I've often wondered what they'd say...

Maclaren Park, SF

Maclaren Park, SF

Prospect Park, NY

Los Feliz, Los Angeles

it's rare that i pass a tree and don't take it's picture. 

these are just a few of the many, many, many i've shot over the years.

Make:Do

open studios this weekend

studio 227

744 alabama @ 19th st.

friday night  7pm- 11pm

saturday & sunday, 12-5

To Marion

I got a box in the mail the other day addressed to "amazing molly".
That, alone, could have probably been enough for me for the whole week:  This box, the wonderful address.

But when I opened it, I saw two big bowed piles of old, fantastically old, from wedding to funeral, from birth to 22, family photos. 

And here's the crazy part of that:  They weren't my family.
{Seems I've become known for being someone who loves the old stuff.  The old photos even more.}
They all belonged to a woman I know only through the world of blog;  yet my mother and I both agree, this is someone we would really, really like.  We love, love, love her blog, can't get over the way she's able to so clearly express, we love her comments on this blog, mom even comments to me on her comments.  
And the dichotomy?/irony? of knowing someone only in this wi-fi computer-database (blah erg um computer stuff, technology, mybad, high tech, blah, blech)  day and age, contrasted with the US Postal Service, mailed-to-me, bound and unusual, singular and downright spectacular, physical proof of her history makes the whole thing all that more fantabulous.  What a freakin strange, and sometimes ridiculously wonderful world we live in.

It's a pretty powerful stack of photos, so many of which will be posted each day on Other People's Lives over the next two weeks.  Someday I'm going to publish a little glossy of the most unusual or quaint photos that speak to me, out of the thousand's I now happily own & insanely love, and I know will only grow larger over the years (see:  addiction: evidence no.1,  evidence no.2,  evidence no.3).

So, if I may,
an internet shout-out to my friend, Marion, through the internet waves and over the years, you are most definitely someone my mother and I still strongly agree, this is someone we're lucky to know we would really, really like....

OPEN STUDIOS weekend

We just shake hands at meeting

with many that come nigh;

we nod the head in greeting

to many that go by, --

But welcome through the gateway

our few old friends and true;

then hearts leap up, and straightway

there's open house for you,

old friends,

there's open house for you!*

open studios
come for a visit & a look-see!
studio 227
744 alabama @ 19th st.
friday night  7pm- 11pm
saturday & sunday, 12-5
it's always a good time!

And, in other fun news...

I was delighted to be interviewed by the fabulous team at Lightbox SF! They do a wonderful series of postings, talking to artists who open their doors and minds, to get an inside glimpse of small business owners at work.  Lightbox SF makes it their mission "to give you the information, tools, and confidence to make your creative business succeed. We are teachers, coaches, and cheerleaders."

*author, gerald massey

Is This What Happens When You're Not Looking?

I've found this new website/blog/outlet, that I spend way too much time on. 
Mostly images, many controversial (by somebody's standards, I'm sure) and then...this. 
I love the idea of this happening in our world.

Norbert sensed that Spring was in the air……

all credit goes to my old pal, ken brown

Happy Birthday Stella!

rescue dog, about to get rescued

Two years ago, today, I walked out for toilet paper and returned home with Stella Marie. 

Over the last two years, this dog has changed the face of our lives and the depth of our love.  I don't think RK and I could ever have predicted what she would do for us and we can only hope we do something similar for her.

Stella Rides

Stella Studio Sleeps

Stella Sands

Stella Sleeps & Dreams

Stella Suns

Stella Fetches

Stella Plants

Stella Pants

Stella Snoozes

Stella Cruises, like the rockstar she is...

Vintage Modern Life

I thought these were amazing.  (You can get them for yourself at their website)

They made me feel safe about all this, which I desperately needed.
Truth be told, I'm scared to death of turning into a complete dolt with mush for brains because of apps and texts and hash-tags, and googling even the most simplest of thoughts.  In this post alone, I've already had to use spell check.  Lordy!

Since getting an iphone in October, I have become a twitter-er, a complete addict to an iphone app called instagram, and a constant checker of the screen.  That's right.  Doesn't matter what screen, computer or iphone, I have a difficult time going long periods without checking the latest.
The latest what you ask?
Well, I'm not really sure.  The latest moment in other people's lives, I suppose.
I know it keeps me quite distracted from my own, which doesn't always feel like such a bad thing.  Yet, I was the biggest moaner and groaner of this new frontier when it all started happening. 

And here I am.

And, I continue to moan:  I miss the connections in person.  I miss the urge to make phonecalls.  I miss letter writing, real paper letter writing.  I miss listening to just my own thoughts every once in awhile.  And I miss the time I used to have.

