Tag Archives: portraits

The Photo Ark… Part Two.

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More amazing photographs from Joel Sartore.

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Mexican Hairy Dwarf Porcupine.

I’m thoroughly enjoying this book.

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Budgett’s Frog.

I mean look at that happy little frog…. how could I not?

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Adult Mandrill.

Joel gives these animals a voice.

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Side Striped Palm Pit Viper.

And dignity in their uniqueness.

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Malay Tapir.

Some are a bit bizarre.

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Red Bellied Lemur.

Some are cute and cuddly.

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White Bellied Pangolin and baby.

Some are cute and scaly.

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Common Striped Possum.

Common? Not around here..

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Bobtail Squid.

And who knew squids could look so melancholy?

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East African Crowned Crane.

Stunning.

Every single one.

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The Photo Ark

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Have you heard of Joel Sartore?

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Arctic Fox.

If not, let me rectify that.

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Tiger Striped Tree Frog.

Joel has made it his mission in life to photograph the approximately 12,000 species living in zoos and wildlife sanctuaries.

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Brown Throated Sloth.

But Joel’s photographs are different.

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Springbok Mantis.

They’re special.

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Mandrill.

Because they’re portraits.

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Spectacled Eiders.

Stunning portraits of glorious diversity.

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California Sea Lion.

Joel believes if we see these marvelous creatures… we’ll feel something.

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Andean Condor.

We’ll care.

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Sumatran Rhinoceros.

And if we care, we’ll fight to preserve not only them, but the habitats they need to thrive.

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DeBrazza’s Monkey.

Joel is my hero. And I’ve bought all 3 of his incredible books.

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As I make my way through them, I’m going to share some of his work.

Because they make me feel.

Because they make me care.

Not all of the animals are beautiful.

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Common Warthog.

But all of them are perfect… and worth protecting.

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The Farnsworth Art Museum, Rockland, Maine…. A. Wyeth, a fiber crow and some claws.

 

This is a place I’ve always wanted to visit but never have… so on a rainy, blustery day a while back? We did.

The Farnsworth  is famous in these parts for it’s extensive collection of Maine artists….

 

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With the Wyeth’s being front and center.

I’ve always liked Andrew, and on the day we visited there was a special exhibit of his work from WW1.

 

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Art is a strange thing, and totally subjective… so what moves me might leave you flat.

But hey, it’s my blog. My choice.

This simple painting of a helmet filled with pine cones for example.

 

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You’ll have to pardon the reflections in a lot of these shots…. it’s nearly impossible to avoid with the bright gallery lights and glass.

 

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While not known for his portraiture…

 

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This series of photos showing Wyeth at work was quite interesting.

As was the case filled with drawings he did at the age of 8.

 

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Huh…

I’m pretty sure my 8 year old artwork looked something like this:

 

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The next gallery showcased Wyeth’s Maine pieces.

 

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And trust me, they really capture the feel of our coast.

 

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There was also a section of these…

 

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Halloween!

 

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Which looked much better without the reflection of the paintings from the other side of the room.

 

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But you get the idea.

 

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Nothing says Halloween in Maine like a skeletal ship’s captain.

 

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Making our way through the museum we found a fiber artist….

 

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Who had some unusual installations…

 

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Proving that art comes in all shapes and sizes.

 

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Down the stairs and into the main gallery…

 

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A tribute to Maine’s agrarian culture…

 

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And it’s crustaceans.

 

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Yes, that is a marvelous pile of blown glass lobster claws.

 

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It should be noted that while I grew up strolling happily around MOMA in New York, the husband has absolutely no tolerance for modern art.

 

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And I have to admit….. watching him puzzle over what he’s looking at is half the fun of visiting museums together.

 

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I keep telling him that it’s more important to experience art, to feel it… than to understand it.

 

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But he just wrinkles his nose and says….

“Yes. But what the hell is it?”

 

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There were a few  Rockwell Kent  pieces….

 

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Whose work has sold for hundreds of thousands of dollars.

As well as this:

 

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A table to draw a self portrait.

 

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Which made me very glad we hadn’t run into this fellow.

To be continued….

 

 

 

 

Portraits continued…. funky hair, warts and finally, food.

 

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Crossing back over to the DeWitt side of the museum, things got a bit more formal.

 

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And a trifle bizarre.

 

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I think a little 18th Century photoshopping was in order here.

 

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Okay then.

 

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I saw the portrait of the gentleman on the left and thought, “What’s with the hair?”

 

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And apparently I wasn’t the only one who asked.

 

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It was an extensive gallery.

 

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And according to George…. will be even more extensive soon.

 

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Another sad statement of the times.

 

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This couple struck me as a little odd.

 

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Is it me or does the wife’s right arm look a wee bit…. off? As in, did the creepy husband chop it off and line it back up for the portrait?

We’ll never know.

At the far end of the gallery there was a video that was oddly mesmerizing.

 

 

And then on the way out there was a chair, which I forgot to photograph.

But George didn’t like it.

 

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Chairs that were no good for sitting.

Excellent.

 

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Through with the museum, we realized we’d not only skipped lunch but were now ready for dinner.

When I asked the husband what he was in the mood for, he said anything… so I picked a well reviewed barbecue restaurant in Williamsburg.

 

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And the husband didn’t like it from the minute we stepped through the door.

Why?

 

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Who knows.

They brought us yummy cornbread to munch while we looked at the menu.

 

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Which he also didn’t like.

Pulled pork sundae? Come on… what’s wrong with that!

I managed to talk him into staying for appetizers.

 

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So he had a chili he didn’t like either.

 

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I went with some spicy steamed shrimp.

 

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And while the rest of the customers were enjoying large platters of succulent looking food, he told me to pick another place because all they had on the menu was barbecue.

Gee. Who woulda thunk it?

People always think I’m the picky one, but when it comes to eating out my husband will drive you to drink.

Which in my case isn’t necessarily a negative…. but still.

 

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The second restaurant that night was Italian.

Everyone raved about Sal’s, so I figured, why not?

 

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He couldn’t complain about the menu being small.

 

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It went on for multiple pages.

 

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The garlic knots were perfect.

(Okay, I ate 4. Don’t judge.)

 

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The salads were fresh and tasty.

 

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My veal Marsala was tender, perfectly cooked and filled with wine soaked mushrooms.

 

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He certainly couldn’t complain his chicken parmigiana was a small portion.

Good God, it was huge.

But you know what? He didn’t like this place either.

And heck, I’m the one who should have been complaining….there were no cocktails!

 

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A study in portraiture, some funky hairdos and a watermelon on wheels.

 

The portrait gallery was large…. and filled with strange and marvelous things.

 

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Can’t say I’d enjoy having her as a Mother in Law.

 

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They are smiling?

 

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Perhaps the weight of that elaborate hair is pulling their lips down.

 

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Oh my.

They say all babies are cute, but I beg to differ.

 

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This is a girl.

 

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And this is a boy.

No, I haven’t had too many margaritas.

It was explained to me that folk art paintings of little girls have cats… and folk art paintings of little boys have dogs. The hoop is also a boy’s toy, never played with by girls.

 

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Yes, another boy.

Could have fooled me.

There were a few sad paintings, like this one….

 

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Since all the family members in black are dead.

But there’s a chicken, so it’s not all bad.

 

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And while these two portraits aren’t the most skillful, they had the saddest story of all.

 

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Jonathan Bartlett was a black man who chose to portray himself as white…. in a heartbreaking statement of life in his time.

 

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Lightening the mood, there was George again….

 

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And whatever this was –

 

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I can’t even do a Name That Crap because I have no idea…

 

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