seen but not heard

out with a bang

2011-12-29T20:21:00.006-05:00

Scarcely pausing to draw breath these last six months, I've been shooting almost non-stop, making images I am truly proud of. I visited Iceland, the Salton Sea, Vegas, Death Valley, Joshua Tree National Park, the Mojave Desert and some amazing places locally.

egrets & antlers © Laura Kicey

distant relations © Laura Kicey

fox dry mode © Laura Kicey

family of four © Laura Kicey

giants in miniature © Laura Kicey

into the sunset © Laura Kicey

cook © Laura Kicey

god love bible © Laura Kicey

rungs © Laura Kicey

our place © Laura Kicey

sunburn © Laura Kicey

pelican brief © Laura Kicey

Most recently I became a contributor to Hidden City Philadelphia and my last assignment led me to making arrangements with the Philadelphia Port Authority to tour and make a photo essay of the soon-to-be-demolished Mustin housing in the south Philadelphia Navy Yard.

brick housing (50s) © Laura Kicey

community center/daycare facility © Laura Kicey

And this lead quite unexpectedly to meeting up with WHYY/NewWorks reporter Emma Jacobs for a conversation about my experience there and about exploring abandoned places in general, which will be airing on the radio (!!!!) Friday (tomorrow!), December 30, 2011 between 6-7pm EST. If you are not local to Philadelphia, you can listen to WHYY here live. They will also be showing some of my photos from the Navy Yard online as well as a video of the interview, in which I look like a hot mess. I was expecting to be making a videotaped appearance that day, I was expecting to be shooting outdoors in the rain and dressed accordingly. Oh well.

To cleanse your eyes of such things, I offer a slideshow of the best of 2011:

(better viewed on flickr)

There is so much I missed posting about these last few months, including one of my Lensbaby photos being featured in a full page ad for the Sweet 35 running in most popular photography magazines for the past couple months! but! to make up for my lack of presence a bit, I am having a 2012 calendar giveaway. I try to lay low for Christmas, but the New Year I can get into, so to celebrate I am giving away two calendars. All you have to do is leave a comment saying you would like to be entered in the drawing - you can do so here on the blog, on my Facebook Fanpage, or an reply to @helveticaneu on twitter. One entry per person, one winner per household. You must enter by midnight EST, December 31, 2011. The drawing will be January 1, 2012. You can pick whichever calendar you like from my redbubble shop.

the people's choice

2011-08-17T09:33:00.005-04:00

dyrhólaey rock © Laura Kicey

Hello my dears. In the eleventh hour before setting off to Iceland for a second time I entered my first Iceland book blindhæðir in Blurb’s PBN contest and I was just told I was nominated for a People’s Choice Award. That means I am open for voting in the Travel category - you will have to scroll down and look for it (or search laura kicey), and it does require email registration in order to cast a vote, I apologize, though if you have Blurb account already, you are set.

That link again:
http://photographybooknow.blurb.com/peoples-choice/category/travel

steamy swedish babe © Laura Kicey

I also invite you to share this post if you are so moved. I am vying for a $1,500 prize, which I promise to put to good use (likely making the second Iceland book which I’ve started writing). It is a good feeling, whether I win or lose, that my book was selected by a very impressive group of judges to be on the Travel shortlist of 110 entries.

tanked © Laura Kicey

Many thanks for your time and I hope you enjoy the preview of the book even if you choose not to vote. Takk fyrir!

bareback © Laura Kicey

If you want to see a nice edit of my latest Iceland expedition, which includes some of the images I've put in this post you can check it out on my website here

Also for fun, there is this, the first two unbridged rivers I crossed in Iceland... out of a total of 26 river crossings that day...

closing a road and opening a door

2011-07-09T22:11:00.006-04:00

Many, or maybe most mornings I awaken at an ungodly hour, usually between 5-7 and I scan my emails and social media. Quite frequently I fall back to sleep doing so and my dreams weave in the muddled contents of the (often strange) messages I receive. This morning was almost one of those mornings. 7am on a Saturday, one rabid follower of Icelandic social media, with a trip only a few days away awoke and had a scroll through the twitter feed and stopped dead in their tracks.

moss islands © Laura Kicey

Last week (only because I am constantly looking for such things) I kept seeing different media outlets threatening that Hekla was showing signs of erupting. SOON. While this initially made my blood run cold, I dug more into what I could find from English-speaking Icelandic media and there was a great deal of poohooing over the huge hype being made about how terrifying and destructive Hekla is (actually since it is not positioned in a glacier, eruptions are actually less disruptive because they do not lead to glacial melting and thus flooding and historically it creates also less ash and more lava flow, which is less disruptive of air travel - unlike the recent eruptions of Eyjafjallajökull and Grímsvötn - both of which are located in glaciers and produced lots of ash from contact with the glacier meltwater.

And Hekla did nothing and continues to do nothing.

expanse of kilometers © Laura Kicey

And then this morning things took a turn in another direction and it looked like Katla, Iceland's largest volcano located near Vík in the south, had had a minor eruption overnight which caused some glacial melting and this caused flooding which washed out a bridge just east of Vík. COMPLETELY SHUTTING DOWN THE RING ROAD for a sizable stretch.

sandra and the strand © Laura Kicey

The very stretch I would have to be driving one week from the day in order to get to our first accommodation in the southeast. Panic sets in and I realize that there is no point in trying to go back to sleep. It will not be possible. In one anticlimactic burst, had our entire trip just been ruined? I start receiving a pile of messages from Sandra who had been up for hours and fully aware of the situation. We started exchanging some tweets until she asked for my presence on Skype. I made an offhand tweet about the wall our expedition just hit and added #Katla. In moments I had the attention of one "disaster expert" Gislio Olafsson who I had started following around the time of the Grímsvötn eruption. He was asking me what my itinerary was like and what kind of car I was driving. He was swift to report that though there was currently no ferry to circumvent the area (which was my hope), there was the possibility to reverse the trip direction... which for us proved difficult as we had to meet up with Ugglan on a particular day to go to the Westfjörds, where things were booked quite solidly. The Icelandic Road Administration announced that rebuilding the bridge was a top priority but would still take 2-3 weeks to complete. Our other option was another road... through The Interior via Fjallabak!

I had not even given entering The Interior a thought. It is still a bit of an unknown quantity, a vast uninterrupted wilderness, with no permanent fixtures of any sort, shops, nor residents. Rugged rocky roads that were only open two months out of the year due to snow cover the rest of the year. Road that were dissected by rivers one had to cross or turn back.

Basically DANGER. And here we are, looking danger in the eye. Momentarily Sandra and I thought, well, we could cancel our first couple nights stays and make the major 8+ hour drive from Reykjavík all the way to the southeast corner in one great race and then double back along the Ring Road the way we initially intended. Or, grow an adventure to full stunning size. Gislio also threw in the temptation: "There is a route called Fjallabak (north) that involves a few unbridged rivers (mainly small ones though) that 4x4 can pass...Fjallabak is a beautiful route - passes via Landmannalaugar which is one of the pearls of the highlands." And so it is...

So Sandra and I put our sleepy heads together on this and decided to call the car rental company and see if we could snag a small SUV for a non-astronomical sum. It tuned out we got a Suzuki "Jimmy", which is the shame SUV if ever there was one, but for less than $1000 more than what we paid for the compact car for the entire two weeks. So it had been decided, we were going to cross rivers and go through The Interior. Gislio also told us that they were also working on making the Fjallabak route passable to 2x4s as well though it would take some time. Who knows when? Meanwhile tourists are stranded east of Vík trying to get back to Reykjavík. Some will undoubtedly have to double back around the country. I cannot begin to picture what this road and its rivers will be like to cross, and hoping that there is not much rain in that window so they do not rise any more. Even with some visuals it is hard to know what we'll be getting ourselves into until we are in it. Exhilarating and terrifying.

Besides having to likely skip the beauty of Vík, having this more powerful SUV will definitely put us at an advantage in some spots where we were unsure if we would be able to make it over rough roads, especially in many places in the Westfjörds. This will definitely help us expand our scope a bit which is really exciting and something I dreamed of, but dared not hope for, thinking it out of reach price-wise. Since I have a few good shoots lined up for when I return as well as another temp job beginning, I'm hoping I can glide through the bills and bounce, and hopefully some interested folks will want to buy some prints in the aftermath. I will also make another book as something of a companion to this from 2009 which I made public only yesterday to enter in Blurb's Photography Book Now contest under travel. I am also hoping to incorporate some other media by way of mini-iphone compatible books with images and video from my iphone "notes" I take along the way with Blurb's mobile app.

starlight © Laura Kicey

Lest you think I've been resting on my laurels, fretting over volcanoes and doing nothing else, it has actually been a few weeks. A couple weeks back I actually had the pleasure of photographing Dick Hayne's estate and farm, Doe Run. Mr. Hayne is the billionaire owner of the Urban Outfitters/Anthropologie/Terrain/Free People empire.

once © Laura Kicey

And while I can't share the photos just yet, let me say that it was breathtakingly beautiful and the landscape design and architecture were so inspired. I had just visited Chanticleer for the first time the week prior and truly, it was on par with that level of creativity in horticulture. I *can* share some photographs from Chanticleer to whet your whistle.

glory © Laura Kicey

fall and spring © Laura Kicey

thirst © Laura Kicey

the gardener © Laura Kicey

sanctum © Laura Kicey

white carpet © Laura Kicey

At the spur of the moment a couple weekends ago, I was asked to step in and follow Philadelphia's up and coming Welterweight, boxer Mike Jones for a piece Goldberg was doing on him for Philly Weekly, while he was in town for a fight vs. Raul Muñoz.

mike jones © Laura Kicey for Philly Weekly

We started off by attending the weigh-in which is typically the time where the fighters flaunt their stuff a bit, playing up the disdain (real or not) for their opponents and besides getting weighed, they also pose for a lot of photographs. The one above I liked as it was in between the schlocky guns blazing/number one finger up pose they all pull, and he looked somewhat vulnerable. I also pulled him aside to take some portraits of him in this room so full of men and testosterone, I felt like starting a fight right then and there.

who is mike jones? © Laura Kicey for Philly Weekly

The next night was the main event at Asylum Arena in South Philly, which is a very old school boxing ring, no frills. Jones fight was the main event but there were eight fights altogether that same night starting around 7pm. Fighters in all weight classes from all over the world were there. Some of them didn't look old enough to be in high school. We spent most of the evening in the Blue Corner's dressing room. The main room was devoted to the other 7 fighters entering the Blue Corner of the ring and the dressing room at the back was for Mike Jones and a couple of other guys who had his same manager, Doc Nowicki, who kindly gave us an all access pass to wander around freely and photograph whatever and wherever we wanted all night.

mike jones © Laura Kicey for Philly Weekly

mike jones © Laura Kicey for Philly Weekly

Unlike a lot of the other guys, Mike was not the showboating type. Everything about him was quite restrained and introspective, save when he got to the ring. He barely talked to anyone, there was no entourage, no flashy gear, you barely even noticed when he came and went from a room.

mike jones © Laura Kicey for Philly Weekly

mike jones © Laura Kicey for Philly Weekly

mike jones © Laura Kicey for Philly Weekly

About two hours before the fight itself, one of the crew starts wrapping his hands which is a process that takes quite a bit more skill than one might expect. And time: almost an hour and a half! After he is wrapped, he is stretched out on the floor and has all his joints opened up and flexed.

mike jones © Laura Kicey for Philly Weekly

mike jones © Laura Kicey for Philly Weekly

mike jones © Laura Kicey for Philly Weekly

After the stretching he gets his gloves on and spars with his coach for 15-20 minutes. His face is covered with ointments... for what I am not sure (analgesics? sweet sweat to help stay warmed up?) and then he gets his robe on just as he is leaving the room.

Since I had been mostly staying in the dressing room, I had only attempted to shoot a couple rounds of fights earlier in the evening. Since it was being televised the perimeter of the ring was tightly packed with media and photographers and large videographers stands with sound guys. My first go took me off guard i must admit. The ring is quite high, and for someone my height, I had to practically lay my entire upper body on the surface in order that I might shoot under the ropes. Also I was in a corner which made it even deeper. No flash is allowed and even though it is extremely brightly lit, those guys are lightning fast and even with a burst in AI Servo it is a challenge to get anything in focus and unblurred. And the bouncing... the ring is not completely stable, it has suspension so that when a fighter falls it isn't like hitting concrete, it gives. But this also means that as you lean in, what you lean on is shaking wildly beneath you, adding another layer of... um... challenge. Then the fighters come right at you, fast, and if you do not move they will hit your camera, and even then you'll probably get sweated on. And I did. If not bled on, which I did not.

Mike Jones made it pretty easy on me. Round One came and went quickly. And he knocked the guy out in Round Two at 2:29. A very tidy and quick victory. It was pretty fun to watch "our guy" reel it in and be marched around the ring with his hand up in the air, and talk with the press afterward. When the interviews were all done and the wraps cut from his hands he slipped quietly back into the night alone. The slideshow of my images is up on Philly Weekly.

Also recently I promised a fashion editorial and now I deliver! Stacey had the rather genius notion to combine the romance of Gibson Girls with 70s-flavored menswear with loads of striped inspired by riverboats in days of old. I give you the sun-drenched River Queen

model: kristina s. @ wilhemina
wardrobe styling: stacey appel
makeup & hair: april al-zahrani
photography and post: laura kicey

the river queen © Laura Kicey

the river queen © Laura Kicey

the river queen © Laura Kicey

the river queen © Laura Kicey

the river queen © Laura Kicey

the river queen © Laura Kicey

the river queen © Laura Kicey

the river queen © Laura Kicey

the river queen © Laura Kicey

the river queen © Laura Kicey

the river queen © Laura Kicey

the river queen © Laura Kicey

the river queen © Laura Kicey

Check out her crazy green eyes! Wow. Did we ever have fun and such a beautiful day for shooting, it was a blast.

So now I must be off to bed so I can get a bit of rest in before the trip. I have a deep suitcase to pack and some last minute researching to be done in light of recent events. Please be advised, if you have any interest in such things, will be selling prints via my etsy and redbubble of new images from Iceland upon my return. Of course sales will definitely help offset the new greater cost of this growing expedition. Also for the more passive stalker I will be posting images of where I was the day prior on my "other" tumblog - I have scheduled posts to coincide with areas I've just left, hopefully they remain somewhat accurate, but only time will tell. Keep your eyes trained this way until the end of July and then upon my return I will get around to posting images on my personal tumblr.

That should keep you busy! I know I'm forgetting something somewhere. Oh! Lensbaby like the shots from the editorial so much that they included some in their Sweet 35 Optic gallery on their site! Filter in the optic menu by Sweet 35 to see some more...

I expect I will only have the barest bones of internet access here and there, and frankly would like to just unplug completely for the full two weeks, but you never know when I may suddenly reappear. Until then... bless bless!

plot thickening

2011-05-19T19:55:00.007-04:00

With every ounce of effort and forward thrust, I have shaken off this sluggish winter chill and am now hurtling towards... Iceland, again. Not a day has gone by in over two years where I haven't thought about it, wishing I was returning. So I decided I ought to make it so, and, much to the surprise (and likely relief) of some, sans Kickstarter.

sandra amongst giants © Laura Kicey

I am hoping to make it on my own steam as much as possible, not without the company of two of my favorite Swedes, one meeting me there and another half way for some romping in the wild West Fjörds... for two weeks in July! I am simultaneously wanting to be there presently so badly I can taste it and also wanting to savor every minute leading up to it, I am nearly intoxicated with this cocktail of anticipation and desires.

threes © Laura Kicey

Of course this has lead to copious research, dotted with yelps of delight and shrieks of panic... and somehow I ended up stockpiling notions and images in a tumblr, which started off very abstractly about nothing in particular, but has been veering from oh isn't this pretty, towards one day I will go there, and maybe soon and back, alternately. So if you want to look at things that are not by me, but get me riled up I give you: feints&stratagems

Lest you think I've -only- been laying about combing the internets and books for things to amuse myself at some future time – there has also been a resurgence of daytrippery. Which was long overdue. First, my dear friend Irina Souiki came to visit our new home and take a much-needed weekend off. It happened that we were met with a spot of unfortunate weather to start so I thought we might take visit my 2nd favorite gardening center, Ott's.

antlers © Laura Kicey

string theory © Laura Kicey

paperwhite © Laura Kicey

Although things quickly devolved into a monsoon-like fury outside, inside was still, lush and tropical as ever. Petals falling in our hair, vines creeping over everything. And well... there was a kitten that spontaneously leapt into a basket. Really, nothing can top that, no matter the weather. Flowers. Kitten in a basket. What more does one need?

Fortunately, Irina was quick and kind enough to capture my ecstasy at this discovery.

by Irina Souiki

The next day we had made plans to explore an abandoned village near Princeton and meet up with one of our mutual West Coast Flickr friends, Rita (who I'd known for years but only met in person just days before my last birthday - well -our- birthday, as we share the same day).

sunshine state © Laura Kicey

We strolled around town to take in some of the brilliant Spring color, then we made our way to the village which I had discovered some time ago but not properly explored due to being assaulted by hornets. I wanted to wait for colder weather, but I waited a bit too long. Though all the houses were still there are even more accessible than previously, they had all been mostly stripped inside and as well as most of the plant life surrounding them. The one house I had gone into for a moment before the hornets started swarming, did have some remnants upstairs of interest. Signs, construction vehicles and supplies all pointed to this area being developed, but I was rather surprised that they seemed to be set to restore this cluster of long abandoned houses rather than raze them. Of late I've been keeping a tally of known abandoned houses, some of which I've been in and others which I've merely stalked and pined for and those that have not been demolished are largely being restored and/or integrated into a newer larger residence. Knowing how deteriorated some of these houses were makes this quite shocking, many have sat vacant 10 or more years, exposed to the elements with open windows. Ultimately it is a positive thing, but also a bit surreal to see them return to life after so very long.

unicycle © Laura Kicey

j. vinch and suns © Laura Kicey

cold bath © Laura Kicey

bonfire © Laura Kicey

As Goldberg saw a glimmer of free weekend time on the horizon, the first weekend in May, we were compelled to mount an expedition: exploring the southernmost end of the Borscht Belt in New York state. Having done a bit of research on this particular town, I knew the town proper was a bit kooky and interesting in its own right and the Catskills have long been of interest to me for the excess of abandoned... everything, especially huge resorts from the 60s and 70s. Once one of the grandest of the Borsch Belt resorts, beyond what appeared to be a most fantastic (and well-preserved) indoor swimming pool, I was not able to find a great deal of images of other things of note from the location I had set my sites on.

crown © Laura Kicey

When we got off the interstate I pretty much straight away spotted a woodsy area that was fenced off and in the tangle of branches I saw what appeared to be an abandoned and rather ramshackle building. I told Goldberg that I suspected that it was part of what we were looking for... and I was right. The way the remains of the resort are situated is... perhaps not unusual for Borscht Belt resorts but in my years of urban exploration such as they are, finding an operational business on or next to the grounds of buildings that are just barely still standing (or entirely collapsed) has always struck me as a curious choice. In this case it was to our advantage, giving us a handy place to park, though the whole hiding in plain sight has never been my favorite option, not a big tempter of fate.

resorting © Laura Kicey

On the way up the winding hill road, we immediately spotted the main attraction, the swimming pool room, but walking back down on foot we took a less direct route and stopped by the greenhouse and peered in some of the boarded up buildings along the way. The little we saw before making it into the swimming pool room, well, let's say there wasn't much we were missing. Crumbling, moldy, unstable... boringness, mostly. But the main event was quite breathtaking.

Gorgeous Space Age lighting fixtures still hanging from the ceiling, 30 foot high floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the room with light filtered through pines, massive wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling, the tile floor, still mostly intact but covered in broad areas by moss and ferns... and a fair number of orange and white lounge chairs. Very Jetsons... one almost expected to see drinks-serving robots rusted out in a corner.

high dive © Laura Kicey

We quickly discovered that the areas covered by moss were very unstable as they started giving out under Goldberg's feet. Fortunately we didn't cave in altogether as I later read the area beneath the pool contains the former-salon and spa... as well as corroding containers of chlorine and other dangerous chemicals. We walked round and round for over an hour, soaking it all in from every angle.

lawn chair © Laura Kicey

Upon leaving the building we attempted to make our way into some of the other nearby buildings but for the most part found them to be too unstable, funky-smelling and/or in a state of never-completed construction... completely bare and/or collapsing inside. I know there is at least one other room of interest but the day was heating up and we felt pretty satisfied leaving with just the pool room under our belts.

Making our way into the town proper, we decided to take a walk along the main street so I could gather some of the fine sign and architectural offerings there for a most triumphant construct. The amazing antiques shop at the main intersection was not to be misses - both for its outrageously colorful mod façade but also for its beautiful and varied wares within, which I had a hard time not buying. Plus the side of the building has a beautifully restored painted advertisement/mural. The resulting construct that came of all the inspiring signage and textures is this:

libertine © Laura Kicey

(which also contains a fair bit of Stockholm as well, it should be noted).

We continued driving around up to the Swan Lake area and beyond, finding an astonishing number of what appeared to be (nearly) abandoned Jewish summer camps, one after another down every road we turned. Many in such bad repair they barely looked inhabitable, yet many had a few vehicles parked on the property and people wandering around behind the locked gates. Between the summer camps were numerous rehab facilities and then plenty of homes that were highly decayed, but still very much lived in. A very strange area, not so different from rural central and NE PA.

