Anastasia Smith: 24, sisterless and searching.
From the category archives:
Below this photo Katherine writes, "Summertime, you're mine"
WHEN I FOUND KATHERINE SQUIER’S photostream on flickr (thanks to boooooom! who featured her work on their homepage), I spent hours clicking through the nine or so pages of eerily beautiful photos. And even when I was too sleepy to prop myself up in front of my computer, I felt so reluctant to leave her world and go to sleep. [click to continue…]
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LAST WEEK I INVITED MY DEAR brother over for dinner so that we could cook and then eat vegetable fritters together. They happen to be one of our favorite foods that we grew up eating (which I previously mentioned in contrast to the kinds of things my mother grew up eating, namely tripe) and I thought it would a nice way to take some sweet brother-sister bonding photos for the blog to post alongside a recipe. But, apparently I thought “nice” way too soon. [click to continue…]
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I RECENTLY CAME ACROSS a slideshow on youtube of artist Grete Stern’s work in photomontage depictions of women’s dreams, and I was quite moved. [click to continue…]
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I RECENTLY WROTE a post about siblings who match (you can catch up on it here), inspired by the mysterious photos of sisters Noreene and Maurine that thousands of people pored over on our homepage. Writing about that topic was too much fun to let go, so I’m featuring some of my favorite “We Match” photos in a slide show below. Some are of people I know, and some are of compelling strangers from Flickr. [click to continue…]
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H ERE ARE SOME tidbits about my experiences with the sisters called nuns:
1. I used to want to be one. [click to continue…]
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T, Slickster, Miso Baby, Flava Flave, and T-Money are just a few names he goes by.
I COME FROM A FAMILY that obsessively makes up nicknames. I haven’t seen too much evidence of this tendency in my extended family, but my immediate family is certainly covering all the bases. Perhaps because I am an Anastasia forever called “Anna,” I’m especially fascinated by the intimacy that comes with calling someone by a hand-made name. At this point in my life, even “Anna” seems rather formal to me, since it’s dissolved away to “Ann” for my brother, and to “Annie” for my parents. My dad almost exclusively refers to me as “Punks” these days (a reduction from the original “Pumpkin” that sounded like “Punkin” when he’d say it). And my mother has called me “Miss Twitch” (don’t ask) for as long as I can remember. As for my brother, I have always referred to him as “T,” probably because my tiny mouth couldn’t pronounce “Teva” during the time when we were getting to know each other. Variations came about later–things like “T-Bone” and “T-T.” He’s known by many names to many people: [click to continue…]
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Owen the hippo and Mzee the tortoise, sunbathing together.
T HE ORIGINS OF MY passion for inter-species friendships started with my dear friend Kate, who, several years ago, cut out a magazine clipping of the photo to the left and affixed it to our shared-apartment wall. The hippo’s name is Owen; he survived the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami only to find that his family went missing. He was taken to an animal sanctuary at the tender age of 4 months, where he befriended a 130-year-old tortoise named Mzee. They have been inseparable ever since. All accounts reported that such a diverse animal family was never heard of. Oh, but I beg to differ. [click to continue…]
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ON THE BEACH, ON VACATION, WITH T.
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