Selfie Autobiography -- Abstract Portraiture at the MAG

Well, let's begin with a simply humorous caricature -- May 5th of 2019, Bob Jordan (my husband) and I, on the Massachusetts Turnpike, on our way home from a visit with my daughter and her family.  

Left:  Bob Jordan and Lisa.
Right:  Lisa in the NYS Thruway restroom, surprised and pleased with the fresh flowers on the sink.

We weren't even trying to look funny, well, maybe Bob was (because he is really funny), but I doctored the photo, overwhelming it with some color and contrast.  

And there we are -- two happy, goofy old people.  

Why shouldn't we all have a hearty laugh at ourselves? 

Laugh at us; laugh with us; it's all good.

    But now for a little science fiction, in the form of modernism.  At the end of April, I went to the Memorial Art Gallery with my good friend, Paula Marchese.  And a trip to the MAG always means a selfie in the blue glass (Josiah McElheny's "Blue Prism Painting I," 2014).      

                               

     Gazing at this selfie, for the purposes of this blog, has been a treat because I noticed what I hadn't noticed before, that the mirrors within this art cause pieces of me to appear here and there.  

     On the left, there are my hands around the camera, inverted from the way they are at center.  And in the center, there I am, like an angel (or Iago perhaps), hovering over Paula's shoulder, still clinging to my camera, the instrument of vision.  And there I am at far right, with my glasses, another instrument of vision, peeking out from the top of my head.  And look above in the center lines, and also at the corners -- my hands, always cradling the camera, dot the blue landscape.  

            

      Cubism, anyone?  What began as a simple selfie, turns into abstract portraiture, and I, lucky girl, become the subject of a cubist interpretation, in an art piece reminding us of a blue period, and reflecting art's past with the stained glass (on the right above) reflected from the opposite wall (I think).  

      How thrilling.   I imagine that I've been a subject for a Picasso painting, without ever having known Picasso.  (And not having known Picasso is not such a bad thing, for those who knew him did not always fare well in the aftermath.)  

     The places I have been, the things I have seen.  You too -- go to the Memorial Art Gallery.  Slow down and gaze.  To gaze is to see.  

      I'll leave you with some earlier visits to the MAG, with the ubiquitous selfies in the blue glass mirror art:  

Left:  in August of 2018, with my cousin Barbara
Right: in January of 2016, the Carl Peters Exhibition on display behind me

Selfie Autobiography: What the Selfies tell us

    In my last post (yesterday), I admitted to having become a rabid selfie-taker, and I also committed to posting some selfies every day, going backwards in time, and seeing what kinds of stories they tell -- perhaps creating a kind of Selfie Autobiography.

Lisa's female lineage:  great-great grandmother, great-grandmother, grandmother,
mother, me, daughter

    Selfies are, in fact, self-portraits, aren't they?  (Okay, it's true, sometimes they are merely, "look at me, look at me, look at me." It is not this aspect of selfies that fascinate me.)

   Consider this:  My selfies (and I presume yours too) fall into genres -- shadow selfies, merging-with-the-art selfies, seen-in-reflections-of-buildings selfies, abstract portraiture.

   And this:  the setting of selfies -- the background, the place -- is often more important than the visual they offer of the person.

Lisa in 2009 in Worcester, MA

    Consider the photo I posted in my previous blog, the first photo I dared to take of myself, a leap of faith at that time.  I placed myself in the corner of the photo and made sure that the living room was prominent.  I knew exactly why I was doing this -- all of the objects in my living room were expressions of new interests which were taking me in a different place than I had been.  In this photo, I'm not only telling the viewer, "here's what I look like at 51 years of age," but also, "I am a flea marketer; I like vintage objects which tell stories of the past; I love art, and I am just starting to love to paint."

    The following selfies, all taken in June of this year (2019), tell a story about that month's Rochester experiences.  And this is what is most essential about my selfies -- they are autobiographical; they are a map, a diary of what I have done here in this city which is most important to me.  Rochester is my fresh start, my second life.  Rochester is where my relatives, the Dossenbachs, lived, where they walked, where they played, where they laughed and cried.  Everything I do in Rochester has some relation to them.

6/19 Lisa and Kahlua at Ontario Beach Park

    Here is a shadow selfie, my dog Kahlua and I at Ontario Beach Park.  The Dossenbachs and their bands played at Ontario Beach Park from 1902 and throughout the next four decades.  In my book, I will tell many marvelous stories of their times in this park, back when it was known as the "Coney Island of the West."