The following weekend, I don't know what possessed me... I hate NYC with a passion, but I decided that after seeing some photos of here and there, we should venture to Brooklyn and explore Dead Horse Bay and Bottle Beach. Two weekends in a row, we go to NY! Unheard of! Though it would have been best to go at the lowest point of low tide (which at that time fell very early in the morning or around 7pm), we arrived around 10am. We parked at Floyd Bennett Field, which actually ended up being perhaps even more fascinating than Dead Horse Bay at that hour and we walked along the street trying to find the proper entrance to the beach, wandering, foolishly through the high grasses and scrub, into the trees which proved impenetrable. And burgeoning with TICKS. We eventually walked through the marina and later realized that there was an entrance down close to the toll plaza which we turned back *just* before reaching. If you should decide to go, be ready for the ticks, they are apparently one of the known unpleasant gifts of the area. We both felt crawly for the entire day as a result, though managed to avoid getting bitten. I think. I brought a bucket with me in the event I should find some treasures along the way.

The peculiar history of this stretch of beach might be enough to turn any one off, even without the lure of TICKS. There used to be an animal processing plant (as in making horses into glue, fertilizer etc) and they dumped their refuse into the bay, thus the name... later, in the 1930s, it became a landfill for the city. The tides at that beach on Barren Island are such that the landfill's contents and remains of dead horses are forever washing up on the shore.

tickling the ribs © Laura Kicey

The beach is covered mostly in its namesake - glass bottles - from the 30s and 40s, from all variety of products, perfumes, lotions, clorox, wine, beer, soda, salves and makeup, some whole, but at this hour, mostly broken bits. There are also horse bones and hooves, mysterious fabric pieces, shower curtains, paper ornaments (surprisingly), toys, doll parts, toilets, pieces of furniture, lighting fixtures, an endless array of shoe soles, machinery... you name it. A scavenger's dream.

spirits © Laura Kicey

top shelf © Laura Kicey

sea lace © Laura Kicey

We returned to Floyd Bennett Field to wash some of the grottiness off ourselves and we ended up making our way to the now abandoned airport, which was apparently the first in NYC. Though not entirely accessible, we were able to do a bit of poking about in some of the hangars. There were a lot of people in different areas of the field, just driving around, some fishing, some picnicking, others working in the community gardens. It seemed like it was the place to go on the weekend.

air strips © Laura Kicey

cotton field © Laura Kicey

Between the two outings to NY, I managed to sneak in a little (increasingly rare!) Philly time with some of my favorite local photogs, who I met up with at the PIFA street fair, with the confusing Paris theme. It was quite impressive for Philly, though I don't think we were anywhere near equipped to handle the amount of people that showed up for the finale especially.

I thoroughly enjoyed the performance by the group Mucca Pazza earlier in the afternoon - who are a huge band from Chicago that sound like a punk rock gypsy marching band... with cheerleaders and nerdiness.

mucca pazza © Laura Kicey

Very energetic group!

mucca pazza © Laura Kicey

flippin out © Laura Kicey

There were also assorted performance artists - the living fountain and the living garden, as well as acrobats, a group of penny farthing riders, French food stands, many other musical performances on multiple stages I missed or saw in passing and lastly La Compagnie Transe Express who are a group of acrobats and musicians suspended from a folding mechanized flower device hanging hundreds of feet over Broad Street... and overhead. Despite it taking forever for the performance to actually start, and nearly getting crushed repeatedly by throngs of annoyed people, half of whom were trying to leave, the other half of whom wanted to stay for the show, which started well over an hour late. It was worth it and I had some nice people being crushed into me so it could have been worse.

living vines © Laura Kicey

La Copagnie Transe Express © Laura Kicey

living fountain © Laura Kicey

In more local news, a little bit of my personal history is disappearing into rubble. Very dangerous rubble: The Keasby & Mattison Asbestos Factory is coming down. Well, mostly. Almost all of the buildings, save the power plant with the smokestack, have been demolished. The power plant has been stripped of everything save the most basic brick structure and is quickly moving towards becoming office space. My mind can scarcely wrap around it all. I took a walk down to the site last week for the first time in literally years. This one wall was still standing adjacent to the power plant, but there was little else to see. Having spent the early years of photographic exploration here, this site more than anything else spurred so much in me... not just my interest in exploring abandoned buildings (though clearly where it all started for me) but also my interest in fashion photography set in unique location, it launched relationships and partnerships of all sorts. And now it is gone. It feels like my childhood home has been razed, and I think I might be less sad about losing my childhood home honestly.

vanishing act © Laura Kicey

Speaking of architecture, just this last weekend the construct below made an appearance at the opening of the annual juried Art of the State show at the State Museum of Pennsylvania in Harrisburg.

unritten © Laura Kicey

careful buddy © Laura Kicey

gallery gal © Michael Alan Goldberg

Here I am at the opening! Thanks to Goldberg for taking this shot and faring in an insane sea of people. I had an unexpectedly large show of support from friends, some of whom I had not seen in in as many as ten years. It was a really enjoyable night all around and I was thrilled so many people came. A lot of people showed interest in my piece, it was refreshing to talk about it with people face to face.

Here is another construct I completed in the last couple months of radio silence, based mostly on West Philly... which I find endlessly inspiring:

tonsoreal © Laura Kicey

A few weeks ago I had a fashion shoot with an excellent tried and true team with a new model: riverboat menswear mixes with Gibson Girl romance. Here is a little taste, but you'll have to wait to get the full effect...

river queen © Laura Kicey

photography~ Laura Kicey
fashion editor~ Stacey Appel
make-Up & hair~ April Al-Zahrani
model~ Kristina S. @ Wilhelmina

Happy Summer Solstice all! The next time I post it may well be upon my return from Iceland! Only a few weeks away now...

sakura, sweet spots and secret societies

2011-04-11T13:34:00.011-04:00

Some may have mistaken my lack of posting on the blogways for my having misplaced my camera in the move. The truth of the matter is I've been stockpiling semi-dramatic reveals, some wildly belated, to make it look like more as I've been hard at work... doing design work... I know, I know, I am a stranger to myself these days. And aside from a few photo jobs, I've been missing having my camera in hand regularly, makes me itchy. Since it has been monopolizing my time of late, and I really enjoyed working on it - I'd like to share the video I worked on at Marcolina Design for Adobe - a teaser video for their soon-to-be-released watercolor painting app for iPad, Eazel. The video just went up on Photoshop.com today (scroll down a little to see the video)!

Also on a semi-design-related note, a few of my images are included in this book now available on Amazon, which is an ode to photographic typography:

Honestly, if you do want to buy it, wait a bit, they mis-credited one of my favorite images and said that in the next printing it will run corrected, soon!

Early this year Lensbaby asked me to give their recently released Sweet 35 Optic a beta-test drive and make some images to use in their press kit and their online gallery. I had never used any of their lenses before so I was very curious to see how it felt. Since their lenses force you to relinquish a lot of control generally speaking - the pivoting ball joint in the lens allow you to change the sweet spot of focus in the midst of distortion and blur - and I am a bit of a control freak, it was definitely an intriguing and challenging experience. I actually made some images I really love with some of my favorite people.

model: sonja robson (who, in a roundabout way, introduced me to Thyme House - where we shot- and Grey Gardens via a play she starred in written by her husband back in 2006 I think?)

a few small repairs © Laura Kicey

making an entrance © Laura Kicey

passage © Laura Kicey

silver gardens © Laura Kicey

model: daniel s - long-time friend

protection © Laura Kicey

amber waves © Laura Kicey

model: katie m - my intriguing neighbor and friend who has a fascinating collection of antiquities and ancient paraphenalia

quarry © Laura Kicey

hothouse flower © Laura Kicey

novella © Laura Kicey

and the first image I made, a self-portrait

barren © Laura Kicey

I had had a fashion-shaped hole in my photographic heart for many months, and I had been longing to do a lookbook... and what should happen upon me but one of my favorite creative co-conspirators, Sarah Beaver, with a plot: she had decided to design a line a jewelry and she wished for me to photograph a lookbook and product shots for her etsy shop and blogs.

She describes the line:

The initial collection of jewelry is inspired by secret societies: The Free Masons, Shriner's, and Odd Fellows. As well as sculptors of both marble and wood: Constantin Brancusi, Mark Lindquist, and Isamu Noguchi. All of the components in these pieces are recycled, dead-stock parts combined with small-scale artisan-crafted new materials.

Sarah also did the wardrobe styling for the shoot, along with model Sarah MM and makeup and hair by April Al-Zahrani. Visit the shop we never sleep

Eye of Providence Necklace © Laura Kicey

Shriners Fez Necklace © Laura Kicey

Shriners Fez Necklace © Laura Kicey

Odd Fellowship Necklace © Laura Kicey

Jewel of the Order Necklace © Laura Kicey

Odd Fellowship Necklace © Laura Kicey

Jewel of the Order Earrings © Laura Kicey

Supreme Forest Necklace © Laura Kicey

Eye of Providence Necklace © Laura Kicey

This last weekend saw the much anticipated arrival of actual concrete Spring weather (followed immediately by very SUMMER weather today) and coincidentally the annual Sakura Festival which goes down in the Japanese Garden of Fairmount Park West, which I had never been to at any time of year prior. I would like to return (today would have been ideal!) to see the park in fullest bloom and sans people. I arrived a bit later in the afternoon, in time to miss the awkward cosplay and harajuku fashion shows, I also skipped the food and vendors. Really the number one reason to go to the Cherry Blossom Festival after you are done admiring the cherry blossoms themselves would be to see the Tamagawa Taiko Drum & Dance group perform. They were amazing and clearly having a really great time putting on a beautiful show. I'll leave you with some images of their performance:

Tamagawa Taiko Drum & Dance @ Subaru Sakura Festival © Laura Kicey

Tamagawa Taiko Drum & Dance @ Subaru Sakura Festival © Laura Kicey

Tamagawa Taiko Drum & Dance @ Subaru Sakura Festival © Laura Kicey

Tamagawa Taiko Drum & Dance @ Subaru Sakura Festival © Laura Kicey

Tamagawa Taiko Drum & Dance @ Subaru Sakura Festival © Laura Kicey

moving and shivering

2011-01-24T10:24:00.004-05:00

It has been nearly 8 years since I last moved. It didn't really count when I moved to the apartment across the hall in the same house. This move is only slightly further by about 5 blocks, but a greater leap in that I actually have to process stuff that hasn't seen the light of day in that long. A lot of weird history has shaken loose along with some corroded batteries stuck to the bottom of every drawer I get to the bottom of (who keeps old dead batteries? me, it seems). I've found emails printed out from 2000-2003 which were strangely enlightening. And photographs of a girl I hardly recognized: me.

Though 2010 ended with a mostly quiet thud, 2011 has been going splendidly. Like, unbelievably well. Besides moving into The Most Amazing House Ever with Goldberg in a couple weeks, so many other cool things have been happening– most of which I can't discuss yet and I can't release the visuals yet (in time!). Instead I will leave you with some quick snaps of my fabulous house-to-be by night (only the downstairs but the rest is as colorful) and some images from a very recent revisiting of Thyme House last week for a (top secret) portrait session. I finally got to see the entire house (well - there are still undiscovered rooms unfolding behinds its endless doors, half floors and labyrinthine stairs) much to my delight. The contrast of these two houses - both empty is a bit jarring, but one is much more livable in the present tense, the other, I remain hopeful for...

Just before the year came to a close - I had the opportunity to see a live performance of a group that has haunted me since my youth – Mummenschanz – as well as photograph them and write a review of the show for Philly Weekly

© Laura Kicey for Philly Weekly

© Laura Kicey for Philly Weekly

© Laura Kicey for Philly Weekly

© Laura Kicey for Philly Weekly

© Laura Kicey for Philly Weekly

© Laura Kicey for Philly Weekly

We also had the peculiar experience of looking at one other house for rent I had been driving by on my way to a temp job... I couldn't tell if I was drawn to it because it seemed like exactly what we were looking for or if it was because it looked a little run down and sad as though it had been abandoned. As fate would have it when we saw the inside of it, it clearly had been vacant for quite some time and was still barely livable. The general set-up of the house is quite like the one we are moving into and for $100/month more - we get to live like colorful kings - in the *second* house we looked at. 4BR/1.5 BA, 3 floors, a yard, a deck, gardens and TREES!, hardwood floors, a sunroom, COLOR!, a huge kitchen, a huge dining room with a gigantic dining room table that can seat 10 comfortably....

A sneak peek of our new Amazing House-to-Be:

the stained glass glows magenta and chartreuse by day!!

the hanging stained glass windows in the living room STAY!

WHAT an entrance

and now for Thyme House...

golden hour © Laura Kicey

pillaging © Laura Kicey (in the attic!)

phantom suns © Laura Kicey

the second and a halfth floor © Laura Kicey

fire and wine © Laura Kicey

chambermaid © Laura Kicey

the shower © Laura Kicey

(the floor was covered in old-fashioned sanitary napkins... quite bizarre)

overlooking the garden © Laura Kicey

twist © Laura Kicey

sentry © Laura Kicey

stripped © Laura Kicey

And in the interim all we've had (besides good fortune) is a continuous dumping of snow, snow and more snow. And some Mummers, of course.

spill © Laura Kicey

dream house © Laura Kicey

island © Laura Kicey

blanket © Laura Kicey

pickup © Laura Kicey

the orphan sun © Laura Kicey

tried and true © Laura Kicey

serpentine I © Laura Kicey

stillwater © Laura Kicey

windchill © Laura Kicey

pizza parlor © Laura Kicey

down on the corner © Laura Kicey

the iron tree III © Laura Kicey

Mum's the word.....

plush © Laura Kicey
(not snow, just giving the cat a haircut)

I believe I almost neglected to post my newest construct:

before the fall © Laura Kicey

And I would like to also note that I have put my etsy shop on vacation mode for the time being - at least until all this moving business is all sorted, and would like to direct you, instead, to my new (low-maintenance for me!) RedBubble storefront - which has the added benefit of 2011 CALENDARS! Along side prints - the calendars come in THREE great flavors: constructs! iceland! and wild abandon!

Hope this is plenty to tide you over until I start making some more noise in approximately March... stay warm!

unearthing

2010-11-30T22:52:00.002-05:00

Since the beginning of October I've been up to my eyeballs in work, split between three jobs mostly working 6 days a week, stockpiling for what I expect will not be an easy winter, thus I've only come up for air with relative infrequency. As things have finally started winding down with all the jobs, I am finally starting to be able to relax here and there, thus giving the blog a much needed fussing-over.

Several exciting plots have been hatched and there have also been some titillating news items stockpiling in the seemingly quiet months. At one of the three jobs, I have been helping with work on an eBook for iPad, entitled The World Withouth Photoshop - wherein 12 digital artists (myself included!) and photographers showcase their work and discuss how Photoshop has changed and affected their work. And lo and behold my face is on the cover in all of its unretouched glory. It was recently released (it is FREE!) and made an appearance on Photoshop.com's Blog. Yay!

In case you don't own an iPad (which I don't) you can watch this video preview here:

The World Without Photoshop.... NOW AVAILABLE IN iTUNES! from dan marcolina on Vimeo.

Designed by Marcolina Slate
Other artists include:
Maggie Taylor
John Paul Caponigro
Olivia Parker
Adhemas Batista
Peter Barrett
Julieanne Kost
Bert Monroy
Olli-Pekka Jauhianen
Russell Brown
Gordon Studer
Koen Demuynck
with a foreword by Jerry Uelsmann

I received my pre-release copy of Cookie A's Knit. Sock. Love. a little while back - it has since been getting stellar reviews throughout the knitting community. They have been eating the photography right up - someone even compared my photography to Anthropologie's which you know made me fluttery. The book is now available for sale via amazon!

Also of note - I worked on a non-traditional fashion editorial with my travel photos combined with fashion illustrations by Stacey Appel for Boho Magazine's Autumn Issue - on newsstands NOW!

And now for a quick, light on words rundown of my adventures over the past few months...

brunch-housewarming at the lovely ms. fedida's abode

mountains of mums at ott's in schwenksville

decaying harrisburg

the eastern shore of maryland

a hot halloween self=portrait

autumn in scranton

a rittenhouse inspired construct

a fall walk in valley forge

my favorite tree (and its neighbor friend and later, me)

coal country - minersville & ashland

revisiting princeton in autumn pink, with keren

-----------------------------------
an afternoon at home with sarah, full of fashion, food and styling, you know, the good stuff

(all interiors styled by sarah beaver, all clothes modeled and styled by sarah beaver, all food made and styled by sarah beaver)
-----------------------------------------

lastly, from this last weekend coney island

...and rebirth

2010-09-15T15:55:00.002-04:00

September has always been especially kind to me, and no matter how many years out of school I've been, that first day of school butterflies-in-the-stomach thrill of starting afresh always stays with me. This month, now half gone, has been spectacularly mild and beautiful, fully autumn. Goldberg wanted to insure that - since I had an exceptionally crummy summer, where we didn't get to spend much time together or go out shooting - that we made a getaway plan for my birthday. It was decided we would take a trek to the Hudson Valley, near Poughkeepsie, where we would lay our heads at the Hotel Sierra in Fishkill, and spend the majority of our time seeking out the strange and abandoned, and the balance driving around and grazing on some unexpectedly decent food.

6am came much too soon on Saturday morning, September 11th. Away we went making (arguably) the mistake of going north on the east side of the river, by way of the GWB and through neverending Yonkers, Tarrytown and Ossining. Alternately shady and posh in equal measure (but equally unexciting visually) - it wasn't until we cleared Peekskill that we finally started to feel like we were leaving the burbs behind for the wilderness. Despite it looking like the wilderness, it seemed that every backroad we wandered down ended up leading us to a hidden community of swanky houses tucked deep in the woods.

We were starting to lose a little gusto, now 6 hours on the road, we were wondering if we were going to find a reason to hyperventilate and drive off the road from The Thrill of X. Goldberg had a short laundry list of major sites that we considered checking out - psych hospitals, boarding schools etc and by this point in the day, we had made it up to Poughkeepsie proper and wanted to check out Hudson River State Hospital... which was essentially impossible to miss from the main route going through - looming high on a hill, the buildings still seeming sinister on a gorgeous sunny day, surrounded deeply by forest and brush. We drove all around the property, calculating best point of entry, parking, in the meantime spotting some other interesting buildings not part of the hospital property. Perhaps we chose the most obvious point of entry, but I was emboldened and happy to be out of the car, but as I walked just beyond the gate I saw a pickup truck that was semi-concealed by a shrub down the road a hundred feet away... which caused me to walk back out as quickly as I had walked in. There was much hand-wringing and neck-craning but we decided that we'd rather not take the chance that it was an occupied security vehicle. Slightly defeated we went back to the car and drove over to the nearby abandoned Hoe Bowl in Hyde Park. Part of a local chain of bowling alleys - this had the most remarkable exterior of all that we encountered - very 70s, with an enormous bowling pin entrance/doorway.

Creeping into afternoon, we were getting a might peckish and thought checking out Poughkeepsie a bit more thoroughly and finding a bite to eat. The city was surprisingly quaint with a fair amount of restaurant offerings, though we just wanted a quick small bite so as not to ruin our appetites for dinner. We found Soul Dogs - yes, a hot dog cafe - which offered a broad range of unique toppings for beef, chicken and tofu dogs. After a couple tofu dogs with vegan chili and some quinoa salad, we drove around the sidestreets of Poughkeepsie and too a mini walk around a sculpture park that adjoined a derelict magenta pigeon roost-building (so we were told by a man sitting in the park).

We headed up towards Rhinebeck hoping to find one of the long-abandoned mansions built overlooking the Hudson, known as Wyndclyffe, built in 1853. After much circling and doubling back and forth, we found the road that lead back into the woods where she stands, though just barely. There was a fence circling the property which was quite overgrown and the trees and brush were preventing getting a good angle on the façade. It was clear from our vantage point that there was almost nothing left of the interior structure, and now even the exterior which was quite ornate, was sadly collapsing in multiple places. It appeared as though there was barely any roof left towards the center. It was really unfortunate to see such a beautiful building waste away like that. If the current owner is doing anything to preserve or renovate it, it is not apparent in the state it is in.

While we were cruising about looking for Wyndclyffe we passed by a fenced off property with a "For Sale" sign on it, beyond which we could see a couple overgrown 60s-70s style school buildings on the top of a hill. The pickup truck that we were behind at the time (with a four-wheeler in the back) pulled into the gated area and gave *us* the eye as we looked back at them, craning our necks to see the property. Having made a mental note to return post-Wyndclyffe - we made our way back to the gated property. We saw no signs regarding trespassing so we made our way up the hill, sans tripods, towards the visible buildings and out of sight. The first building we came across - Culhane Hall - felt like a dormitory from the 70s - small rooms littered with single bedframes, wardrobe cabinets and a couple larger meeting rooms and stalled bathrooms with showers. It was heavily vandalized and clearly been thoroughly picked over by scrappers, with plenty of asbestos pipe casings scattered around.

Walking out behind Culhane we found ourselves in a courtyard surrounded on all sides by buildings, some of which looked like they had suffered small fires and/or explosions. As we approached the next closest building labeled "Spellman" - with a huge steel cross by the name - we saw a black cat scamper out of the bushes and into the building.

Throughout Spellman, there were huge holes in the brick and cinderblock walls. The rooms here were bigger with boards on the wall as though they were offices and classrooms, with some kitchen, private bathroom and laundry facilities. Goldberg had moved a few rooms ahead of me while shooting at one point, turning a corner ahead so we could no longer see one another. Suddenly I hear, "Laura oh my god come here quick, quick!!"

As I move in the general direction of his voice, I hear groaning shouts and something about "Its trying to get out the window!" and I can make no sense of what I am about to see until I am just about to turn the corner to the room he is in and the black cat comes tearing directly at me in a full gallop, breezing by my leg close enough for me to feel it, kicking up a trail of dust in its terrified wake. Goldberg informs me that the cat was in the room he was in and spooked, then attempted to leave the room by way of the one window on the second floor that still had glass in it - launched itself thusly, bounced, freaked out and left running. Had it not had glass in it, she quite possibly would have leapt to her death. When I saw her earlier, the fact that she ran off was a pretty good sign that she was feral, not rabid. Kitties are much preferred exploration company than raccoons any day, though Goldberg was disturbed by the black cat path-crossing implications.

