table was holding forth its position on the patio. But he knew that neither of the girls ever consciously connected any significance to that table, he realized that as we experience our lives we are often unable to distinguish what should be cherished and what should not.
“Dad, what are we having for dinner?” Immediately he was back from an emotional time warp to the quotidian and the necessary.
“Oh, let me see,” he said. As he was leaving the table to return to the kitchen, which faced the patio, he heard Lisa’s voice as she entered the house through the front door. In some inexplicable way, he associated Lisa with the patio picnic table. This association was not made on a conscious level. No. The table had often been a pain; Lisa had always been a joy.
“Can you guys remember any occasion that took place around this picnic table that stands out in your memory?”
His contrived, rather forced question was a bit like a researcher groping for necessary impersonal background, and he felt it was asked with an intonation that was definitely phony. But nevertheless, there it was. Then he really began rambling:
“Years ago, when I was in college, I wrote a paper on backyard basketball backboards. They always reminded me of a special barometer that measured the life of a family. The care and repair and use of the backboard would suggest the age of the family or history of that family. Do you guys think that a picnic table can be seen as the kind of same barometer of age or change?”
He suddenly, humiliatingly, realized in the hesitation before their response how pretentious the question sounded. He knew that his longing for passionate Shakespearian speech had launched this dud. This had to be resisted. He wanted to cry aloud for an intimate familial communion that he so needed. He wanted to be eloquent and moving. But what if he were to burst out like Lear to his daughters? It would get him nowhere to utter burning words. His daughter’s wouldn’t understand. Suppose he were to exclaim about morality, about flesh and blood and justice and evil and what it felt like to be him, James Talbott, facing the transitions and rites of passage that were exploding before him? Hadn’t he tried in his own confused way to bring some good for them into the world? Having pursued a “higher” purpose, although without getting close, he was now ageing, weakening, and doubting his own endurance and even his ability to cope. Where the hell was equity and conscience?
“Dad, are you alright?” His oldest, Vanessa, asked.
He realized the frustration and impatience he was experiencing and he backed off.
“Yeah, I’ve just been reading a lot of nostalgic, haunting vignettes today. You know I’m such a sentimentalist.”
He fumbled for whatever he was looking for and realized that he had lost it. The table and its symbolic significance were truly personal. Its importance lay in the need for continuity and connections in his life. That was easy. But there was an importance that seemed to transcend the personal. At least he thought that. He began thinking that the philosophical idea of Solipsism was not just a romantic concept for anti-utopians.”
— Thomas R. Turner, June, 1998
kenne
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Save This Date! Leave a comment
Lisa Turner & Michael Wheeler
Nice Lisa and Michael Wheeler are getting married!
Congratulations!
kenne
(Click on Photo for More Information.)
