ABOUT THE ARTIST

             I grew up in my father's photo lab, a small room at the end of a long kitchen. I loved the chemical smells, the red flickering light and in time the emergence inch by inch of what the eye had captured and what the heart was meant to see. However, I had no patience for dodging and burning, contact printing, and waiting for paper to dry, but oh, the possibilities! It was exhilarating.

            Today the technical choices of Photoshop give me sophisticated access to change, to color, and to experiment. Here, I am able to give an old photo a past and a new photo a presence. This new darkroom process can be speedy, and these new possibilities endless.  It may be hours or days before the final picture begins to emerge. I do not mind. I love the process of breathing life into wayward snapshots, of birthing the stories and images about my past, which have always floated so hauntingly through my mind.

            Now my family is extended.  My traveled ancestral roads can be intermingled with footprints of forgotten strangers; those wanderers of lost souls who have rested between the pages of ancient books and lined the bottom of attic trunks.  All are welcome to my house of memories and contribute to the layering and weaving of my personal history. All live once again suspended in time and space for each generation to be shared with the next.

 

MONKEYWOOD:

The Wilderness
 In the beginning, in the wilderness, when the woods were thick and the foliage lush there lived a passel of monkeys within.  They all lived together, the past and the present, sharing their legacy and their memories so that each generation could stand tall and talk in tones of promise and accomplishment to their young.  The great red monkey spirit watched over them, custodian of most of their memories, and kept them safe.  Happiness and freedom reigned supreme in this place called "Monkeywood".

The New World
And the generations begat and the memories lingered on until a great force entered and stole all that was good away.  The green of the wood disappeared as did the lakes and the mossy covered rocks.  The great red monkey spirit was vanquished and with him most of the memories vanished like smoke rising in the air.  Their entire legacy was gone as was the life as it was known.  The ground now became silent, parched and grey. 
Fortuitously, out of the ashes, from this time that was shattered, came two lone survivors.  Hand in hand they carefully walked to the edge of their old universe to find a vision of  a new world that lay beyond; the same world that had destroyed their domain.  Now it beckoned them to enter and to begin a new life.  A car stood waiting to ferry them across.  It was hard to resist.  Karl King and his daughter Tulah stepped into the car and left their old world behind.

A New Life
Life blossomed for the new intruders and Karl was quick to embrace his new surroundings.  Gone were the freedom and the thickly branched trees that were so inviting for play.  Luckily most of his memories remained intact allowing him to retain a proud sense of his past.  When night fell at bedtime he shared his memories with Tulah, talking about their family and the good life as it was in the wood long ago.  It was of great comfort and help to them as they settled down in their new environs.  Karl assimilated.  He found a job and a friend who was helpful with his adjustment.  He courted (and won) a beautious woman named Cleo.  It amazed him that he could fall in love with a human, the enemy.  But this new world encouraged him and changed him.  A year passed and Cleo and Karl gave birth to baby Tim in her own image.  They nested by the edge of suburbia where the trees were many.  They were happy and content.

The Monkey House
Time was kind.  Tulah grew up to be married, also to a human, and they built a splendid house at the edge of suburbia, not too far from her youth.  The entrance had an exotic rug with playful monkeys like the old days and was surrounded by blooming trees and clusters of flowers.  The house was filled with memories and family images from her father's bedtime stories.  If you look carefully you will recognize them from the carefree days in the wilderness.  Tulah's little monkey-girl, Lyla, plays with them on rainy days and she too can hear the whispers from the past. 
They all live together here, the old and the new, the past and the present, in harmony for now.
To be continued...