December 20, 2009

Are you in the FLOW?

When I read FLOW: The Cultural Story of Menstruation, I had assigned so many emotions to the book, I didn’t know if I was on spin or rinse. Rather, in FLOWguage I didn’t know if my tampon was in a twist or my womb was doing the jig.

As a feminist, I felt grateful that Elissa Stein had written FLOW, for women who have always embraced their periods and for women, feminists or not, who are uncomfortable calling it what it is, and who choose to cloak it in society’s accepted verbiage: “The Rag”, “That time of the month”, “Aunt Flo is in town”, among others.

I felt validated and lucky that I grew up with parents who cried tears of joy when menses commenced; parents who encouraged us to say “If you have your period, you have your fucking period.”

Having embraced menses to the point of engaging in menseversation with grocery store clerks, strangers, friends and family, and having written a few essays on the subject, I was so proud; I wanted to bleed stains of joy.

One part confessional and one part factual history; for me, FLOW wasn’t just a great read. Saying that marginalizes the enormity and significance of FLOW—for women and for men. Obligatory reading for teens (can I get a FLOWhoo from high schools who teach sex education, please?!), and women who have and continue to menstruate, as well as men who fear the bleeding tunnel and, or want to better understand it.

I savored every menselicious second, absorbing Elissa’s personal, often hysterical and heartfelt account of her menstrual history. Paired with facts about the origins of menstruation; without giving away that time of the month, women took herculean measures to contend with their mighty streams. Facts about what menstruation really is and the myriad of misconceptions we have assigned and assumed, and so much more.

I would beg, no plead, no strongly urge you to buy FLOW and permit yourself the opportunity to trek through unchartered, forbidden tidal waves of menstrual loveliness.  If you don’t believe me, check out these reviews: Rebecca Elia: Bring on the FLOW, YouTube Flow view, Elissa Stein: History of Tampon, Tampax and a Belt with Hooks, Changing People, Inspirational Women: An Interview with Elissa Stein, The Undomestic Goddess: Elissa Stein and more. In addition to the great interviewers mentioned, FLOW has been reviewed, and Elissa has been interviewed by many other great writers and magazines.

Elissa gave me the opportunity to interview her and her blook, FLOW:

1. Why do you think FLOW is considered a controversial book with respect to feminism and menstruation?

Menstruation isn’t talked about, in an open, honest, thought-provoking way in mainstream society. It’s a punch line, a joke, or something to be avoided at all costs. By taking on all that it does—sex, religion, politics, advertising, big pharma, medicalization—FLOW makes people nervous.

2.  What made you write FLOW?

My period stopped for a year. I was too terrified and embarrassed to say anything to anyone. When I finally went for help, the doctor literally patted me on the knee, handed me a pack of birth control pills and told me my hormones just needed “jump starting.” I was dismayed by both how I was dismissed, and how difficult it was to overcome my shame. About something that’s a biological reality. It was then, over 15 years ago, that the first glimmers of FLOW appeared.

3. FLOW has the power to change public perception about menstruation, both for men and women, was that one of your intentions when you wrote the book?

FLOW goes beyond perception. It has the power to educate women, and men. To chip away at the walls of shame and secrecy built centuries ago about menstruation.

4. When you were growing up, how did you feel about your menses? How was menses perceived and treated?

I still remember sobbing to my mother, standing in front of her 1971 green Plymouth Valiant, after sitting through that film in fifth grade. I was horrified and it didn’t get better. We never talked about it in my family. I tried as hard as possible to keep it a complete and total secret.

5. What are your feelings about “The business of menstruation”?

I took it all for granted until FLOW. And then my eyes were ripped open: the packaging, the pristine white-ness, the endless landfill, the plastic applicators, the negative advertising that kept age-old messages fresh. There are greener options out there that I never knew about, but, sadly, am too set in my old ways to switch to.

6. What is your favorite part of FLOW, if there is one and why?

I LOVE the art. As a visual society, we communicate through images. Including the ads, books, and products that have so often shaped how we think and feel, was a huge part of the story— a big shout out to St. Martin’s, who understood what this book needed to be. My absolute favorite piece is “Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret?” I called booksellers all over the country looking for the edition that was out when I was ten. When the package arrived and I pulled the purple-covered book out, I was transported to my friend Rachel’s basement, seeing it for the first time.

7. What do you define as the worst nicknames for a woman having her period and why?

Anything that’s derogatory. Like “on the rag.” What a horrible thing to say. Rags connote dirt, garbage, needing to sop up messes. And by phrasing it that way, menstrual blood is nothing but negative.

8. Why do you think women have so much shame about menstruating?

At this point in history, I believe it’s ingrained. Menstruation’s been getting a bad rap since the start of recorded history—and I’m sure long before. Check out the Bible. Menstruation was considered impure, unclean. Women had to be ritually cleansed before they could be touched again. By their husbands. After getting that message from the most holiest of sources for centuries, how could one possibly put a good spin on menstruation?

9. What do you love most about menstruating?

I’ve become so aware of my body at this point that I can feel the hormone shift, before the bleeding starts. I go from cranky, tired, wound up, to mellow. Happy. And I know, from that emotional change, that my period’s starting soon.

10. Let’s dish about you a bit… Tell me about Elissa Stein. FLOW is not your first book. Can you tell me about other work that you’ve written and more about you?