    Above is another shadow selfie, a video.   I am in Fairport, a village on the Erie Canal, with a fascinating history.  Of course, the Dossenbachs played here (they played everywhere!).  In the video, I am walking towards the Perinton Historical Society, where I gave a talk last March, and where I intend to look more closely at their fascinating exhibits and a gorgeous Carl Peters mural.

06/2016 Lisa at the
Perinton Historical Society

    I also used the restroom in the Perinton Historical Society, and this is another selfie genre -- restroom photos.  These are great, because all restrooms have mirrors, but they are also tricky, because you can only get the photos if there is no one else in the restroom (otherwise, it is decidedly weird).  The Perinton Historical Society restroom is a treasure in and of itself, with a gorgeous hanging lamp and a vintage toilet paper holder; I've attached these to the selfie, for your viewing pleasure.

06/2016 Lisa reflected at bottom
of photo in the Powers Building

   Earlier in June, you could find me getting a tour of the Powers Building, where my Dossenbachs gave concerts and played for important meetings and dinners -- here I am reflected in the glass of a framed photo.  Now this is an unplanned selfie in that I only discovered afterwards (and, in that sense, it perhaps doesn't really qualify as a selfie at all, but then, there I am in the photo, anyways).

   Jazz Fest in June, and Bob Jordan and I were downtown.  I can prove it because of the photos (below) I took of us reflected in the glass of buildings .  (And for the life of me, I can't remember the name of this important building -- please tell me in your comments.)

06/2016 Lisa reflected in a downtown Rochester building
-- the insert at the bottom enlarges the Lisa part,
which is seen in the photo just above the right side of the insert 

06/2016 Lisa reflected on the right
and Bob on the left
during Jazz Fest downtown Rochester

 





      So this was part of my life last June, as viewed through the selfies I took, a month given towards dogwalking, history-searching, and music.   It is a wonderful life, to be sure, for this lucky and grateful local history researcher and writer, living day by day, in this place we call Rochester.

    More tomorrow.
 

A Facebook Beginning

    The story, as I've always thought it to be true, is that I never liked having my picture taken.  As an adult, I mean.  Avoided the photo opportunity, and hated myself in the picture when it couldn't be avoided.  Avoided the camera.

   That is, until digital photography, with its ease of picture-taking, so inexpensive.   At that point, I avoided being in the photo by becoming the picture-taker, being behind the camera.  A way to see the world.  A way to be in the room without being noticed or called upon for that dreaded small talk.

   When facebook came around, which, for me, was in 2009, selfies came with it.  What a horrid idea, I thought, how ego-driven, how vain.   But, then, I "friended" (how strange it was then to use this word in this way, but how natural it is today) a former college photography teacher, who couldn't quite remember me, and wanted to see what I looked like.  Why don't I post a photo of myself, he casually suggested.

   Alone, in my living room, I froze.  A photo of myself.  Well, even if I was inclined to do so, which I was not, I simply had no recent photos of myself.

   But, daily on Facebook, people were posting their selfies -- eating food, waiting in line at the movie theater, partying with friends, sitting on the couch with their dog or cat.  Daily, I gazed at these photos people had taken of themselves and shared with others.

   And, so, I found myself doing this extraordinary thing -- taking a photo of myself.  Planning the photo, thinking about the lighting, and my hair, and should I wear my reading glasses?  Turning the camera around and aiming it at me.

   And, then, this extraordinary thing happened.  I liked the photo.   It was me, this is who I was, me in my 50s in my living room.  I posted it to my facebook.  My first selfie ever (or so I thought, but that's another story).

   Well, that turned out to be a Pandora's Box.  I began taking selfies here and there, eventually everywhere.  Mirrors, glass, reflections in puddles -- there were selfie opportunities wherever I went.  Selfies are our "Kilroy was here" expressions.  We are here!  We are living day to day!  We are not ashamed.

   Today, I had this idea.  An autobiography by selfie.  What do the accumulated selfies say about me?  Am I really there?

   So, every day, for as many days as it takes, until there are no more left, I will post a selfie.  And, just for the fun of it, I'm going to go chronologically backwards in time, starting with today, and then finding myself here, there, in the yesterdays of yesterday.

   It's going to take a while, I warn you, so I will also occasionally post the Local History stories too.

   And so we begin at this beginning.  Below is the selfie that I posted that day in 2009 . . .

Lisa in 2009 in Worcester, MA

. . . along with some selfies which I took this morning (before I thought up this blog posting).

   Here's who I am.   Here's my barbaric yawp.

Above Center:  2019-07-21 Lisa reflected in a puddle in the parking lot of Mel's Diner
Above left and right:  2019-07-21 Lisa reflected in the car door