CPW Auction. NYC Gala. 10.6.2017

The Center for Photography Woodstock is celebrating its 40th Anniversary, and I’ve been asked to donate a Woodstock Peony print for the Benefit Auction and NYC Gala on Oct.12. Online bidding has begun at Paddle 8. Happy to be part of this auction with icons of photography. Thanks to everyone who is bidding!

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Bid: https://paddle8.com/auction/cpw/

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NY Times. Eclipse/Haiku. 8.22.2017

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Today’s New York Times. Our sweet New York City Haiku is full-page on the back of section A the day after the eclipse. Write poems, shoot for the moon.

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Woodstock Bookfest. Haiku Contest. 8.22.2017

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Instead of weeding
I held living stems to light–
searching for poems.

Woodstock Bookfest and I have teamed up for an end of summer haiku contest! My custom print, Woodstock Peony, will be awarded to the winner. According to Martha Frankel, director of Woodstock Bookfest, this is how the idea came to her.

“When I saw this stunning photo on Sharon Rousseau’s Instagram page, I gasped. When I read the haiku that accompanied it, I knew we had to team up for a Woodstock Bookfest contest.”

The contest is open now until Sept. 14. The winner will be announced on Sept. 22. I hope you’ll write haiku on the theme of summer’s end and send it to us. Info HERE.

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From My Garden. Photography. 8.20.2017

This spring when peonies bloomed, I began a series of photographs, From My Garden, inspired by the delicacy and translucence of the flowers. Spending part-time in the country is something I adore, but I’m no gardener. Somehow, though, the most exquisite peonies grow by my door, and several more small gardens, planted with my lack of expertise in mind, thrive around patios during the summer. With the flower series, I wanted to push the petals almost to abstraction, intimating brush strokes. Throughout the summer, I worked printing the photographs, hoping to create the effect of painting with petals. It’s been a wonderful process. Custom prints are available now in 11 by 11 format. If interested, inquire through the contact form on this site.

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Woodstock Peony. Photo of Custom Print

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Artist’s Proofs

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Fun With Framing Ideas at Woodstock Framing Gallery.
Silver is fabulous.

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Haiku. NY Times. Rizzoli Books. 8.20.2017

The New York Times still loves New York City Haiku five months after pub date!

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New York Times Sports. August 18,2017.

IMG_2883New York Times Book Review. August 19,2017.

New York City Haiku is available from The Golden Notebook and wherever fine books are sold.

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Insta. NYC Spring. 5.25.2017

This week as I walked around the city, I paused at brownstone and building gardens to photograph flowers with my phone. Maybe I needed beauty more this week. And I found it. These images required no filters, and, from them, the idea for the peony series began.

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National Poetry Month. New York City Haiku. 4.12.2017

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I’m thrilled to be a part of New York City Haiku published by The New York Times and Rizzoli Books. The book is available bookstores and from The New York Times Store online now. Read the city in three lines of seventeen syllables by 150 writers. It’s a sweet book!

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Micro-Memoir Freewrite. Poem 2. 2.5.2017

When I was in first grade, my parents moved us all to Appalachia. Like a gold rush town, this was a boom-time, both in promise and in progress. The boom was banking. The college-educated in that valley tended to be teachers or families who had lived there forever, the generations prospering and holding a position of upper class wisdom, which seemed to engender respect and loyalty. Things started to change with my generation, and upward mobility became possible for the children around me. But when we arrived, outsiders were suspect. Everyday I was reminded of that.

There was always suspicion,
my father’s crisp suits, dropping me off
at school, his daily tie chosen carefully,
what other kids’ saw only on Sunday
through rows of church pew. The banker, the
judge, the lawyers. Even then, from distances,
kids knew those differences by sight.
Fine-wool-textured and the cost of that weight.
What do you see when a world stands before
you, offering glimpses of things
withheld.

 

~Sharon Rousseau 2.5.2017

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Micro Memoir Freewrite. Poem 1. 2.4.2017

I’m having trouble with the notion that I am not “walking in another’s shoes” because I’m a college-educated New Yorker. An out-of-touch, East Coast liberal who can’t understand the pain of rural America today. I read this commentary about my kind daily. The only way I know to deal with my anger, the erasure of my experience by people who have never even met me, is through writing. I’ll resist Trump and Bannon. I’ll post my poems. Some just freewrites, some more worked. I wrote this one quickly, no real edits. But I wanted to get it up online. I’ll hold my experience close and know what it taught me.

The churches they could rent
off rutted country roads, gravel lots, bare land
then steeple. A kitchen door swung wide, rows of countertops,
the shining Formica, that pride taken in the looks of things.
My mother in her heels and shoulders-back apartness,
my father sure with his blood ties, while I was home in my
grandmother’s shadow. Sugar-faced and free from not-before-dinner
rules. My hands reaching for the cakes. Rows of bunt pan baking, pound
and sour cream, casseroles and meat plates. Steaming green beans and corn.
Some of the men’s work hands still holding stubborn bits of
earth or grease from machine spit labor. The women’s hands,
though, were ivory. Promised a better life, the men provided.
Infrequent reunions, that warmth of kitchen toil, the women’s soft
laughter, my sleepy gaze, as dusk fell on that abundance.

~Sharon Rousseau. 2.4.2017

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No Ban No Wall. NYC. 1.31.2017

Washington Square Park. NO BAN Protest.
1.25.2017
Where Is Justice

 

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