2016 has been a year of many exciting projects and collaborations, most of which I am very behind in sharing, but among my favorite images are the ones I was able to take for the Newport Restoration Foundation this Christmas. Rough Point, the seaside estate of tobacco heiress Doris Duke, has been curated for the holidays the way it would have actually looked during Ms. Duke’s lifetime: shuttered for the winter, as Doris spent Christmas at Shangri La, her house in Hawaii. Rough Point’s sole occupants would have been her staff, thus the staff wing has been decorated to reflect their own holiday celebration. I found the interior spaces, draped with white sheets, rather eerily inspiring, and thought I’d share.
There’s still time to check out this exhibit, entitled “Undecked Halls,” which will be open for the last viewing on December 27th, 2016.
Photos from a sail on Narragansett Bay aboard the classic Alden yawl “Hope San” for my dad’s birthday. It may have taken us several decades, but we finally figured out what to give him each year. Hope San was actually once my grandparents’ boat (one of the two Hopes that inspired this blog title, the other being my maternal grandmother), and has since been lovingly restored by IYRS grad Patrick Abrecht and his wife Monika. It made me smile to see my dad reconnecting with a boat on which he spent so much time with his parents (see cutely boyish pensive shots on the bow). Hope San can now be chartered in and around Newport RI for up to six guests. You can find out more at sailonhopesan.com.
All images were shot with Portra 160 35mm film on a Pentax K-1000. Thank you to my family for being my models and guinea pigs, I wasn’t sure how I would like Portra in intense sunlight, but it turns out the blue-green tones suited my needs in this aqueous environ just fine. And thanks mom for the shot of me, it’s nice to have my presence in situations confirmed every now and again. (that’s me decked in a double denim jorts + chambray top combo. My earrings are from my new jewelry obsession, Rackk + Ruin in Burlington, VT.)
Recently, I ventured to the farthest reaches of the American side of Lake Champlain with two dear friends. World traveler and food aficionado Erica found that the waitlist for Global Entry interviews was far shorter for those willing to drive to the Canadian border than in most any other city, so we made a mini road trip out of her appointment in Champlain, NY. Along the way, we ate a lot of delicious food in Burlington, took a car ferry across the lake, and received directions to the best local swimming spot from Erica’s kindly DHS officer and interviewer, who provided his geographical insight once he had determined that she had never been arrested. I had forgotten how dry the north country feels compared to the heavy sea air of home. Everywhere smelled of pines.
Thanks to Erica for the rare shot of me and my chicken legs!
I can only surmise that a flower arrangement given to me by friends went rogue after being discarded in the compost heap last summer, because here I am, waiting for poppy seed heads that I did not plant to dry. They arrived this June in the vicinity of their earthly grave, a series of renewed and glorious blots of watermelon set on comically long, skinny necks. I thought about the women in Modigliani’s life when I looked at them. Did you know the seeds sprinkle out of those little arches at the top, like a salt and pepper shaker? I think I’ll sow them by the light of the next full moon, just because the earth in the meadow smells nice then, and I’ve been seeing some fireflies there lately.
What a joy it was to do a portrait session with this bright young woman. A thirteen year old with ambitions in music and theater, it was difficult not to exclaim “you look so beautiful and grown up!” at the click of every shutter (I mean, come on) but I wanted to make sure that this was about much more than simply looking nice on camera. To me, the best part about these photos is the sense that she is unafraid to celebrate who she is and to take pride in the process of documenting that. She also offered a lot of creative input, showing me all her favorite spots at her grandmother’s cherished summer home, which I felt was so important in making this a story about her. As a result, the portfolio of portraits we made are diverse in setting and light, but connected by a strong sense of place and the incredible poise and maturity that came out the moment we started shooting. This was one of the most rewarding photography experiences in recent memory, and I hope to do more projects like this. If you know any rising seniors who would like to do a senior portrait, I would love to talk to them! You can get in touch with me via email, CGoddard24@gmail.com.
I’m excited to share that my apartment is soon to be featured on Puddingstone Post! Finally, someone else wanted to geek out with me about design and this dwelling that I have put so much love and energy into over the last 5 years!
Photographing my own space on assignment required a healthy dose of objectivity and reflection, no nit-picking allowed. I mean, the day I’m done fiddling with my house is the day I die, but it was nice to just stop for once and drink in my eternal work in progress. Yep, it definitely feels good to be home (especially now that I’ve gotten my sock drawer in order).
Above: The Noguchi-esque paper lantern in my bedroom cost 15 dollars but feels like a million bucks, and a seascape over my bed, which was painted by my great grandfather, reminds me to appreciate living by the ocean (I forget sometimes). I bought the cloth on top of my dresser in a village at the tip-top of a Cycladic Island, where I encountered this amazing woman. I found the vintage wire egg basket in my neighbor’s trash last Easter Sunday (I was still dressed for church when I grabbed it). The trio of images on the wall are: a drawing I did in college; a random antique portrait that, for me, is so ugly it turns the corner (I think the framing store actually tried to dissuade me from the blush pink metal frame I wanted by “accidentally” putting it in a plain black one); and a Chyrum Lambert study, a present from friends who sublet my apartment last fall and had the artist to stay.