by Marty Coleman | Mar 5, 2014 | Dorothea Lange, Photography |
An Apology
First off, my apologies if you tried to get to my site yesterday. It was hacked and down for most of the day. With the help of a great PHP coder, Jim Gillispie, I was able to get it back up and running just in time for a momentous week ahead. Thanks Jim!
SXSW
I am headed to the SXSW (South by Southwest) Interactive Conference in Austin, TX tomorrow. I am leading a workshop called, ‘The Compelling Image in the Age of Social Media‘ on Friday. I wanted one more napkin for my presentation so I drew this one.
If you are headed to SXSW and would like to attend my ‘workshop‘, get your name on the waiting list as soon as you can and hopefully a spot will open up. The best and quickest way to contact me there will be via twitter. My handle is @thenapkindad.
Seeing With a Camera
One of the best quotes about photography is this if/then proposition: “If you want to take a beautiful photograph, then stand in front of something beautiful and press the button.” This proposition is true but there is a variable within it. That variable is what you consider to be beautiful. For me, a series of questions follow from that variable: Is my mind open to seeing beauty that isn’t readily apparent? Can I see beauty in details, in unexpected and hidden places, within something larger that may not be beautiful? Can I escape judgment long enough to explore an alternative appreciation for something?
I believe my camera can often be a gateway to that freedom, both for me as the photographer in the moment of discovery and later for the viewer of the image in the moment of revelation.
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Drawing by Marty Coleman
Quote by Dorothea Lange, 1895-1965, American photographer
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by Marty Coleman | Mar 1, 2014 | Illustrated Short Stories |
Shades of Brown – An Illustrated Short Short Story
She was intensely focused on her writing as I had a Prague Mocha & Oatmeal Raisin cookie and drew her.
The End
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Drawing and story by Marty Coleman
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by Marty Coleman | Feb 26, 2014 | Illustrated Short Stories |
The Interview
Prologue
My car was being serviced. I was sitting at Starbucks.
Chapter 1
She was there a long time before he arrived. She had nothing to eat or drink. She had pale and rosy skin that glowed against the gray painting behind her.
Chapter 2
He arrived on the windy day. He immediately came over to her and shook her hand. He said, “You look just like your picture.”
She responded, “I’ve colored my hair since then.”
He said, “I like it. It’s fun.”
Chapter 3
They talked a long time. He gestured a lot with his left hand but never with his right. He had a small mocha and stirred it with his left hand when he wasn’t gesturing. She frequently looked down at her phone, using both hands to text. He didn’t stop talking or gesturing. She asked him some questions. She said “uh huh” and “like” often.
Chapter 4
He excused himself to go to the bathroom. When he got back she stood up and shook his hand. She said, “Thank you, it was nice meeting you.” Then he left. She watched him go out into the windy day.
Chapter 5
She put her phone to her ear and waited. Then she said, “Yea, it went ok. He’s not a good fit though. He doesn’t even use Twitter. Plus he wore brown shoes with a grey suit, who does that? When is the next interview for again?”
Epilogue
I saw her again a week later at the same Starbucks. She had a young man with her. He was dressed in purple and grey and they were going over a spreadsheet. She was doing the explaining and he was looking at her with awe. She had a Wired Magazine and a Vogue Magazine beside her computer. She had nothing to drink.
The End
Drawing and story by Marty Coleman
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by Marty Coleman | Feb 25, 2014 | Barbara Kingsolver, Mother's Day - 2011, Mothers Day |
We wave goodbye to the Mothers series with drawing #4.
This is true of fathers too, by the way.
The Gift
When I left home in 1973 for college, I really left. I went to college in Ohio, then Massachusetts, then moved to Hollywood, then to more college in Southern California, then to Michigan and back to California, this time Northern. I felt confident and able to make my way in the world and that is what I did. My parents raised me so I would be able to do that. I am very grateful for that gift.
The Forgetting
But with that confidence also came a forgetfulness. I forgot how much I had, at one point, needed them, especially my mother. I wish now I had repaid that attention with attention back to her in her later years. While I visited with some regularity, it really wasn’t as much as it should have been. My mother taught me well how to cope, and how not to cope, with life. I learned invaluable lessons from her, even when she was not aware of her teaching me. I did let her know some of that, and thank her for it, as best I was even aware of it at the time. But she died when she was young, only 62, and I was deep in the middle of raising young kids at the time, not really all the way to the place where I understood the lessons so I wasn’t able to thank her as I would want to now.
The Much Sweet and The little Bitter
Now my daughters are all grown. And all of them are strong and independent and able to make their way in the world. They make their missteps just as I did, but for the most part they are more than capable of correcting the misstep and moving on. They like hearing from me and they probably call me more than I call them. But they don’t need me the way they once did. A little bittersweet but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
The joy of seeing someone who once knew nothing of how to cope with the world navigate through it with class and intelligence is a heart-filling thing for a parent. I think it is probably easier for me, maybe as a man, maybe just as me, I am not sure, than it is for their mothers. But even though it might be harder, I know it makes them so very proud to see their daughters strong and capable, able to move forward on their own, just as it does me as well.
What is your story of letting go of your mother or your child? Was it easy, hard? How did you do it?
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Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman
Quote by Barbara Kingsolver, 1955 – not dead yet, American author
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by Marty Coleman | Feb 21, 2014 | Marty Coleman, Mother's Day - 2011, Mothers Day |
What a perfect day to present Mothers #3!
Perfection in Parenting
After Mothers #1 was published earlier this week a comment was posted by Julie from APlaceforThoughts.com. Julie was worried about failing at her work as a mother, comparing herself to her father who had to raise her on his own and had done a great job in her estimation. In the course of that conversation I came up with the above quote to try to assure her that it wasn’t about perfection in parenting, it was about love in parenting.
The thing is, kids are looking for love, not perfection. If you are supporting them and encouraging them and guiding them, they don’t really care if you are good at math, or able to run a marathon or make a million dollars a year. And if you do do all those things but don’t show them love, they don’t really care much about those accomplishments either.
Love Over Limitations
We all have our limitations in physical capabilities, emotional strength and intellectual prowess. One mother is missing an arm and a leg. Another never graduated from high school. A third is fragile emotionally. But none of that matters if they make the decision to deliver love to their children as best they are able. That is what the child will remember. That is what the child will pass on to their children.
Don’t expect to deliver perfection in your parenting. Expect to deliver love.
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Drawing, quote and commentary by Marty Coleman
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