Refreshed and Renewed

I'm excited to announce that the FMN Design website has been refreshed. This summer was full so this process took a bit longer than expected, but it's here! I've designed quite a few books over the years and I'm happy to be able to highlight a number of albums for people to see. I'm still offering the 'Daisy', 'Earth', and 'Orchid' albums and hopefully the photographs will give people a good sense of what to expect when ordering their books. I've showcased both a 'Classic' and a 'Unique To You' album design for both the wedding album and guest book options as well.

If you haven't been to the site in a while or if you were just there yesterday, stop by and take a look. Any feedback is always appreciated. I hope you enjoy...

Friday Inspiration - Isang Litrong Liwanag

I recently posted this to my Facebook page but I'm so moved by the whole thing that I wanted to share here as well. If you haven't seen this video already, I suggest you take the 2 minutes and 47 seconds to watch.

The thought that one simple idea could transform an entire community is what our existence as human beings is all about. The realization that no idea is too small because you never know the impact you may have is what rings true for me while watching this video.

I think the place where we as humans stumble, is taking action. Often we have ideas, thoughts, brainstorms, but what do we do with them?

This story is an example of exactly what can happen when a thought shows up and action is taken.

Brilliant, Illuminating. Amazing.

For more information, to donate, volunteer or sponsor visit the website HERE.

Emerging To Light

I've always loved the saying, "There's light at the end of the tunnel". I never knew why until recently. It evokes a feeling of hope and hope is something that I've discovered runs through my whole being. I had been talking to Matt one night about me, my life, all of the changes that it consistently brings. I was kind of searching through my database of thought about events that had happened to me while growing up. The not so good things. The way that I felt so separated from my family a lot of the time, how there were so many years that my mother and I didn't like each other, at all. The period of time when my sister and I seemed like we were from different planets and how I felt like my whole family had died when my father died so many years ago. But, amidst all of the sadness and pain that I was feeling, Matt identified something else that was there from how I talked about it all. Something that may have been a defense mechanism that I used to protect myself, but now, looking back, I'm glad to have had it and am definitely glad it's there now. HOPE. Hope is what I latch onto when things aren't quite right and when new things are being discovered and developed. Hope is what pulls me through and, I guess, it's how I see the light at the end of the tunnel.

 I can remember when my mom would call and say she was coming to visit that I would at first feel tense and wonder how I would tell Matt that she was coming. I somehow would have to say that she would only be here for a couple of weeks, making it seem like less time than it actually was. His response, although loving, was always a reminder of how the last visit was. How after a few days it felt like months and how we would wind up feeling upset or trapped. Even writing this I can feel the hope rising up inside of me because as he would say those things I would feel like maybe this next time it would be different. I would hold the possibility that this time, it wouldn't be so bad. And you know what?! it happened. The visits became easier and there were times that my mom would come and we loved having her here. I'm so fortunate that I had hope and that I had the ability to know that anything is possible. Even with difficult relationships that seem like they're cemented in stone. Nothing is forever. Isn't that so true?

 Many changes are happening over here because I think I'm changing. I'm still me, but I'm realizing how quiet I've been about so much of myself. I've felt blocked and didn't even know it until someone told me that I could share more about myself. My instant response was defensiveness and we all know what lies at the bottom of being defensive. Truth. Usually we put up that wall because somewhere we know that whatever it is we're being called out on is, somehow, small or large, true. And as I looked at myself and what I share or don't share, I realized that the scale has been tipped toward not sharing. It brings feelings of apprehension, feelings of self doubt but I'm hoping (there I go again) that I can push through and find the courage and strength not to care about what other people think, because that's what holds me back, and for what, not living my life out loud like I want to be able to do. I had the thought about a week ago that we are here, on this planet, in the company of all of these other people to share ourselves and be a part of the human experience. When we neglect to share ourselves, it's truly a selfish act that not only doesn't allow others to experience who we are but we don't get to fully express and experience ourselves. Life is a huge experiment in interaction and the more we interact with each other and the world around us, the more we learn about who we are and what we have to share with the world.

 So here I sit, after what feels like a few months of darkness and I am clearly seeing that light at the end. I know that at some point, other transitions will take place, the path ahead may seem dark and so long that I can't imagine it ending but I also know that just like life is a continuous cycle, that light will reappear. It will be there. And that, is hope.

 I took the image above while on an adventure with Mason. We were walking through the Headlands and came across some old bunkers. They were covered in graffiti and ugly and beautiful all at the same time. There were passageways that Mason discovered between them and I took this photograph through one of those walkways. I just loved how the whole experience mimicked what I've been feeling lately. There was some fear and apprehension at the beginning of the passage because it was dark and long and kind of scary. We went together and as we walked through that darkness, a space of light and a beautiful burst of creativity was there to greet us.

