No matter what language you say this powerful word in,  you can’t help but be moved by it.

I love the idea of having Love on a string to wear about your neck…close to your heart.
I hope you find your own Love on a string today.

I spend my days capturing fractions of time, collecting them together in hopes that all these tendrils of time create a cohesive and complete moment.

On yesterday’s wander while adding images to a collection of work I am doing on the agricultural area of Ladenburg Germany we found ourselves standing mesmerized by the sound and force of the wind blowing the heavy plastic doors of the giant green house….like a feather in the wind it floated.  All the while, the air,  heavy with fragrance..the intoxicating scent of ripening strawberries, filled our lungs.

Photographers  hope to string together moments like this and create a life.  I captured this moment…in cupped hands…to share with you here. Click the link below and watch the wind blow.

The Summer Wind

Have you ever asked yourself that question?  “WHY AM I HERE?”

I often ask myself why was I at a certain place at a particular time.  Why did I stop and speak with this man or pet that dog…or take that certain photo.  What was the connection?  Why did I open this dialogue?

Recently I had many of these “life” questions answered for me in a sad and shocking way.  The writing couldn’t have been bolder on that wall for me.

A few months back, while I was escorting an elderly friend to the cemetery to visit her late husband, I was introduced to an amazing spirit.  Upon our first meeting this man dropped to one knee, right there in the cemetery, and he serenaded me.  Luckily I had the sense to sheepishly lift my camera and capture that moment.

On another day I had a young photographer visiting  with me and I decided to show her the ancient Jewish cemetery located inside of our town cemetery.  There we came upon this man, Karl Heinz as I learned was his name.  He had his tiny granddaughter with him and was bringing her to visit his Mother, her Great Grandmother who also rested in this place.  Though an intimate moment,  something told me to steal away this moment with my lens.

I would see Karl Heinz on and off for the next year…a disc of these images sat on my kitchen counter for him yet I always seemed to forget to take it along with me on my walks for the day we had yet another chance encounter.  The opportunity just never seemed to present itself.

One winter’s morning I headed out and I turned left when I normally turn right and there in front of my friend Karl Heinz house was the mortician and his large dark car….wheeling a gurney out of their home.  All the air seemed to leave my chest…it couldn’t possibly be.  Perhaps there was an elderly family member I was unaware of who has passed during the night.  Sad and shocked faces of neighbors gathered about the street.  I looked to their faces for answers but could only find the one I didn’t want to find.

Later in that week I got the courage up to walk to the cemetery and read the announcement board.  With eyes full of tears I read: “Karl Heinz Weick, dead at 68″.

I told several neighbors the story of my meeting Karl Heinz and that when the family was read, I had photos of him that I would love them to have…when they were ready.   The family contacted me and were enthusiastic to have the images…he had told them about meeting this American woman and her camera and that she had taken photos of him.   These were the last photos ever taken of him.

I am honored to call Karl Heinz friend even if it was but for a short while.  To me he eptiomized that saying, “The candle that burns the brightest, burns the shortest”

Now I know, WHY I was there that day….WHY I stopped and talked with this particular man….For the honor of photographing him, as he was in life…for the very last time.

A celebration of life is exactly how I would describe it to you…does that surprise you?  It certainly surprised me.  Walking the white stone lanes, spending a few moments at each grave side, I felt I almost got to briefly know each soul resting there.  So many markers moved me to tears, so packed with emotion  and yet others lifted my heart.

Signs of life and the living were everywhere.  From the enormous storks nest erected high above as if keeping sentinel and reminding all life is about the living, to the various bottles of champagne and glasses I saw tucked at various graves.  Each place was so personal, so intimate was their message.  Every stone told a story…from the engraved granite marker of a motorcyclist speeding along a beautiful depicted country road to the skier racing through powder snow…all artistically replicated to remind us all of their zest for life.

I didn’t need to know how to read Dutch to know the tale each told to those visiting.  On my second day wandering amongst the resting I was approached by one of the grounds keepers.  He asked me what exactly I was photographing and what kept bringing me back.  I think he could see on my face how moving I found the place.  When I started to explain my impressions…how this place was more about the living and the amazing lives these people lived…his nature changed.

I think he meant to scold me for invading such a private place with my lens’, but we ended up walking together.  He shared with me his personal favorites.  “All the most famous people of Holland are buried here”, his face filled with pride for the work he did.   I thanked him for his time, for the amazing work he and his co-workers did and for letting me invade if only for this little while the sanctity of this place.  He asked only that I didn’t publish the words on the stones…they were private words…so I will honor his request.

I do believe when traveling…a visit to the cemeteries is important….not only does it say a lot about a people how they honor those who came before, but also we all come from somewhere….you may just find your ancestors and know a bit more about where from whence you came.

I started seeing these different cobbles around my village and did some research… the feelings on them are diverse.  Many wish to forget, others believe a stone bearing the persons name to be trampled on daily is demeaning.  The idea of a “stumbling stone” isn’t meant to be something to trip person like an obstacle but more as a way to trigger the passer by to stop and think…to remember if only for a moment.  In this way, these people are not completely forgotten.

When I showed them to an elderly woman I know who is a life long resident of the village… trigger a memory it did.  She told me about how kind the family was to her as a little girl.  She remembered the night their house was raided and all the beautiful things they owned were destroyed.  Tears filled her eyes as she shared with me their story.