Elissa Stein. Hmm. I’m a mother first. The most important, life-changing, exhausting, exhilarating thing I’ve ever done. I’ve been married for 21 years to a person I’m still delighted to see every day. I’m a graphic designer, which led me to publishing, and then writing. I practice yoga, which keeps me steady. I’m recovering from an ebay addiction—I love vintage coats and outrageous 1960s summer dresses. My NYC closets are now packed to capacity.

FLOW is my tenth book. My first, CHUNKS, was a compilation of vomit stories. I’m not kidding. I’ve done visual histories of iconic pop culture: beauty queens, stewardesses, cheerleaders. My husband and I wrote a labor support guide for dads, inspired by his own ineptitude in the delivery room. I’ve got a host of projects I’d love to do next.

11. Are you a feminist? If so, what does feminism mean to you personally?

I had to answer this question recently and it took a couple of days to figure out what to say. Yes, absolutely, I’m a feminist, when that means working to continually challenge society to accept, respect, and acknowledge that women are equal, but different, from men.

12. What is your favorite curse word and why?

I try SO HARD not to curse and have managed to stop for years—having kids was the motivation. But I’d have to say fuck. It says a lot in one word.

13. What are your favorite foods?

Watermelon. Fresh green peas. And super sweet pineapple. Not all together.

14. What makes you belly laugh?

Trying to win a staring contest with my son Jack. We both are terrible at it and absolutely crack each other up. EVERY time.

15. What makes you happy?

Finding grace in a yoga class. Especially to a good soundtrack.

16. What makes you angry?

Having to repeat myself. Over and over.

17. Where can I read more about you and buy FLOW? Who do I contact for an interview/review?

FLOW is in bookstores all over, and at amazon.com. There’s more about FLOW at www.flowthebook.com. My publicist’s info is listed. And for more about me please check out: www.elissastein.com.

THANK YOU, ELISSA, for writing FLOW, for being you and for your valuable time.

Now, off you go to buy FLOW. Follow Elissa on Twitter and Facebook. Visit her website.

November 29, 2009

Well Worth Going Back To Dairy For

I have been OCD’ng on Harvey Milk’s last quote (Will) from the movie MILK. It’s resonating so hard for me, personally, with respect to Dear Thyroid and with what’s happening politically and health care wise in this country.

Sometimes I forget that all of our individual voices collectively make up millions of voices that have the power to invoke change.

Thanks to my good pal @SoCalVillaGuy for finding this quote for me.

I wanted to post about it and I wanted us to discuss. So, discuss.

Last week I got a phone call — –from Altoona, Pennsylvania, and the voice was quite young, and the person said… Thanks.” You’ve got to elect gay people so that that young child and the thousands upon thousand like him know there’s hope… hope for a better world… I ask this… If there should be an assassination, I would hope that five, ten, one hundred, a thousand would rise. I would like to see every gay lawyer, every gay architect come out– –If a bullet should enter my brain, let that bullet destroy every closet door… And that’s all. I ask for the movement to continue. Because it’s not about personal gain, not about ego, not about power… it’s about the “us’s” out there. Not only gays, but the Blacks, the Asians, the disabled, the seniors, the us’s. Without hope, the us’s give up– –I know you cannot live on hope alone, but without it, life is not worth living. So you, and you, and you… You gotta give em’ hope… you gotta give em’ hope.

November 28, 2009

No Shortage Of Stuffing Pie Hole Here, Metaphorically Speaking

I broke up with J Crew, but we got back together.

I’ve noticed that a lot of Born Agains are starting to follow me on Twitter. To be clear, I don’t mean Christians or Catholics, I mean Zealarellas (zealots). I’m wondering… What part of me screams save me?

One broad told me that she loved everyone. Shocked, I asked everyone, I mean, every single person?! Yes, everyone, and with conviction. In 140 characters, I couldn’t go into detail, so I will here. While I think it’s a lovely, altruistic notion to love everyone, in my mind, it’s literally impossible.

I don’t love George Bush or what he did to this country and I think he should be tried for war crimes, along with his sick fuck side kick, Dick Cheney and Donald bottoming-for-Bush-and-loving-it Rumsfeld, et al. I don’t love the people cock blocking Universal Health Care from passing. They’re willing to spend our tax dollars on weapons, but not our health?! Can you spell fucktardsquared?! I don’t love hard core republicans. In fact, I hate what they stand for. I don’t love doctors who mistreat their patients and lie to them. I don’t love insurance companies — I hate them. I don’t love murderers, pedophiles, or rapists. I don’t love assholics. I don’t love people who embrace censorship and who want the government to determine what’s appropriate for me to view, listen to, and read. I don’t love people who want to infringe on my choice to have an abortion. My list is endless and I won’t bore you with it, but you get the gist of what I’m saying. I think love is a gift. I couldn’t love everyone, not because I’m a hate junky. It’s simply unrealistic.

Another person told me that if I didn’t follow him back, I wouldn’t be saved from Armageddon. If I don’t believe in Armageddon, how will his 140 character tweets save me? What am I missing? Oh, did I mention that I’m a Jew? Aren’t we the chosen ones at the minute, the gateway or something? I can’t remember. I’ll have to email The Postal Service of the Saved for clarification.

Someone else assured me that it wasn’t too late to be Born Again. Thanks. But, I’m willing to take my chances, I said.

Why can’t I be a Jew? Perhaps that’s the issue I have with this lot of followers, intolerance and a lack of regard for my beliefs. Everything is cloaked in a threat, if you don’t, than you won’t. I digress… I intolerance.

