Archive for November, 2008

The Big Night

Opening Night

Last night was the big opening reception for our brand new photography gallery in Hudson. I can’t thank everyone enough for their support. We had an amazing turnout. A completely fun, crazy opening where at one point, you literally could not move in the sea of people.

Opening Night

This is my favorite photo from the night

Opening Night

Opening Night

John Griebsch photos

Opening Night - John Griebsch photos

Opening Night - sign in book

Opening Night - my new dress

Keith Loutit Videos

*update: new photos from Heather*

If you would like to stop in here is the info:

Carrie Haddad Photographs - 318 Warren Street, Hudson NY www.carriehaddadgallery.com. I’ll be open every day from 10-6 except for Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Friday and Saturdays I will be open till 9pm.

You can see more photos from the opening on my Flickr photostream

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Transformation

Here are some before photos of the new gallery space taken just 3 weeks ago when we began construction. It is absolutely amazing how different the space looks now.

If you want to see how it turned out….come by Saturday evening for the big opening! ;-)

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The thing you can’t stop thinking about

I am not interested in writing that isn’t obsessive. Who is? We’re all drama queens in the end. We all come to stories with two basic questions: Who do I care about? And What do they care about? As long as our hero, or heroine, cares deeply about something (i.e. is obsessed), and as long as they’re willing to tell us their own twisted version of the truth, we’ll come along for the ride.

But look: our best art implicates us. It induces us to experience the intensity of feeling that is absent from the rest of our lives. It unleashes the closet obsessive in all of us.

I used to spend hours trying to explain this to my students at Boston College, who were forever confusing emotional evasion with literary restraint. To the stubborn ones, I often issued an order that I received years ago, from an elderly writer who had suffered my own wretched early burps of prose. The only thing that matters is the thing you can’t stop thinking about, he told me: Dress it up how ever you like, son, but tell me the goddamn truth.

- Steve Almond (via: Jonathan Carroll’s blog)

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Joy multiplier

I thought this was a pretty great letter from musician Jonathan Coulton explaining the benefits of Creative Commons:

“When you’re an artist, it’s a wonderful thing to hear from a fan who likes what you do. But it’s even more thrilling to see that someone was moved enough to make something brand new based on it - that your creative work has inspired someone to do more creative work, that your little song had a child and that child was a YouTube video that a million people watched. A Creative Commons license is like a joy multiplier. The art you create adds to the world whenever someone appreciates it, but you also get karma credit for every new piece of art it inspires. And around and around. This is my favorite thing about Creative Commons: the act of creation becomes not the end, but the beginning of a creative process that links complete strangers together in collaboration. To me it’s a deeply satisfying and beautiful vision of what art and culture can be.”  — Jonathan Coulton (read Jonathan’s full letter here)

Creative Commons is a non-profit organization that works to increase the amount of content (cultural, educational, and scientific content) in “the commons” — the body of work that is available to the public for free and legal sharing, use, re-purposing, and remixing. Creative Commons does this by providing free, easy-to-use legal and technical tools that give everyone a simple, standardized way to pre-clear copyrights to their creative work. CC licenses let people easily change their copyright terms from the default, restrictive “all rights reserved” to a more flexible “some rights reserved.” To learn more about Creative Commons, please visit their website.

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The best way I know how

“While dressing and preparing to go out, she thought of Ben’s story about the time he ate the best cassoulet on earth in a small village in southern France. The name of the town was Castelnaudary. He pronounced the name so beautifully when telling the story that German made him repeat it twice just so she could hear the catch and roll of the word in his voice. She didn’t want to think about him now but that was almost impossible. Joy, real joy, comes so rarely in life that we mourn the death of it a long time. In the beginning of their relationship she had said to him, ‘Where have you been? It feels like I’ve been holding my breath for years, but now I can finally let it out.’

