Photo Title: Doll © Robert Schneider Light Under a BushelVisit his blog to see additional photos. And, his website HERE.
The photographer lives in Lexington, Massachusetts, and specializes
in photography with toy, vintage, and Polaroid cameras.
Photo used with permission from Robert Schneider.
Photo used with permission from Robert Schneider.
7 comments:
I went to his site and love the random wandering. You know you must be a writer. Because your words are so perfect and precise. Where is your artist work? I wonder? Katelen
OK, I have to let you in on a secret...vintage/antique dolls give me the creeps!
--
In a bed she does lay
a words she does not say
with a haunting, blank stare
and blonde, wiry hair
a grin from ear to ear
What do I have to fear?
GOODYBYE, DOLLY
A little girl in pigtails,
Used to play with me each day,
She talked to me and hugged me,
In a very special way,
It was magical and wondrous,
To be loved and spread some joy,
Now I'm stored inside this box,
Just another lonely toy.
With humans it's so puzzling,
How they change as they grow old,
I'm the same, but now forgotten,
For me the bell has tolled.
Time travel through our childhood is always tinged with a sense of regret. I wonder what it is that gets lost as we age? The dreams of wanting to be a fireman, princess, ball player, actress, are almost never realized and even if for some individuals they are realized, something seems to be lacking when we arrive. Could it be our awareness of mortality crushes the naive notion of timelessness? The backwards glance stirs uncomfortable reminiscence that at first sight offers a revival of former better things but upon closer inspection scare us into the present. We can’t go back but we want to. We simply have lost belief and are now totally alone.
'Berbie felt the full impact of the other doll's physical prowess. Caught off balance, she fell down, her mouth a rictus of surprise and defiance. Standing with legs wide apart and looking down on her prey, the other doll shouted: "Nobody puts Barbie on the corner". She turned around and left the room, her plastic, gigantic breasts bouncing up and down.'
Greetings from London.
I think she is wonderfully charming! I just love dolls of all kinds. She's a real cutie.
I take her everywhere I go
to school
to church
to grandma's
to tea parties
to high school
and collage
and even leave her in my dressing room
as I prepare for marriage.
She goes everywhere with me.
I took her into the labor room
with me
I gave to my daughter
that angels a real doll
vanessa Brantley-newton
(poem by Therese L. Broderick of Albany, NY, USA)
BUSHEL
Here I sit, under
one overturned
bushel basket,
alone with a pile
of pale kernels
which must be counted
on the sand. So far,
I've felt a hundred.
It's only begun.
Who knows how
it will end? Chants
and laments for
numbers, tallies
drawn in the dust?
The molten blowing
of glass? Leave me
to lacerations, to
blood in darkness.
If you carry your
jubilant candle
any closer, beware
the shards & rattles.
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