First Day of Second Grade

We're here! Back to the routine of school. Summer just seemed to fly by. So many things happened and now, here we are, the first day of 2nd Grade. I'm fluctuating between excited and sad. I think Mason is feeling the same way. This is my child who wakes up at the crack of dawn every day. Especially when excited. He's up, dressed and ready to go. In fact, he was so excited our first night in Michigan that he woke up at 5am. MICHIGAN time!! 2am CA time and he didn't go back to sleep!!

We bought sushi for lunch and talked over dinner about what he was looking forward to and what he was nervous about. We went to bed last night laying out his clothes for today and I figured he would be up, early as usual, ready to go bright and early.

Not the case.

He was still sleeping at 7:15 and Matt and I had to wake him up! Really?! Turns out, he's not excited for school to start. Hmmm....I can't really blame him. No more lounging around in pj's all morning/day. Going to the pool in the afternoon, playing soccer in the backyard or building lego's before bedtime. I can see the reason for not being super excited. I have my own reasons though. Making sure that everyone is up and dressed, teeth and hair brushed, breakfast eaten and out the door on time. Oh, and don't let me forget the thing I despise the most, packing a lunch everyday!

Sigh.

Today, the house is quieter than normal. Miles is here, wanting to play and work is waiting to be done. I'm off to adjust to the new routine. Wish me luck!

Life Lines

Matt and I had the pleasure of attending a party yesterday in the Los Altos Hills. It was at the home of the couple GB Photographers recently photographed the wedding of in Maui. It was a beautiful day and their home was exquisite. There were 80 beautiful cars on the property that ranged the decades.

I'll post some photographs Matt took of the cars and details of the cars later but I had to share the portrait I shot of one of the car owners. This woman was the female half to one of the cutest couples I've ever seen. They owned a yellow #4 classic old time roadster that I believe I was told he still races. They were absolutely adorable and I couldn't help but want to photograph them.

Her portrait speaks to me on so many levels but the one that resonates deeply is her absolute beauty. For me, her beauty stems from her confidence and her joy. I hope that as I age I am able to hold myself with as much confidence and grace as she.

Maria Joanne Baptiste Goldsmith 9/9/1934–6/21/2011

I haven't been able to sit down to write until now. Besides not having many moments to myself, to sit, to think, to cry, I think I've been trying to make the whole thing not such a big deal. My mom died. It is what it is. But the reality of those three small words has been so much deeper than I expected.

Part of what's making me realize how deeply this is affecting me is me, what I'm feeling, how the sadness just washes over me at times like a rogue wave out of nowhere. Part of it is the outpouring of love from family and friends and old students of my mother's. I didn't expect either. And then there are the moments. Moments like when I was walking through Whole Foods and looked down to see that I was accidentally calling my mom's number on speed dial. I think I must have audibly gasped, caught my breath and fought back tears as I walked in a daze through the produce department. I didn't even think about the possibility of that happening. Who thinks about that?! And yet, it happens. I'm not ready to delete her name and number yet, so I know it could happen again.

So now, three weeks and one day later, thanks to my friend Dave who took my boys for a couple of hours, I sit and I write. I dug through her collection of cd's that we brought home and now Helen Reddy is playing on the stereo. "I Am Woman". I can't help myself from crying for the memory that flashes in my mind. I'm driving to school with my mom. We're in her little burgundy Fiat XI9 with the top down. I'm in Jr. High. We sing loud and strong. Like nothing matters and the world around us isn't even there.

Today, I have a sense of who I am. I have a strong outer shell. I'm not someone to be bossed around. I have a firm grip on what is right and wrong. These are things that came from her. She was the loud one. The one who gave you her opinion if you asked for it and even if you didn't, and, her opinion was always right, even if it wasn't. My father, he was the quiet one. He ruled the house from such a different side of the fence. And somehow, they found each other. She told him once that life with her was like a roller coaster. It's better if you just sit down, strap yourself in and enjoy the ride. They were truly two halves to one whole.

And now, I sit, without either of them. I know that they're there, somewhere for me to call on, to reach out to, but I can't pick up the phone and hear their voices. I don't know many people my age who can relate to having lost both parents. It's kind of a strange thing.

I'm wearing their wedding bands. Hers on my right hand, his on my left and I feel like they're with me. I can remember looking at their rings when I was young. I loved them then, the color of the white gold, the lines that created the pattern in them. That they matched. Hers thinner, his thicker but the same. And now they're mine. I know that at some point I'll take them off of my fingers to wear something else and change my jewelry to fit my outfit like I did a few weeks ago. When I do that, maybe it will mean that I'm in a different space with all of this. Maybe one that doesn't feel so raw. A place where I'm one step further in the healing process.