Now, let’s discuss the rectal warfare that took place in my intestines last Friday morning. My intestines weren’t arguing, they were waging “Shock and Awe”, careening towards my pucker pellet at the speed of light. I still can’t figure out why or what I ate that made my intestines have a, yes I’m going to go 80’s on your ass, COW. Everything came out just dandy, thanks for asking. Though, for a moment I thought that my intestines were going to fly out of my tuchas. Fortunately, we’re still together.

Friday, I was at Cedars for blood work and there was no fucking parking. One of the lots closed due to construction. I have never seen so many cars trying to get into parking lots in my life. LA drivers don’t give a shit about who is behind them. They stop in the middle of the road, la-de-da’ng on the phone or talking to someone on the sidewalk, even though you’re behind them with ten other shmucks. Please, in NY, in less than a minute, baseball bats would be smashing these cars.

After 30 minutes, I was ready to shoot myself (that would’ve cost a bundle, so I passed). Mind you, it only took me 10 minutes to get there. I finally found a lot that I was able to squeeze into, though it was a valet lot, I was Despy Desperalla and her twin sister Tranta Gavant.

This super homeless guy, like scale of 1-10, definitely a 10 on the homelessesque scale, approaches me and says, “I’ll take your car.”

Right. Cause I’m stupid.

Meanwhile, there’s a guy in the booth at the valet stand, wearing a white shirt with the name of the p-lot co. on it and I was trying to get his attention. Homeless guy says, “What? You don’t trust me? Give me your car!”

I kindly asked him to unzip his jacket and show me his shirt. If it was the same as the guy’s standing in the booth, great, I would’ve given him my car. Most valets don’t sit on the ground with their dressers duffel bags.

He says, “Why I gotta unzip my jacket? I wouldn’t ask you to take your shirt off.”

Um. Okay, let’s review. I’m now late for my blood draw. I need to get it done. I’ve been driving in circles for 30 minutes with shitty drivers who want to be FIRST, FIRST, FIRST. I’m profoundly irritated.

“In this situation, I believe I’m entitled to ask to see your shirt before I hand you the keys to my car.” I said.

He responds by saying “You don’t trust me because I’m black. You’re a racist.”

I was so fucking angry at this point, I got out of my car and screamed, “HEY, I HAVE SYSTEMIC TRUST ISSUES. IF YOU DON’T BELIEVE ME, CALL MY PSYCHIATRIST AND ASK HIM. YOU THINK YOUR FUCKING RACE OR GENDER MATTERS TO ME? YOU COULD BE A PURPLE, HERMAPHRODITE GNOME AND I STILL WOULDN’T TRUST YOU.”

Cedars security came out, and instead of asking what the problem was, he exacerbated the issue by telling us to take it elsewhere. Seriously, hospital-mall-cop?!

I ended up at another lot because I bribed the gatekeeper with a $20 to get me in.

You’d think I was trying to get into some hot restaurant, not that a $20 would cut it, but you get where this is going, right? Right.

Caitlin will not stop emailing me. All week, I’ve been receiving emails from her:

Hi!

and

Hey, I analyzed the name ‘caitlin’ using the iPhone Name Analyzer.

It means:

Cute

Awesome

Inspirational

Tipsy

Lovely

Imperfect

Naughty

Seriously?! This improves the quality of my life?

Someone signed me up for Millsberry.com as Justice4Ever. I can create my own buddy and join the city. The site is for tweeners at best, so of course I’m a perfect fit. I’m sure they’d welcome Justice4Ever calling CutsieTeenyTot snatch for moving into my crib and boosting my gluten free pretzels.

This concludes my rant fest.

If you haven’t read @SoyGoy’s interview, check it out. Coming up next, Elissa Stein and her new book FLOW, followed by, In The Belly Of The Fail Whale. I’m plotzarella.

November 15, 2009

Susan Ledgerwood Other Worldly Visual Storyteller, She’s All About YOU

Susan Ledgerwood, Soy Goy, Visual Storyteller, Photographer

Susan Ledgerwood. You might know her via Twitter @SoyGoy. You might be a “Fan” of Susan’s work on Facebook. If you’re not following her on Twitter or have become a fan of her work on Facebook, after reading about her and seeing her work, you will be.

There are many exceptional visual storytellers that make us feel, no doubt about it. The story unfolds so organically, text would feel extraneous, and then there’s Susan…

What makes Susan one of the most incomparable and prolific visual storytellers is her ability to connect and engage on a deeply personal level—her images radiate authenticity. When viewing sets of her images, I feel like I’m a part of the story. Similarly, I feel as if Susan has a profound understanding of each person in the story she’s telling on a soul level. As if she hears their inner thoughts, and has lived their lives, feeling their heartache and heart joy. Susan gets her, technically “subjects”, but really, people, on a super human level, exemplifying the human condition in all of its incantations.

Susan’s work is eclectic; bewitching, stunning, irreverent and intrinsic to her and those who are privileged to be photographed by her.

Susan graciously agreed to allow me to interview her. Not only is she hysterical, she’s wicked intelligent and fast, snappy one-liner fast… Please, how many dames do you know who can discuss anything via a line from a movie, or the name of a movie, among other SoyGoyisms? That’s how SL rolls, yo. One of the many reasons I adore this dame as hard as I do. She’s real, she’s down to earth and she’s approachable.

Note: I asked Susan to blurb her photographs specifically for this interview and she generously agreed.

Katie Schwartz Interview with Susan Ledgerwood

KS: Susan, your work is magnificent and eclectic, each photo tells a story, which makes sense considering you are a visual story teller. Can you explain that to us a bit more in your own words?

