From: Bob Kiss (bobkiss@caribsurf.com)
Date: 01/14/03-03:25:15 PM Z
DEAR JEFF,
That must have been wonderful! Don't you just love magic?
Something similar happened to me in the wilds of Manhattan on a fashion
shoot for Essence Magazine...seriously! And I was only using a
Hasselblad...no view camera!
I had just found an English translation of the original words to
Schiller's poem which is the libretto for the Fourth Movement of Beethoven's
9th Symphony...known as the Ode to Joy. I remember being so moved by it.
Around 7 am on a spring morning a few days later I was waiting for the crew
to finish make up and hair in the location van at Bethesda Fountains in
Central Park so I took a stroll. The air was cool and filled with the smell
of green things coming to life. The light was soft and golden. I found
myself wandering up 'Poet's Walk" and was floored by seeing a bust of
Schiller! I thought this was strange considering my recent discovery of the
translation. When I returned to the van out came Susan Taylor (editor) and
just as I was about to say "Hi" music erupted over Central Park and a
baritone voice boomed, "O Freunde!" and the Ode to Joy continued to float
and echo over that spring morning. Of course the logical explanation was
that the Metropolitan Opera was in the Sheep Meadow rehearsing for the Opera
in the Park starting that week...but that didn't diminish the magic of
words, vision of Schiller's bust, and magnificent music on a soft spring
morning in Central Park.
I think we should all be grateful to be able to work at something that
brings beauty to the rest of the world and returns it to us in so many ways.
CHEERS FROM BARBADOS!
BOB
----- Original Message -----
From: "Jeff Buck" <jeffbuck@swcp.com>
To: <alt-photo-process-l@sask.usask.ca>
Sent: Tuesday, January 14, 2003 2:30 PM
Subject: A Joyful View
> This is my submission for the Sandy King Archive of reasons we pursue
large
> format that have nothing to do with film size.
>
> Yesterday I was traveling back to Albuquerque from Silver City, an
> interesting old mining town in Southwestern New Mexico. The first step is
> to scale and cross the lovely Sierra Negro range. At the crest, known as
> Emory Pass, there's a spectacular overlook ringed by an old stone parapet
> (just wide enough for mounting a big camera). From there, you look east
> across an abyss at the Rio Grande floodplain and the Sacramento Mountains
> beyond. I'd timed it to be there around 4:30 PM and started setting
> up. No hurry at all.
>
> I heard a car coming up the drive to the overlook area -- kind of fast and
> noisy. I looked back as a rather disheveled old lime green Volvo
> stationwagon slid to a halt in the middle of the gravel parking. I
thought
> something like, "These dang kids these days *&%@#!!" Out pops a big,
> distinguished-looking man of 60 years or so. Also somewhat
> disheveled. (Later I learned that his name was Hans and that he had a
> fairly heavy German accent. And that he was a little tight.)
>
> I went on setting up, but noticed as the man rooted around in the back of
> his stationwagon for some unknown items. I heard him kind of slam a door
> shut and watched momentarily as he disappeared into the woods with a bit
of
> a bundle under his right arm. A couple minutes passed, when I heard him
> pumping up a set of bagpipes. For the next maybe half hour, he serenaded
> me with a selection of delicious, mournful tunes. No one else about. Not
> a sound but the pipes and the occasional call of a crow.
>
> He came back from the woods and joined me at the overlook. I was all set
> and watching the light. I thanked him for the tunes and asked if he
> possibly knew "Amazing Grace." "Yah shuure! It's a easy von!" So he
> pumped up and played "Amazing Grace" beautifully as we stood on the stone
> parapet and watched across the great emptiness as the distant mountains
> vanished slowly in the gathering dusk.
>
> JB
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
This archive was generated by hypermail 2.1.5 : 02/21/03-10:44:16 AM Z CST