*note: we did manage to not come to immediate harm during our getaway weekend, though the potential of mesothelioma in our future is still an unknown quantity. we did see black cats at least three times over the course of the weekend.

The next building we approached appeared to have had the most extreme damage, missing what was likely a three-story bank of windows around a central staircase. Not feeling like taking those stairs was the best route, we found a back door into what appeared to be a slightly nicer residence hall, suites possibly for older students or teachers we speculated. There was moss covered carpeting through much of the second floor, bigger windows.

Furthest from the road, we came upon a cluster of large buildings which we surmised was the gymnasium. Immediately upon entering, we were greeted by the rotting wood-floored basketball court with a peeling stage. The scoreboard had a set of initials (CFMA vs. Visitors) and in center circle of the court's floor, just barely visible were the words HOLY CROSS. Goldberg realized that he had seen photographs of this very facility while he was searching online for locations for us to explore, though he couldn't remember the exact function of the place.

The sun was getting low in the sky, we had left our tripods in the rather conspicuously parked car so we decided to cut our losses - which we later found to be another gymnasium and a swimming pool - and head back south towards our hotel, so we could scrub the asbestos out from behind our ears and get our dinner on. On our return southward, we were excited to see a functional drive-in movie theater close to Poughkeepsie. The pitfall was that it was playing two questionable movies, the more appealing of which was a Drew Barrymore romcom. Though we were both exhausted, it would still be quite early when we would be done with dinner, so we both considered - just to enjoy the experience of a drive-in movie, which is a truly rare beast these days (at least in the Philly region) - returning later for some romcom torture.

One shower and a change of clothes later, we made our way back to Poughkeepsie in search of what promised to be a very unfancy pre-birthday dinner of Vietnamese food at the Saigon Cafe. Since I was able to convince Goldberg he needed to give Vietnamese food another chance after a displeasing round several years ago that put him off completely - I have been unable to get him to stop, which for me is great. The look of the place was somewhat questionable, the front window papered with laminated images of menu highlights did put me in mind of seedy Chinese joints in the hood. One look at the menu though and I was swayed to give it an enthusiastic go. Not the multiple pages one might see at our favorite local Vietnamese place, but a good deal of variety and not a hint of non-traditional Ameri-Chinese'd upped dishes. The owners were standing in the small dining room- a husband and wife duo - watching a football game on the tv. As soon as we arrived the wife disappeared immediately into the kitchen and the husband seated us and chatted with us. After we placed our order we took the opportunity to admire the wacky, eclectic "decor" - which included red checked tablecloths, more laminated photos of menu items, huge prints of photographs taken by the owner in Vietnam in the 70s, assorted coffee paraphenalia, and duplicates of every news item where the restaurant had been mentioned such that no matter what direction you were facing in your seat, you could read the same articles.

After spying me put some sriracha sauce on my shrimp spring roll, when he brought out our main dishes he notes that he saw that I like the spicy sauce and offered to give us some of his special chili sauce that he makes himself... which he came over and spooned onto both of our búns. It was all so good, even the fried spring rolls you could tell had just been made up moments before by hand and were super delicious. The only letdown was the lack of desserts available there. Since we had decided to take a miss on the drive-in due to poor movie options, having a look round for something sweet instead. Almost immediately, we drive by a second drive-in theater, this time playing The American which was one of the few movies running either of us had any interest in, only problem was the showtime was almost two hours away. Just around the corner we stumbled upon a mega-kitschy ice cream parlor and we were set. Drawing it out as long as possible, we caved and headed back to the hotel, still amazed that we had managed to find without really even trying all of the things we were hoping for, though we ended up passing on half of it due to our inability to keep our eyes open, especially post-dairy indulgence.

Birthday morning, I was allowed to sleep past 5am all the way to 7am, which felt like sleeping in. After breakfast buffeting and packing we were on our way towards Newburgh on a rather gray morning. Our main goal of the day was to make it to Bannerman's Castle on Pollepel Island before the rain started to fall. But first! We took a driving tour of Newburgh and its quirky suburbs... all of which was reminiscent of North Philly. After a couple hours of cruising around photographing façades looking rather suspicious, including me leaping out of the car at the corner of Shady and Dodgy to photograph some amazing dimensional mid-century metal typography, the group of old guys chatting next door all stopped to stare and then one guy calls out to me, "Hey! Those are some nice boots!" - I thanked him as I ran back to the car.

A small boat took us out to Pollepel Island, we donned out hard hats and half the group scaled the hill towards the front of the castle/armory. Due in part to Francis Bannerman's dubious construction in the first place - he was a man with no architectural or engineering training, preferring to collect details he saw in other buildings, drawn on napkins and hand them over to laborers who were told to 'build me something that looks like this', regardless of how structurally sound it was (or wasn't) – and in part to a very recent collapse over the winter, tours are no longer allowed to get very close to the building for fear of further collapse. There are really only two walls left to the main portion of the armory building.

We worked our way inland a bit toward the equally decaying concrete and brick summer residence (which I didn't know existed). The Bannerman Trust had planted the gardens around the house which were in full bloom. Though you couldn't go inside – what was left of the structure – you could still walk right up to it. Though it was tempting, the decorative brick frills overhead looked quite unstable. Off to one side there was a two-story concrete "sleeping porch" where the family apparently hung hammocks and the breezes blew through the windowless open sides, providing an escape from the worst of the heat.

Further down the hill there were some gardens where Lady Bannerman grew flowers and vegetables. By the time we had finished making our way back up the hill after the tour was finished the rain started up and was coming right down by the time we were boarding the boat back.

Deciding it wasn't quite nice enough to pay a visit to Storm King, we headed out of Newburgh hoping to find some interesting abandoned sites I had made a rather extensive list of before we came up. Sating our hunger at the surprisingly good Bukhara Bistro, we headed for one of many tiny nearby towns where we would discover quite a few of these locations - several were too conspicuous, others demolished and a surprising number were actually inhabited and/or being restored.

While searching for one of these locations, we found ourselves in the village of Kiryas Joel. I thought it a curious name for a town but I didn't really do too much digging beyond the streets we might find something of interest. The moment we passed a sign noting we had entered the village it was as though we had suddenly been thrust deep into the Old Country... or maybe Brooklyn. The streets were teeming with Hasidic Jews, not just the sidewalks - there were so few cars and so many people they were overflowing into the streets, with tons of children running around. In such an incredibly remote area, having been through very rural communities where we had barely seen anyone at all, the extreme density of people was quite a jolt. I did some more reading and found that the town is privately owned town controlled by the Hasidim - it has the highest poverty rate in the nation, with the population size doubling approximately every ten years. It seems there is quite a bit of controversy surrounding the village and it relations with its neighbors.

The day came to an anti-climatic end, driving through NJ in the rain all the way home, but it opened the door to an area I imagine I will be returning to in the near future for further exploration. I made this construct almost entirely out of buildings I found in Newburgh... enjoy

living and dying

2010-09-09T01:57:00.002-04:00

Finally, we have come to the end of a summer of extremes, the bulk of which was marred by extreme heat, extremely poor business, extreme sadness followed by restorative extreme elation plus a glut of work and hope. Now I am doing my best to make up for the months spent indoors with the curtains drawn against the fierce summer sun. I went from working not at all to working 6-7 days a week, just trying to overcompensate. One of the most painful parts of the summer was actually not the deficit of paying jobs, but the lack of personal work.

while there is still breath in my lungs © Laura Kicey

Just when I thought I had reached the bottom, I was walking home from the first day of work I'd had in a very long time and I came across a Luna Moth, just barely alive, sitting on the sidewalk. It is most unusual to come across them ever, as they live only a week and generally only come out at night. Though I generally don't put much stock in signs per se, this felt like something of an omen. Something special found me. I was catsitting for my boss at the time, so after taking this photography, I took this beauty - in its final hours of life - to their garden, out of harm's way. The next day I returned, hoping to find her gone, but she had died overnight in the very spot I had left her.

Within days, things started picking up speed with work, such that I barely had time to draw breath. I was hungering for a bit exploration. I was called upon by the lovely proprietress of Peg&Awl/BlackSpotBooks, Margaux, wondering if I knew of a good location with some specific features for a shoot she had in mind. I ended up sending her and her husband Walter over to Peru House... and without going into detail, they ran into some problems and had to leave without ever getting inside.

branching in © Laura Kicey

merriweather © Laura Kicey

view with a room © Laura Kicey

bric-a-brac © Laura Kicey

falling down the stairs © Laura Kicey

window dressing © Laura Kicey

pokeweed © Laura Kicey

I attempted to think of another appropriate location but Margaux was already headed for one of her old faithful spots, a farmhouse near Schwenksville that she had visited many times but hadn't been in a few years. She kindly invited me to meet them there. Despite the monsoons sweeping through repeatedly, I ventured out. It is peculiar to meet with people who you haven't seen in years, in an abandoned house in the rain, one hugely pregnant, both painting each others' faces. But it was quite a lovely place, especially the windowless porches.

grandmagiggle © Laura Kicey

Only a couple days after this, I got a phone call from my mother. My grandmother was having trouble breathing, she was turning blue and had to be admitted to the hospital. It turned out that she had had a heart attack, her second, and she had a lot of fluid in her lungs. The doctor told her that she had a lot of fluid in her lungs but that she was too weak for any surgery and she was in congestive heart failure. They would keep her comfortable and keep her on oxygen. It looked for a couple of days like they might send her home to the apartment she lived in at a retirement community, but she took a turn for the worse and instead they started discussing hospice or assisted living facilities. It had been a few months since I'd seen my grandma, I think the last time was around Christmas and I wanted to be there for her, should this be the end. Ever since I spent so much time in the hospital, I know how important it is to have company while you are in the hospital. I also wanted to photograph her hands. The women in my family all have such lovely hands and I hadn't photographed hers ever.

When I got to the hospital in Lancaster, my aunt, uncle and one cousin who I hadn't seen in perhaps 15 years were all there, along with my mom. My mom had brought her iTouch loaded with my grandma's favorite dance tunes from the 30s and 40s and she laid in bed with the earbuds in, singing along, "dancing" in bed, and conducting. Though she hadn't had pain meds since the early morning, she was on a very high concentration of oxygen, which made her very euphoric and at times, quite hilarious. Even if she wasn't terribly lucid the whole time, she was still able to recognize us sometimes when she opened her eyes. She would break into a coughing fit every so often, followed with a pause to collect herself, then "oh my!" then, "meedle ba-deedle!". My mom said that she had never said this before two days ago, but we all joked that it was the password. When we asked her what it meant she said she didn't know, but it quickly became our catchphrase for what turned out to be an almost fun last day of her life. I was glad that I got to sit with her, hold her hand, joke with her and see her off. It wasn't easy to watch my last and favorite grandparent dying, struggling to draw breaths. Toward the evening, she was struggling to breath more and more and before we left for the night we asked the nurse to give her some morphine so she wouldn't struggle so much with breathing, so she might get some sleep.

after the ball © Laura Kicey

The next morning my mom woke me early to say she had gotten a call from the hospital to say that grandma was going downhill fast and my parents were both going to go in right away. I wasn't allowed to come, my mom didn't want me to see her like this. Before they got to leave the house, another phone call came to say that she had already passed away.

At her 91st birthday back in June, my grandma told my mom that she was ready to die. She just wanted to go quickly and without suffering. It was something of a relief that she did not suffer long. She held out long enough for us all to come and have a "going away party" for her, filled with laughter and music, and when we left, she let go. I wish she hadn't died alone, but I do not regret getting to see her off when I did. She died on her terms.

soul light © Laura Kicey

The day after her funeral service my friend Daniel invited Goldberg and myself to shoot in an old North Philadelphia factory space that is currently abandoned but is slated to become condos in the near-ish future. Unable to say no to a good (and much-needed) airing out, we met with Daniel and his lively pit bull Lupita, who we brought to ward off potential squatters for a little private tour.

soup and salad © Laura Kicey

linen © Laura Kicey

white christmas © Laura Kicey

the lilac throne © Laura Kicey

greenheart © Laura Kicey

sledding © Laura Kicey

I for one, was a bit jumpy at the prospect of running into squatters in the former fabric mill. There was evidence all over that people had been living there, and not long after we got there, we ran into a small group of the contractors who confirmed that a group of squatters had been doing drugs and having sex on the roof and he started firing his gun to scare them off.

spatter © Laura Kicey

lupita and the little blue room © Laura Kicey

release, reduce, repent © Laura Kicey

It is times like these that make me wish I had an army of pit bulls. Lupita is good to have on your side, but she is a total cupcake.

the office © Laura Kicey

receptacle © Laura Kicey

enteral © Laura Kicey

sleepless © Laura Kicey

The remainder of the day was spent driving around West Philly, collecting pieces for a construct. It had been ages since I made one and one might be able to determine how deeply in withdrawal I was by the sheer size of this one.

inheriting the earth © Laura Kicey

To see out the worst summer ever, Goldberg and I decided that we should have a Going Everywhere Weekend Spectacular for Labor Day weekend, since we had no other engagements. Saturday we did Everything, Sunday we went Everywhere. Saturday was a bit more successful, we started off once more pointed towards Schwenksville, when we came across a sign for Ott's. I had heard of Ott's years ago - described as a whimsical gardening center/nursery. I thought Terrain had cornered the local market on whimsical gardening, but I was wrong. It was a bit of a tough sell to get Goldberg to go to a gardening store, but once we pulled up to the store we were both taken aback. First, I was struck by the giant mothership-like Victorian onion-dome-shaped greenhouse, surrounded thickly by dense, tall, flowering plants - canna and bougainvillea, all sorts of vines. Instead of going in the front door, we peeked around the side and again, I was stopped dead in my tracks by a very tall manmade mountain covered with a perfect grid of pre-bloom chrysanthemums, topped with three tall slender topiaries.

thrice © Laura Kicey

unrooted © Laura Kicey

And there was a twisty tunnel going through the base of it all. Which ejected you on the other side, a sort of end of the nursery wasteland, which was surrounded with some nearly-abandoned looking greenhouses and outbuildings. Once we made our way inside, it felt as though we had wandered into some crazy botanist's secret backroom of experiments gone awry... and like we weren't really supposed to be there. But yet it was not off limits. The specimen plants they had there were very mature, and the central greenhouse was verging on full scale jungle. I was bracing for howler monkeys and pythons. It was not overly designed, there was not a lot of ornamental *stuff* around, and most of the plants were actually not for sale, so it was more like going to a proper garden. Much more a pure fantastic plant enjoying experience than a shopping/material stuff. It was refreshing to see plants taking over the walkways, poking through windows, dead leaves, new buds...not arranged.

reflector © Laura Kicey

musculature © Laura Kicey

palm to palm © Laura Kicey

It also lent itself to a great deal of handy leaf fondling.

toothsome © Laura Kicey

We took a turn toward Birdsboro and happened upon a railcar graveyard off a windy country road. There were all sorts of signs, a variety of engines, cabooses and cars, a trolley, old steamrollers, small buildings, tractors, all under the intense sun.

train depot © Laura Kicey

next stop © Laura Kicey

Goldberg and I have a very specific dynamic when approaching an abandoned house that we are considering entering. While neither of us throws caution to the wind entirely, our assessments are generally made very quickly - in a less than 10 minute window, usually less, based on 1-3 drivebys, deciding if it is truly abandoned, if there is an access point and if it is possible too conspicuous. More often than not Goldberg will be the one charging ahead and not questioning, I will be the one who will more than likely call something too risky to try. What can I say, I'm very particular! If I am going to get arrested, it damn well better be worth it or positioned in such a way that I can talk myself out of a situation.

putting out fires © Laura Kicey

This house brought out something quite different in us both. Very secluded country road with little traffic, I see the farmhouse with a fence all the way around the property, but there was a little enclosed porch overgrown with ivy, the door open and flapping in the breeze. I could see barn-like buildings behind it, immediately I got a good vibe, we turned around and did a slow driveby and pulled into the driveway. We checked out the main gate which was wrapped in chains, the fence than went all the way around the property had a barbed wire top.

the heated heart © Laura Kicey

roast © Laura Kicey

I walked the road to see if I could find an end to it and we came upon a small gate. Which conveniently was open. When there were no cars in sight we opened the gate and made our way toward the open door. It brought us into a small cellar-like room which lead in two directions towards very dark rooms. Feeling slightly defeated, sans flashlights and tripods, we decided to check the main door all the way around the back and on the other side. We waited until we heard no cars, and started moving around the side of the house, Goldberg in front of me. We had moved pretty much out of street visibility behind some shrubs and trees and suddenly, Goldberg hears a car and starts to panic that he is visible and takes off running. Immediately he face plants having tripped over a rock. What is remarkable about this display is that it is not the first time one of us heard traffic and taken off running at an abandoned house, but the last time it happened, it was me. And I destroyed my knee after getting caught in a thick patch of tall grass.... and fell into the door of the house in question. This was the first time I was the one who was certain we were in the clear, and Goldberg breaks into a run to avoid being seen by traffic and wiped out.

the icebox © Laura Kicey

When we checked the main door it was locked. There was another porch on the back side, but Goldberg was feeling a bit shaken and though we were able to walk right in the porch door, I knew we weren't going to spend a lot of time in here. The room we entered had a big old woodburning stove, curtains in the windows, a rotary phone on a shelf and a rather fancy double-sided display case with arched French doors built into the buttery yellow walls. Even though the porch was overgrown with ivy, the house was unusual in that it did not have the distinctive musty odor that most abandoned places possess. It was barely even dirty, though the house was quite old. Every room had a woodburning stove, there were two fireplaces with massive, primitive mantels. The appliances in the kitchen were not terribly old and the wood floors beneath our feet were in fantastic shape - the only signs of decay was a bit of sagging ceiling where the plaster had started to fall. Goldberg chose to not venture up the incredibly narrow spiraling staircase that led up from the kitchen. While I was hopeful, I declined to go upstairs as well as I don't like to be the *only* person going anywhere in an abandoned location.

the ring © Laura Kicey

We briefly investigated the barn in the back and decided that we should probably take our leave before we incurred further damages. Though that was not the end of the day's adventures, it was the last of the visuals worth sharing.

.........................

A couple of exciting bits of news - a few weeks ago I was contacted by a production company doing the graphics for new miniseries that will be premiering on AMC on Halloween called The Walking Dead. They wished to buy the rights to an images I shot in an abandoned house a few years back to use in the opening title sequence amongst a series of images of decaying places. Though I don't know much about the plot of the show, I do know that it is about Zombies. Who doesn't like Zombies? Moreover, who doesn't like being on AMC?! You can read more about it here.

And just today I found out that the shoot I did in APRIL (?!?!) has been published in Iconography Magazine's Fall 2010 Pride Issue

models Laura Sioux Kirkpatrick and Jennifer An finalists from ANTM Cycle 13
wardrobe by Stacey Appel
hair and Jenn's makeup by April Ramirez
Laura Sioux's makeup by Sasha Zavadsky
photo assisting by Danika Smith
Photography © Laura Kicey

The three spreads begin on page 100 (even though it says 96 in the TOC), plus you can see me on the contributors page. Here are some shots (including some that didn't make the spread):

coming down the mountain

2010-07-22T19:22:00.003-04:00

While I can press pause on the weights on my mind for a few days by way of mojito consumption, cooking delightful meals for the family in a (well-appointed mind you!) double wide out in the middle of mountainous nowhere, feeding posses of dumb but cute white-tailed deer cantaloupe, and soaking in the jacuzzi... I can just as easily pick up right where I left off in a neck-deep hole of worries that I can't really see the end of just yet. So I have a cloud over me and it makes me not want to write just now. So I won't. In the meantime, enjoy some photographs from the weird getaway.

From the Eckley coal pit... where the black sand beaches of Vík, Iceland meet the birch forests of Sweden.

fire and ash © Laura Kicey

greens and white © Laura Kicey

coal and sky © Laura Kicey

dress this earth © Laura Kicey

hill and dale © Laura Kicey

divining © Laura Kicey

sweden meet vík © Laura Kicey

In the neighborhood of where I laid my head for a few nights...

launch © Laura Kicey

my deers © Laura Kicey

the coop © Laura Kicey

Out toward Bloomsburg, a hoarders paradise, some nice palimpsest, and an abandoned miniature golf course moments before the lightning touched down and drove us away cowering....

first in flight © Laura Kicey

slot machines / condoms © Laura Kicey

shut eyes © Laura Kicey

holding a candle to it © Laura Kicey

argyle © Laura Kicey

amenities hall © Laura Kicey

home on the range © Laura Kicey

rhododendron road © Laura Kicey

ZOO animals

2010-07-16T13:33:00.006-04:00

Just a quick post before I zip away for an extra-long weekend getaway in the mountains. I've had a photo published in "the leading men's magazine in Australia" - ZOO - from a set of publicity photos I took of the insanely talented, totally foxy, Marlo Meekins - whose blog I've just added to my links list over right yonder.

Leathery crocodile hunters will now be pleasuring themselves to my photo.
What's not to get excited about!!

Model: Marlo Meekins
Photo: © Laura Kicey
Styling: Stacey Appel

The issue's cover

The original image:

concrete, flesh and coal

2010-07-01T00:55:00.004-04:00

With the dawning of a new era, that is my dear K returning the Right Coast, from whence she was hatched, it was time for proper reunioning in the very town of her formation: Wilkes Barre. Friday morning I made my way northward intent on joining the K, the K parentals and one Navid for lunch and seeing out a plot I'd hatched to stop by the Concrete City in Nanticoke, all before the sun disappeared.

