Here We Are Together

About Here We Are Together

Observational discussions about art, literature, television, places, and life in general. sarahcarpenter.substack.com (https://sarahcarpenter.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast)

Publisher

Sarah Carpenter

Category

society & culture · society & culture

Language

en

Explicit

No

First episode

17 May 2023

Latest episode

10 Jun 2024

Latest episodes

8 episodes in the feed.

1. 

   10 Jun 2024

   Are Casts and Prints Art

   In the quiet corners of the online forum of Northern Renaissance Art: Durer to Bruegel c1480-c1580 through the Oxford Department of Continuing Education, we were asked if prints could be considered “real art”. I vehemently stated that yes, of course, they are real art. I had a good argument for it too. And by the way, they weren’t quiet corners. There were lots of very long paragraphs of arguing between students in those forums. When you’re a photographer, prints and prints in books are the only physical manifestation of your art. How could I not defend them? But in the class, we were actually talking about prints of paintings. In the Northern Renaissance, prints were created in a way that needed skill to create, by using woodcutting or other print-making skills that I am currently blanking on (way to show your retention of the material, Sarah). I still felt that you could be looking at the artwork when looking at a print created in this way. But then we went to the Victoria and Albert Museum and walked around the room of casts— replicas of famous sculptures, altarpieces, tombstones, and even Trajan’s Column. We stood in front of Michaelangelo’s David. It was massive and magnificent, but the minute I found out it was a cast, the balloon popped. It felt like the sculpture deflated slightly. How snobby of me. I truly tried to see it for what it is, for the details of the original. I tried to appreciate that this cast had been created by making a mould of the original, not that someone else did a hack job and carved their own. And even then, I kept thinking if someone tried to recreate it by hand and came this close, shouldn’t that person be celebrated for their skill? I once read a book in which there was a mystery of who was creating paintings that were supposed to be by Matisse. In the book, I think the point was made that the copycat was actually technically better than the original painter. Of course, a copycat painter is actually creating paintings, not just making an imprint of an already existing painting or scanning a copy of it on a computer and reselling it. But even casts take skill. To make the mould and then fill it just so and get it to come out right takes skill. It definitely takes a certain amount to do that kind of work with a cake mould which is why my moulded cakes always look a little lopsided. So why is it so difficult for me to appreciate a cast? Why would I say that prints are art but casts are not? I’m at a point of internal turmoil over this debate. On the one hand, the original piece of art was created. Someone thought it up. And for me to not have to travel all over the globe to see a famous piece of art and know that the art resides in the original place where it should, I have to appreciate the fact that casts of that accuracy and caliber can be made. Still, to stand in front of an original gives me the same tingly feeling I get when I stand in a beautiful cathedral listening to a choir rehearse or getting to be there for Evensong. It’s one of those great moments in life that makes me feel closer to God, that brings my faith to the surface, and that reminds me that there are great things in this world beyond myself. Maybe it’s just mindset or maybe it’s Maybelline. Of course, it’s not the latter. This begs the question. Is it about whether a cast or a print is a real work of art, or is it the knowledge of the original being somewhere else that changes our perception of it? If I never knew that the David was a cast, would I have felt its magnificence more? Should I ask people to stop pointing out when something is not the original? Should I just stop worrying about it so much? Probably. I should probably just stop worrying about it, but these are the things that keep me up at night. This and bills and how my kids are doing and whether or not I should have eaten that extra scoop of popcorn. Such is life. Sarah Carpenter is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit sarahcarpenter.substack.com/subscribe (https://sarahcarpenter.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2)

2. 

   15 Jun 2023

   Knitting

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3. 

   9 Jun 2023

   Skates and Cameras

   Thanks for listening to Here We Are Together by Sarah Carpenter! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit sarahcarpenter.substack.com/subscribe (https://sarahcarpenter.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2)

4. 

   1 Jun 2023

   Ted Lasso

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5. 

