Wood

by Catharine Amato

Triptych Solo in Photography:

Catharine Amato with Wood

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Project Triptych
View the series

“A few years ago I got to photograph in unusual (for me) places. My son was a founding member of Italian Championship Wrestling (in the admin but also a wrestler). I was asked to film several matches for them, but couldn’t resist some backstage portraits now and then!

In the early days, when their fed. was short of cash, some of the foreign guest stars stayed with us and I got used to politely sipping tea with giants from the UK,  USA, Canada and Belgium!

What did the neighbours think?

I miss those days since my son retired from the ring!”.

{Red Devil}

{Diamond and Crazy G}

{Il Drago}

{Lothar}

{Psycho Mike}

{Fans}

Aamora Friends,

Thank you all for being with us

through out 2011!

Remember one of the last scenes in “The Graduate” when Benjamin (Dustin Hoffman) drives desperately to Santa Barbara to interrupt his loved one’s wedding to another man? * Click here *

The iconic Alfa Romeo Spider was his means of transport, and this year the company, or what’s left of it, will be one hundred years old!

I live in the town of Arese, just outside Milan, and in the early 60s, Alfa opened its largest factory here.

Up until the 80s there was a work force of about 19,000 . Since then it’s been downhill all the way for poor Alfa, bought up by Fiat, with the gradual fading out of this legendary make of car.

The area of nearly 2.000.000 square metres that was once a thriving complex is now up for grabs and battle now ensues between concerned citizens and political and financial interests.

Who knows what we will find on our doorstep tomorrow! Meanwhile the area is a sad and dilapidated reminder of former glories.

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Still Life

by Catharine Amato

Triptych Solo in Photography:

Catharine Amato with Still Life

Note: Triptych example = 550 pixels width x 547 pixels tall

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Project Triptych
View the series

Some people have referred to my photography as “Old School”, perhaps just because I am, in fact, old – at least compared to the many photographers I’m in contact with.

Now these images really ARE “Old School” as I shot them when I was at school, aged 16 to 17! I had a Brownie Box and was having fun. Now I see many younger photogs are searching out these old cameras and having fun with them, too, so maybe I’m not so “Old School” after all!

These images are from 1963 and 1964.

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Catharine Amato, artist & founding aamora member, grew up in England & now spends winters near Milan & summers in Tuscany. View more of Catharine’s wonderful work on her website, JPG Magazine or aamora.

Welcome to our second installment of

The Aamora Carnival Project

{Side Show Coney Island by Ronnie Ginnever}

Carnival submissions, participation and even tickets are free so step right up there’s extra special carnival chaos in the works…

{Tickets by Jim Ford}

Get tickets for side shows; be in awe at amazing acts & feats …

{Snake Charmers by Jolie Buchanan}

Don’t forget tickets for food. Check out this vendor we scored …

{Shaved Ice by Diane Peterson}

We’ve even found a pizza shack with an accordion man …

{Accordion Man by Jim Robertson}

Lotsa games included; even the infamous “Show Your Strength’ …

{Show Your Strength by Catharine Amato}

And a duck pond of course, where every player gets a prize …

{Duck Pond by Amy Thompson}

Or perhaps darts & loud noises are more your style …

{Bust One by Jim Ford}

Regardless, you know you wanna go home a winner …

{Winner by Aaron Schwartz}

Aamora wants you to win too of course.

Stay tuned for our next installment …

Aamora welcomes guest submissions for the ongoing Carnival Project in the form of photographs, videos, artworks and/or writings. All submissions will be taken into consideration for publishing.

For submissions: Forward inquiries to aamora.com@gmail.com

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Aamora welcomes Amy Thompson submitting a photograph published in the carnival #2 installment.

Other contributors for installment #2 include: Diane Peterson, Jolie Buchanan, Jim Robertson, Jim Ford, Ronnie Ginnever, Aaron Schwartz Catharine Amato.

Aamora Project Carnival – 2
View the ongoing series

Welcome to our first installment of

The Aamora Carnival Project

Word’s spreading and we’re no longer going to be able to keep our project under wraps. Yes, planning is in the works for an Aamora Carnival. Some of you following along on facebook have seen a glimpse of what’s in the mix for this international carnival of all carnivals.

{Guy Like Me by Jolie Buchanan}

Is this thing for real?  Is there really going to be an Aamora Carnival? Just where can a guy like me sign up? (see below) …

{Bond Street Clown by Jim Ford}

There can’t be a carnival without canned clown …

{Masks Too by Catharine Amato}

We’ll need masks too, only 10 euro in Venice …

{Costume by Sonia Adams Murray}

We’ll need costumes …

{Carnival Food by Aaron Schwartz}

and food vendors, lotsa food vendors …

{Carnival Flower Baskets by Peter Voigt}

We’ll bring in some flowers for the carnival …

{Ferris Wheel by Gail Anderson}

and we’ll need fun rides; everyone loves the ferris wheel …

{Sweet Ride by Skip Hunt}

and various carnival trinkets and knick-knacks …

{Carnival Religion by Danielle Kelly}

{Big Balls by John Linton}

Stay tuned for our next installment …

Aamora welcomes guest submissions for the ongoing Carnival Project in the form of photographs, videos, artworks and/or writings. All submissions will be taken into consideration for publishing.