But!... in thinking about how to better communicate the brand of my business, I realize it's a growing tool that I need to manage, should enjoy and do appreciate (in it's own way).

For now, it exists, I exist with it.  One might call it a love/hate relationship.

Before there was...

In the very earliest time,
when both people and animals lived on earth,
a person could become an animal if he wanted to and an animal
could become a human being.
Sometimes they were people
and sometimes animals
and there was no difference.
All spoke the same language.
That was the time when words were like magic.
The human mind had mysterious powers.
A word spoken by chance
might have strange consequences.
It would suddenly come alive
and what people wanted to happen could happen--
all you had to do was say it.
Nobody could explain this:
That's the way it was.

Magic Words by Edward Field

Inspired by the Inuit

My friends and I understand this concept.

I'm A Firm Believer

and i'm working on number 27 this month...

Keep Calm and Carry On is just good advice

When a crappy day is at hand, am I ever lucky that I have RK to send something sweet my way.

Growing a Business

I need to get out of the house more.
I've become house-bound.  When I'm home, in my apartment, all I want to do is find ways to stay there.
This leads to a bit of loopy dis-reality.
This means, where I once used to change my pants between the dog park (where it was wet and muddy and smeared with dog slobber), I now find reasons to head right into the day...dogpants and all!

All for the love of work, go I. 
Standing in front of a host of issues that don't always feel like issues, but start to just feel like growing pains,  I see our small business getting bigger.  I feel the pain and aches that come with repeating the same motion over and over (open card, stuff envelope, sleeve on, wrap) but the motion feels better these days.  As if I'm just getting going here, folks.  And if nothing else, it's a wild and wonderful ride, this world of ownership. 

8mm ideas inventory has arrived!

Investing, growing, moving and shaking!  Running a small business is beyond frightening. 

but, Gads!  I freaking LOVE it.


(yes, this is how it can feel)

Happy Valentine's Day, Dear John

just three of many, many 'dear john' letters i wrote years ago for a large art piece, now sold.  i've always thought they would make interesting postcards.  but they're also kinda fun for valentine's day, too.  this day can really wreak havoc with some and it always amazed me that we go to the furthest ends, both high and low, for those we love or love no more on this random day of the year.

mind you, these 'dear john' letters don't necessarily reflect how i feel about love:   i'm actually madly in love with my husband, but we don't really celebrate this singular day and i must admit, there's some relief to that.  we tend to tell each other how we feel about one another on many of the other days. 



*and if you think 'dear john' letters are a bummer, can you imagine being in saudi arabia today?

House Crawl

It's come to my attention that I'm a bit of a connector-type.  I truly don't know if I already knew that about myself, or if it's something I realized only after being told.  I'm running with the latter.  It feels totally natural to me.  Actually, some might see it as a sort of addiction to getting to know people.  And I often like those people I know to know more people I know, too.  Also known as bringing people together.

A boy I liked in college, whose name is a complete blank to me today..(how strange),

introduced me to someone at a party and the way he did it seemed to hit it on the nose:  He told this other person, meeting [me] is to soon feel like you've known [me] forever.  Then in a spot-on imitation he put his hand out, clearly looking for a firm hand-shake in return, and said with a big smile:  hi!-im!-molly!-meng!

I was stunned.  How had he seen that about me, I wondered?

Of course, he's so totally right on it's scary.  I wasn't doing any sort of job hiding that part of my personality.  Out loud, I pooh-poohed it.  No, not really, I think I said.  It seemed too basic.  I felt too exposed.  I'd somehow grown to think this over eager interest in others wasn't particularly a good thing.

I don't struggle with it anymore.  In fact, I totally celebrate the fact that I dig people.  I'm hella curious about people, about human nature, about what people do and don't do, and the whys and the why-nots and by the extreme cases I've never even imagined.  I dig getting to know people.  And, for me, chit-chat and small talk seems a little too surface.  I like getting right down into it.  I get it from my family.  Everyone in my family likes to talk to strangers.  And almost no topic is sacred. It's what brings us to some really great stories.

I've lived, solidly, in two buildings as an adult.  One, in NYC, where we all knew each other on a pretty open door policy, and the one we live in here in SF, where if someone comes out of the building that we don't know, we make eyes at each other and greet them with that polite but questionable 'hello?'

If you ask my old neighbors in New York what brought us together, many of them point to a fire we had early on in the building that, apparently, I insisted affected us all.  We held meetings on our first floor landing and became our own best landlords.  From there on out, I figured we were all in this together, why not live that way?

Many years later, now in San Francisco, on a warm December night, I find myself and RK roaming our building, moving from one apartment to the next with drinks and food flowing, all these neighbors now friends finally seeing the inside life of the person they pass at the mailbox everyday.  We had a house crawl!  Curiosity got the best of me (and a number of neighbors now friends) and we all agreed a house crawl seemed like a win-win for everyone. There I go again, assuming everyone wants to expose it all!