SL: Thank you, that’s very kind of you to say.  I’ve always been a voracious reader and I love stories of all kinds.  When I started getting into photography, the images that spoke to me most were the ones that told an entire story in a single image.  I knew immediately that’s what I wanted to do, to share stories, to connect people, and my challenge was, and still is, to do so in one single image.  I want each image to have a beginning, middle, and end.  No small task, eh?

KS: When did you know you were a visual storyteller, at what age did you discover this passion?

SL: (laughs) I have always been obsessed with photos.  When I was like 10 or 11 maybe, I had a Kodak disc camera (So totally dating myself here. Ouch). I *loved* that thing. I took it everywhere and took photos of all my friends at school, but my favorite images and my most vivid memories of that camera are those I staged at home.  This is hilarious to probably just me, but I used to take all of my dolls and stuffed animals and create scenes with them and then photograph them with my super amazing disc camera.  I specifically remember creating a slumber party scene, complete with fake confetti that I ripped up from construction paper.

And as I got older, I would always look at people’s photos in their homes, those hanging on the wall or photo albums of my friends’ families or my grandparents.  My Nana had the best collection of black and white snapshots of her life.  They were beautiful.  Oddly enough, I HATED the photography class I took in high school.  My teacher was a stereotypical photo geek with zero social skills or relatablility. The only thing I retained from that class was how to make a pinhole camera from a Quaker oats box.  Yeah, like that’s handy.

KS: What is the difference between a visual storyteller, a filmmaker and a writer?

SL: Great question.  I think visual storyteller and filmmaker are sisters from another mister, to be honest. They just use different tools to tell their stories.  Directors and screenwriters are visual storytellers, just as photojournalists and all other types of photographers are.  It’s a visual expression of a story, a tale.  Breakdown the word photograph and it means to write with light.  I love that concept and I try to incorporate it in my images.  Writers are also visual storytellers in their own right, but they use the craft/art of language and words to paint their picture.  There is no direct visual representation, which is cool in its own way because every reader will walk away with a different visual image of the written story.

KS: How does your creative process work? Do you get an idea for a story, or do you take the photograph first?

SL: Alcohol and drugs.  Kidding!  I’m inspired by films, by the work of photographers who really push the envelope (I hate that phrase…it’s like saying outside the box), but I’m mostly inspired by human beings.  I’m fascinated by us.  Anything that interests me, that makes me ask questions about that particular person or place.  I try to capture moments as they are happening, if I’m shooting an event or even a portrait, because I really like the most honest, truthful moments to emerge organically.  But I also come up with stories that I want to shoot.  I’m working on a motel project at the moment, capturing the random, seedy motels in LA because I’m so fascinated that they even exist.  Who goes there? Who stays there? How are these places still in business?  I love looking at people and places that others might overlook.  I like to put them in front of you, as if to say, “hey, check this out.  Chew on that for a while.”

KS: What is your style of photography?

SL: Is porn a style? This is a hard question because style can be so subjective and I’m trying to define it here.  I know what I like and what I don’t.  I know what I’m drawn to.  But you want me to quantify it, don’t you? Hmmm. . .um, glamour meets punk rock meets classic meets iconic meets humorous meets creative visual storytelling?  Whatever that means.  Talk amongst yourselves.

KS: Your work is very interesting, it’s irreverent and funny and deep and meaningful. In the literary sense, I’d say you were as much a comedy writer as a drama writer. Can you speak to this a bit more?

SL: I would be absolutely nothing without my sense of humor.  I love to laugh.  I’m a pretty quiet person, but I have a really loud, obnoxious laugh that I’m quite proud of. I love people who make me laugh and it’s a quality I’m most attracted to in other people.  My family was very big on teasing/giving each other a playful hard time so I have a lot of experience getting shit from people and giving it right back.  I’m totally comfortable laughing at myself and at life, but I don’t like laughing at other people’s expense. That’s a no go.  Life is so funny to me, people are so funny.  I want to celebrate that in my work.  But I’ve also experienced some hardship, just as everyone has.  I know the other side of humor and the darker side of life.  I also recognize that life can be quite serious at times and the duality or contrast of humor and severity is beautiful to me. It’s like lighting a subject.  You are focusing on where the light hits them as much as you are looking at where the shadows are.  You need both to get a great three dimensional image of the person, to experience their wholeness.  Wow, I sound like I live on a commune.

KS: Do you develop your own photos? What is the process you use?

SL: Ney ney, my friend.  This is why G-d invented labs.  I did my own processing and printing when I was in school and I loved loved loved the dark room and the act of physically making the art from start to finish with your own hands.  But, please, who has that kind of time?  Plus, I shoot mostly digital anyway, so when I shoot film, I trust the processing and scanning to the professionals. Can I plug my lab because I love them? A & I Hollywood is the best.

KS: What does each shoot represent to you?

SL: An opportunity to play, to collaborate, to create amazing work with people I enjoy working with, and, most of all, to tell a compelling story.  It’s truly an honor and an opportunity whenever I’m asked to shoot anything. A shoot is a chance to do what I love to do, and what could be better than that? Don’t say sex.  That’s obvious.

KS: Is there any particular shoot in your past that left an indelible imprint? If so, what was it?