Arriving well ahead of schedule, I took all parties off guard and we ended up going to lunch much later than expected. Regardless, we wasted no time in reorienting ourselves in a Concrete direction. Nanticoke was like most other coal-mining towns I'd been in in past, small, decaying, colorful in unexpected places and ways, populated with no shortage of bored youth. I had studied my map beforehand which was fortunate because the moment we pulled up to the end of the street nearest the City and parked, my phone lost reception entirely. I pointed us, feigning certainty, down a sandy, unmarked path into the woods. The path showed signs of frequent use, plentiful dumping and weeds hacked well back, branching off here and there. We came upon a clearing with a lake and I spotted a warning sign and knew we had to be at least somewhere close. The summer foliage was quite full, vines growing up and over trees, but I spotted the corner of a roof through it all. Slogging through mud and deep puddles teeming with frogs, we eventually made it onto the courtyard onto which the houses of the Concrete City face. From our vantage point however, it was only possible to see a few of the nearer buildings, and the center courtyard was so thickly overgrown it was impossible to see across. We entered the first that had a well-beaten path to the door and it was immediately clear that this was the place for every bored punk with a spray can or paintball gun to come every free moment.

paintball nation © Laura Kicey

Considering it was built in 1911, albeit of concrete - which later proved impossible to demolish with even 100 sticks of dynamite when they attempted in 1924 after realizing the developers could not afford to install the required sewage system - it was remarkably intact. But the modular structures weren't particularly interesting but for the vandalism of varying skill and dubious creativity.

spin ship © Laura Kicey

Upon entering the second house, I heard voices and what I thought might be gunshots in the distance. I wasn't so much worried about danger/getting into trouble in this remote location as I was about crossing paths with guys playing paintball who I had read frequent the site. As the voices drew closer, their shouts were punctuated by the distinctive rapid-fire of paintball guns.

the heart is a muscle © Laura Kicey

the sinking ship © Laura Kicey

I tried to keep focused on both exploring, shooting, not falling through holes and the proximity of the paintball crew... every so often, peering out through front-facing windows to see if they were moving into visual range. When one guy appeared I got his attention and he asked how many people I was with and he kindly made it clear to the others where we were and that they shouldn't enter the house we were in for play.

light over time © Laura Kicey

This did not deter one guy from seeking refuge in the building we were in, sneaking up from behind on both K and I causing us both to squeak from the fright of nearly backing into a masked man with a big gun.

eye of the tiger © Laura Kicey

When we heard a pause in activity we moved on to check out a few other houses buried more in the woods, but the late day heat and mosquitoes were quickly killing our drive to continue. Once we had decided to leave it took some time before we were brave enough to double back through an area of open air paintball play, but we managed to neither get hit or harassed by the group on our way out.

Before calling it a day, I headed to Ashley, as both K and Navid were curious about the Huber Coal Breaker site, and I'd been twice before. Both prior visits I had come across lots of other people on the site- like Nanticoke it seems like the place to go for bored teens - and this was no exception. I gave a cursory tour of the grounds, explaining I hadn't figured out how to get into the main breaker building yet, but there were always people up in it - even almost up to the top around 8 or 9 stories high. Today being no exception, there was a group of teenagers, mostly girls who waved and called to us down below. Seeing how swiftly they go from 7 stories up to the ground, in miniskirts and tennis shoes, we figured there must be an easier way in than the stairs we had thus far found which led to unstable platforms or were missing many steps in a row, requiring acrobatic feats to scale. There was another 40-something man-photographer wandering around as well. My lunch was starting to give my belly some pain and I convinced K and Navid that we really needed to come back another day for a thorough look as I was feeling a bit unwell. We spent the remainder of the evening researching where we might head on Saturday along with processing the photos of the day.

Saturday afternoon was hot and gray, threatening storms but teasing with bursts of sunshine. We were unable to pinpoint whether or not a number of locations we had researched would still be standing, but set off to first see if Rocky Glen Amusement Park, which K had visited in her youth, had been razed. Though from the road the signs that were left looked promising, as we crossed the barriers onto the overgrown plot of land, we only found expanses of cement bursting with weeds, a few chunks of wall, fence, a pile of tires, a tiny pool filled with garbage and a stray roller coaster car.

all that's left of rocky glen park © Laura Kicey

Disappointed but not to be stopped, I suggested we head towards Scranton. Our hunger was starting to grow so we yelped our way to a little Lebanese cafe in downtown Scranton. Tapping into their spanakopita and free wifi, Navid stumbled upon photos and video of a (somewhat) nearby abandoned slaughterhouse. Descriptions of the location were vague at best, but the map of the town showed that there were very few roads in the town we were headed towards, so we took the plunge. It took about 40 minutes to get to the town from Scranton and repeatedly we turned down roads that looked promising only to end up empty-handed. It was getting late and the drizzle kept coming and going making the sky darken further, meanwhile my iphone battery was running into the red and my car charger no longer worked.

K fell asleep in the back seat while Navid and I struggled with trying to decide whether to carry on or give up. Suddenly the sun came out with a bit of gusto and with the last of the phone battery I suggested we have a look at satellite google maps of the area to see if we could find a building that appeared to be larger than a regular house, that might stand a chance of being the slaughterhouse. Almost immediately, he identified a building less than a mile away from where we had stopped that appeared to be off on a gravel road (as in the video we saw) and the right size. When we go to the turn off onto the gravel road from the main road, seeing that it was unmarked and the weeds had grown so high at either side, I had a pretty good feeling that we were at the right place.

There, beyond a field with tall weeds, a large industrial building's façade could be made out, covered with graffiti. Clearly, we had arrived. And judging by the quiet, save the birds, we were alone. The gravel road diverged, one path to the right leading around back of the building which we took first. It led us to a bay for receiving shipments which was clearly used by the local paintballer contingent. we looked into some of the adjoining rooms, speculating at the use of some of the ducts that contained mysterious corkscrew. The stairway that lead to the rest of the building above was very dark so we doubled back to enter via the front door.

carcass © Laura Kicey

I had really prepared myself for some amount of gore or at the very least some bad smells. Regardless of how long a place has laid vacant, most sites retain a certain amount of residual funkiness. As notorious as functional slaughterhouses are for smelling of death, I was (pleasantly seems innapropriate, maybe more relieved) surprised that it did not have a stench beyond the normal mildew, musty hot stagnation of any other abandoned place.

fur, skin, bones © Laura Kicey

look up © Laura Kicey

the end © Laura Kicey

cross section © Laura Kicey

receiving © Laura Kicey

grindhouse © Laura Kicey

We entered what was clearly the main processing and killing room. There were standing machines and conveyors and hanging devices of indeterminate use filling the room. The floor was littered with forms, at the top of which was a headline that read something to the effect of Quantities of Carcasses and Meat and Poultry By-Products.

blood bath © Laura Kicey

cut throat © Laura Kicey

The large open adjoining room appeared as though it might have been used to hold animals. A heavily graffitied stairway led upward some 5 flights to a landing with a small room that had suffered a fire and further up to a locker room and shower area for workers.

shower room © Laura Kicey

the back stair © Laura Kicey

There were a couple of roof access points and offices and at the end of the line we were left at the balcony overlooking the kill room where we had entered.

from above the kill room © Laura Kicey

supremacy sandwich © Laura Kicey

The sun that came in with us had started to weaken and the rain began not long before we were heading for the door. With the last shred of battery life in my phone, Navid located a sushi restaurant in Wilkes-Barre where we collapsed before a surprisingly decent dinner.

red and I © Laura Kicey

After packing the bags and battening down the K Parental hatches, we headed out for Ashley for our proper Huber Breaker visit. K and Navid were dead set on finding a way into the main breaker building, despite my suggestion that we spend our time in the power plant which is a much more interesting and stable building. I followed K around as she performed a study of every stairway we could locate, deciding if it was possible 1. to scale the stairs despite the copious missing steps 2. upon scaling if there was anywhere you could actually get to, vertically or horizontally. I had to cover my eyes while spotting her while she ascended one set, going two flights, each missing at least 4 spaced steps... only to discover the third flight was missing 4 in a row and it was impossible to make any headway on the second floor due to a collapse.

black twist © Laura Kicey

amber fronds © Laura Kicey

Once she came back to earth I headed for a door that was partly obstructed by a pile of rotting wood. Inside I found K and Navid's holy grail, while they were lagging behind. A completely stable set of stairs! I went up the first flight which bordered on the old elevator that had come to rest at the ground level, forcefully. Then I scaled the second and called out to K and Navid to announce my find. Then I realized that I was on a rather narrow platform with one side bordering on a rusty railing, the other side was just open elevator shaft. I had left my tripod at the bottom of the stairs and I realized I couldn't go up any further, because even this height was making me feel decidedly afflicted with wobbliness.

as far as I've come © Laura Kicey

K and Navid were quick to join me on the second floor landing and the longer I lingered there the more I knew I had to get down immediately. They made it up to perhaps the 7th story, while I lurked below. They said that there wasn't much of interest inside, besides the thrill of having gotten up so high, so I had no regrets.

airing out © Laura Kicey

pulls © Laura Kicey

The power plant main hall was mostly unchanged from my last visit with Tanya and Goldberg back in September. I admit that the machines - though pretty interesting by themselves - are much more interesting to my eye with the context of a model/human in the frame, at least to give the sense of scale.

scepter © Laura Kicey

conduit © Laura Kicey

snowfall © Laura Kicey

three against one © Laura Kicey

Being that is was our third day running of exploration in 95˙+ hellishly humid weather running, we didn't last very long before hunger and exhaustion kicked in. Making the pilgrimage back to the parental homefront for liquid and sandwich-shaped refreshments was welcomed by all. After copious kitty-scritchers were distributed to the four-footed residents, we packed up the car and I dropped K and Navid off at the bus station and them made my way expeditiously southward.

Now I must take a break from abandoned explorations until my mini-vacation in mid-July, lest you get bored. In the meantime, I have plenty of Sweden Experience transcription ahead of me.

running out of thyme

2010-06-24T19:32:00.006-04:00

Oh hey, remember me? I seem to have neglected to mention here that I've been to Sweden and back and I am knee deep in multiple-book-makings and preppings. The nose has also been kept firmly on the grindstone in order to fulfill back print orders smoothly as well as design and edit a portfolio book for Blurb's Photography Book Now contest. The juror selection is outstanding, so just to have a chance to get my best work in front of those eyes is pretty wonderful in and of itself. But shit man, a $25,000 grand prize... that is more than I made last year. Ha! No, really. I'd put that to good use.

P O R T F O L I O © Laura Kicey

So this isn't a call to action, because thankfully no popular vote is required to win anything. I do however invite you to check out the full preview (it goes full screen if you want to get a good look!) of the entire book. Blurb's price for a 12"x12" 90+ pages long is so not cheap. I put off ordering one of my own for quite some time just because I was paralyzed with fear, even after multiple proofreadings and photo color tweakings that something would be wrong and I would be forced to have another made. At nearly $100 a pop, this is not for the faint of heart or the mildly uncertain. I don't get a cut of that price, FYI. Anyway, behold!

Meanwhile when I am not writing, I've been exploring a new and spectacular hiding place with Goldberg. It is the most exquisite mansion, which we shall refer to as Thyme House*, built in the mid 1800s and from what I've read it has been abandoned probably since the early 70s. I have only found a scant few photographs of the interior online, and I find this shocking considering the scale and historical significance of the building - as it was owned by a member of a powerful area family. I caught wind of its existence quite by accident and expected to find something locked up tight or otherwise too out in the open to be accessible. In fact when we set out that first time to check it out, I didn't bring a tripod along at all, and though I brought my exploring boots, I was so convinced even upon arriving that we wouldn't be able to get in, I stayed in my flip-flops! We parked right in the courtyard and boldly went up to examine the greenhouse structure over the old stone garages. It was quite impossible to see anything but the tip of the roof from our vantage point as the entire grounds were quite overgrown.

reframed © Laura Kicey

inside out © Laura Kicey

Once we had made it to the greenhouse, we were quite invisible and Goldberg went into one of the adjacent storage rooms and came back out running towards me in the far doorway looking terrified. Inside he had seen a raccoon and once he was able to tell me, we both skeedaddled up the hill towards the front door of the main building, through shoulder high weeds. Only the small front porch was visible for the weeds and ivy, I examined the shuttered front door only to find it padlocked beyond.

divide © Laura Kicey

surroundings © Laura Kicey

We wandered around the side and came across a worn path to a two story high sunroom, and there we came upon that most magic un-boarded portal that let us right in at the base of some stunning floor to ceiling windows. Pausing only long enough to snap a couple shots for fear of being seen by a caretaker, we shuffled on through up the stairs and through a pair of grand French doors into a massive empty room, walls lined with empty bookshelves, a grand fireplace and quite a lot of darkness as the large windows and other French doors were well overgrown with ivy.

the lightest © Laura Kicey

It was right about there when I started to kick myself for not bringing a tripod. The layout of the house was perplexing, small staircases leading half flights down and back up again, the narrow main entry hall made less grand by a narrow staircase that prevented light from reaching the far end. There were a three large main rooms of the ground floor and the other passages leading off we both decided were a bit too dark to manage without flashlights and pointless to attempt photographs in handheld anyway.

tendergrowth © Laura Kicey

eyes upon us © Laura Kicey

the great barrier © Laura Kicey

arms open © Laura Kicey

So we made our way up to the second floor and were met with a labyrinthine progression of countless smaller rooms connected, instead of by a main hallway, in strange haphazard ways. While I could still hear Goldberg, I could no longer tell which direction the sounds were coming from or how to get any closer. Every bathroom had a bidet, one had petal pink paneling and a bathtub built into the wall surrounded by unusual copper-tinted mirrors on all sides.

commode © Laura Kicey

Simultaneously we both entered what appeared to be the master bedroom from opposite ends - each of its goldenrod walls was decked with painted mirrors with sconces.

gilt mirror © Laura Kicey

Towards the opposite end of the second floor, I walked into a bathroom, which led to a room of tiered closets, which opened into another room in shades of green of similarly tiered storage. It was peculiar how you felt like you were moving deeper into the core of the house. Doors and stairs were in unexpected places. Through another grand mirrored bedroom we came upon another sunroom with a complex elevator/large dumbwaiter device.

unfettered © Laura Kicey

the sun's room © Laura Kicey

Fleetingly we considered going to the third floor but the stairs looked a bit flimsier, considering the number of flights we had already been up, it was now quite a long way down if they gave out. The afternoon heat was starting to get to us, as was the barking of a too-near dog. We decided to cut our losses and perhaps return the following weekend.

And so. Less than one week later, Saturday 4:00am, I found myself awake and getting ready to head to Goldberg's and then to the house. We arrived not long after sunrise, not a soul around. Boldly marching right up to the sun room and re-entered. The early morning light was lending even less light than the afternoon sun the week prior. But this time I came equipped.

the sitting room © Laura Kicey

hearth © Laura Kicey

Moving about the first floor with purpose, creating a mental map of the rooms, I reshot some shaky frames and right by yet another sunroom, I discovered the kitchen.

sunken © Laura Kicey

It was a very dark room and the door leading to it was tucked in the far corner of a room I hadn't gone far into. Most of the appliances were gone, and considering the size of the rest of the house I found it rather small. That is, until I wandered down the hall beyond the kitchen and discovered the second kitchen and what appeared to be workrooms for staff.

hooded © Laura Kicey

I had wandered two rooms away from Goldberg, while he remained in the initial kitchen. I had wandered down to the last room on the left side of the service hallway and was admiring the pale green light filtering through the ivy onto the checkered tile floor...when through the hall door something caught my eye in the opposite room.

checkmate © Laura Kicey

hung © Laura Kicey

evergreen © Laura Kicey

I had my flashlight on but pointed at the floor and the room opposite was quite dark, but not so dark that I couldn't make out a very human shape laying on the floor. I froze in complete terror and strained my eyes to determine if there was movement. Seeing none, in one swift movement I withdrew with my camera, tripod and person from view of the room and scurried back toward the kitchen. My heart was racing, trying to process the implications of having come upon either a dead body, or a sleeping squatter, neither of which were great options I was prepared to confront. I whimpered to Goldberg, who initially shushed me so that he could finish taking his shot.
Then I said "I'm not sure what I've just seen in the other room!"

"What does that mean??"

"I think I saw a form on the floor. Like, human form!"

"If its a dead body I don't want to see it!"

"But it was dark, just come over with me to look with the flashlight!"

He gave in and we crept down the hall and stood by me while I shined the flashlight towards the figure and stepped a bit closer. I could get a better sense of scale and realized much to my relief that it was a bronze garden sculpture of a faun character. He was about 4 feet tall and missing his feet. On a shelf behind him, there was a small marble putti. Despite the relief of it being neither dead nor alive, my heart continued to pound and my hands kept right on shaking for the next 10 minutes.

lay me down © Laura Kicey

silverwear © Laura Kicey

the path of the righteous man © Laura Kicey

the long and short © Laura Kicey

Doubling back to the main entry hall I noticed there was a rectangular area of wall by the front door that was outlined with a decorative silver leaf pattern. While the rest of the house was completely free of vandalism, inside this area, there were probably a hundred names signed in pen, pencil and marker inside this frame. It was perhaps the most respectful and restrained reminder that we were not the only visitors to this amazing place.

stair upon stair © Laura Kicey

As we approached the stairs to go upstairs, we both distinctly heard a thud and once again we froze in place waiting for the other "shoe" to drop. Trying to determine where it came from, we saw nothing out the windows and heard nothing more, so proceeded to the second floor. We had just stepped into the bizarre golden master bedroom with crazy mirrors when Goldberg seized me and I heard the scuffle overhead. Definitely an animal, bigger than a squirrel, moving pretty fast. Considering we had already seen a raccoon on the property the week before, we decided quickly it was best to make a swift exit.

undercover © Laura Kicey

It was probably nearing 7:30am and the heat of the day was reaching towards its peak. We walk through the gardens and around back of the house, but we were both feeling very jumpy - I even thought I saw another raccoon-sized animal in the yard.

inversions © Laura Kicey

morning dew © Laura Kicey

Seeing as I had a shoot at Terrain later that afternoon and could barely think straight after 4 hours of sleep, I was anxious to get some breakfast and get cleaned up in time to get a nap before work.

While the visits don't feel like failures per se, I still don't feel like I got to the core of the house yet and I am slightly discouraged from returning again. While running into other (living) human beings in an abandoned structure (at least in the areas I frequent) generally results in a verbal exchange that doesn't escalate, rather than turning into a physical confrontation with imminent bodily harm, there aren't really any ways I can think of to avoid things going wrong when wild animals are involved. Having only the week before discovered a bat in my apartment, racing my cat to the vet terrified she might have been bitten, I am VERY unwilling to take chances. The mental images planted a couple years ago upon hearing a most disturbing firsthand accounts of an attack by a rabid raccoon on This American Life will not be purged from my mind. If anyone has any suggestions on wild animal deterrents, I am all ears. Until then, I visited a few other interesting sites which I will reveal in my next entry. Stay tuned!

*note - as a means of discouraging vandalism of this pristine site, or risk others drawing attention to the entry point and jeopardize having it be sealed off again, I choose to not disclose any identifying information about the house or its location. I will refer to it only as Thyme House which is a name we came up with for it.

and in this corner...

2010-05-04T13:39:00.005-04:00

Please don't judge, but while I do subscribe (in the receive in my inbox sense) to Rob Breszny's Free Will Astrology horoscopes, I don't necessarily subscribe to astrology on deeper level, than, say, a little chuckle at the familiarity of matters mentioned. Little did I know that when I received my last fateful horoscope, exactly HOW freakishly accurate it would be.

And I quote:

VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): Mangosteens and rambutans are exotic fruits
that grow in faraway places. The mangosteen is creamy and purple, with a
peachy citrus taste, while the rambutan is like a big hairy red grape. This
is a perfect moment, astrologically speaking, to invite them into your
mouth. Likewise, the time is right for you to consider welcoming other
colorful, striking, and foreign elements into your life. So maybe consider
making friends with a Paraguayan acrobat. Sing Vietnamese folk songs.
Read the memoirs of an Iranian exile. Exchange conspiracy theories with
an Icelandic fairy.

Bear in mind, that I kept this particular horoscope because I thought that it was cute to liken my Swedish Adventure to eating hairy rambutans. And he mentioned Icelandic fairies there at the end! And boy, do I like Iceland! When I relayed the content of this horoscope to Sexy Swedish Sandra she thought it boded well for our forthcoming adventures together and then went on to tell me how she has been listening to Jónsi's new album on repeat and recommended I do the same.

Since I saw Sigur Ros' Heima a little over a year ago, I have developed a deep soft spot for their music. Even though I had decided to go to Iceland already, the combination of the music and the visuals along with their celebration of nature and repurposing abandoned structures as places for performances - gave me an Epiphany of Icelandic Rightness. I knew. Jónsi, lead singer of Sigur Ros, recently released his first solo album and there was a whole lot of hubbub over the insane-awesomeness of the production of his live show. And if you can't be bothered to watch that stuff, bottom line: they were inspired by a. the song's connection to animals themes b. photographs they had seen of a famous Parisian taxidermy shop after if BURNED DOWN.

Holy dreaminess!

Goldberg mentioned that Jónsi was coming to town and he would try to get us tickets. I haven't been to a show in nearly two years on account of the vast contingent of drunk, violent idiots with free-flying elbows and an overdeveloped sense of entitlement. I love rubbing up against sweaty teens as much as the next girl, so unless you are gonna really attempt to knock me out, I'll stay home. No I don't care that you can get tickets! Really!

Though it seemed really tempting (despite being at my least favorite venue ever), it wasn't looking likely anyway. So I shrugged. Both Sandra and Goldberg said to me, you should really just find a way to give Jónsi your book... blah blah blah, you were inspired by Heima, it is a book about Iceland and places they played, they thought he'd like it. I thought: silly! And nerdy! I'm not some crazed fan girl. Still they pressed, despite it looking like only Goldberg going.