For submissions: Forward inquiries to aamora.com@gmail.com
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Aamora contributors to Carnival installment #1: Jim Ford, Jolie Buchanan, John Linton, Danielle Kelly, Aaron Schwartz, Peter Voigt, Gail Anderson, Catharine Amato, Skip Hunt, Sonia Adam Murray

Aamora Project Carnival – 1
View the ongoing series

Moving Mother

by Catharine Amato

{Fathers Old Trunk}

My mother has moved many times in her life, crossing oceans, war zones and continents. She has survived tragedies and losses with an indomitable spirit. Last year I helped her with perhaps the most challenging move of her life.

{Removals}

At the age of 92, having stopped driving two years earlier, she began to feel isolated in her bungalow on the edge of town. Several months of consideration and changes of mind brought her to the decision to move into sheltered accommodation.

{Packing Memories}

Thanks to a US company, there is a splendid “Retirement Residence” in her next door town. Independent and dignified living for the elderly, each with their own self contained flat.

Although I live in Italy and she in the UK, I have always been very close to my mother. Perhaps because I am the youngest of her children, born a few months after my father was killed in a terrorist attack. So I flew to the UK for a week to help out.

{Discovering School Photos}

Physically it was a tiring week, but also a time for recollection and reflection. The material objects that came to light during the sorting and packing (and unpacking) brought memories and emotions with them.

Hundrerds of photos spanning over a century of family travels and events, great great grandparents’ marriage and death certificates on yellowing parchment and a treasure trove, in an old writing case, of letters, brochures and documents from my parents’ wedding and honeymoon in 1938.

{Coffee in the New Apartment}

I came home to Italy with so many thoughts and memories and the inevitable anxieties about my own old age and all that it could mean, with the role reversal of parent and child towards life’s end. A year on, my mother has settled in and is enjoying the comfort and security of her new home. 

{Packing}

Auntie Elva’s ocean side home smelled of dusting powder and seaweed. I visited her often there and walked with her on the beach. Even when beachcombing, Auntie Elva dressed as if for the theatre or shopping, saying that she’d sooner be dead than wear “sensible shoes”. Her beach finds were distributed throughout her house along with the things her husband, dead these many years, had brought back from his trips around the world. Cloisonné vases full of shells, driftwood perched on ebony trunks, bits of coloured glass atop brass tables. One day after our beach stroll Auntie Elva brought a tray of tea to the living room then sat on the chesterfield opposite me. While the tea steeped she began stitching a hem on her sister Myrtle’s dress. As she talked to me about the seagull situation and the garbage problem she casually used her left breast as a pin cushion. And that was how I found out that Auntie Elva had had a mastectomy.

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Every Christmas the families gathered at Auntie Elva’s house. There was a turkey in the oven, presents under the tree, and Auntie Myrtle, who always wore sensible shoes, holding court on the chesterfield. Without fail Auntie Elva gave her three nieces dolls. I was the youngest niece, my sister Leah was a year older than me, and our cousin Beth was a year older than Leah. Every year I reeled with happiness as I tore the wrapping paper away to reveal the brand new doll, the intoxicating scent of new plastic was perfume to my nose. We would take our new dolls to the big, carpeted landing on the stairs. It had a stained glass window and was ideal for playing house. And then one Christmas Beth opened her gift and it was not a doll. It was a sweater. My sister and I still got dolls but the next year my sister got a sweater and Beth did too, again. I was the only one with a doll that year. I didn’t want to stop getting dolls; I had a nice family of them at home and I loved each one. There was Debbie, so named because she looked like Debbie Reynolds to me. And there was the doll I named Purpose when I was five because I liked the sound of the word. But of course I got my sweater the next year and soon after that the dolls got packed away. I never saw them again and often wonder what happened to them.

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Uncle Andre always liked to tell the story of the rose liqueur. Whether he was at a party, a bar or just visiting, he would tell and tell again that story. It involved a famous actress who passed him in a hotel lobby in Paris and dropped her scarf: “The finest silk scented with roses…” Whenever he said this his fingers moved back and forth as if feeling the smoothness of the silk and he drew a deep breath in as if inhaling the fragrance of a thousand roses. “I ran to catch her. She was so grateful to have her scarf that she took down my name and room number.” And that night a bottle of rose liqueur with a whole rose in it was sent to his room. “The very next year that lady became a Princess.” Cheers, Uncle Andre.

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Photographs by Catharine Amato; writing by Marie Wilson. Catharine and Marie were among the original founding members of aamora. We thank them for sharing with us this collaboration and hope it’s the first of many. It reminded us of something written by Pierce Harris in the Atlantic Journal: “Memory is a child walking along a seashore. You never can tell what small pebble it will pick up and store away among its treasured things.”

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Vancouver born Marie Wilson, a founding aamora.com member, is a writer, photographer, artist, actor, mother & muse living in Toronto. View her work on her website, on JPG Magazine or on aamora.com.