Katharine
Kreisher

Moments and Memorials

Katharine Kreisher: Moments and Memorials

A traditionalist by nature, yet unable to resist new "photo-toys," I somewhat reluctantly began using the camera in my new Apple iPhone in 2011, at first for snapshots only, not for "art." Now the iPhone is a favorite camera for all purposes, and I use it alongside a DSLR, my older film cameras and my homemade pinhole cameras.

Shortly after I joined the ranks of thousands of iPhone camera bugs, Apple guru Steve Jobs passed away. I was in New York City on a perfect sunny day, and I came upon an entire block where the sidewalk was covered with apples and Mac computer sculptures and flowers and messages. "iSad: Apple Altar for Steve Jobs" is a memorial image made on my iPhone, a remarkable device developed within his corporation.

"OUTEN THE LIGHT" (for the very last time).

My aunt, Hazel Hommel Fairbrother passed away in Vestal, NY last year at the age of 98. She survived each of 13 siblings, and was the last person alive who had known my parents as children. With her went the family stories sprinkled with Pennsylvania "Dutch" phrasing, the detailed stories that she told frequently and well.

Decades ago she painted her perfect, spotless ranch house a glowing lilac hue, and then added a colorful hex sign near the front door. Along the perimeter of the property, Aunt Hazel protected her privacy with a tall silvery chain link fence. The fence held back marauding neighborhood dogs that frightened her, but it was no match for the rising waters of the Susquehanna River that silently invaded the basement.

My cousin asked me to record the water damage for insurance purposes. I made picture after picture throughout the house with the iPhone to which I am always tethered. "After the Flood" and "Window in Hazel's Garage" are portraits of Aunt Hazel, memorial images of her precious home and her own particular emotional qualities.

View from the Triangle

On a dusty triangle that serves as the "green" in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, a small but enthusiastic "Occupy Wall Street" group meets with signs and banners every Thursday at 430 pm. For an hour they wave to the rest of the "99%" who drive by in beat-up pickup trucks on the streets that define the triangle and confine the "Occupy" group there. A policeman watches from his shiny white car making sure they stay in their place.

Sunset arrives each day, and the desert glow increases its reflection in the weeds by the trailer across from the triangle until it is all a blazing mass. Then the 99% end their measured protest and disperse within this glorious light.