I grew up immersed in the world of pictures. My father was a photographer, artist, sculptor.
|Jim Steinhardt, Woman in Greenwich Village Cafe, 1948|
At six, I would tell you how much I loved the sculpture garden in the Museum of Modern Art, the Ellsworth Kelly being my favorite. I would insist we visit my beloved Sleeping Gypsy every time we went, too.
|Henri Rousseau, 1897|
Our home, needless to say, was full of pictures. This guy? (well, a reproduction print):
|Paul Klee, 1922|
My father's photos and sculptures filled our house. (Books, too, but we're talking about pictures today.)
|Jim Steinhardt, Pearl Seller, 1947|
And then I married a man who, though a writer and editor in it, is from the world of comic books, the place where the melding of picture to word became its own art form, and gave birth to the beautiful thing that is the graphic novel.
And we had a son who, though he struggles with words, speaks most eloquently through his pictures.
|Jake, December 2011, "Mom"|
Although no longer working in the world of pictures that is film and television, thanks to modern technology I am never without my camera; iPhone and instagram being my tools of visual creativity these days.
|Hydrangeas on 6th Avenue, April 2012|
Even though I have now chosen words as my medium and am immersed in a world of reading and writing, I will never discount the power of pictures in my life.
I am participating in Momalom's 5 for 5 link-up and the prompt for today, Wednesday, was “Pictures.”