   30 May 2023

   Reminiscing on Cannon Beach

   We stood at the edge of the tide. Well, we started at the edge of the tide when it was still low. And as it came in, I felt my toes slowly sinking into the sand below my feet. It was a nice reprieve from the freezing water rushing over my ankles. It felt like I was watching God play with watercolor paints as the sunset over the Pacific Ocean. Blue turned to pale yellow and pink and orange and light purple. The water glistened with speckled rays of light. And I just stood there trying my best to soak it in, never to forget it. I was also snapping photos with every change of the sky, going through 15 shots, reloading, then another 15 more quickly than was probably necessary. I felt a tinge of guilt as the chilly breeze blew over my shoulders, knowing that I was keeping my baby girl out way too late in the air that was growing colder by the minute. The sight of her snuggled next to my husband’s chest in her baby carrier, asleep and content assuaged my guilt slightly. Side Note: Now that I’m older, and not too much wiser, with two kids in tow, I continue to break bedtimes for sunsets. I keep them out late to experience the world when we are on trips. And, occasionally, when they can’t sleep, I let them snuggle up and watch the golden sunlight that is cast across my bedroom on a warm summer night. They are only little once, right? This was the third time my husband, Ben, and I had gone to Cannon Beach. We’d gone, the first time, while on a trip to Oregon for a one-on-one workshop I was attending. It had been 100 degrees in Portland, so after standing outside Blue Star Donuts (which was totally worth it because the hazelnut chocolate ganache donut was rich and creamy and nutty and perfect), and sweating inside of Powell’s Book Store while fighting crowds just to find a book I never actually read, we decided to head to the beach. It was stunning. So different from any beach I’d ever been to. It felt protected by the cliffs and the evergreens, and Haystack Rock is massive. I always thought the photos of it had been doctored in some way. The second time we went to Cannon Beach, we had photos done with one of my favorite photographers and someone I called a mentor to me in the wedding industry. And it was such a wonderful experience, aside from the fact that a tiny baby girl cried the entire way there. But once we were there, playing with her on the beach and knowing we’d get some incredible photos of the three of us back, it was so peaceful. We ended up going back the next day. Sofie slept the entire way there this time. And the final time we went to Cannon Beach was when I was pregnant with Henry. It was 2020, and things were just opening up from Covid-19. I’d been so depressed about spending my entire pregnancy in the apartment, and I needed to get away, even if I had to strategically plan all my bathroom breaks along the way so they lined up with public toilets that were actually open, wear masks in public spaces and accept that it was just going to be a different trip. It was still magic. We roasted marshmallows on the beach, made sandcastles with Sofie, ate shrimp on the beach on a windy day. That last one ended with sand in our shrimp, so we gave up on our little picnic. We walked along the water and explained tide pools to a 2 1/2 year old. We ate pastries in bed, and we talked about how it was so strange that in just a short few months, our son would be with us. I feel a little disappointed that we never made it back to Oregon with Henry. Life is so much busier with two little kids, especially when one of them is in ballet and gymnastics and ice skating. It gets to a point where, some weekend days, I just want to go nowhere, do nothing, and see nobody. Is that just an introvert thing? Or is it a mom thing? I feel guilty, and again, disappointed that we never got family photos done with that photographer once Henry was born. To make myself feel better, I just think of all the beaches we have taken Henry to and all the places we’ll go as a family of four in the future and all the pictures we’ll be in together. But it won’t stop me from remembering my toes in that sand and the freezing tide against my ankles and the stinging from where I’d shaved that morning and the shivering I felt as I tried to keep as steady as possible so I could take a timelaps of the sun setting. I’ll never forget that place, that magical beach that took my breath away and gave me a moment of peace at a time that was so stressful. I’ll never forget smelling the sea and Christmas at the same time. This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit sarahcarpenter.substack.com/subscribe (https://sarahcarpenter.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2)

6. 

   26 May 2023

   The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

   Thanks for Listening to Here We are Together by Sarah Carpenter! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit sarahcarpenter.substack.com/subscribe (https://sarahcarpenter.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2)

7. 