My father died 16 years ago from a large tumor in his brain. He had an astrocytoma that was inoperable. It wasn't our first experience with cancer and wouldn't be our last. When I was 17 my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. She had seen Nancy Reagan on television telling woman that they should have a mammogram. She had never had one. Not long after she saw that commercial they removed her left breast and 24 lymph nodes from under her arm. She had a run of chemotherapy and then a continued dose of Tamoxifen for ten years. She was told she was cancer free. She had 21 years in between the second diagnosis of breast cancer. This time it was in her bones. This time, they told her she had 2 years to live.

Some of the years between my father's death and now were really good years. Honestly though, the last 17 years for her were difficult because she had lost my father. She never quite recovered from his death. He told her near the end, "Maria, I will see you again in the blink of an eye. Before you know it." My sister said the first thing my mother will probably tell him when she sees him again is, "Blink of an eye to who??!! Maybe for you but it was 16 years for ME!". And that's one of the best gifts she ever gave us. Humor. Humor in the face of disaster. Being able to find something funny in a situation where most people can only see darkness.

I do have to say though that her humor, although sharp and quick witted, lingered between appropriate and inappropriate most of the time. I just have to shake my head and laugh at that. She was definitely one in a million.

I have received emails and notes from people that my mother knew for years, people she knew lifetimes ago and people she met only once. People who genuinely cared for her. Deeply. She was an art teacher for many, many years and she gave her students not only an appreciation for art but for life. She gave people a sense of belonging in a world that maybe they didn't think they fit into and a confidence in themselves they never knew they had. She built peoples self esteem. She was so good at that. And now, 15, 20, 30 years later, I'm receiving notes from old students and friends telling me about the impact she made on their lives. One former student wrote to me and told me that she was having a conversation just last week and mentioned my mother and the things she taught her over 20 years ago. That's pretty amazing. It really is.

My mother taught me many things. How to drive, how to dust, how to draw a building in correct perspective. She taught me to appreciate art and life, and to express myself, fully. Not to be shy, to tell people what I think, to be brave. She taught me to fight and not to give up. She taught me how to spread my wings and fly.

My mother was a woman who felt everything. She truly lived life. She went to deep, deep valleys and high, high peaks. She took most things off the chart and that is a memorable quality. Her cousin Phil Danze wrote to me to send his condolences. He said, "I remember her well and liked her a lot. She was humorous, self deprecating and a truly wonderful person. I am proud that she was one of us, a Danze".

Mom, I miss you so much. I don't have you to call to tell you that I'm getting on the airplane or that I've arrived somewhere safely. I can't call you to tell you that Miles is swimming or that Mason drew another picture for you. There are answers to questions that I'll never know, at least not while I'm still alive. I hope/know that I will see you again. You and daddy. And that you'll both be smiling, arms wide, ready to hold me again.

Until then...

Maria Joanne Baptiste Goldsmith
September 9, 1934 - June 21, 2011

Friday Inspiration - Sachiko Kodama

Sometimes, there is art that makes sense. It is what it is what it is. You look at it and understand what you're seeing. It can be beautiful or alarming. It can cause you to think or dream. And then, sometimes, there is art that not only captures your attention, but challenges your mind to wrap itself around exactly what it is seeing. 

For me, Sachiko Kodama's artwork does just this. Her series that uses ferrofluids as the artform does just this. It challenges my mind. Sachiko states that her projects goal is "to create organic shape-changing art forms and figures whose three-dimensional form, surface structure, and color, change dynamiclaly and lively as if to reflect echoes of environmental music, light, and human communication." 

To give an explanation of the art form, I think I just need to quote the source from where I found the information and copy and paste. It's kind of over my head and I want to make sure I communicate it correctly. 

So, here it goes. From Organic User Interfaces: 

Ferrofluids, the shape-changing material used in my works, were invented in the late 1960s in the Apollo Program of National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) and are known to be used for forming liquid seals and in electronic devices for computers, AV equipments, and other industrial applications. Recently they have been employed in medicine research.

Basically, ferrofluids appear as a black fluid. They are prepared by dissolving nanoscale ferromagnetic particles in a solvent such as water or oil and remain strongly magnetic even in a fluid condition. Therefore, they are more flexibly transformable as compared to iron sand. It is well known that ferrofluids form spikes along magnetic field lines when the magnetic surface force exceeds the stabilizing effects of the fluid weight and surface tension [1]. In my work, organic shapes are produced by these spikes under a magnetic field that is controlled by electromagnets. Sensing technology and computers are used to make the fluid change its shape according to environmental information. The transformation of the shape and rhythm of the movement is an important aspect of the work.

If you want to read more, you can go to the site I referenced above, Organic User Interfaces. There's a whole artist statement that goes into detail about the project and problems she faced and how she overcame them. It's truly fascinating and I can definitely say that I would LOVE to see her work in person. I can only imagine that I would find myself lost in deep gaze at the fluid yet structural artwork. 

The video below shows the work with interviews of the artist as well as other people involved in the project. I hope you enjoy and Happy Friday!