Andrew Niesen

"What do we mean by patriotism in the context of our times? I venture to suggest that what we mean is a sense of national responsibility...a patriotism which is not short, frenzied outbursts of emotion, but the tranquil and steady dedication of a lifetime." ADLAI STEVENSON

Happy Fourth of July!

My Grandmother passed away yesterday morning at the age of 88.

While it is natural to feel sad about losing my grandmother, I can't help but feel joy for the long life that she lived. She was a pioneer — she earned her masters' degree in social work in the 1940s, in an era when most women didn't even attend college. She raised two sons who were both born on November 30 — one in 1948 and one in 1949. She had a career as a social worker, advocating for the disadvantaged, and was an active member of her church for nearly her whole life — up until just a few months ago.

In 2003, I began a video project documenting oral histories of our grandparents. I started with my father's parents, and didn't get much farther. A month ago, I had nearly forgotten about the project; today, I'm really glad I did it, and I feel lucky that I started with this grandmother.

I shot about 5 hours of interviews with them, and edited together this short segment to introduce my grandmother.

As wedding photographers we tell stories with pictures that build the foundation for our clients' family legacy. Although this is a different medium than I am used to working with, the effect is the same — a record of my grandmother that I can save for the rest of my life and show to my kids and grandkids.

Delta Flight 11 got a rare treat; today's winds took its flight path unusually far north, clipping the far southern coast of Greenland. The PA from the captain woke me from a nap to see this view out the window. In a groggy maneuver, I grabbed the ThinkTank from the overhead bin and shot a few frames out the window before the vista was obscured by clouds.

The flight attendant tells me this is an extreme rarity; he couldn't remember the last time he saw Greenland on a clear day. That, combined with the realization that images shot through three panes of plexiglass are actually pretty sharp, indeed made it a memorable crossing of the Atlantic.

Cheers from London!

After spending a week in London, I can finally say I understand what Henry James meant when he wrote,

"It is difficult to speak adequately, or justly, of London. It is not a pleasant place; it is not agreeable, or easy, or exempt from reproach. It is only magnificent."

London is indeed a magical, magnificent place. Andrew and I hope to visit many times for work and play.

The wedding this weekend in Kent, "The Garden of England," was surreal and stunning all at once. Everywhere I turned, there was something inspiring to photograph. The church was built in 1233; the manor house, which is owned by the bride's family and was the site of the reception, was built in the early 1600s. I think my definition of the word "old" changed this weekend. I felt like I had been dropped into the set of a Merchant Ivory film!

Since our wake up call comes in 4 hours, I will sign off by sharing a few photographs from our week.

Ascending the last subway stair, I glanced up from my sun-flare stupor and saw an old friend out of the corner of my eye. Andrew and I stopped abruptly, as worlds collided in midtown Manhattan. There, standing a few feet from us, was California photographer Carey Schumacher! This random intersection was an unexpected highlight of our NYC visit. I'm always amazed that in a city of over 8 million people, you can simply bump into an old friend who lives across the country. These small-world reminders make me laugh, because they confirm my belief that we are more interconnected than we know!

After catching up with Carey and her son Mat, we made our way to the MOMA. My favorite sculpture resides there, and I've always wanted to share it with Andrew. It was a perfect way to end our day because the sculpture conveys themes of urban intersections and human connection. The sculpture,"City Square," was created by Alberto Giacometti in response to urban life. The figures in the sculpture appear to stride toward each other, but they would pass each other by mere millimeters if they were to continue on their course.

Giacometti observed urban life as an art form, "In the street people astound and interest me more than any sculpture or painting. Every second the people stream together and go apart, then they approach each other to get closer to one another. They unceasingly form and re-form living compositions!"