Maria Pouchnikova

Obamification

Philadelphians gather at the Warwick Hotel to watch live election results and hear Mayor Nutter speak. As the evening nears midnight, the crowd gains momentum. Mayor Nutter encourages everyone to express their pride and breath easy. He is certain that Obama will win, even when the screen projects an even split for both candidates with 49% of votes.  Whenever Obama wins a state, the hotel conference room booms with applause. Every time Romney wins a state, a hum of booing spreads, although some people hush it out of respect for both candidates. Obama wins Hawaii. Then Ohio. Then the room becomes alive with anticipation as everyone awaits the for the inevitable announcement that our President has been re-elected. As it happens, the sound of defeat is deafening. Some cry, and others bear the news with silent nods of relief. Then the real party begins. Eventually I pack my things and as I descend the hotel’s staircase to leave, shouts of “four more years” follow me out the door and all the way to the streets.

Hurricane Sandy

I awake on Monday morning expecting the black sky to burst like a dam. There is an abnormal electric feel to the air. The rain and wind are not detrimental yet. But I can feel the potential lingering.

A few hours later I am in Northeast Philadelphia driving around with Walbert, both of us on the lookout for any signs of the arrival of Hurricane Sandy. Initially, the only thing distinguishing this day from any other is the stillness.

Normally, it’s noisy in the Northeast. Usually there are dogs barking, angry drivers honking, people talking out-loud to themselves, people talking to other people, children playing games on the streets, UPS trucks blocking roads, airplanes buzzing in the sky, teenagers laughing on their way to school, teenagers laughing running away from school, and generally a sense of life coming from every corner on every street.

Not today.

Mother nature overpowers any human noise still audible. The wind howls and raindrops make “cling” sounds as they attack every surface.

The afternoon unfolds and Sandy seems stronger. Her unpredictability scares me. One minute the wind stops completely and the rain clears as if a bad thunderstorm just ended. Then out of nowhere, a gust topples over branches and hundreds of little rain needles coated with ice stab you from every direction. It’s like a mind game. You start to suspect that every time it gets quiet, it means it will get even more intense once Sandy returns to her violent state.

The whole thing lasts about a day and a half. Then it starts to fizzle out.

We were lucky, unlike our New Jersey neighbors whose shores will never look the same. In Northeast Philadelphia, flooding is minimal but the wind causes many power lines and mega trees to fall over cars and homes. Some walls are damaged, and many store signs are left broken. Thousands of people are left without power. But no one is hurt.

It seems to me that in our neighborhoods Sandy flexed her muscles to let us know there are stronger forces out there, yet never engaged us in a full-blown battle. Despite her beauty and grandeur, nature won’t always be so considerate. But this time, she let it slide.

What am I

This is a continuation of some personal attempts at conceptual photography, like the one from Project 1. The point of it is to set a mood rather than illustrate some kind of actual story. This is my fun times experiment to try an reset my brain from covering news sometimes.

Open Air

Open Air, an interactive light show created by artist Rafael Lozano-Hemmer, translates messages sent by Philadelphians into light beams. The 24 light beams positioned at various buildings surrounding Benjamin Franklin Parkway, interpret different voice frequencies from the messages to determine how bright and in which direction each beam should point. Before the show begins, people gather with family, friends, dogs, and children. Some pass by the steps of the art museum on their regular evening jog, then stop to ask why there is such a large crowd gathered. Others have waited for hours, comfortably nestled by the pillers next to the stairs. The show doesn’t start on time, and people get antsy. A random bust of encouraging applaus echoes through the night, and a hum of quiet laughter follows. Finally, out of nowhere, a dim few lights beam and break the blackness in the sky. Then, slowly, the beams build up and light everything. Often, they change their rhythm and brightness. In the distance, a band plays in the middle of the Parkway. The best part? Philadelphians of all ages, shapes, and sizes hanging out together to enjoy a very interesting concept through a beautiful display.

The Photographer

Tiny me would probably have laughed at the idea of becoming a photographer. She would have much preferred to be an astronaut or an archeologist or to create some kind of invention that would help you swim with sea monsters.

At any rate, tiny me evolved and had to grow up pretty quickly after emigrating to the United States as a nine year old in 1997. Originally from Bulgaria, I moved here with my brother and parents, none of us speaking any useful English.

