When Enough is Abundance

Lemons with Pear Basket, Diane Farris, ©2023

Pear Basket, Diane Farris, ©2000

There was a time after college when I was fortunate to spend a few weeks in a small Umbrian hill town. The recent art call from What’s Next for Earth, “Meeting Essential Community Needs”, brought reflections on an early experience that has deeply informed my life. Though times were not easy for the residents, the warmth of community and the celebration of seasonal resources in that setting made “enough” often feel like abundance.

People brought what they had to the town square market: figs resting in their own leaves, zucchini with open, golden flowers, ripe melons, rose-shaped breads, baskets of fresh cheeses and eggs, honey and aromatic olive oil.  Essential plants like tomato, basil, thyme and rosemary in clay pots crowded windowsills and gardens. People flowed in and out of narrow coffee bars filled with laughter, talk and debate over who would treat friends to a coffee this time.  Around lunch and dinnertime, people would drift home to dine with family or gravitate toward small restaurants with a half dozen tables, enough for the owner/cooks to make a living and small enough to open and close as desired.

I had a room above such a restaurant and had the opportunity to learn and help out in the kitchen where Signora Adele presided with calm and expertise. The kitchen was lively with children and pets, friends and family, bringing news, produce or bread, pouring another coffee from the worn espresso pot. Hot water was heated on the wood burning stove – and live pigeons were held in the cold oven (perhaps foreshadowing my vegetarian future). Great sheets of pasta would be rolled out on the table with a broom handle, then folded and cut into wide tagliatelle noodles. This is where I learned to make the risotto described in my pandemic blog entry, Zoomsotto, a dish built simply, no recipe needed. Leftover risotto could become suppli al telefono the next day, filled with local cheese and rolled in saved breadcrumbs. Those breadcrumbs could also stuff tomatoes or trout - or dress a pasta dish.  I enjoy the way one dish can weave into another, through lines in the kitchen’s story. Many practices from that time are very much a part of my daily life, from the pasta making to keeping a bag of leftover breads for crumbs, composting - and keeping tomatoes, basil, thyme and rosemary at hand.

In that time and place, I was making photographs, drawings on paper from the local butcher and paintings. The sketches included in this post are from those days. I remember a sense of discovery and well-being. Two portfolios on my website, Italian Time and Italian Time: Ariccia offer images from Italy over the years.

The Pear Basket was made years ago, an homage to that early encounter. In it, Signora Adele rolls out pasta dough; a table welcomes company, and fresh produce spills from a market basket. Enough/Lemons with Pear Basket is a new image with today’s resources represented by lemons from our backyard Meyer Lemon tree, awaiting shared preparation and enjoyment with children, family and friends. In the background is the original photograph of Pear Basket and a page from a vintage dictionary in which “enough” is defined as “plenty” and even, “abundance”.

These are sketches from that time and place, found in a recent studio clean up. Sketchbooks and photographs bring people and settings back with surprising - and reliable - clarity.

Espresso Pots from a recent trip to Ameno with wonderful friends. May we all enjoy generous times in good company! DF, 2024

Bird and Branch

Crane Prayer by Diane Farris

This image seemed right for the upcoming auction for Alachua Conservation Trust. Cranes traditionally symbolize peace, grace, fidelity and healing, from the prairies of our Alachua County to the demilitarized zone between North and South Korea to elegant origami from Japan.  I welcome a sense of light radiating from a photograph, and this crane had that luminous presence for me. I am drawn to prayers, wishes and blessings written on bits of paper and whispered into walls, baskets and branches. Crane Prayer pairs this lovely bird with words of hope.

Though Sandhill Cranes captured my interest early on, I have become increasingly appreciative of other nearby birds. While preparing Crane Prayer this week, I noticed that some of my most recent sketches continue to explore birds and branches.

“We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time.” T.S. Eliot

Visit www.alachuaconservationtrust.org to learn more about A.C.T.’s great and generous organization and its upcoming programs and festivities, of which the auction is a part.


Jerry Uelsmann, A Reflection

by Diane Farris Uelsmann Runions

Jerry was the artist/teacher who inspired my journey in photography.  We were married from 1975-1988, and he was the father of our marvelous son Andrew. 

 

My introduction to Jerry’s work was a show at the Chicago Art Institute. In a deceptively tranquil room, each of his luminous silver gelatin prints was a window opening onto an unexpected narrative. Eager to learn, I applied to a workshop with Jerry in California and traveled there with my “new” Minolta.  The workshop was an astounding introduction to the world of art photography, with Jerry Uelsmann, Minor White, Ansel Adams and Carl Chiarenza among the presenters.

 

Jerry’s enduring enthusiasm for the “magic” of photography was infectious. He took to heart the teachings of his mentor, mystic Minor White: “One should not only photograph things for what they are, but for what else they are.”Like his work, his teaching was full of surprise, such as his skidding into a classroom with a canister of film and challenging his fortunate students to time how quickly he could develop it, all the while cracking jokes. Those jokes!

                                          

 The vintage picture here of Jerry with wings is not a montage, but one from a beach walk when we were first getting acquainted.  Suddenly, he was partially burying a deceased pelican and planning this portrait, handing me his camera to capture the moment. It was - in retrospect - very Jerry. Through the camera, he surprised himself (and his companion!), gave the pelican a new chapter and followed an ongoing theme, wings and flight. 

After Jerry’s 2019 stroke, we succeeded in getting him back in the darkroom in early 2020.  He was apprehensive, afraid he wouldn’t remember how to proceed, but the darkroom was his world.  As there are digital natives, he was certainly native to his “chamber noir”. The moment that first hard-won proof floated up into view in the developer was magic indeed. Our goal that February was to create a Valentine, his long-standing tradition, to let friends know he was Still Here. As we worked, I recalled his darkroom customs over the years, the many versions and variations he would explore on his richly intuitive, post visualized “holy man days”, days when he didn’t teach, play racquet ball or shave, but just grabbed a mug of coffee, put on some music and entered the unbounded space of his darkroom

Jerry N. Uelsmann, 1981

 

I have been thinking of a workshop we taught together many years ago, in a restored schoolhouse in rural Colorado. An attentive Airedale watched over the building while we met with students, visited with the redoubtable Edna Bullock and found images in the spare spaces and mountain light. Jerry photographed an exuberant Andrew running to me in a hallway.  The joy of that time, wrapped in clouds, graces our library wall to this day. Thank you, Jerry.

 

In these poignant days, so soon after his passing in April and nearing his June birthday, it is good to imagine Jerry blessed by clouds and wings, friends, dogs and jazz – and sharing jokes.  “Friendly thoughts”, Jerry, and God speed.