SL: I recently shot my very first wedding.  I had been avoiding shooting weddings for a long time.  Whenever anyone asked me, I would refer them to friends who are specifically wedding photographers.  I was just too afraid to do it because of the great importance those images have to the couple.  It’s so different to set things up in a studio or on location and take your time and do everything exactly as you need to.  Event photography is all about being at the right place at the right time.  I was fearful that I wouldn’t be able to do it.  But when my client, who has become a good friend now, approached me and told me the story of her wedding and her engagement, I knew immediately that I had to be a part of it.  She is a beautiful person who is also very artistic and she wanted a lot of creativity, photojournalism, and artistic shots.  She didn’t want anything traditional, which instantly appealed to me.  So, you’ll see in these images that I really aimed for a photojournalistic feel, as well as giving them an aged-feel, as if they’d been shot on a Holga.  The Holga was not cost-effective for a wedding shoot, but I was able to post-process them to give them that tint/feel.

KS: When I look at these wedding pictures, they don’t feel weddingee to me; they’re so much deeper than that. These photos are rich and earthy, I feel connected to these people. I want to hang these photos in my living room and it wasn’t my wedding. Can you tell us about each of these pictures and the story that you’re telling, outwardly and subtextually?

SL: Outwardly, they are all about love and joy.  I’m telling the story of two lovely people, Judy and Yehuda, who met and fell in love, about their families and friends coming together to celebrate this love, and I tried to highlight the grounded-ness and wonderful sense of humor the bride and groom share.

The Bedeken: it’s part of a traditional Jewish wedding, where the groom veils his bride right before the chuppah ceremony.  In this image, I tried to capture the moment from the bride’s point-of-view and to convey the absolute joy that is flowing between the bride and the people she’s greeting.  I wanted people to see what it’s like to be in the bride’s shoes if even for a moment, to experience the joy and honor of the day.  She is the anchor of the image and the joy and the guests are all hovering around her.

Susan Ledgerwood Photography

Under the Chuppah:  I love this image.  Yehuda, the groom, is a really talented musician.  He played Elton John’s “Your Song” as she processed to the chuppah with her father and while she was circling him.  I love the smile on her face and how unaware she is of the camera.  She’s caught in the moment  and that’s all that matters to me in this image.

Under The Chuppah, Jewish Weddings, Susan Ledgerwood Visual Storyteller

Father’s blessing: on Shabbat, it’s customary for the parents to bless their children, and it’s also part of the Bedeken (don’t quote me, I’m no rabbi). Judy’s parents are Survivors and are pretty traditional people when it comes to Judaism, so this was an important moment for Judy and her parents.  I love the reverence in her father’s face, you can almost feel the love and blessings he is conveying.  I processed this image with a filter that adds tinting/coloring and makes the image look as if it were taken with a Holga camera.  I felt this moment called for that aged feeling since it is a very traditional moment.

The Bedeken Ceremony, Jewish Weddings, Susan Ledgerwood Photographer

Yehuda greeting Judy: There’s not much I can say about this photo other than, well, just look at the utter love in Judy’s face.  It’s beautiful.  ‘nuff said.

Susan Ledgerwood Photography

Judy and her mom: Okay, my client/friend, Judy, does not like this photo of herself, but this is another one of my favorites from the day.  Subtextually, it’s about a mother-daughter relationship on a very important day and I wanted a non-traditional POV, a photojournalistic approach that my client asked me to capture.

Jewish Wedding Ceremony Photographs

Judy greeting Yehuda under chuppah: just look at the love in her eyes.  It’s all that matters.  This was a small wedding, held at someone’s home, a friend of her family.  They threw this wedding together in a very short period of time and all of the “vendors” were mostly friends who helped make their day as special as possible.  The caterer is a good friend, the florist, etc.  Knowing Judy and Yehuda, it speaks volumes that their wedding was not a lavish affair, but one built on love and that’s the love I see in here eyes here.  It’s a love I too understand, and it’s why I immediately jumped on board when she asked me to be involved.

Wedding Photos, Jewish Wedding Ceremonies

Judy’s dress/shoes: this image is about beauty and about stepping forward into the next phase of your life.  I also wanted to capture an element that was obviously a bride but wasn’t cheesy.

Susan Ledgerwood Photography

Judy and Yehuda:  this image was taken with a Lomography Fisheye camera.  You have to get right up into a subject’s face with this thing, and I thought it was so perfect for the couple’s photos I took after the ceremony, before they began mingling with their guests.  They are not traditional people, even though they honor a lot of traditions, so this image conveys their joy and love in a non-traditional way.  I processed it with a sepia tone so as to add that little bit of traditional back into the image.

Susan Ledgerwood Photography

Happy Couple: I love this image.  Yehuda remarked that the way I shot that evening made him feel like a rock star, and I told him that’s because he is.  They were the stars of the evening.

Susan Ledgerwood Visual Storyteller

KS: What were you drawn to about this story?

SL: Because I instantly felt the deep, abiding love that Judy and Yehuda have for one another.  I know that kind of love in my life today and it never fails to amaze me.  I really wanted to be a part of a celebration of that kind of love.  I wanted others to recognize the kind of joy that kind of love can bring you and everyone around you.

Buff Monster

Buff in front of CHG logo: This is Buff in front of the hand-painted sign for his show at Corey Helford Gallery.  One is the original, one is the color-adjusted version.  I wanted to darken the ceiling area because I felt those details were not important.  What is important is the artist in his bad ass tuxedo shirt and heart-shaped sun glasses.  IT’s very Heavy Metal Ice Cream Smile…the title of his show.  It’s a mixture of hard and soft, edgy and cute.