And then by some mystery of fate, I got picked up and escorted to the door, handed a ticket....

And an Aftershow Pass.

I still did not find attempting to go and present Jónsi with the gift of my book a very good idea, though the door had been opened. There was much hemming and hawing. Goldberg and I entered the Electric Factory to find a very small crowd - apparently they had capped ticket sales at 1,000 - though the venue at capacity holds more than 3,000. It was rather easy to slip straight to the front, stage left, just below a broken, charred glass 'display case' which was a surface for later projections. The crowd was clearly pumped and pleasant - thankfully a bit older, mellower and nerdier than the audience cross-section I had been dreading.

The show started almost a bit too mellow, on an acoustic note, that felt a lot like Sufjan Stevens. The scrims that draped the back had old engravings of animals projected on them and by the end of the song, projected flames had engulfed them, and almost magically they disappeared to reveal a twisted framework of charred and broken industrial warehouse windows, with more scrims beyond. Networks of butterflies, swirls of fireflies, a floe of lava, animated predators and their prey, armies of ants carrying victorian trophies, a burst of fiery trumpet vines with hummingbirds hovering... all while being lulled by his angelic falsetto, against a swirl of sometimes unidentifiable instruments. Including something completely hidden that was being played from above with two violin bows as well as something that sounded like metal being scratched on a chalkboard.

(Aside: It was fairly early on in the show I saw an FB note from Lovely Eva - one of the owners of the beloved Hotel Djupávík in Iceland, where both Sigur Ros played (in the adjacent abandoned factory) and I later stayed with Sandra. Eva had written how wonderful it was that I was getting to see Jónsi's show and that her husband had become friends with him while they were playing the show in 2006 and they both adore him. And there the book I had brought with me, on the cover! Eva, in the factory where they played in Heima! It was RIGHT! I should give it to him!)

The show was so vibrant and exciting, it lifted you and brought you down gently and then it made every hair on your body vibrate. Both of us got a little emotional. Ok, I wept a little, people. I ain't ashamed! They seemed so JOYFUL up there playing. You couldn't help but feeeeeel it.

They returned after the final song for two encores. The final song was so raucous, much like Sigur Ros' signature closer, but this time accompanied by effects so realistic and stirring, I literally felt like I was stuck in the middle of a wild, musical-thunderstorm - so much did I expect to feel the wetness of the rain I was seeing projected before me, the bolts of lightning, the winds, the steam rising off an imagined warm street - I was surprised I wasn't soaked at the end. The crowd went insane after this. Incredibly intense all the way around. Far and away my best show-going experience ever.

(Since I did not have a photo pass, I will just post one of Goldberg's photos from last night, though it is difficult to do justice to the amazingness of what we witnessed in one still - plus Jónsi has posted the whole series of them on his tour journal.)

Jónsi 11 © Michael Alan Goldberg

Post-show, feeling a bit spent, we hung out until we were escorted to the green room where approximately 25ish other people were waiting. Jónsi made quite an entrance and was immediately ensconced in people who he seemed to know rather well. Goldberg and I lingered awkwardly behind a piano for quite some time, attempting to judge the best moment to make The Move. When he broke away to refill his champagne I made a beeline for him. Awkwardly. Introduced myself, and in quick succession told him how my having seen Heima had moved me so much I knew I had to go to Iceland and I wanted to give him my book of photographs that I made while I was there. And I went to Djúpavík and I met Eva while I was there and she says hello! And my boyfriend interviewed you for Philly Weekly last week and that is him over there, come meet him and what an amazing show. Congratulations! Then he started to look at the book, congratulating me on releasing a book and telling me I had to have it in bookstores! In Iceland! Then he starts massaging the book cloth. And then while congratulating me again, he alternately starts beating me and then Goldberg on the arms with the book. Repeatedly. Excitedly and cheerfully so. Laughing maniacally. And thanking me profusely. And we laugh and cower. And he smacks us a bit more. Then he reaches for some champagne and he goes looking for his cup. And we run away. Not sure if he intended to come back. But we stumbled out asking each other what had just happened.

And therein, my horoscope had just become a bit more real. One of the most surreal experiences of my life. I am trying to picture him in the tour bus with his cute little Alex sipping tea the next morning, looking it over. But I cannot be sure it didn't end up in some corner of the Electric Factory, hidden by empties. Not in a million years what I would have expected such a whirlwind of a night.

Let me tell you Rob Breszny: I have tasted mangosteens already, but nothing could prepare me for the punch that Icelandic Jónsis pack.

öppna dörren!

2010-04-30T11:35:00.007-04:00

We are in the final hours of fundraising for my fantastic Jätte Swedish Adventure now, ending at midnight on April 30 (Tonight!)! And so far I have amassed a grand $2000+ from my very kind and generous supporters to help make the project come to life, starting in just two short weeks.

After I made a preposterous promotional photo for this project, where I dressed up as the ogre-character from the package of a popular but weird Swedish candy, JätteSalt, there was an unexpectedly large amount of interest in tasting this candy which is not available in the US. You can see both the original packaging and my rendition of the ogre with the mysterious door in his crotch (which I am told leads to a balcony!) below.

not my photo!

öppna dörren © Laura Kicey

It was actually on our long drive from Reykjavík to Jökulsárlón and back to Reykjavík (a grueling but beautiful 12 hour jaunt) that I was first initiated into the taste explosion that is JätteSalt by way of being handfed by my travel companion Sandra. In the final two hours of the home stretch, I was getting quite drowsy and a misty-foggy-rain draped the road in a milky curtain, making the precarious cliff drops hard to see - and JätteSalt with its pungent flavor brought me back to alertness, better than caffeine is able.

Sandra pieced together that this photo of her on the southern coast of Iceland was actually taken very close to Vík and VERY near the site of the raging volcano at Eyjafjallajökull (pronounced like "Hey ya fergot La Yogurt" softly).

Hopefully the swiftly shifting ash cloud won't prove to either prevent me from leaving the US or Sweden once I get there! I am keeping a very close eye on things.

hitching © Laura Kicey

-----------

Last week my friend Candace threw together a Scandinavian inspired food and film party as a send-off for me. I brought a mountain of Bergman and she brought the goodies. She made a baked brie topped with lingonberry and basil, almond butter cookies topped with lingonberry or cloudberries, sugar cookies spiked with orange and elderflower, elderflower drinks (my favorite!), Swedish vodka cheese, knäckerbrod (big seedy crackers), cardamom skorpor (like anisette biscotti) with a side of Død Snø (Norwegian Nazi-Zombie movie Dead Snow) and Bergman's Wild Strawberries.

Swedes love sweets - both pastries and candy - even a lot of savory main dishes have a sweet element (think Swedish meatballs with lingonberry sauce) - and bizarre candy flavors are especially popular. The candy JätteSalt (Giant Salt) is a hard licorice candy (which is less like standard American black licorice flavor - more of a mild anisette flavor) coated with ammonia salt. It is not for everyone and is very much an acquired taste. It took a lot of effort not to spit it out the first time, but I have learned to love it. Most (non-Swedes) people I know who have tried it couldn't handle its pungent flavor or odor. Even those who were able to eat it often said it tasted like cat urine. Not a strong selling point, I know.

I recently learned there are other Jätte varieties besides JätteSalt, including:
JätteSur (Giant Sour - described as corrosive-lemon-acid but very nice')
JätteStark (Giant STRONG!- as if the Salt is not strong enough this is licorice+salty+SPICY)
and a couple other curiously strong combos not Jätte:
Filidutter is salty-banana-sour, super delicious
Kryptoniter is sour on the outside and salmiak (ammonia-salted licorice) on the inside.
here is a page of the products http://www.konfekta.se/1/sv/products/pasar.php

If anyone would like for me to include a pack of their choice of odd candy from this list of 5 in with their print/book, I would be happy to do so, just let me know when you make your reward selection what tickles your peculiar flavor fancy. Strange tangential offer I know, but what's a bit of fun in the name of culture sharing?

I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who has come forward and participated - I'm thrilled to see both new faces and returning sponsors from last year's Kicey to Iceland. The last few weeks have been rather harrowing so every bit of help you've given me to go onward and make beautiful things is appreciated far more than I can say. I will not let you down!

bound for nowhere going everywhere © Laura Kicey

Let the resfeber/travel fever wash over me!

Glad Valborg!

--------------
EDIT TO ADD

In addition to the flurry of excitement surrounding the upcoming trip, things have been moving and shaking on a lot of other fronts. I had an epic shoot almost two weeks ago now with the two girls from the last cycle of America's Next Top Model - Jenn An (who I worked with before a couple times, you may recall) and Miss Sweet Southern Sunshine herself, Laura Kirkpatrick, who came in second place! We got together with 28 Crash!, April Ramirez and Sasha Zavadsky at a bizarre location and put together an incredible, energetic and wildly colorful series that I can't wait to release. We also found out that Mami Magazine will be printing the series in their Summer Issue!!

It has been ages since I put made a construct. I was inspired by a flickr friend, awertz, who hails from Trenton, to go an re-explore the often rather rough corner of The Jerz.

The top right corner building-piece has a story behind it....

which pretty much guaranteed if had to be included, despite it being a less than exciting slice of architecture:

I spotted this building on the corner and when we turned down the street, we could see a drug deal happening down the block- a guy standing by a white car in the middle of the street. Goldberg made a u-turn so that this was going on behind us and I could get the shot - truth told this was the boring part of the building, the real gem was the sign by the main door. Goldberg had not pulled the car all the way over and right before I put my camera up I see the drug-deal-car coming up the street in the rear view, thinking he would go around us, to the left. Instead, he drives by us on the right.

I turn and take the shot once he passed. I turn back and realize he has stopped not far in front of us, but there was no stop sign. He starts honking and his reverse lights come on. And I yell, "GOLDBERG!! GO GO GO GO GO!!!!!!" and we fly past him on the left.

I have no clue who he thought we were, or what he thought we were doing/going to do - or what he planned on doing, but I haven't been that terrified since I got robbed at gunpoint with a few friends in Gray's Ferry years ago.

The title, thanks in part to Goldberg, is a weird twist on the rather well known bitter-sounding bridge in Trenton which has huge letters on the side with the slogan: Trenton Makes, The World Takes.

release

2010-04-13T12:35:00.007-04:00

Some of you longtime readers may recall when I originally encountered Violet Hobaugh fours years ago (almost to the day!) - out near Palmyra, PA. (I won't retell the entire tale, but if you are interested do check the old blog posts above or looking through the set I made on flickr here which includes some local media clippings and photos I have not made public.)

rot spray © Laura Kicey

When I heard in December that she had passed away, I was saddened to hear it, knowing I would never be able to meet and speak to a woman who had made such an impression on me, and really also my work. I had been closely following her life by way of stories passed on to me by locals I knew who had met her, random commenters here and on flickr, and through occasional news items on her. She always seemed such an immortal character, who had seen and experienced it all and carried on no matter what.

on the fence © Laura Kicey

It felt like the next logical step after her passing would be for me to revisit her property - nearly 3 years since my last visit - and document it before it was either razed or severely vandalized. I had always seen it in winter in past, so what struck me first was how the property was transformed by the flowering trees and lush ivy that covered just about everything, never had it seemed so very alive.

the uneasy chair © Laura Kicey

While being able to walk around freely I did discover some signs I had never seen before, I was surprised by how much of what I was familiar with was now completely obscured by the ivy and what wasn't covered with ivy was now significantly faded. In a strange way, it felt to me like the anxieties and accusations that once consumed her life and thoughts had peacefully ebbed away at the end. I was surprised to see that the site was almost completely undisturbed, though a few signs she had once had propped up were now missing.

reclaimed © Laura Kicey

lawless © Laura Kicey

fear to tread © Laura Kicey

vandlisom © Laura Kicey

snow white © Laura Kicey

When Goldberg and I first pulled up behind the main house, I immediately noticed her pile of rusted vehicles, the front cabin of a tractor trailer, a small car, and several tractors. Around each of the tractor tires, she had painted permutations of the word 'vandalism/vandalisem/vandlisom'. In the backseat of the car and the trunk/hatchback area there were cushions, pillows and tattered blankets, covered with mouse droppings, where it appeared she may have slept. I suspect that during the two years she was living in her treehouse, she may have slept in the car on especially cold nights so that she could remain close by and ever-vigilant.

back seat bed © Laura Kicey

dos equis © Laura Kicey

pledged © Laura Kicey

The one door that appeared as though it would lead into the house was marked with "REWARD FUND PLEDGED" and a tiny illegible metal sign. None of the doors allowed us entry, but I think it was for the best. Having lived a long time without electricity and running water, I imagined the smell would have been fairly intense and there were not many windows to let in any light either. Sitting on the front porch among the piles of mail, coffee cups, and tiny cartons of 1% milk, there were many plastic buckets that smelled as though they were used as makeshift commodes, and a wooden stick that was clearly used to mix the ubiquitous red paint.

messages © Laura Kicey

By the front door on the porch there was a tiny hand written sign that said LEAVE MESSAGE CAN'T HEAR KNOCKING ON DOOR. On the wall on other side of the door, the ever-disturbing message scrawled in huge letters "PREMEDITATED MURDER HELP". It was quite affecting to finally see it up close, as never before.

dormer © Laura Kicey

XX © Laura Kicey

wind man © Laura Kicey

tree house © Laura Kicey

collapse © Laura Kicey

It appeared as though the bend in the road where PennDOT once attempted to take down Violet's tree to widen the road, had finally taken its vehicular toll on her property- something had hit the corner of her garage with quite a bit of force. What remained was a pile of cinderblocks, each of which bore fragments of words I had photographed long ago.

writer's blocks © Laura Kicey

The backside of the same building which I had never seen, had a narrative that did not appear anywhere else on her property, where she seems to declare a betrayal by her husband:

MY HUSBAND JACK HOBAUGH AND LEONA OGDEN HIS ? Live at
Walnut St. xxxx DOES A BOARDER REMODEL A HOUSE, GIVE TAXT SERVICE, PAY NORTON's xxxx
UTILITIES, CLEANING AND AMUSEMENT FEE PLUS $30.00/WEEK JUDGE DOWLING CONDONES
PERSECUTES PROSTITUTES

persecutes prostitutes © Laura Kicey

The third side of this same building appeared to have at one time had a word painted on each individual cinderblock, but was now faded beyond legibility.

quieted © Laura Kicey

The wall facing the road was essentially unchanged, listing items for sale and reward amounts for different crimes with a bit of graffiti that had been there for years.

I had been concerned that we would be harassed or chased off, but there was only one guy who slowed as he drove by us while we standing on the street looking at the buildings and he shouted "It's really something, isn't it?!!" And it was.

All the buildings seemed like they were on the verge of being completely swallowed by all the thick ivy. Recalling how panicked and alarmed I felt the first time I saw this place, it did my heart good to see quince and magnolia growing over Violet's 'grave'. May she rest in peace.

magnolia © Laura Kicey

The light of God surrounds me. The love of God enfolds me. The power of God protects me. Where I am God is. That's my prayer.

-Violet Hobaugh, from one of her past interviews

black-eyed susan

2010-04-05T16:47:00.005-04:00

In the interest of not embarrassing myself too deeply on basically every level - I will limit the written portion of this post to an absolute minimum. Due entirely to my inability to form coherent sentences after sustaining a concussion after blacking out in the bathroom and falling face first onto a tile floor. I spent the weekend in the hospital for observation and it was decided that there is nothing wrong with my heart or my head. Not that that was the question I went in with. It was a tedious, unenlightening experience, but hey, I'm not dead! I just have a goose egg on my forehead, a black eye, a sore nose and jaw, a chipped tooth and my fine motor skills leave a bit to be desired.

So with that NOT in mind - I would like to again draw your attention to my forthcoming Great Swedish Adventure. And also this spiffy self portrait I created in its honor!

dalahäst kicey © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

A note about the painting on my face - I was inspired by Sandra (my Swedish friend) who recommended I do a distinctly "Swedish" self portrait. She properly introduced me to the Dalahäst while we were in Iceland, when she brought a tote decorated with the traditional red toy horses. I had seen them before at Ikea in years past but never knew their significance or name.

From the Dalecarnian Horse Wiki:

A Dalecarlian horse or Dala horse (Swedish: Dalahäst) is a traditional wooden statuette of a horse originating in the Swedish province of Dalarna. In the old days the Dala horse was mostly used as a toy for children; in modern times it has become a symbol of Dalarna as well as Sweden in general.

Traditionally a Dala horse is painted bright red with details and a harness in white, green, yellow and blue. It may also be painted bright blue or, if originating from the Rättvik area, grey. The distinctive shape of the horse is due to the usage of flat-plane style carving. The wood blocks used for making the horses were originally scrap wood from the clock case industry in the region of Dalarna.

It was in the small log cabins deep in the forests during the long winter nights in front of a log fire that the forerunner of the dala horse was born. Using simple tools, generally only a knife, woodcarvers made toys for their children. It was only natural that many of these toys were horses, because the horse was invaluable in those days—a trusty friend and worker who could pull great loads of timber from the forests during the winter months, and in the summer could be of just as much use on the farm.

The earliest references to wooden horses for sale are from 1623—nearly 400 years ago. The pattern of today is about 150 years old, and it reflects a style of painting known as kurbits. In the 19th century, Stickå-Erik Hansson from Mora introduced the technique of painting with two colours on the same brush, still used today. The Dalecarlian horse of today is still a handcrafted article, made of pine. At least nine different people contribute their skills to create each horse.

The traditional pattern is painted free-hand by practised "ripple" painters. The art of rippling requires great skill and takes many years to learn. Finally, "all the fine horses" are varnished and sent out from Nusnäs to serve as a symbol of Sweden in the outside world.

Please consider supporting my project- creating a photo book and travelogue based on my trip to Sweden. There is a long list of places I might be visiting, most of which hinge on whether or not I will be able to afford doing so, and truly every little bit is appreciated and incredibly helpful. Another possibility is renting a castle (!!!!) for a photoshoot. And it is certainly not every day you can say you've rented a castle. Am I right?

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/kicey/stockholm-syndrome-a-jatte-swedish-adventure

Since I last posted I had some lovely outings including going to NYC to meet up with Sandra who was in town. We fought the rain and miserable weather to paint the town and get down to business discussing things I should do while in Sweden. Plus take a few photos of her irresistible face.

feather light / model & makeup: sandra © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

We also went to the Museum of Natural History to see the live butterfly exhibit, which was delightful, in a sweaty way.

lightest touch © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

We also spent some time with actor Joel Garland on the eve of his first big movie premiere - The Bounty Hunter. Congrats Joel!

cameo © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Then a couple weekends ago I finally had the chance to meet up with Veronika Placek who runs the Etsy boutique Sweet Tooth Vintage - we had been planning on doing a shoot with her modeling some of her wares since early maybe February. Though it was a bit chilly, we still managed to capture a hint of Springtime loveliness, by way of sunshine, cute clothes and some of my favorite spots in Philly. (model/styling: Veronika Placek)

meadow © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

frozen © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

driven © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

ring © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

bella © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

peaches and cream © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

peeling back © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

self service © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Also I took a little day trip to Island Beach State Park with Goldberg, thinking that while it was nearly 80˙ in Philly it would be likewise Down the Shore™. Incorrect! It was chilly but pretty and nearly Icelandic in appearance, sandy and mossy barrenness, with foxes!

driven © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

low tide © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

sly © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

And in published news, Context Magazine (AIA/Philadelphia's publication) - released a photo essay I shot featuring images of public urban spaces that were appropriated for sports usage.

Jennifer Nehila - practitioner of slacklining, Rittenhouse Park © Laura Kicey for Context Magazine, All Rights Reserved.

pickup basketball under I-95, 2nd & Washington © Laura Kicey for Context Magazine, All Rights Reserved.

volleyball court at 33rd & arch © Laura Kicey for Context Magazine, All Rights Reserved.

soccer at the bowl in Clark Park © Laura Kicey for Context Magazine, All Rights Reserved.

Lastly one of the photos from my October collaboration with 28 Crash! Vintage, Genevieve @ Reinhard, Arpita P and April Ramirez - was published in ELIZA magazine! You can check the online issue for free here

stockholm syndrome

2010-03-25T13:22:00.006-04:00

tickly / model: sandra © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

After careful consideration, I have decided to launch a Kickstarter project, molded in the likeness of my 2009 Kicey to Iceland project - for 2010 I give you Stockholm Syndrome: A Jätte Swedish Adventure . To step up the game, I decided to integrate the creation of the book into the project and the option for some backers to own copies of it when it is complete, as well as still being able to select prints from the series I create. Since kickstarter was so young when I launched the original project, there were certain oversights in planning and budgeting on my part, and there have been some new functionality and publicity on Kickstarter's part, not to mention the oodles of positive media attention it has since received. I am hoping that I haven't worn out my welcome with patrons past, and meanwhile don't drive everyone else crazy/bored stiff with the related posts, meanwhile encouraging new backers.

It has just come to my attention that what I always thought of as a stereotype about Americans not knowing the distinction between Sweden (and all things SWEDISH) and Switzerland (and all things SWISS) - may actually be true, because a number of (unnamed!) people have been making some statements that I have now just pieced together as confusion about where I am going. Since we are addressing a stereotype, it seems appropriate to clarify with some more stereotypes! For those of you who are already clear on the subject, you can skip this part.

SWITZERLAND or things associated with being SWISS:

Switzerland is located in mainland Europe, landlocked by Germany, France, Italy, Austria and Liechtenstein. They speak French, German, Italian and Romansh. The major cities are Geneva and Zürich.