But every neighbor was a 'yes' and everyone joined in that night, mixing a signature drink and trying to keep us on the hour-per-apt. rule we tried to keep.  Hitting 8 homes in one night is a big commitment.

It's been a year since then, and we're still all talking about it.  How it was one of those magical nights that seemed like something from childhood:  mini hot dogs, funny mixed drinks, talking about all the neighborhood gossip.  That night, it did feel like we'd known each other forever.

It just so happened that, in a matter of days, one of our good neighbors turned friend was moving out and moving on.  That night, as we all stood on the fire escape and looked out over the city, he smoked his first cigarette in 10 years and reminisced about his 15 years spent in that building:  The neighbors, the friends, the stories, the time spent ended not with a firm handshake (as it may very well have started) but goodbye hugs all around and a knowledge we'd made a connection here.

Love face

Love face, a photo by mollshot on Flickr.

What If

Sometimes, only one person is missing, 

and the whole world seems depopulated.
— Alphonse de Lamartine

A really gorgeous, thoughtful children's book came out recently from French illustrator Blexbolex. And it's not just about people, but about the human condition.  The human condition is something I think about a lot.  This book I held in my hands, so easily shows the subtle commentary on the dichotomies of lives chosen or just plain lived.  We all exist alongside each other, our lives or our deaths can affect the people not only around us, but around the world.

The butterfly effect is something I believe in.  Some days I feel like I just have to.

because sometimes you just want to laugh

Day after Day, Time into Time

 via

And Maya Angelou writes...

I’ve learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow. I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights. I’ve learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you’ll miss them when they’re gone from your life. I’ve learned that making a “living” is not the same thing as making a “life.” I’ve learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance. I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back. I’ve learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision. I’ve learned that even when I have pains, I don’t have to be one. I’ve learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back. I’ve learned that I still have a lot to learn. I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.

leaving brings the lonely

'You’ll get over it…' It’s the clichés that cause the trouble. 

To lose someone you love is to alter your life for ever. 

You don’t get over it because ‘it” is the person you loved. 

The pain stops, there are new people, but the gap never loses. How could it? 

The particularness of someone who mattered enough to grieve over is not made anodyne by death. 

This hole in my heart is in the shape of you and no-one else can fit it. Why would I want them to?
— Jeanette Winterson

On December 14th, one of the best friends I've ever had, was killed.
It was a story heard around the world.
I know this because before I actually got the call from our good friend in New York that Suzanne had left this universe, an unread email sat in my inbox from a friend in Germany who had heard the 'news'.  And it's 'news' in semi-quotes because it actually was news, the kind you instantly hear about on the radio and the kind that's played on the TV.  And while it feels like there's a hole in me that sometimes feels as if it's filling up with the 'news' and I'm about to drown,  it's also the part that keeps her memory alive and talked about by people that never even knew her but now wish they had.  And that's the part that is both strange and wonderful.  Two things I never thought I'd feel about someone's death.
I've never been through it this closely.
maybe it's age.   maybe it's awareness.
      Or maybe it's awareness that comes with age.

I've struggled with writing about her and not writing about her.  Wanting to explain just how much she means to me.  I'm not sure I can put into words...
With Suzanne, I was vulnerable.  I hate being vulnerable, as much as I hate getting a shot.  With Suzanne, I couldn't even feel it.  It turns out, I realize in these days without it now, I relied on her sense of humor, her incredibly quick wit, her total interest in others, and a level of acceptance that was unparalleled in any other person I've known.   

This would make her laugh.
Everything I just wrote, she'd laugh self-deprecatingly and say, "yeah, right."
And that's been the hardest part of this whole thing:  Knowing I'll never hear her voice in this world again.  I talk to her every single day, hearing her voice in my head so clearly, but some days the realization that I won't hear her laughter ring out, makes me gasp with fear.
I found this world easier with her in it.
And everyone I know that knew her felt exactly the same way.
      That's a really goddamn big loss.

And while denial can't be totally healthy for long, it feels,
rationally so,
that it's incredibly disrespectful to admit or even to accept that she's actually gone.
So, for now at least, I'm pretending she's not.
That may seem the strange part.

And yet, the incredibly wonderful part is that, in reality, Suzanne lives on in the big apple,
a place we both loved completely and completely lived for;
her name placed in Central Park on a bench for you and yours to rest on
and a tree for you to be shaded by.

That's just the way she is.

Admiring MLK

Man has the greater capacity for goodness, and the potential for evil. --Martin Luther King, JR

Nothing Quite Like It

via