Buff Monster Photographed by Susan Ledgerwood

Buff B/W metal hands/horns: Buff is total metal head.  I am not, but I can certainly appreciate one’s love for music.  The giant ice cream cone behind him was an inflatable sculpture he had made for the show and was centered in the middle of the gallery.  I love how metal and rock-n-roll his expression is, but I tinted in black and white to give it a traditional feel.  Again, I like to mix the traditional with the non-tradish.

Buff Monster photgraphed by Susan Ledgerwood

Buff color ice cream cone: I love this image.  The juxtaposition of such a serious Buff in front of his cutesy smiling sculpture cracks me up.

Photos of Buff Monster

Buff sunglasses in front of ice cream cone:  this image really shows you more of the ice cream sculpture and some of his paintings in the background.  It’s more of a traditional PR shot, but the Holga gives it that aged feel.

Susan Ledgerwood photographs of Buff Monster

Buff art in background/with watch: I loved the print in Buff’s painting and thought it would make a great background against that tuxedo shirt.  I was also trying to play up his big pimpin watch.  He’s got mad style in addition to amazing talent.  I wanted that to come across.

Buff Monster photgraphed by Susan Ledgerwood

Buff w/fists:  Buff is currently studying tae kwan do and is about to test for his black belt.  He loves it and it’s such a part of his personality that I wanted a little tkd in one of the shots.  And those sunglasses are super porn! I love it!

Buff Monster photgraphed by Susan Ledgerwood

Buff super creamy painting in background: I love this image.  It makes Buff look Super Creamy.

Buff Monster photgraphed by Susan Ledgerwood

Buff and me: taken at the end of the shoot with my Lomography Fisheye camera.  Just for the hell of it!

Buff Monster photgraphed by Susan Ledgerwood

KS: These pictures are hilarious, what made you take these pictures?

SL: My friend Dan Levy of the Pretty Picture Movement whom I admire and love working with set up a publicity photo shoot with Buff Monster.  Dan invited me to shoot with my Holga and Lomography Fisheye cameras. I’ve known Buff for a while also and I love his work, so I was like, “hell yeah!” Dan had his photographer there shooting digital images, and I just weaved in and out between the other photographer’s shots.  The Holga images have a very specific aged look to them, and the Fisheye is this crazy wide angle plastic camera.  I’d wanted to do some portrait work with them for a while.

Buff is an awesome subject.  He looks so great in these shots, he’s so willing to play and create and he’s such a nice guy and we’ve become better friends recently.  I wanted to have some alternative portraits and to work with my friends, so voila.  That’s how it all went down.

KS: What is the outward text and subtext of this story? To me it feels dark and funny.

SL: The outward story is about a man and his art.  Buff’s work mixes cute and heavy metal and he’s been inspired by Takashi Murakami.  I don’t know. I’m really bad at this.

KS: What did this shoot mean to you?

SL: It was an amazing opportunity to play with people I love and to use toy cameras for my portrait work.  It was a chance to be more artistic and creative with portraiture.  It was such an honor!

Last questions

KS: Where can I go to find out more about your work?

SL: You can visit my website, SusanLedgerwood.com (launching this week 11/17) and check out Flickr or Facebook.

KS: Can I buy your work?

SL: Show me the money! Sure, let’s tawk.

KS:  Will you be showing your work at galleries online and offline?

SL: You’re pushier than my mother, jeez.  I’m working on it.  Fine Art photography has not been my focus thus far, but I’m going through my body of work to choose images I feel could work in this area.

KS: Do you ever collaborate with writers to spin a yarn?

SL: I haven’t yet but I’d love to.

KS: What are your three favorite curse words and why?

SL: Fuck, Motherfucker, and Cocksucker.  The hard consonants make them so gratifying to say. (Katie, those three curse words are my favorites, too!)

KS:  Finally, how can I contact you if I want to buy your work or hire you for a shoot?

SL: Drop me a line! soygoy@gmail.com is best for now.

There you have it, a remarkable dame with a remarkable story. You can find Susan’s work online at:  Flickr or Facebook and follow her on Twitter. Her new site is going live sooner than later, stay tuned and Bookmark it: www.susanledgerwood.com.

Susan, thank you for stopping by! You are a peach.

November 14, 2009

Midgets, Siblings And Masturbation, Oh My

Katie Schwartz rants, nonesense, non-sequitors, dark humor

The non-sequitur post from hell.

The emails I’ve received for the wrong KatieGirl@gmail.com are worth reporting:

UPDATE: Received today 11/14 “I can’t poo any longer i thought my butt was stronger! but I need your help to tacke this deamen out! Juust stick your hand up there and move it everywhere until u u puulll it.   Ouuuuttttt ooooo ya ya yaaaa!!!!!!!!!”

I bought software from StreamingFlix.com under the name Katherine. For the record, it’s Katie Louie Schwartz, mothah fuckah.

I received this religimail from Jonah “Hi Katie how are doing do you have Ewan yet i do i am on discovery 2:6 verses, john 1:1 Ecclesiastes 7:20, acts 4:12, psalm 86:11,then i will be on discovery 3:1. I don’t mean to be stickler, but shouldn’t John be capitalized? Who is Ewan?

Xoung sent me a gazillion fucking images that his father, the graphic designer created. Oh, and this is so neat, about 30 additional images of watermelons and eggs. Good stuff.

Jalen, a teenager, or tweenager, keeps sending pictures of himself to me, standing in a uniform behind the American flag. In each of his emails, he assures me that he’ll be coming for a visit in 31 days. Though I’ve emailed him repeatedly to tell him that I’m the anti-Christ, I mean, the wrong Katie, he forges on with his correspondence. I admire his commitment.