I like to think that’s how it all started. I had a moment then, as a child, where it dawned on me that I had no idea what the hell anyone was saying. At all. So what does one do? One relies on their other senses, often taken for granted. Which led to me seeing the world primarily refined through my eyes. I learned to pay attention to road signs and body language and color and the way people smiled. I began to seek comfort in unknown places.

It took me a little more than a decade to define this sequence of events as  my love for the visual world, which sometimes illustrates stories much more in-depth than words can. So, I changes my major at Temple University to photojournalism because it turns out that’s the way I have seen the world since I was young.  And I bought a camera. After which it dawned on me that I had to somehow make up for buying a camera.

Thus the next chapter in my life-freelancing. It’s a whole lot easier to be less intimidated by the professional world when you are broke. So I just jumped into it and haven’t stopped since. I am very thankful to all the people I have met who were extremely patient with me. I can ramble on and on about all incredible, crazy things that have happened throughout my work progression. But I’ll be brief. The universe smiled at me one day and I got what I think is one of the most interesting jobs, working a s photojournalist/photo editor for a weekly newspaper called The Northeast Times. And now the real adventures have begun.

Frankford Murals

Cesar Viveros, a resident of Frankford, works on a four-piece mural idea he created with Ana Guissel. The four murals titled “History”, “Pride”, “Family” and “Potential” will be fully complete within a couple of months and visible at the Kensington and Frankford Ave. intersection. Cesar says that this community needs to feel alive, and perhaps reminding the neighborhood of Frankford’s particular flavor would help awaken a sense of belonging and pride. He loves Frankford and several people that pass by the working area of the latest “Pride” addition to the mural nod with approval.

Welcome home Corpsman Hunt

Corpsman Anthony Hunt, 23,  returns home to Northeast Philadelphia after a tour in Afghanistan. His family, friends, and neighbors welcome him. He says he thanks everyone for the support and asks us to send our prayers to the families of his brothers who died fighting abroad His wife, Ashley, says Anthony looks good and is surprised to see his hair is growing back. His wife and brother and sisters shake from nerves-they cannot believe he is finally home.

Darrenkamping

Darrenkamping. Code-word for a camping weekend at Ian Darrenkamp’s cabin in Lancaster with talented photographers and in general, lovely people.

It began with a slight detour as I noticed white smoke coming from the hood of my red Accura. I was on my way to pick up three friends to car-pool with. It was the perfect plan of action, minus the smoking situation.

Thanks to my parents, I eventually switched cars and decided to keep going. I picked up the first two girls who would travel with me.

Let’s call them Kate and Marisha. Kate-a savvy photojournalism student with the innate talent to summarize any situation with humor, and Marisha-a philosophical traveling heart with tons of exciting stories to share.

Next, we stop by center city to pick up a third friend. We will call her Tina. Tina-a beauty from Georgia (the country not the state) who thrives on challenging stereotypical perceptions about life. And then there’s me. Me-well it’s a lot harder to analyze yourself but I was once told that I had a purple aura, if that means anything to anyone.

Kate, Marisha, Tina, and I head out. Let me tell you how this road trip went down. No topic was left untouched to the soundtrack of our laughter.

It turned out that the car ride was the perfect foreshadow for the entire weekend. As soon as we reached our cabin, we continued conversations about the universe, relationships, music, and of course, photography. Not to mention the amazing off-the road vehicle fast rides through out the woods, and a little bit of drinking games to top things of in the evenings.

On our last night, I witnessed an amazing sunset. We watched it from a field in the middle of the woods not too far from the cabin. On one side, dozens of shades of orange and purple highlighted fluffy clouds as the red sun descended behind a hill. Simultaneously, on the other side of the field a full moon rose and the trees beneath it appeared frosted from the moon’s light.

It was one of those moments when you realize how insignificant all of your daily problems are in the large spectrum of things. There is this whole big universe with so many possibilities in front of you. Getting away from the city once in a while and connecting with friends and nature is essential and re-energizing.

This weekend left me content. Not that I didn’t feel content before, but I am in this tricky transition of things right now-not quite settled with a career yet no longer a student. So it felt extra nice to experience some quiet time with good company.

And so ends my first mini-road trip taken during 2012.