Re: smile, your child's on candid camera

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From: Jack Fulton (jefulton1@attbi.com)
Date: 08/30/02-09:08:37 AM Z


The world is becoming smaller yet each of us live in a small world of our
own. Ours is a somewhat funky area in one of the country's wealthiest
counties. As I was on the computer my wife heard a child crying and looked
out the window to see a 2year old in the middle of the street crying. There
was the worry a vehicle would come along and strike her but our area is
rather quiet. It's a mixed ethic and economic community and the parents of
the crying child are Greek, he and older, and Turkish, she and near forty.
  The upshot of my tale in reference to the paranoia of the recent spate of
emails to this list is that Chanel, the Turkish mom, was, well, devastated
and, I suppose, embarrassed about her child wandering off. So, Chanel came
down and talked with Diane for a couple of hours. Di is older than her
enough to be her mother but there was something I could hear and feel in the
air of our home about her very being. She is Moslem and married to this much
older person who deals in international essence sales. But, her naive
qualities and disarming enthusiastic yet child like behavior was wonderfully
pure and honest. Like lilting birds on a remote piece of untrammeled land.
  What it made me think was that her child w/poopy diapers was not lost in
the nice neighborhood of ours but the social worry surrounds our cocoon
indeed. Chanel represented such an honest spirit w/out guile or anyplace to
harbor enmity.
  why do I write this? Yes, in reference to the ongoing and fascination
conversations we've been having. yet, in another sense it is about what I've
been doing with my photography and I practice the medium. These encounters
not requested are the synchronicity which guides me along the path of life.
Though the flaneur is of interest, that is not me for they are too idle and
linked with the voyeur. I follow the stream like a leaf and barter for the
wind to aid in avoiding idle pools. Fumi Hirokani, another neighbor, brought
us ten tomatoes just plucked, so sweet and earthen, to thank us for the nice
hunk of salmon I'd given her and Kiyo. The rest of the 22 lb'er I caught on
the ocean is now smoked.
  All this is embedded in my photography. It is neither the good life nor
the easy one for it has taken decades of struggle to learn to be one with my
art.


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