Kimkubugirl signed me up for GamesGames.com. So excited, definitely a screen name I would’ve chosen for myself, right?

Katherine is looking for jobs in the government sector and generously signed me up, what a honey. I think my writing skills will get mad play working for the FEDs or the CIA. The only thing I worry about is that my reports would be too loquacious. I guess I should wait and see what kind of govy gigs I’m offered first. Though, seeing my resume would be helpful. Too bad she didn’t post that. Oh well.

Penelope created the sweetest Waverly Place Postcard for me. My screen name is, “Urapooop”, at the Disney Channel, also known as Duckow

Someone graciously signed me up for IKnowThat.com, “The Internets most innovative children’s learning website”. Seems like a fit, right?

While Blair was testing his emails, he included me in his “test” list, which also included a newsletter of his updates. I think it’s great that he’s made progress in trying to stop chewing his toenails and peeling the skin off of the bottom of his feet. I said as much, but I never heard back.

This is by far my favorite: You are receiving this e-mail because you are a Christian (What gave it away for you, the nickname Jew Girl, the original blog “All The Way From Oy To Vey”, or the fact that I have “I’m a Jew” plastered all over my fucking blog?), and you might be interested in being kept up to date on relevant, progressive Christian news and media (To be clear, zealotry is the antithesis of progressive. The two are not synonymous. You can thank me later.). As a member you will also benefit from regular email delivery of FREE invitations and coupons for national and local events, and concert tickets (To tent revivals? Will there be snakes? I’m totally down for the serpent gig.). You will also receive free money saving printable coupons directly to your inbox for popular Christian ran businesses (Thank you. In this economy, coupons are a girl’s best friend. What about non-Christian businesses that are going under faster than you can say Psalm, do we get coupons for those, too?).

I should’ve listened to Cormac… What was I thinking creating the email addy I did?!

Recently, it occurred to me that people standing alongside American Flags are, of course considered patriotic, but more than that, they are associated with being republicans. Whereas liberals who are seen with the American Flag as it is; or as a form of flag art are considered unpatriotic. Weird. This bugs the shit out of me. Whether I’ve wrapped my Jew x 4, buck naked ass in a flag, or something else, why does public perception deem me as less patriotic?

Why does it seem like Born Again Christians (not Christians), have the highest rate of children that skew retardedish? Having read more Born Again blogs, like hundreds, I’ve noticed that each always depicts an over abundance of discerning subtext that to me, reads like, If only I coulda, shoulda, woulda thrown myself down a flight of stairs when I was knocked up. Of course this is hidden under the gushy gushiness about their, not one, not two, at least three blessings (out of 5-10 loin fruit) that drive them mad. But, but, but, they love them oh, sooo much, despite the fact that they each have a panoply of disorders like, MR/ID, Down Syndrome, ADD, ADHD, Turrets, Tic disorders, Elimination Disorders (yes, shitting), Anxiety and mood disorders, and that’s just the tip of that retardoberg. Forgive me for being so retardarific and not realizing how rewarding a twitching, clucking, catch-me-if-you-can, shitting machine can be.

It’s no secret that I love midget jokes, fat jokes (hey, I’m a Jew x 4 and have been for the past 3-4 years now, I can make fat jokes), Jewish jokes (again, heebarella here), ethnic jokes, retarded jokes, religious jokes; pretty much everyone is fair game, myself included. In fact, I am the brunt of 90% of my jokes.

All of that being said; midgets hold a special place in my heart for a myriad of reasons. Namely, midgets are bad ass.

I’ll never forget when I did stand-up at my first Gay Pride event, I saw a black, gay midget (word). He inspired the hell out of me. Talk about overcoming obstacles, he epitomized just that, and with great style, humor and intelligence—loved him. I killed that night, and decided that perhaps midget sightings might be good luck for me.

Over time, whenever something major of concern was happening to me, if I saw a midget, everything worked out. To this day that holds true. If I need to see a doctor for a big test or I’m at the hospital for a medi-crisis, or waiting on test results, I ask my dead dog for a sign that everything will be okay. If I see a midget, a cripple, or someone with an oddly dangling, misshapen, or missing appendage, that’s my sign that everything will be okay. Oh, sorry, I forgot to mention those other things. Oops. Again, I’m enamored with their perseverance. If the roles were reversed, I’m too much of a pussy, I’d shoot myself. Louie Jew knew me well, maybe better than anyone, so he knows what I need to see to know that I will be okay. And, yes, I ask him for a sign, always. When the guy delivered his ashes to me, I knew he was sent by Louie, he had a short misshapen arm.

The last time I was in the hospital, I was so terrified, too many unexplained things were happening in my body —I didn’t know if I’d be walking out. Please, who the fuck walks into a hospital these days thinking they’ll walk out, outside of a body bag and with minimal collateral damage anyway?!

I digress…

During my last hospistravaganza, about two-hours into sitting in the waiting room, in what felt more like a psych ward, though it was a pleasant disposition Jewish hospital, a beautiful midget strolled by without a leg in a wheelchair. I smiled and said to my ma and my sister, “I’m going to be okay, look”, darting my eyes at the dame in the chair and saying, “It’s a sign from The Kid”.

You can imagine my heartbreak when I learned that retard and midget were politically incorrect words.

Kerri sat me down and explained that she had bad news. Oy vey, was I ready for a shit storm of epic proportions. “Retard is socially unacceptable; it’s politically incorrect to call someone retarded, especially retarded people,” she said.