Some cultural things commonly associated with Switzerland:

1. Swiss Chocolatiers (Lindt, for example)
2. Swiss Cheese -Gruyère/Emmental and fondue
3. Swiss Movement Watches - like Swatch
4. Swiss Engineering / Precision (I am not sure what this refers to, maybe cars and watches)
5. Swiss Army Knives
6. Swiss Bank accounts.
7. Being politically neutral
8. The font Helvetica (which may be a major reason people think I am going there!) and typographic designer Max Miedinger
9. The Swiss Alps and The Sound of Music
10. Alphorns, Lederhosen, Skiing, Yodeling and Ricola

I have never been there.

SWEDEN or things associated with being SWEDISH:

Sweden is a Nordic country, and part of the Scandinavian Peninsula, to the north of mainland Europe. It borders on Finland, Norway and Denmark. They speak Swedish and the capital is Stockholm. Part of the country rests inside the Arctic Circle.

Some cultural things commonly associated with Sweden:

1. IKEA!
2. Volvos
3. Swedish Fish (which are not actually Swedish)
4. Swedish Meatballs
5. Being Blonde and HOT - like the Swedish Bikini Team
6. Vikings
7. H&M
8. Let the Right One In / very small vampires
9. Ingmar Bergman, Ingrid Bergman, and Greta Garbo
10. Being politically neutral
11. Fish and especially Lutefisk or fish 'cooked' to a gelatinous state in lye
12. Institutors of the Nobel Prize
13. ABBA, Ace of Base, Lykke Li, José Gonzalez, The Knife, Fever Ray, Peter, Bjorn and John.
14. The Swedish Chef on the Muppet Show.
15. Laplanders and the Sami people, also reindeer.
16. Turnips, also known as Swedes.
17. The place where I am going in May.

They are both European, politically neutral, begin with SW, and get lots of snow from time to time. I am sure there are a lot of things that are available in both countries, except maybe Lutefisk, which should be banned in all countries, Sweden included.

So, if you have an interest in my visual interpretation of Sweden, and would like to own a piece of art made by me, I encourage you to support my project, or follow along while I get this show on the road. I need to write another more in depth update in on going to NYC to visit my favorite Swede who was in town briefly, plus some other adventures and things coming together in exciting ways, some of which I cannot disclose just yet!

So stay tuned and check out my kickstarter project which gives more details about what is at stake and how you can participate! You can always access it via the widget in the sidebar --->

Many thanks for reading, and even if you just link to my project, it is VERY much appreciated! Please comment with any questions! Tack!

coal in the veins

2010-03-08T16:11:00.003-05:00

It had been three years - at least - since I had visited coal country, proper and I was beginning to miss it. I had heard some snippets from people who had passed through more recently and in particular I wondered what state Centralia was in these days, aside from perpetually on fire. A springy window of weekend weather was opening before myself and The Goldberg, just in time for our second anniversary (go US!.... for not killing each other. heh) - so the opportunity was seized. We headed directly for Centralia early Saturday morning, greeted by sun... and a great snow-covered barrenness that is Centralia, now.

tides © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Much to my surprise, poised in the middle of a major mining vortex, there was now a wind farm one of the hills overlooking Centralia. I was suddenly reminded of that country near and dear to my heart - that I ne'er shut up about - Iceland. The rugged terrain, covered in colorful mosses, bleached wood, the wind, intense sun, the earthy sulphurous stench, the deep snow, the shells of small abandoned buildings. The buildings I had visited there in past - an abandoned house and a trailer home - were both gone - as were several of the houses that I recalled were being lived in at the time.

Byrnesville - which feels like an extension of Centralia rather than its own town - was almost entirely unchanged. Like its much publicized neighbor, Byrnesville shares the underground mine fire, which succeeded in driving all of its residents away. The familiar remains of what was once a miners' washhouse were covered in ice and snow and the sun shined strongly though the framework of what was left of the roof.

dotted eyes and crossed tees © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

nut loaf © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

release © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

freezer burn © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

precipitation © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

elements © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

blueberried © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

The snow was still quite deep in places, but the combination of the warmth of the ground below and the sun had caused it to compact and become so dense we could walk on top of it without sinking in... though occasionally I broke through and ended up in up above my knees and flailing. The snow covered so much of the normally impenetrable brush, we could actually explore a bit more than I could ever reach in past.

your slip is showing © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

After a quick drive round Shamokin we headed towards Knoebels Grove Amusement Park in Elysburg. Having grown up in Lancaster, we always visited Dutch Wonderland (an amusement park, much less grand than Hershey Park but closer)- so I have never actually seen Knoebels during the season. Visiting in winter, there are no lines, no spastic children just endless, empty kitsch.

in and out © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

unlocked © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

saturday in the park © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

raise the roof © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

diaper rash © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

making an exit © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

The tail end of our journey took us through Girardville into Shenandoah. Girardville running along Route 54, was an eerie, unstable town, seeming as though it could barely stand against the weight of time. More houses abandoned than lived it, all on the verge of collapse. The sun was hanging low but bright in the sky, and by the time we got to Shenandoah, we could scarcely see even to drive around. I caught a glimpse of this amazing old advertising on a restored warehouse just before we started to make our way back home.

never tires © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

For our anniversary we decided to try Distrito in University City for dinner. Philly's Iron Chef Garces' hot pink luchador-bedecked loft served us up some fine tapas style haute mexican. After having spent the day feeling sick to my stomach, I wasn't sure I could handle it, but actually I felt much better while sampling all the finery. Tres Leches with passionfruit curd as cure-all? Yes please.

And the big news: I've booked a flight for Stockholm in May. I'll spend 10 days wandering, possible out into the coutryside in the north or to the Archipelago. In the meantime, to get my Scandinavian fix, I will be seeing Sandra in a few short days, while she is in NYC for a movie premiere. Spring is coming, on Swedish wings!

in full bloom

2010-02-27T16:06:00.002-05:00

After weeks of being pummeled by blizzard after blizzard, where snow ceased to be measured in inches and moved to feet, I have finally thawed out, collected my thoughts and a few highlights from a period of near photolessness. Whenever the opportunity presented itself, that is, when the white stuff wasn't coming down hard enough to soak me to the skin, I would go out exploring while it was still pristine. We have since devolved into crusty blackened mountains of snow pushed to remote corners of shopping center parking lots and chunky gray slush puddles lurking at every crosswalk.

backflip © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

whiteout © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

veranda © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

the orphanage © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

arteries © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

red breast © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

ice nest © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

When cabin fever had just about squelched the life out of me, after blizzard number 2, I started chatting with a male model signed with Wilhemina. My car still buried, I mused to him how much I'd love to shoot a model in this snow, if only he were closer. Much to my surprise - I found he lived less than a mile away and we decided to get together the next day for a spur of the moment test shoot wandering around town.

photography: laura kicey / model: brenden von medicus for wilhemina / wardrobe: model's own

iron and ivy © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

mortal coil © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

lime and ice © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

the hunter © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

A very brief reprieve from precipitation happened to coincide with Chinese New Year celebrations in Chinatown, so Pete, Goldberg, Shanners and I convened for some dragon dancing and explosive vegetable matter. Go Tigers!

fired up © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

tiny dancer © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

porpoise © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

a pagoda is born © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

A walk in West Philly yielded a fresh construct in green and cream.

tower of babel © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

And I survived five years on flickr with a little self portrait to celebrate.

icicle © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Last but not least, I've started shooting again for Terrain this year - Spring MUST be drawing near, I can smell flowers! - and most recently went to the Philadelphia International Flower Show to document their booth in the marketplace. It was the first time in the nearly seven years I've lived here that I have ever been and much to my surprise, the entire back wall of the booth was a grid of photo prints of photos I have taken for them over the past couple years. Like a mini gallery show of my work!

Back of the Terrain booth / Philadelphia International Flower Show © Laura Kicey for Terrain at Home, All Rights Reserved.

I had always heard good things about the flower show - granted most of the displays were not entirely complete while I was there - but I really had quite high expectations in terms of inventiveness of the displays... and I was for the most part disappointed. Terrain's booth was not in the display category (they were in the area where items were for sale rather than amongst the judged displays) - but it was very beautifully put together as a retail display (and I'm not being biased). There were a couple standouts, including the display by Moda Botanica.com/ which was pretty phenomenal and took best of show. They stacked 6 large cargo shipping containers and created room-like displays within it, utilizing mirrors, packing materials, graffiti, wheat paste art, and an intricate framework of fluorescent intertwined sticks with coordination orchids, among other dazzling things.

moda botanica - best of show

moda botanica - best of show

moda botanica - best of show

I was also wowed by a display comprised of hundreds of tiny glass globe vases suspended by nylon thread, filled with a gradation of colored water and cut flowers in a complimentary gradation of colors.

hanging garden

Overall, I felt like a lot of the more elaborate and/or large displays were rather lacking in actual flowers, leaning heavily on greenery which seemed counterintuitive - as it is a flower show. Perhaps they will fill them out a bit more upon completion. If you are horticulturally inclined, or already planning on going to the Flower Show already - it starts February 28. Enjoy!

blackout/whiteout!

2009-12-29T12:19:00.004-05:00

2009 for me, was a year of recovery, both physical and mental. I didn't feel like I made great leaps and bounds, instead I built a foundation. Economically the ground upon which this was built was shaky, but I was able to make things possible I never foresaw. I first shot with Jenn An a few months into 2009, a couple months later, she started filming with America's Next Top Model which ended with her tied for third place. My last proper shoot of the year was one of her first since the show finished. In that time, I could tell we had both grown a great deal. Among my Christmas gifts was a Canon 430EXII flash, a shoot-through umbrella and a light stand - I also picked up a set of radio poppers while I was at B&H right after Christmas. I got to use my new lighting setup for the first time with Jenn, for our shoot in my house-studio; we started working on a series of images using black and white spaces/clothes/objects for a stark, dramatic feel.

photography/prop styling/hair: laura kicey • model/wardrobe/makeup: jennifer an

wisp © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

framework © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

with a twist © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

egress © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

chandelier © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

heated © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Not long after my first shoot with Jenn, I scored an amazing job doing all the photography for Cookie A's newest book (which is coming out in February!), Knit. Sock. Love.
Just as that project finished, I was pulling together sponsorship funds and shipping off on my unforgettable trip Iceland with Sandra by way of kickstarter.com in its inaugural year. My relationship with Terrain continued to grow through the summer, while they worked toward the release of their ecommerce site, meanwhile my construct entitled disintegration went into production and finally appeared on shelves in Urban Outfitters! The constructs also were published for the first time in the book Beyond Architecture. Throughout the summer, I took numerous daytrips with Goldberg, including the Poconos and orchestrated several styled shoots with a host of new and familiar faces, including a triumphant shoot in the Huber Breaker with Tanya, a double-model shoot with 28 Crash! Vintage, and an anniversary shoot with Kirsten and Matt at Laurel Hill. I also had my work appear on the walls of the State Museum of Pennsylvania and in the Skylight 307 Gallery in Philly, where I won an honorable mention.

In terms of my health, 2009 was my chance to devote myself to undoing the damage of two years spent in and out of the hospital, failed surgeries, a sedentary life with too many weeks spent on bed rest and an erratic diet supplemented with drugs and unpleasant treatments. I got a WiiFit last Christmas which helped me lose 15 pounds over the course of 6 months, and back in September I got an EA Active for Wii which kickstarted a stagnating workout routine so I was able to end the year having lost a total of 22 lbs, but more importantly I had regained much of my strength and stamina, plus I was able to stop taking all medications which was a huge victory for my system. I still have a ways to go to get back to my fighting weight, but feeling healthy and energetic in the wake of having sunken so physically low is an amazing feeling- one which I will not take for granted.

In the last few weeks of the year, I spent a great deal of time fine tuning the designs of not one but three books, which I am seeking publishers for in 2010. First and foremost, I completed the Iceland book exactly as I had envisioned it - as a combination of the piece I wrote and a selection of photographs. I also put together a book of constructs and a book of abandoned structures - which was rooted in my Living Rooms series which was shown at Cafe Estelle at the very beginning of 2009.

the frozen sea © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

jingle © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

winterberry © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

We were struck with a record-breaking blizzard that dumped up to 2 feet of snow on Philly, just in time for me to go out and explore with my brand new 85mm f1.8 lens. Weeks later, dingy piles of snow are still lingering.

Just after Christmas, my dear friend Spatial K made a trip to the East Coast. I hadn't seen her in 3 years - and Goldberg and I met up with her, Navid, and John Curley for a jaunt around NYC, including my first ever visit to B&H. We had some delightful Belgian wafflery at Petit Abeille, then took a touristy turn towards the Brooklyn Bridge (which I'd never actually seen up close either) and Central Park to sate Navid's brother and father who had never been to NYC.

gilt © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

woven © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

midnight in the garden © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

-----

As a means of avoiding the disaster that was last New Year's road trip + stomach flu, Goldberg and I stayed on NYE, made dinner and relaxed (=conked out before 9:30pm). For New Year's Day, I was invited by some flickr friends to bear witness to that most disturbing Philly New Year tradition: The Mummers.

toejam © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

winner © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

fur on fur © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

plumslobbered © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

spoils © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

rose parade © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

All reports indicated that the lack of Mummer funding on the part of the city has hurt the overall Fanciness of the parade. It also seemed to take a toll of the number of parade onlookers. Overall it was a far more mellow affair than I had expected, though I didn't visit the 2nd Street area, where they are known to get a bit more rowdy.

The urge to visit Delaware struck on what was the coldest day so far this winter. Goldberg and I were determined to do some exploring, even if only from inside the car. I wanted to revisit an abandoned flea market in rural Delaware that I first stopped at early in 2007, though I had passed it many times since. The winds bit at us, straight through many layers, and the tubs of odds and ends normally puddled with water, rusting with time and the elements, were frozen in blocks of ice.

The house on the property has a porch piled deeply with merchandise, high over my head, with a narrow path reaching the door. It had never occurred to me to try the door before, just presuming that it would be locked as the sign said closed. Goldberg was standing on the porch by the door and I asked him if he tried the knob. To our surprise it opened. He stepped inside, I behind him and he called out "Hello? Hello!" and received no answer. When we fell silent, we could quite distinctly hear music - country music playing on a radio. The piles of stuff in the front room nearly met the ceiling, which was covered with lamps and birdcages. You could barely see through to the next rooms, and upon hearing the music, I panicked and had to leave the house. Goldberg lingered a minute. I regret not having carried on a bit, but I am not too keen on bumping into people in their own homes, no matter how curious I am.

golden chariot © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

frozen tides © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

panning for gold © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

shade © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

spectacles on ice © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

ski lift © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

ice preservers © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

gourmet © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

One final item - I've entered a SELF contest over at Artists Wanted, with a series of my hand 'portraits'. There is a juried portion and a public favorite portion, with prizes for each. If you have a moment, please go vote for me - HERE - you can vote once every 24 hours and there is no need to register. I appreciate ever vote I can get, so thank you! Happy New Year to both new readers and those who have stuck by, in this, my 5th year of blogging!

ladies of the manor

2009-12-07T18:50:00.002-05:00

A few weeks back I had a shoot with a local stylist, Stacey (who mans the 28 Crash! Vintage Boutique), for the very first time. We had been planning it for well over a month, the clothes have a 'modernized 18th century European aristocratic'-feel - the shoot was set on the ruins of a local mansion built in the early 1900s. And as fate would have it, we were dealt some gorgeous, uncharacteristically summery weather for a November day.

Styling: 28 Crash! Vintage • Makeup: April Ramirez • Models: Genevieve at Reinhard & Arpita Patel.

the grand staircase © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

arpita, duchess of wyndmoor © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

lady genevieve of stotesbury © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

royalty © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

berries and diamonds © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

arc d'triomphe © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

pocketwatch © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

underwood © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

illuminated © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

thicket © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

courtly love © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

kennel club

2009-11-30T18:26:00.003-05:00

In the wake of a tryptophanciful weekend, overflowing with stuffed bellies and long drives down back-country roads, I bring you some of the non-edible spoils! Goldberg and I spent our Thanksgiving alone together- and he cooked us a tremendous dinner, which was, in every aspect, more enjoyable than Thanksgiving last year. The menu was much the same, but last year I was just coming out of the hospital for the second to last time, I was supposed to be fasting, but was granted a few holiday nibbles (which mostly consisted of stealing a bite of M's amazing stuffing every time I was upright to go to the bathroom), but mostly I recall being in so much pain I nearly passed out repeatedly that day, being heavily doped up on codeine and watching Eraserhead in my delirium. Not a highly recommended combination. Though I was afraid to move basically through the New Year, and every mysterious feeling prompted terror that I was falling apart yet again... little did I know I was on my way to a full and shiny recovery. This year I can truly be thankful for everything I have, and top of my list is my health. I am also thankful for the amazing people I have had the chance to get to know better and spend time with this year, both personally and professionally; my travels big and small - and the generous sponsors who made the big trip to Iceland possible; as well as the amazing photography projects I had the chance to work on this year with some very fine folks near and far. Last but not least I am thankful for my Goldberg and my family, all of whom are always there for me, even when I was running off to the emergency room... again... and not in top form.... or even when I was a total crabapotamous. I love you all.

first blush © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Towards the end of October I went to see my friend Phil Nesmith's show Flight Patterns at the Irvine Contemporary in Washington DC (which continues through December 12 and is well worth a visit!). His large scale photograms on glass plates depict intriguing interplays of winged creatures and containers, all in silhouette.

Directly after the show I made my way to visit one Ms. Plaisted in rural Maryland, where we were joined by the lovely Irina Souiki. Halloween merrymaking ensued, as did some afternoon trespassing while the kids napped. It was great to spend time with two long-time friends (Linda who I had met prior at her opening in Frederick in April, and Irina who I first met when she showed up at my Cafe Estelle opening early this year and many times thereafter when she returned to Philly on consequent business trips) - all three of us have long been drawn to beautiful abandoned buildings, though Linda had never actually been inside one, we took her for a grand tour in return for her kind hospitality.

aghast © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Treading lightly, we managed to get into a couple houses without being noticed. When I returned home that night, driving in the dark I stumbled across an abandoned building whose location I passed along to Linda and Irina. The next day they went on to explore it and instead, came across "The Dog House" nearby, so named for the unfortunate soul Irina discovered in the basement- the remains of a small dog who had apparently become trapped, tried and failed to escape. After seeing their photos, I really wanted to make a trek back down to MD with Goldberg to do some more exploring and hopefully see The Dog House firsthand. So this weekend, we did just that.

curb your dog © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

samoyed © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Rising at 6am (which is basically unheard of for me), we hit the road by 7:30 and were sneaking in a side door by 10... the first day this autumn that actually felt chilly enough to be winter. The house had been mostly abandoned for 18 years, according to the most recent newspapers strewn on the kitchen floor, though one of the bedrooms appeared to have hosted a squatter in more recent years, the bare mattress dressed with a pillow, frilly lamp and clock, blankets pinned up in the windows, a lone chair in the corner. Every room was a different and more daring color combination, reds, pinks, patterns, royal blues, dark grays, green, and yellow.

sleeping dogs lie © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

irish setter © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

I couldn't bring myself to go in the basement to see the house's namesake, but I was aware of his frail presence the whole time. In his honor and in the memory three friends' of beloved pets I learned were lost over the holiday weekend, I named each of the images after dog breeds and idioms.

kennel © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

piebald © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

panting © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

bark and bite © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

house trained © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

collar © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

sire © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

bloodhound © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Finally, it is the dreaded holiday shopping time of the year. To make it a little less painful, between now and December 15th I am offering sale prices and free shipping on your choice of any photograph (or construct!) in my etsy shop (or something on flickr that isn't there but tickles your fancy) - at 8"x12"/11"x17"/12"x18" sizes. See the featured items in my shop and send a message with your print choice along with your purchase.

atop laurel hill and beyond in concordville

2009-11-22T22:33:00.003-05:00

Every time I think things will slow down and I'll have a moment to catch my breath, I am whipped back into a frenzy of working and running around. Throughout the summer I've been shooting weekly for Terrain which culminated in the launch of their ecommerce site - for which I did all the on location shop section photography (not the studio shots of products). Since I haven't posted anything I've shot there in so long, I decided an update of some favorites was in order. This is just a small sampling of what I've been doing from early June right up to a couple weeks ago.

(©Laura Kicey for Terrain)

After twice opening the doors of their gorgeous home (plus their amazingly crusty carriage house, as well as vast gardens) to me for some of my creative shoots, it seemed it was high time I say thank you to Kirsten and Matthew for their wedding anniversary by doing some portraits of them together.

I realized almost one year and two days ago, we were in the thick of a snowstorm that dumped more than a foot of snow on us. This year, you never would have known it was November. Walking around Laurel Hill cemetery in shirtsleeves we made the most of the gorgeous day, the sun hanging low in the sky with a dreamy golden glow, with the magnificent backdrops provided us by the elaborate mausoleums. Not as morbid as it would seem, I mostly worked around the plentiful gravestones. Friend and frequent-model Tanya Dakin styled their wardrobe and K & M brought copious cool.

knock your socks off

2009-11-03T22:26:00.005-05:00

Back in May Sarah and I collaborated on a huge project: a book of knit sock designs by knitting superstar Cookie A. - we photographed 20 socks, 23 looks on four models (plus a 5th for details) on at least 30 locations. It was incredibly challenging, lots of fun and has really yielded a beautiful body of work. The book itself will be published in February 2010, and truly I can't wait. If you are interested in carrying the book in your shop, PLEASE do not hesitate to get in touch with me or Cookie!