The numbers of these stones are growing every day since 1993 when the first stone was laid in Cologne.  These 10 cm brass or concrete stones have been installed in cities and towns all over Europe.  They are a moving reminder of the lives of these people.  If you are planning a trip to Europe, especially Germany, Austria, Italy, the Netherlands and now Hungary, google “Stolpersteine” or “Stumbling Stones and find out where you might find them….and spend a moment in remembrance.

To read more about this subject and the creator of the project:

http://www.stolpersteine-trier.de/html_eng/stolpersteine.htm

and in German:

http://www.stolpersteine.com/

“The first thought that came to mind upon seeing Laura’s work, was, These seem like visual prayers. I hope, wish and pray that your work continues to reach an increasing number of people!”

When I was approached to create an exhibit, Piya’s haunting description came immediately to mind.  My dearest hope in presenting this work is to share the feeling of serenity I have been blessed to tap into on my daily wanders.

Currently we have two venues scheduled in California, to hang the collection and are in the process of finding more interested parties.   Should you know of a location that would be in need of “Visual Prayers” please contact me directly.   Healing through Art is very near and dear to my heart so if my work can help add this feeling of hope, I am very intereseted.   Hospitals,  Clinics, Medical centers…meditation, Yoga and Pilates studios all I believe would be enhanced by the collection.

My vision for this project is to send these images out into the world and for them to spread their  message of hope and healing.   A book containing many of the photographs in the exhibit as well as many other inspirational works will be accompanying the show and will also be available for sale at lulu.com.

As an avid observer of another culture, I am always on the look out for those “special” moments.  The timeless moments, packed full of emotion that the busy work-a-day world may be missing or have forgotten.

While sitting in a bustling cafe on a sunny summer’s afternoon, enjoying a coffee, the air was suddenly filled with laughter.  Birds are always frequenting the alfresco cafes which line the streets of most European towns in the warmer months.   They hop about stealing bits of stray bread or happily receiveing a free hand out.

On this particular day, a rather gregarious aviary character came and visited with each cafe patron in turn.  Sipping water at one table, sneaking cookies at another.  This little visitors joy was infectious.  There wasn’t a person on that day who was not affected by this happy exchange.

The man in the photo, Herr Philipi, is a regular at the cafe and when I gave him a copy of the image he was overwhelmed with the memory of that special day.  One morning early, we woke to the ring of our door bell.  There was Herr Philipi smiling on our front porch.  He wanted to give me a copy of his latest book, being a poet and a lover of nature himself he felt we shared this connection.

I am always amazed how these simple moments balloon into greater moments and new friendships.

I am what I call, “Street Learned” in the German language.  What I have learned is from being out and about, listening and connecting with people.  Needless to say, I misinterpret things from time to time.  This is a story about one such time, but how mistakes can be rather wonderful if you embrace them.

On this particular day, I was excited to find a poster in town announcing a “Open house” or in German, “Open Door Day” at our local bee keepers organization.   Since moving to this village I have been a bit fascinated by this square box of a building hidden off the road a bit.  It had a sign with a painted bee and a hive announcing they sold honey.  Being a honey lover, I knew I just had to get in there one day.

When the  appointed day arrived and I waited patiently for the time printed on the poster…camera gear at the ready.  Ever in search of new and diverse subjects to photograph and document, the whole idea of learning more about the bees was thrilling.

I arrived on that sunny summers day, dressing in a thin cotton dress and sandals.  The parking lot was full, which was a good sign.   I entered the dark building and once my eyes made the adjustment to the low light, I realized I was standing in a classroom.  The room was full of adult students watching a slideshow…all heads turned.  With an embarrassed smile I excused myself.  I couldn’t help thinking…”Where are all the welcoming drinks and snacks”.  Thus, I leaned my translation mistake…this was a course on bee keeping, not an open house.  Oops!

Suddenly from around the corner came a friendly face.  Smiling, I explained how I must have read their poster incorrectly, that I was an American photographer living in the village and I would love to learn more about the bees and perhaps capture some photos.
With a big warm smile, she quickly dressed in her protective suit and gauze covered hat and led me into the “Hive House”.  This large metal pre-fabricated building with an entire wall of windows and a low slit spanning it’s length for the bees to travel in and out on their daily collections.  Inside were about 8 large hive boxes buzzing with life.

It was explained to me, that these hives were the property of some people new to bee keeping (those folks in the class) and before they can move their bees to their private lands they had to complete the course being offered and even then the hives must be kept here for a period time.  Everything is very regulated here in Germany but it was interesting to me to discover even been keeping is a pretty big process.

As a child I was attacked by a swarm of bees when on a hike a fellow camp goer unknowingly tread upon a nest.  Sending the angry bees into the air to protect their hive.  A frightening experience that affected me for many years until my parents moved to West Virginia, where a neighbor who kept bees shared with me his love of bees.  It helped me to be less afraid of the creatures, but never did I think I would ever be capable of what came next.

As I readied my camera and asked questions at high speeds trying to take my mind off what was happening around me, the bee keeper began to open the hives.  The air was electric with the buzzing of the copious amount of bees, wondering what was going on.    Strangely empowered and insulated by watching the scene through my lens, I keep concentration on setting the light and focus.   Attempting to capture the gold light which filled the room cast by the glow of the honey combs being held up to the light of the window.

Once outside, I asked why it was safe for me dressed in nothing but thin cotton to be inside with the loose bees.  The giggling director  of the center explained in a rather plain manner, “the weather is calm so the bees are too…now if it had been raining”.

I hope you enjoy the images from this amazingly empowering day.  It always amazes me how when we face what we believe to be our worst fears…we are in someway lighter!