I asked, “What about crippled retards, they’re exempt, right? Throw me a bone, Ker.”

Flippantly, Kerri asked, “How frequently do you run into crippled retards?”

Funny she should mention that. Recently, I had run into a crippled retard or just a crippled prick. I was walking by, as he was rolling by, and he grabbed my shirt and called me “Fat”. 

I turned around and said, “Stop rolling, criptard. Don’t you fuckin call me fat. At least I can lose weight and walk. What can you do?!

His response was so flawless, “I can roll around and call people names and they can’t do shit to me cause I’m confined to a wheelchair.”

“Wheelchair or not, you’re an asshole.” I said.

In my opinion, what he said was so tragically beautiful, “I know, but nobody sees me.”

That made me think.

We sat at a coffee shop for an hour, laughing our asses off. I even showed him my jacked Lady Balls.

Masturbation—yeah, not really working out for me these days. Not sure if it’s thyroid related or what. If I’m lucky enough to come up with a fantasy, I have to Blackberry it in or I’ll forget what I wanted to spin my yarn about in the hope of achieving, even a sordagasm. Even then it’s impossible. I lose focus and forget what I was fantasizing about. I miss those days of getting in and out of my box in under 10 minutes.

I think I’m done venting now… Don’t hate me.

November 13, 2009

Fertility Of Mind

1950s family, katie schwartz blog, fertility of mind

I’m in my mid-late thirties.

Throughout my life, when asked if I wanted to have kids, my response was “I think so. I don’t know. Maybe. I’m still on the fence.”

Though not much has changed, the latter has been, and still is, my default answer. Adoption has always been on the table as a choice, as has the idea of getting knocked up.

Being raised by a single mother, in my mind, if I want kids, I will have them with or without a man. I never plan to get married again. I had a starter marriage for 5-minutes, it didn’t take. Marriage and weddings make my gums itch, my knees weak and make me breakout in hives. I love and support my friends and family who want to get married and are into weddings. I happily attend, support, you know how you do.

I want to fall in love again. I want to be in a relationship and live with someone. I think love lasts as long as it’s meant to, and so do relationships. I’m happy to fall in and out of love many times, and have.

Today, I went to see my doctor (she is great, by the way). The nurse hocked me about my ovum. The conversation went something like this:

  • Nurse (21-years-old): (Snidely/bordering shock), When was your last period—Wait, are you even menstruating?!
  • Katie’s inner thought: Snatcharella, aren’t I little too young for you to be asking me if my ovum have broken out the crates for Shiva? Conversely, is that an appropriate question? I was at a doctor’s office, so, yeah. Right? I mean, right?
  • Katie: I am still menstruating. I am not in menopause.
  • Katie’s inner thought: Even if I was in menopause, why can’t I be fertile in other ways? Why is fertility tied to my worth? Why is a woman’s identity tied to her womb and lactating knockers instead of her mind? (PS: I know, way too deep for a fucking doctor’s appointment. There’s a point, stay with me.)

As I waited for the doctor, I was so deep inside my head; an earthquake wouldn’t have rattled me. And earthquakes scare the shit out of me. I’m the one screaming at the top of my lungs during tremors.

Before it wasn’t a sensitive topic; before, it wasn’t something I took issue with; before I was on the precipice of finding out whether or not I am fertile and if this disease has taken that option from me, among others.

On the third day of my period this month, I will know if I am fertile, womb wise, that is. So, yeah, it’s a sensitive issue. Who knew?!

Generally speaking, I like options. The idea of not having the option to procreate is suddenly an issue. I didn’t think it would be. Conversely, never once have I felt that I wasn’t pregnant with possibilities. My worth has never been wrapped up in marriage and children. I define my worth. I am fertile with ideas, fertile with hope and possibilities, overflowing in brain ovum, in fact.

Recently, while talking to a friend of 20-years about fertility, my fertility, she asked me if I regretted having an abortion when I did at 21. I thought what an odd question. How do you correlate the two? So, I asked. I was markedly stunned by her response being the liberal feminist that she is.

“Katie, if you didn’t have an abortion, you’d have a child. If you can’t have kids, maybe God is punishing you.”

JAW. FLOOR. NAUSEAS.

“Did you just step out of a 1950’s sitcom?! Who are you right now? Are you new?! Have we met?! I have never regretted my abortion or the privilege of having the choice, and I never will. Additionally, what’s with the God punishing me thing? On Yom Kippur after my abortion, I didn’t even mention it in prayer. We’re Jews. Since when have we practiced God guilt? When did you stop being a feminist and why didn’t I get the memo? Grow an untwisted set of ovaries, sister. Wait—I’m not done. I was in college. I made the right choice. You supported me then. Why aren’t you lending the same support now?”

Her response is irrelevant. Here’s what isn’t—Yes. I’m scared. I don’t know how I’ll react if I am infertile. Shit, I don’t even know if I want kids. Still. I know I want the fucking option. What I am also certain of, is that my fertility has never been ensconced in the recesses of my womb or my disease addled, vintage ovum. If my lady eggs have broken out the crates, I’ll cross that shrouded mirror when the time comes.

  • Nurse: Do you have kids?
  • Katie: No. Do you?
  • Nurse: No. I want them so badly. Do you want kids?
  • Katie: I don’t know. I might not be able to have kids.

Silence…

October 22, 2009

Kerri Schwartz

I am so proud of my sister! Isn’t she the greatest? She’s an incredible teacher at a very special private middle school in CA.