This is just a sampling of all the images (and I'm not sure what is actually appearing in the book), but all wardrobe styling is by Sarah Beaver, models include Marlo Meekins, Genevieve and Chloe at Reinhard, and Mercedes.

faithful © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Genevieve at Reinhard

in a clearing © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Marlo Meekins

double parking © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Marlo Meekins

stepping up © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Chloe at Reinhard

curtsy © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Mercedes

the window well © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Genevieve at Reinhard

vermillion © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Genevieve at Reinhard

climbing trees in stocking feet © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Marlo Meekins

parquet © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Mercedes

purple prose © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Mercedes

nobody is watching © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Mercedes

lo mein © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Genevieve at Reinhard

inhale © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved. Model: Mercedes

More to come!!

blindhæðir

2009-10-27T11:21:00.010-04:00

Nearly five months ago, I wrote this piece about my trek with Sandra to Iceland, though the first bit covers some of the same ground as one of my more recent entries, I wanted to post this in full. It was a supreme labor of love, enjoy!

troða húsið © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Every step leading up to my adventure in Iceland meant moving forward without any sense of what was to come. I was not sure I could afford the trip at all, which prompted me to launch an art sponsorship program; likewise, although we have been friends for years, my travel companion, Sandra, (who lives in Stockholm) and I had only met once in 2005. Then again, despite having seen many photographs and some movies of Iceland, nothing could really prepare me for what I was to experience. Similar to the all-too-common sign we would eventually see on one-lane roads in the more rural areas of the country – BLINDHÆDIR, which indicated that you were about to crest a hill blind, without any sense of what was approaching from the other side, this trip rested on a hundred leaps of faith occurring on an almost hourly basis.

It had been several years since I had traveled beyond North America and the need to travel was becoming quite strong. While planning for the week-long trip, I realized that even though I had a companion to share the costs and I was going to keep myself to a strict budget, it would still be a financial stretch. One of my friends, joking that she would like to live vicariously through my trip, offered to become my sponsor as long as she could have a print of one of my photos from the excursion. At first I scoffed at the idea, but soon it started to become clear that I couldn’t afford the trip on my own and might have to take my friend’s offer seriously. Around the same time, another friend alerted me to the launch of kickstarter.com, a website serving as a platform for users to gain sponsorship for creative projects, so I was one of the first people to sign on and present a project. In return for financial backing, sponsors would receive their choice of a print from the trip. Because of the generally turbulent economic climate, I underestimated how much interest there would be in such a project – and was genuinely surprised when I ended up raising close to $3000. Sure, most people could not afford a huge contribution, but so many people – friends, family, complete strangers, even kickstarter.com staff members – all became intrigued enough to become involved, with the result that the trip essentially paid for itself. The added dimension of sharing my trip and the images I would create with my backers created a certain level of excitement for me, and even posed a challenge to my abilities. Once I reached Iceland, however, I realized that the beauty of the country speaks for itself; for a photographer, it was more a question of being able to do it justice in the limited time I had.

While driving to JFK, I received a constant flow of text messages from my traveling friend, Sandra, who had arrived in Reykjavík much earlier in the day than I. Though she had made it quite clear in advance that “Iceland is PURPLE!” – the whole island seems to be carpeted in purple lupine flowers (the Nootka Lupin or Alaskan Lupine) – by the time I myself was looking out the plane window shortly before landing, as the midnight sun sat low on the horizon, the sky, the mountains, and the earth – everything was truly glowing violet. To all appearances, I was landing on another planet. The Flybus, an airport shuttle service well-equipped to handle the influx of travelers coming into Reykjavík, ferried me and the other stragglers on the last arrival of the day through a delightfully lavender but scarcely populated lunar landscape to drop off each of us at the door of our respective hotels. As one of the last two riders to be deposited outside Hotel Cabin on the waterfront around 2 a.m. local time, I was able to watch the single hour of Icelandic night pass – more of a twilight than a real darkness – and then track the sun as it went back on the rise immediately. Across the water, I could make out a huge, looming, deep purple mountain, with a thick, cottony indigo cloud obscuring its peak, and a sliver of moon hanging low in the sky… and the air was filled with the scent of flowers. Despite my delirium, I wanted to grab someone off the near-empty streets and dance from the thrill of this sight. Instead, I tried to keep my composure and checked into the hotel to find Sandra sleeping in our tiny room with paper-thin walls. She awoke and we talked excitedly until our eyelids grew too heavy.

We rose in time to catch the tail end of breakfast downstairs: simple but traditional Icelandic fare. Well before I had left Iceland, I had become addicted to the tangy yogurt-like breakfast staple called skyr – actually a traditional Icelandic cheese – so I was overjoyed to be greeted with a full bowl, topped with fruit and cereal, alongside toast with cheese, boiled eggs and cucumbers, and a much-needed cup of coffee. We set off towards downtown Reykjavík to collect our rental car, pick up something for a picnic lunch at the ‘big’ (though by US standards quite diminutive) Kringla Mall, and then indulge in what would be the most touristy of our day trips: the Golden Circle, which includes Geysir and Gullfoss – a full day of geysers, glowing blue pools, and waterfalls in the southwest region of the country, on the Reykjanes peninsula. Travel on the Ring Road, the main highway around the coast of the country, as well as most other roads on the Golden Circle area, is fairly smooth and fast-paced, and gave us our first taste of both the scenery and the experience of driving in Iceland. The roads both inland and coastal are generally punctuated by roundabouts, and on either side you regularly see clusters of tiny native horses, long stretches of flat ground carpeted with the vibrantly purple lupines, otherworldly stretches of lumpy volcanic rock thickly covered with gray-green moss, or distant snow-capped mountains. The contrasts and colors can’t be compared to anything I’ve ever seen, but if I had to draw a comparison, I would liken it to the Pine Barrens of New Jersey, the deserts of the West, the moors of England blooming with heather, the surface of the moon, and Alaska, all rolled into one. Vibrant lime greens, chartreuse, black, purples, sage greens, rich blue-greens, rich rusts and deep reds. As our time there wore on and we spent more and more time among such landscapes, it became easier to understand why the Icelandic people for the most part believe in what they call “hidden people” – trolls, gnomes, elves, fairies and the like. The strange rock formations, the traces of brute natural forces, the flora and the fauna are all so entirely unique and possess strongly anthropomorphic and supernatural qualities, one can not help but be charmed by the notion.

vivisection © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Our first stop was at a massive crater called Kerið. On the face of it, it seems difficult to muster enthusiasm for a large hole in the ground; when the powerful geo-forces of the island go to work however, this particular hole in the ground becomes an intensely blue-green pool of water, ringed in gold-white mineral deposits and black rocks, surrounded on all sides by volcanic earth of a warm maroon hue. Neither Sandra nor myself being keen on heights, we redirected away from perilous drops back to the safety of solid land.

gouge © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

In our few hours on the road it appeared that there are no longer any truly wild horses left in Iceland, as every herd we came across was fenced in, along with much of the burgeoning sheep population and scant numbers of cattle. Even from a distance, it was obvious that the demeanor of the Icelandic horse is quite different from your typical Thoroughbred or even wild pony from any other part of the world. We pulled over to admire some and they ran off towards their feed trough, apparently expecting us to fill it. When we caught up with them, they were inquisitive and playful, jumping, rearing, scrunching up their remarkably expressive faces, with thick manes whipping in the strong winds. Though we didn't have time to take a ride this trip, I know I will find time for a tölt (a gait that is unique to Icelandic horses- a fast and very smooth ride) on my next visit to Iceland.

Strokkur, the geyser situated next to the now-dormant Geysir (for which all geysers are named), erupts every few minutes, and burbles and steams constantly in between eruptions. The explosive drama of the geyser’s spout against the backdrop of the purple, June-time landscape, surrounded with jewel-toned pools of steaming water, rich blue skies and intense sun was quite rousing. The intensity and raw power of Gullfoss – the grandiose Golden Falls, our next stop, dwarfed even Geysir. When you pull into the parking lot, you can neither see nor hear this raging force of water cutting into the land, but after a short walk over the hill, the turbulent wind and mist grab you and start to pull you into the core of Golden Falls. Standing on a ledge a few feet from the edge, separated by only a single thin wire, the wind at your back edging you forward, it would be easy to get swept away by its force.

undercurrent © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

fervor © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

The map Faithful Navigator Sandra was consulting made it look as though the most convenient route to get back to Reykjavík, passing by Þingvellir (a large national park), would be Route 365, rather than double back the way we had come. As we turned off the main road, the terrain immediately changed as we crested our first (and certainly not our last) blindhædir and entered the most desolate lunar landscape we had seen yet: moss, volcanic rubble, and craggy mountains as far as we could see. When we stopped to take some photographs at one point, when we stopped speaking we realized the air was utterly silent. The occasional SUV was the only reminder we had that the road we were on actually led anywhere: there were no buildings, fences or animals, only the thick dust clouds that rose as passing vehicles disappeared – after forcing us off the narrow roadway, that is.

spilled milk © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

lupina © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Miraculously, we emerged on the other side of this no man's land back on a main road, hurtling towards Reykjavík. After dinner, we ended up taking a stroll through the streets of the city, taking in the last rays of daylight around 11 p.m.

directive © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

fosswalk © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

fool's gold © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

tread © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

We did have to make it an early night, as the trip we had planned for our second full day was going to be quite an undertaking: driving from Reykjavík to the glacial lake of Jökusárlón in the southeast of the island and back again – about 12 hours on the road altogether.

life between the lines © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

The weather that met us each day seemed perfectly appropriate for the character of the day's wanderings, and the gray gloom of this day was no exception. Our first stop, about two hours drive from Reykjavík, was Vík (fully: Vík í Mýrdal), which greeted us with some characteristically stunning visual drama – deep black sand beaches, fast-moving gray clouds with a mist of rain, and towering cliffs dressed in lupines and fog.

flesh and bone © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

face of the dune © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

After a quick lunch of soup and bread, we walked the beach, admiring the Reynisdrangar – columns of black basalt said to be trolls petrified by morning light – and the swirl of nesting seabirds, mostly puffins and fairy terns. When we'd had our fill of rolling about on the black sand, we took off towards Vatnajökull and the glacial lagoon.

sandra and the strand © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

seraphim © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

The landscape changed quite distinctly at several points along the Ring Road on the south coast, and frequently hid the ocean from view although we were quite close to the shore. The glaciers of the Icelandic Interior (the remote central highland region that is off-limits most of the year), including Mýrdalsjökull and Eyjafjallajökull, were always visible in the distance, remaining the sole constant as the roadscape shifted from flat, lupine-covered plains to barren black lava fields to placid glacial rivers reflecting the gray sky. We stopped to take a closer look at the moss-covered volcanic rock and found the moss to be incredibly thick and bouncy – closer examination proved even more like walking on the moon than just appearances.

hitching © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

expanse of kilometers © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Even on the major roadways, there is a peculiar lack of signs indicating direction or distance to and from major points in Iceland. No matter how far removed you feel from civilization, however, it is rare that another vehicle is all too far behind you as the last disappears from sight. The road dips inland at Skaftafell National Park, close to the Vatnajökull glacier, and turns back out towards the water – and there, suddenly, icebergs are upon you! Sandra and I stopped dead in the parking lot and shrieked with delight in the car: unimaginably majestic, the icebergs were an amazing shade of pale blue-green, with veins of black.

backbone © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

aquamarine © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

They are constantly moving, but ever so slowly, out to sea – breaking, colliding, melting. Being in their presence is peaceful, like watching the ghosts of long-dead giants passing by. Tomorrow there will be all new icebergs, and those I saw will be long gone, but quite unforgettable.

thunderhead © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Doubling back again through the alien landscapes, hoping to see Svartifoss (a remarkable waterfall in Skaftafell which inspired Reykjavík’s most impressive cathedral) before returning to Reykjavík, we were told at the visitors center it would be a 45-minute hike each way. We decided that with 4 hours on the road still ahead of us plus a dinner stop, we couldn’t afford it. We carried on through to Vík where we paused long enough to stop at the Strondin Bistro; the service was fairly awful, but the burger that filled our empty stomachs at 10 p.m. could not be matched for divine flavor.

leap of faith © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

The weather was taking a turn for the worse: fog was darkening the skies and the rain was coming down more steadily. Driving up a very steep mountainside cloaked in milky haze, the edges of the road dropped off from imagined cliffs. It was a harrowing drive home, especially for someone who hates driving as much as I do (Sandra does not have a driver’s license) and is unfamiliar with the twists and turns of the road ahead. Still, it wouldn’t be the last of our death-defying driving. We made it back to our Reykjavík base quite late and packed our bags so that we could launch early for the West Fjords and Strandir Coast.

seaweed four © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

inlet © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

The drive northwest along the Ring Road was fast-moving, and we paused only a few times to admire the changing landscape before we were abruptly ejected onto one very rough road. We stopped almost immediately at a stretch of rocky beach when I was struck by a rainbow-like array of seaweed and kelp in every imaginable color washed ashore. Unlike every other beach I have ever been on, despite the massive amount of dead and decaying organic matter, it smelled fresh and salty and was a feast for the eyes. When we got back on the road, I was only willing to go about 30km/hr, but we soon realized we might never get to Djúpavík at that speed. The road from there on out was extremely rough, paved with only stones or dirt, and barely one and a half lanes wide. We pulled into Holmavík a couple hours later, which is the last “big” town on that route in the north – about 300 residents. After refueling the car, we stopped by Café Riis, a tiny pub, for some lunch. Expecting a rustic, pub-style meal, we both ordered a roasted bacalao (salted cod) dish with potato cake and salad. We were blown away when we were served beautifully presented platters worthy of a much more upscale restaurant: all locally-produced cheese, fish and shrimp. It was impeccably prepared, with delicate, bright flavors.

The road heading north from Holmavík was even narrower, and followed the bend of every fjord, making the drive woozily repetitive but ever more harrowing as the roads became increasingly rugged. Although as the driver, it was hard for me to appreciate it fully, the weather and the scenery were stunning. Golden sunshine was chased by brief bursts of showers inland, dramatic clouds played over the mountainsides and ocean views; breathtaking terrain rolled past, dotted with tiny farmhouses and clusters of sheep, and waterfalls appeared at regular intervals.

sandra and the strand © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

The last two fjords before our arrival were particularly treacherous, and I had to do everything in my power to keep my cool. Sandra would point her camera out the window to shoot the scenes for us to view later, averting her own eyes as the drop induced a bit of vertigo. The final kilometers of road into Djúpavík hugged a cliff face with falling rock tightly to our left, and went into a sheer drop without a guardrail abruptly to our right. Around the last turn of the fjord, our jaws both dropped when a wide rainbow touched down on the road in front of us. As we pulled into Djúpavík around 9pm, on the longest day of the year, we were both shaken and awestruck.

break of midnight © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

We were shown our room by our kind host, Eva, then unpacked and decided to take in some of the midnight sun. Before I even conceived of coming to Iceland, I had been told by several friends that I should watch the documentary Heima, which elegantly chronicled the homeland tour of one of Iceland’s best-known bands, Sigur Rós. The film’s portrayal of the landscapes was engaging enough alone, but it was the band’s visit to Djúpavík and its long-abandoned herring processing factory, closed since the early 50’s, that convinced me to visit this remote and astonishing region. Sandra and I took a walk over to admire the factory, the few buildings in town, and the stunning waterfall that runs into it. We were caught in a sudden rain shower and retired to the lounge for the night to process our photos.

shelter © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

the ark © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

buoyant © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

The hotel owners now also own the factory and provide tours to visitors. Eva informed us they wouldn’t be able to give us a tour our first day because a large group was coming to stay and they were short-handed. She suggested we drive further up the coast to where the road more or less ends and there is a geothermally-heated, oceanside pool. It took over an hour – at my breakneck pace of 50 km/h – but at this point, I was almost getting used to the mountain-goat-style driving. The pool, at any rate, was worth every white-knuckled blindhædir. The sun was shining brilliantly in the blue sky, and from the vantage point of the pool you could watch the rainstorms out at sea. After soaking in the comfortably warm water and taking photos there for a couple hours, we left when a large group of sightseers parked 4 SUVs on the beach, obscuring the view.

sun and moon © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

ewe & I © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

djúpa-foss © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

That evening we had a relaxing dinner at the hotel and took a little walk around the bay area,, photographing the fairy terns circling overhead. I also slid inside the massive concrete tanks that were once used to store the processed herring meal by the factory.

gone fishing © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

swallowing the sun © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

The next morning after breakfast we packed once again and were led to the herring factory by Eva for the tour. The main hall of the lower level was now a makeshift storage area for vintage cars belonging to the locals. They had converted some of the spaces for use in public events, including a recent chess tournament and a regular art exhibition.

wakeup call © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

checkmate © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

eva and the faeries © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

It was quite stunning when she introduced us to the flock of fairy terns through a large window that make their nests on the rooftop. Eva told us that the building had been built entirely by hand, without the use of any heavy machinery, in less than a year and a half during the late 1940’s. For quite some time, it was the largest concrete structure in Europe. It takes a particular kind of person to make a life in such a distant region, but Eva and her husband have gone to great lengths to preserve the history of the place and ensure a future for the town and its structures.

fiskur foss © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

On our return trip to Reykjavík, we promised ourselves we would stop back at Café Riis for lunch and also visit the famously disturbing necropants at the Sorcery and Witchcraft Museum of Hólmavik. At Café Riis, I sampled the local mystery meats via an ‘open sandwich platter’, including dark Danish rye bread, Icelandic flatbread, hardfiskur (fish jerky), green pea salad, smoked lamb, and heady smoked lumpfish.

Cafe Riis Icelandic open sandwhich platter © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

In the aftermath of the meal, my stomach felt a bit like an aquarium. The Sorcery and Witchcraft Museum was a bit underwhelming in terms of its displays, though the audio tour, at any rate, proved to be bizarrely engrossing. The necropants, however, are so richly weird that they could stand alone. To procure a pair of necropants – the surest way to secure wealth in an uncertain world – a man must make a pact with another man who is dying. After the man dies and is buried, the other man must exhume the corpse, remove the skin perfectly from the waist down, and rebury the body with a coin stolen from a poor woman tucked into its scrotum. The man must then wear the pants made from the dead man’s skin, whereupon they will bind to his own skin and bring him great and constant fortune, via the loins. Though the necropants in Hólmavik are a replica made of latex, they left an indelible mark on my psyche.

sandra and the necropants © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

muddy megane © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

The rest of that day was devoted to driving back to Reykjavík. Much to our surprise, about half of what had been gravel and dirt roads on our way up to Djúpavík on Sunday, had now become paved roads by that Tuesday afternoon. The responsible parties turned out to be an enormously industrious two-man team we spotted on the road south. This cut our travel time to a fraction of what it had been before, even with stops along the way at a number of shorelines, abandoned houses and farms we had noted on the way up.

drop © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

seaweed forty-one © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

seaweed thirty-seven © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

lunar eclipse III © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Our final rest stop in Reykjavík, the 4th Floor Hotel, was the accommodation on which we had decided to splurge. Located on a busy central block, the hotel was awkward to maneuver, the staff behaved in an unnecessarily confusing way, and the room, though clean, was plagued by an intense stench of sulfur emanating from the facilities in the bathroom. The evening was spent catching up on photos, emails, updates and preparing for our flight the next day.

mud mask © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

We were planning on taking a leisurely soak in the Blue Lagoon on our final afternoon and heading directly to the airport afterward. Foolishly, we had not done much research at all on the Lagoon, thinking that finding it would be a simple affair. We checked out of our odiferous digs in Reykjavík a bit on the late side and headed towards the Lagoon’s restorative milky blue waters. Little did we know that Icelanders are so confident in the mystical power of attraction exerted by the lagoon that they would not bother with an actual sign indicating its location on the main road to Keflavik; there was only a small unassuming sign for Bláa Lonið. After driving well out of the way, by the time we arrived, checked in, took the manadatory pre-dip scrub and conditioning treatment and photographed a bit, we had less than half an hour of quality soak time before we had to get out, rescrub, dress, refuel the rental (and scrub the mud off it), drop it off and get back to the airport. The white silica mud we glazed ourselves with did in fact zap all the stress and frustration of the day. Bláa Lonið is a truly extraordinary and bizarre place, the last of many we saw that week.

border patrol © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

slilca © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

We arrived safely in New York, bleary-eyed and jetlagged. After all the long uncertain drives, I was shocked to have avoided peril there, only to end up in a car accident on the turnpike on the way home! After a trek that was truly the smoothest and most sensational I have ever taken, that final east coast blindhædir threw me for a loop. The ineffable beauty, colors and stark contrast in the land will stay with me for a lifetime, inspiring and informing the artwork and photographs I have yet to make. With only a week to work in, there were too many roads I never got the chance to turn down, too many stretches of coast I did not get to admire, but every turn blind turn moved me to embrace the unexpected grandeur of a land to which I cannot wait to return.

......................

I have a LOT of catching up to do and I will be working on doing just that as soon as I can.

on safari

2009-09-04T15:53:00.003-04:00

Such a lot of catching up to do, including finishing with the Iceland madness, and roadtrips to Delaware and Luzerne County. In the meantime, I have entered the National Geographic Traveler/PDN World in Focus contest - I opted to submit a photo essay of images from my trip to Iceland, and while the main contest is juried, there is also a People's Choice award. If you would be so kind as to cast a vote - they do require a valid email address, where they will send you a link to vote from, a bit of a pain, but I sure would appreciate it!

The link to my voting page is here: http://www.worldinfocuscontest.com

cocolasia © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

THANK YOU!!

purple prose, part I

2009-08-05T23:54:00.003-04:00

Having just finished writing a 4000+ word essay about my recent trip to Iceland (which I returned home from a week ago) that will be published end of July/beginning of August, I want to give you patient readers a little taste of things to come once it goes live.

