| Click thumbnail image to enlarge | ||
| Except as noted, all photographs Copyright 2005 King Douglas | ||
|
||
March 6, 2005 |
||
 |
I had occasion in October 2004 to attend a business meeting in Geneva, Switzerland. I elected to fly to Paris, rent a car and drive to Geneva over the weekend prior to the meeting. Paula, my lovely wife, came along and we had a very nice drive. To the left is a photo of the large fountain on the lake in Geneva. | |
|
|
||
 |
We weren't sure how far from Paris we'd get on our first day's drive, so I hadn't arranged a hotel. When we got to Chatillon sur Seine, we decided that we had been on the road long enough. We stopped and asked a couple of French policemen if they knew of any nearby hotels. They suggested the Sylvia Hotel, which we found to be quaint, rustic and delightful. That's Paula in the window. | |
|
|
||
 |
The next day, being in wine country, we wondered why we hadn't seen any vineyards. We drove along a little market road and suddenly, just around a bend in the road, a lush panorama of vineyards opened before us. | |
|
|
||
 |
To the left is a photo of the beautiful french town of Sens. Paula and I stopped for lunch at a sidewalk cafe. The weather was beautiful and we were enjoying ourselves immensely when Paula said, "It's my birthday!" And so it was. We had already celebrated Paula's birthday before we left for Paris. Paula doesn't like to make a big deal out of birthdays, but this one seemed to sneak up on her in a most delightful way. | |
|
|
||
|
I wanted to find Essoyes, the little town where Renoir is buried. Essoyes is a very small town off the main road. It took a bit to find the town and even longer to find the cemetery. | |
|
|
||
 |
To the left is a closeup of the bust atop Renoir's grave. | |
|
|
||
 |
We intended to make the long drive back to Paris in a single day, so we stayed on the main roads for the most part and I didn't take many photographs. I only stopped the car once, to take the photograph of the dramatic scene on the left. I have misplaced my notes on the name of the town. | |
|
|
||
| February 19, 2005 |
||
 |
This is my brother's only son, Michael, and his bride Julie around 1984. They had come to visit us in Dallas and wanted to see my photography studio...so I decided to take their picture. They are pretending to be tired travelers waiting for a train. | |
|
|
||
 |
This is the latch inside one of the stalls in the faculty men's room at The University of Texas School of Architecture in Austin, around 1969. I always had a camera with me in those days, documenting what I saw and trying to figure out what photography was all about. This is what I saw.
I'm still trying to figure out what it's about, and now there is the World Wide Web, and digital images everywhere: no silver halides, no latent images, no gelatin silver prints, no sense of anticipation while waiting for the film to be developed. It goes on, I know: instant gratification, no expense, etc. |
|
|
|
||
 Judy Kendall |
This dramatic etching is "The Witness," by my friend Judy Kendall, who seems to have disappeared. I think her maiden name was Bender or Binder...amazing what 30+ years will do to your memory. Judy was an exceptionally talented artist, and she was a dancer, too. She gifted me with this work from 1968. |
|
|
|
||
 Dorothy Krueger |
Dorothy J. Krueger gave me this etching, entitled "Prometheus" in the 70's. She was a fan of mine and wanted me to have something of hers. Thanks again, Dorothy...now where have you gotten off to? | |
|
|
||
 Martin Corliss-Smith |
I purchased this etched portrait of Dylan Thomas from Martin Corliss-Smith when he was a hungry graduate student at Southern Methodist University, when I was studying art there in the early 90's. Dylan Thomas is one of my favorite poets, and I very much admired Martin's work. I was surprised when he agreed to sell me this etching for a pittance. I think Martin may have gone into poetry...not surprising. The only reference to Martin Corliss-Smith I can find in either Google or Yahoo search refers to a poet. Martin--get in touch. Let's talk poetry. |
|
|
|
||