   24 May 2023

   Living on the Edge

   Last night I finished cleaning up in the kitchen and decided to vacuum and mop. This does two things, it gives me a mid-week refresher for the house and also forces me to get in some extra steps and movement before I sit down after the kids go to bed. When I was done, I wandered into the kids’ bedroom to see that they were snuggled on either side of Ben while he read Paddington. Not wanting to climb all the way across Sofie’s day bed to sit next to her, I sat on the edge, catercorner to them and watched the scene unfold in front of me. This is often where I find myself, on the edge of a scene as if I’m the observer and my family or friends are in the film I’m watching. Sometimes, this place feels lonely. I am never quite part of the moment, always just on the outskirts, always peering in. But this place has its advantages. It gives me a chance to carefully write to memory the details of moments I know will pass too quickly. I get to study and hope that my brain will never let go of these details. Last night I watched as Henry continued to move in closer to Ben until he was on top of him, staring out at the book from Ben’s chest. His long, red eyelashes brushed the tops of his cheeks as he looked down at the pages of the book. He loves to calmly watch and pay close attention for a while and then batter you with questions about what’s going on in the images. He wanted to know what a wheelbarrow was and why Paddington needed it. Between questions, he would look up at Ben inquiringly with a look of complete adoration and then back down at the page. Sofie sat with her legs crossed at her ankles, clutching her grey blankie and her ballerina elephant shoulder to shoulder with Ben, focused on the book, but not fidgeting or pushing personal boundaries or encroaching on Ben’s space or forcing him to hold the book up higher to see the words on the pages as Henry does. She was prim, proper, and settled. She’s not usually so settled, she’s usually running around, doing handstands on the walls, and flinging herself off surfaces that move backward when said flinging happens. The light in the room was flat. I wish I could say it was golden and streaming through the windows, but it wasn’t. It was doing that in the living room, the golden and the streaming. The living room was being bathed in the gorgeous west coast evening light that I will be sad to leave, and there was a part of me that wanted to walk out and pick up my knitting or get back to the book I was listening to earlier. I wanted to pick my family up and take them to the couch so that they could enjoy the sun as well. But they were comfortable where they were, surrounded by blankets and quilts. The room was cool, they were calm, and I didn’t want to miss out on a moment of stillness that is so rare in our chaotic life. I wished that I could be planted between them, having Sofie’s little hands touch my arms and feel the weight of Henry’s head on my shoulder, but then I wouldn’t have been able to see the whole scene. I wouldn’t have been able to see the way that Ben fit between them so perfectly, his body and mind seemed to have nowhere else to be. He’s good like that. He’s good at being present. When the kids were in bed and asleep (which actually took quite a while after this because they thought it would be hilarious to run out of the room giggling and have to be picked up and put back in bed and then decided it was a good time for more hugs and then the potty and then water) I stood at the window of my bedroom and looked out over the little downtown we live in and watched as the last glimpses of light disappeared over the dusty green tops of the trees, and I let all the emotions of the day wash over me. I thought about how I used to hold Henry at that window and rock him back and forth while singing “Green Eyes” by Coldplay to him, and he would put his head on my shoulder and eventually get heavy, and his chubby little arm would drop, and that’s how I had to put him to sleep for such a long time. He loves, to this day, looking out over the city lights. And I thought back to when Sofie would nap in the middle of my bed in the bright daylight while I worked and how I would eventually end up sitting on the floor next to the bed as she sprawled out as much as she could. This apartment holds so many memories for me, so many moments where I stood on the edge and just watched as my kids grew from tiny babies to walking, running, playing, and talking beings with their own personalities. I hope you’ve enjoyed listening to and reading “Living on the Edge”! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work, and please share these posts and encourage friends to subscribe as well. This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit sarahcarpenter.substack.com/subscribe (https://sarahcarpenter.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2)

8. 

   17 May 2023

   A Birthday Dinner, A Last Time, A Full Circle Moment

   Thanks for listening to the first of many of my little thought blurbs! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit sarahcarpenter.substack.com/subscribe (https://sarahcarpenter.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2)