“They were lying naked on the couch when she said this. To her great surprise and consternation, Ben got right up, walked into the kitchen, and started making her cassoulet for the first time. When she entered the room a few minutes later, bewildered by his having disappeared from her arms just like that, he started describing Castelnaudary and the time he had eaten this dish there. His back was to her while he spoke. When he turned, she saw that his eyes were filled with tears but he was smiling. “This is the greatest meal in the world, German. I have to make it for you right now. It’s the best way I know how to show how I feel about you.”

from THE GHOST IN LOVE by Jonathan Carroll

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I need a bike

The Rider
by Naomi Shihab Nye

A boy told me
if he roller-skated fast enough
his loneliness couldn’t catch up to him,
the best reason I ever heard
for trying to be a champion.
What I wonder tonight
pedaling hard down King William Street
is if it translates to bicycles.
A victory! To leave your loneliness
panting behind you on some street corner
while you float free into a cloud of sudden azaleas,
pink petals that have never felt loneliness,
no matter how slowly they fell.

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Another thing I wish I made

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Your personal moon

Absolutely beautiful. (and, I have no idea who did them - found here)

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If There Ever Was

I came across the coolest book ever tonight while doing research for an exhibit I am planning in the Spring. The book is called, If There Ever Was: an exhibition of extinct and impossible smells. The book is only half of it of course - it exists to accompany the exhibition of the same name where fourteen scents were re-created:

“Like a cabinet of intangible curiosities, their forms are drawn from disparate stories throughout history for which few, if any, objects remain. And although it would be easy to pass the exhibition off as a work of pure fantasy—the product of an over-active perfumer’s imagination—beneath the olfactory theatricality lies a serious scientific basis” - James Wong, botanist at Botanic Gardens Conservation International, UK

The book itself (which can be purchased here), is a scratch-n-sniff book of 14 impossible smells, which include: the surface of the sun, communism, surrender, and a meteorite (just to name a few). I fucking want this book so bad. Even more, I want to SMELL it (alas, I cannot….but I will subject all of my friends to it for sure) I found the list of all of the 14 scents here - my two favorite descriptions are these:

Body Odor - On December 28, 1989, a slim young woman named Susanne Böden was handing out leaflets in East Berlin with her little sister. The leaflets promoted free speech for citizens of the Deutsche Democratic Republic. Shortly after she started handing them out, Susanne was arrested by the Stasi, or East German secret police. She stood trial at Stasi headquarters.
in East Berlin and was served with a caution. Before being released, the Stasi gave her a square of fabric to wipe against the back of her neck. This fabric was then kept by the Stasi in a sealed jar with her name on it. A person’s body odour is as distinctive and traceable as a fingerprint. The Stasi tracked the movements of suspected dissenters with trained sniffer dogs. To get the scent of their suspects, the Stasi employed a variety of methods such as breaking into apartments and stealing dirty clothes or sitting suspects in a heated room for questioning. The Stasi would then save a patch of fabric from this chair’s upholstery that had absorbed the
suspect’s body odour. The Berlin Wall fell within months of Susanne’s trial. During the ensuing
celebrations Stasi Headquarters were ransacked. Inside a small room at the headquarters, revellers found hundreds of jars labelled with people’s names and stuffed with bits of fabric.

The scent of surrender- Incense had many practical uses in times of ancient warfare. It was often lit during battles as a way of gaining favour from the gods of war and strength. Before the tradition of waving the white flag of surrender, burning a specific blend of incense over the walls of a city was also an indication of defeat. Through modern day Israel, Syria, and Egypt,
archaeologists have discovered clay reliefs depicting the presentation of the censer (incense burner) as a form of surrender. Commanders of cities such as Ascalon, besieged by the Egyptians during the reign of Rameses II, held a censer stuffed with a combination of storax, myrrh, frankincense, and mastic over the city walls. The smell of the city’s surrender would
then be carried on the wind to the advancing army

I was trying to imagine what impossible scents I would like to re-create if I could - maybe the smell of Vermeer’s studio, thick with the stench of oil paint and wine….or the smell of some WWII RAF Bomber jacket (I can only imagine its stories)….the scent of my grandmother baking her much loved Italian cookies. I wish I could have a hundred jars filled with these things - smells I will never experience, but could at least visually ‘own’ and they would include the most beautiful inscriptions detailing what was captured inside.

(Image: Lisa Wassman)

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In other news….

Apparently, the perfume I wear smells like strippers. Great, just the scent I was going for….

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