Icelandic summertime greeted us in Reykjavík so vibrantly: the perfume of the Nootka Lupines, the tall purple flowers that densely carpeted most of the Reykjanes peninsula in the southwest, was thick in the air, and they were a delight for the eyes. Even though I haven't seen Sandra since 2005, we immediately slipped into an easy rhythm, often comically anticipating each others words and whims. Even though we didn't spend a great deal of time with any of the locals, her presence brought me such insight into Scandinavian culture in general and the rest we learned on the fly.

With less than a week to accomplish a great deal we had streamlined everything possible beforehand, so we always knew where we would be by what time, but always had time to stop wherever we wanted along the way. Sandra was a very cool and collected navigator and trip adviser, not only keeping us on the right path but always spotting points of unexpected interest, providing both musical entertainment and interesting narratives on the road and feeding me nibbles to keep spirits and blood sugar up when we didn't have time to stop at the N1 to grab some skyr.

No one who knows either of us well (despite my penchant for abandoned building explorations) would ever have been able to picture the two of us going to the remotest corners of this country alone, with no clear idea of what to expect at any point along the way, driving on the edge of deadly cliffs with falling rock raining on the other side of us, appearing at a swimming pool at the end of the world, and coming back slightly shaken but still swinging. We scarcely could believe what we had proven ourselves capable of. Sure, it looks like I am going to drive off a cliff, over and over, sure a 4x4 could meet us at the top of the blindhædir hurtling at top speed, or there might be a small troupe of sacrificial lambs around the next bend. Onward! I was quite proud of us.

The drive from my house to JFK was plagued by heavy downpours that were nearly blinding at times. Once checked in I went to the gate and after sitting mostly alone for some time was approached by this guy who had emailed me that he was also going to Iceland - the same day I was - flying from JFK and he recognized me from flickr. I won't lie, it was a little weird. I probably came off stunned, confused or terrified... or maybe just a jerk, but I was completely caught off guard and just froze. Icelandair is the first airline in recent memory to provide a blanket and pillow to everyone on board, the TVs in the backs of every seat provided a broad variety of language lessons including Icelandic which I was acing.

AND they were showing Heima, which I watched for the third time and still managed to get a bit choked up while doing so. It made the short flight fly and miraculously I was seated next to a well-behaved (maybe 8 year-old) boy and his dad who were both quite pleasant. The airport at Keflavík makes the airport in Lancaster look expansive. The security processing coming in is incredibly low-tech and slow, but while standing in line I was able to watch the sun setting in a lavendar haze over the fields of purple lupines. I felt quite upside down, elated and anxious. After grabbing my bags and fidgeting with my phone willing it to start working so I could let Sandra know I'd arrived I hopped on a Flybus. The driver seemed a bit daffy, repeatedly asking everyone on board which hotels they were going to, skipping me numerous times and then making mumbled announcements and getting aggravated at the passengers who misunderstood. The road from Keflavík to Reykjavík was fairly barren, a few tiny houses, expanses of lupines, fields of volcanic rock that looked like heaps of blackened muscular men sleeping on top of each other, blanketed with dusty gray-green mosses, like ash. There were tiny towns here and there, ultra-modern Scandinavian architecture in bright primary colors. Barely a soul on the roads, and though it was probably around 1am by then, that was not unusual at any time of day.

We dropped passengers at a number of guesthouses, anonymous hotels, hostels and one what appeared to be a Viking-themed resort. The city was small and clean, very little graffiti and fewer familiar shops. As we drove onward, down to the last two people, the driver informed us we were seeing the hour of 'darkness' which was actually much brighter than the sundown at 9pm back home in the summertime. Moments later he commented that the sun was now rising. We pulled up in front Hotel Cabin, a big gray boxy building, at the east end of town on the waterfront. When I stepped outside I was again overtaken with the scent of flowers and nearly forgot that I was in a metropolitan area. Across the water huge indigo mountains loomed in the pale purple sky, capped with a thick layer of matching clouds, the sliver of moon hanging just above. I had officially landed on another planet.

I crept upstairs to our room and had awakened a dozing Swede. Our jetlag was straining us in opposite directions but we managed to stay up chatting for a couple hours. She showed me our amazing view... our window looked out onto the hallway. Bad for dramatic photographs, good for helping us forget the sun was currently just about shining full force outside. The walls were paper thin, so we spoke in excited whispers. I laid in bed for a few hours, drifting in and out of sleep until we both realized the other was awake and we dressed to partake of breakfast. The cafeteria room was bustling and the fair was very typical of what we would see (and essentially survive on for the next week): cut up bananas and oranges, sliced boiled eggs, cold cuts - cheeses and ham, cucumber, tomato, a big bowl of skyr, honey, fruit preserves, hearty breads, cereals, and coffee. We loaded up on skyr with fruit and cereal as well as cheese toast with eggs and cucumbers. And I plenty of coffee. We returned, showered and got our bearings to go collect our rental car. We took a brisk walk over, wind urging us onward and collected our chariot: a silver Renault Elf Megane, which though considered a compact car was quite a roomy hatchback, which we would basically be living out of for the coming days.

vivisection © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Our first stop, rather embarrassingly (especially as I hadn't taken a single photograph yet) was the Kringla Mall. Huge by Icelandic standards, but quite tiny on a US scale (and let's face it, all cultural crossover aside, it was A MALL), we were looking for the tourism center where one flickr photographer, Maja Paja works. Though we had given her no warning, as we crept into the shop, she recognized us immediately. Despite the sudden influx of customers, we made plans to meet up later for some people-watching on the town that night. After we bid her adieu, we stopped at the Hagkaup (a big chain supermarket) to pick up some things for lunch and to keep in the car for snacks. Finally hitting the road proper, the more well-traveled roads we were on did not afford many places to stop, but we did find a picnic point that looked there should be some Von Trapp's in action. After part of our salad took flight and we pranced around in the wildflowers a bit, we took off and shortly reached Kerið crater, a privately owned hole in the ground. But what a massive and ridiculously colorful hole in the ground it was! A steep drop of reddish earth, decorated with chartreuse foliage, into a pool of super-saturated blue-green water, with rings of white and gold on its shore.

gouge © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

In the southwest, the Icelandic horse is a plentiful beast, although it seems to have been almost completely domesticated, their numbers divvied up among the farm owners, and fenced in. They seem to have not lost any of their spunk regardless. While horses of standard stature, thoroughbreds - seem to have a more stoic, powerful air, the smaller Iceland breed are quite the comedians, frolicking, rearing, nipping and chasing each other... and such expressive faces, they seemed at times to laugh. We only pulled over once to attempt to photograph a herd near the roadside, and as soon as we pulled over they went running off... down to their feed trough. When we finally caught up with them, they were drawn to the fence, inquisitive and bashful. Whenever we would drive by a group, they seemed to all adopt the same activity simultaneously - all playing at once, or standing and staring off toward the same distant point, preening each other, such a familial unity.

The hill upon which the geyser Strokkur explodes is thickly covered in lupines and the runoff from the mineral- and algae- rich blue waters of the original (now dormant) Geysir and the nearby pools. As we were just starting to scale the hill, Strokkur exploded grandly.

undercurrent © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

fervor © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Sandra decided that because the geyser had blown its load before we actually had a chance to enjoy ourselves, it would need some dirty pillow talk to get things moving for us again. So as we stood by, cameras ready, trained on the pulsing, sloshing pit before us, Sandra whispered sweet and sultry nothings to coax Strokkur on. When it finally performed, the high winds created a ghostly steam and mist mass that hovered and drifted away before dissipating. In our jetlagged and near-constantly-euphoric state, we started to make our way up the nearby hill setting our sights on a dense patch of lupines, where we both decided we should just set up camp. We plopped ourselves down in amongst the rather tall plants and basked in their perfume and the intense sunshine.

spilled milk © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

lupina © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Not far down the road is Gullfoss, the Golden Falls, the force of wind and mist coming from the well-hidden source suggest raging turbulence nearby. Removing our hats for fear of their taking off, we crested the hill on foot and made our way down into the wide chasm that was roaring with the power of the misty, rainbow tinted falls. Gullfoss is one of those places so vast and much more exciting as an experience... one which literally nearly pushed us over the edge, and less so as a photographic impression.

fosswalk © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

tread © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

It was a bit late, though the sun was still radiant and high in the cloudless sky, so we decided to take a miss on Þingvellir State Park and go directly back to Reykjavík. The road which seemed most direct path was Route 365 according to our map, so we turned onto 365 which appeared to be partly under construction at the junction and once over a hill deteriorated into rough, dusty gravel road. There were no buildings, no animals and the landscape had changed dramatically. We hand landed on the moon. Only the occasional passing of a 4x4 indicated we were on the path to somewhere. And when they did pass, a dust storm erupted every time, completely obscuring the road and blotting out the sky. Hurried drivers would pass our slow moving car every so often, leaving us feeling like we might drive off the edge of the earth. At one point we decided to pull over to examine the terrain a bit more closely.

moonwalk © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

I pulled over to a spot where I would be visible and walked over to what appeared to be the footprint of a small stone building. As Sandra crouched down to admire some tiny lichens and flowers, I stood perfectly still. Though I could see three sheep, tiny dots on a near-distant hillside... the air was so perfectly still and silent, not a bird or a gust of wind was heard. It was so perfectly silent, my ears began to ring. When I finally spoke to Sandra my voice felt more like a shout, it was uncanny. A truck drove by suddenly stirring up another massive cloud of dust and we took shelter in the car, then drove onward. The terrain started to change, greening up a bit, more horses and lakes, until we passed the entrance for Þingvellir. From there on out, the scene took a turn for the urban, at least as much as Reykjavík's suburbs allow: sporadic small homes and shopping centers peppering the vast plains of lupines and moss.

freckled © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

The sun still high in the sky belied the late hour as we got back to our hotel. We performed our awkward unloading dance between and on the beds, zipping and unzipping our bags, taking turns standing and checking our social media as good nerds should. Maja said she was waiting for her friends to bring her beer to their place and she would meet us at a bar later - since it is very expensive to go out to bars to drink in Iceland, as is alcohol in general - it is common for Icelanders to purchase beers to drink at home with friends before going out and then once they've had a few, venture out to bars for one drink, or go dancing. We decided to go downtown leisurely-like, and do some small-scale people-watching. In a city less populous than Lancaster where I grew up (which was a painfully small city to grow up in), immediately you had a sense, just walking down the main drag, that everyone knew each other and we were very obviously fresh meat. Every eye was on us.

directive © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

It was close to 10pm by the time we walked up into the bar, with a bit of the Icelandic-hipster vibe about it, and things were evidently picking up for the evening. Maja was nowhere to be seen so we hit the streets and just wander and shoot in the dwindling light. There were quite a few half-finished now-deteriorating construction sites, high rises, along the waterfront. Reykjavík's most famed cathedral, Hallgrimskirkja, was completely shrouded with scaffold and mesh. After finding ourselves walking in ever-decreasing circles, we decided to drive back to the hotel and call it a night early since tomorrow morning we would have to leave quite early to make it to Jökulsárlón and back to Reykjavík. Of course we ended up packing, talking, and making travel notes until almost 3am anyway. The collective asses would be dragging the following morning....

under my skin © Laura Kicey, All Rights Reserved.

Stay tuned for the next installment!

góða ferð

2009-06-17T20:08:00.006-04:00

By this time tomorrow I will just be landing on foreign soil. Looking for a Skybus to ferry me into the long cool arms of one Sexy Swedish Babe.... who will probably be unconscious. Two days ago I was finally able to turn my full attention to trip planning again for the first time in weeks. We are both of "do enough research to get by, go where the road beckons" school of traveling thought. We are both also worn a bit thin by the freelance work schedule of the past couple months and are running low on sleep and stress-free days...so we will both probably get exceedingly emotional over some ridiculous thing and break into a chorus of weeping.

I already feel like my body is pre-adjusting to the jetlag, waking at strange hours, alert and ready to go. 24 hours of disorienting sun, a friend I haven't seen in four years, the surface of the moon, icebergs, moss, tiny horses. An alien paradise dotted with abandoned buildings. If you are interested in updates while I am there, I should be able to post a few while on the move overseas here or on the very successful kickstarter sponsorship page. If you missed out on becoming a kickstarter sponsor, prints will be available on my etsy shop not too long after I return. I will eventually be writing a proper post here so keep your eyes peeled.

I know I haven't blogged since... forever. so many projects have been cooking at a full boil for months, I scarcely could breathe. And most of what I shot I can't share until November (sadly - Sarah and I just recently wrapped up an epic project that we are both extremely proud of and are chaffing at the bit to make public). You can also peek over at Terrain for their new weekly web photo updates which I will be doing (Yay!). Already many of the sub-pages feature almost all my photos!

One last thing which I won't have time to promote - a reminder to Harrisburgers/Central PAsians - I will be in Harrisburg for the opening of the long running The Art of the State, 7pm, June 27, 2009 at the State Museum of Pennsylvania. I have a piece in the show and can't wait to see the other work! If you are in the area and free, come on down!

Now I should really try to get a little sleep before the early rising to pack the last of the bags before I leave for the Much-Anticipated Icelandic Art Extravaganza. Góða nótt!

spring-loaded

2009-04-30T00:19:00.002-04:00

Since I am about to disappear into the depths of a rather involved fashion-book project for the next month, I just wanted to show some signs of life while I am busily planning shoot locations and trips now lined up through mid-july, much further than the eye can see. A little taste of spring at much-loved Terrain, to counter the summery heatwave of the past few days:

© Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

© Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

© Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

© Laura Kicey for Terrain. All Rights Reserved.

Also, in other big news, one of my abandoned interiors was accepted into the annual juried exhibition Art of the State which is showing from June 28-September 20 at the State Museum of Pennsylvania in Harrisburg. Details about the opening to come when I have them. It is a pretty huge honor to hang on a museum's walls!

(happy dance!)

kickstarter

2009-04-29T12:16:00.006-04:00

As an amendment to the last posting, because Etsy banned the sponsorship idea, I have found a new and WAY better venue. I just discovered it yesterday by way of my friend and talented artist/businesswoman Linda Plaisted: It is call Kickstarter.com

Essentially it is exactly what the doctor ordered: a program for artists and other creatives to pitch their ideas for projects that they cannot execute without backing. They create a presentation on their idea, if there are rewards for people who pledge towards the goal, they can be detailed, update photos and videos can be posted on progress and backers and project managers can be contacted. All payments go through Amazon payments with a credit card payment, which is connected to my bank account - like paypal. Nothing but a username you choose is ever seen by me and the amount you pledge. If you want a print, I will need a mailing address, if not, you may remain anonymous.

If you are interested but have questions PLEASE do not hesitate to contact me at but you can read about it in more detail on my kickstarter sponsorship project page!

EDIT 8-29-09: I NO LONGER HAVE KICKSTARTER INVITES AVAILABLE SO CALL OFF THE SEARCH PARTY - THANKS! LOVE, MANAGEMENT
I have already gotten 16 sponsors (!!!) by way of my own horn tooting and kickstarter combined. I cannot thank those who have supported me enough and cannot wait to get my butt on a plane this June. Can I please just fast-forward?
EDIT 8-29-09: I NO LONGER HAVE KICKSTARTER INVITES AVAILABLE SO CALL OFF THE SEARCH PARTY - THANKS! LOVE, MANAGEMENT

NOTE: kickstarter.com is a by-invite-only program, so far. if you have a great, creative project in mind, try asking other kickstarter participants if they have some invites left they might be willing to share or go here and ask nicely!

ice. ice. KICEY

2009-04-18T00:48:00.002-04:00

true north © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

KICEY to ICELAND or how to become a patron of the arts

In about two months (mid-to-late June) I will be going to take a trip to Iceland for 5 days for the sole purpose of taking photographs and making art. My flight is already booked! I expect to spend some time in the southwest around Reykjavik as well as going to the northwestern fjords around Djupavik. I haven't really gone anywhere outside of driving range in two years so I'm really quite hungry to travel somewhere truly unique and a bit remote.

One of my friends suggested that she would like to sponsor my trip in exchange for a print of something I take while I am there. At first I thought it was ridiculous but then it dawned on me that it was a brilliant idea... I decided it would be a both an incentive for me to make beautiful things and great way of raising funding to create a little art sponsorship program. Shockingly, I already have a few people sponsoring me which makes me very excited, and hugely appreciative. I can't thank them enough and it makes me even more excited to do great work while I am there.

I have set up a kickstarter.com sponsorship project page which is a great way to pledge - keeping in mind if I do not reach my goal by the end date of June 17, I will not get any of the money- nor will anyone get a print so if you are interested or have some questions please send me at lk{at}laurakicey{dot}com and we'll discuss!

****************************************************

In the meantime I've been wildly not blogging. There have been an inordinate amount of exciting shoots and little daytrips a-plenty plus the brewings of projects big and small... and of course no time to breathe between, thus the extreme lack of writings. So again I will attempt to whiplash the bloggings up to speed. Hold onto your pants.

Quite high on the list of excitements is one of my pieces has been accepted to The Art of the State juried exhibition, being held at the State Museum of Pennsylvania in Harrisburg, from June 28 - Sept 20, 2009. When I have details on the opening I will post them. VERY exciting - my photography in a museum. FOR REAL!

The shoot that Ms. Beaver and I had been planning on doing for aaaaaaages finally was about to come to fruition and then model GONE, makeup artist GONE, another makeup artist GONE. It looked like it wasn't going to happen, but quite miraculously, the magical Mezone managed to find us a great MUA, Ruby Miro -and- model, Blair. And aside from the creepy guy who appeared to be waiting for his drug dealer, and stared holes in the four of us to kill time... it was a great shoot.

landing © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

plotting © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

climber © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

off the cuff © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

A unique opportunity presented itself to myself and one of my favorite people, my friend and repeat model, Tanya Dakin. One of her coworkers has an amazing house in Philly built in the 20s, and behind the house was a garage/carriage house - the lower story of which they kept their car in, the upper story remained more or less untouched since it had been occupied by the original owner's driver - full of original fixtures, including an amazing telephone/intercom device, a claw foot tub, a tiny water heater and radiators... plus a gorgeous coat of peely blue paint. Oh and did I mention the unearthly light. Yeah, that too. All makeup and wardrobe styling by the model, Tanya Dakin.

withdrawal © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

rhombus © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

change of season © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

submersible © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The following week I had a chance to work the very lovely Jenn An. We'd been trying to get together for over a month, I had a very specific dreamy look in mind, the perfect location... all I needed was a perfectly sunny day to make it all work and after a couple of rainfails - we hit it perfectly. The gorgeous abandoned greenhouse glowed from within... and Jenn shone with it. She was an absolute pleasure to work with.

All makeup and wardrobe styling by the model, Jenn An.

painted on © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

cathedral © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

peer © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

One amazing jampacked weekend of art on art on art, it started with the 're'-opening of the juried group show at the Artist Friendly Exhibit, Skylight 307 Gallery at 307 Market Street in Philadelphia, which I had two pieces in - one of which won an honorable mention. After an appearance there, I went to The Shanners opening, Say Hello to my Little Friends over at Cafe Estelle (which is still going on!) where much fun, furriness and jumbo shrimp were happening in a big way. Beautifully individual pieces- vibrant and sweet, unbearably cute, and the whole show was so beautifully visualized down to the smallest detail. And since then she has had a huge in flux of very exciting offers including a very big show at a VERY big venue. More details soon.

The adorable artist herself...

shannon's show © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The next day I buzzed out to West Chester to hitch a ride with Ralph and Adrian to go on a much-anticipated roadtrip, to meet long-time-but-never-met friend Linda Plaisted at the opening of her show The Arborist at the Delaplaine Center for the Visual Arts in Frederick, MD.

A meeting that should have happened aaaaaaaaages ago, finally materializing- Linda was exactly as I pictured her, every ounce as warm and just... easy. Just like we'd always spent time together talking about life and art every day. Well we have, just never face to face. The trip down was a blast with 'Major' Nardell and Mr. Adrian and the time spent with all of them warmed me to the core. Her show was not just impressive, but an exquisitely executed reflection on her life and loves. It made me so happy to see her and her work together and meet her family, who I have been watching grow for so long, from afar.

muy linda © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The very next day, because I just couldn't get enough driving wedged into the weekend, Goldberg and I drove to Asbury Park to take stock of all that has changed in the three years since I last visited. I was shocked to see how gentrified it has become. There are still quite a few abandoned places. The sprawling Metropolitan Hotel has been mostly demolished, save a tiny portion... which honestly I don't understand why they bothered keeping. The former casino/roller rink has been hacked in half, the walkway and non-beach-side remaining are under renovation. Some of the formerly sketchiest neighborhoods were now overrun with likely overpriced boutiques and cafes and yuppie couples with hotrod baby strollers. It was like another city, completely.

longrider © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

forces © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

On Easter Sunday, because I not only cannot get enough driving, I can't get my fill of The JERZ, Goldberg and I returned to NJ to visit the sprawling Sandy Hook & Gateway National Park. As it was formerly a military installation there are a bevy of interesting (and abandoned/crumbling) structures, just about everywhere you turn. Goldmine.

I suppose Goldberg thought it might be unpopulated on Easter, alas no. Instead it was overrun with heathens like us and Orthodox Jews... who we witnessed come face to face with a naked man jogging on the beach. Unreal. Completely. I missed photographing said incident by a couple minutes:

thirds © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

breach © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Every turn was a surprise. Including stepping on a beach and into a pile of rotting lady's slippers and being swallowed by black flies, then hit with a strong biting nearly wintery wind. Luckily the wind escorted us quickly out when we were done, and blew us into the Mad Hatter for some killer pizza.

The hour is late and I've babbled on long enough... don't forget to consider becoming a patron of the arts - June is not far off! And I have rent to pay. lk{at}laurakicey{dot}com and we'll discuss! Thank you to all those who have already become sponsors! Much love y'all.