coffeechug's review against another edition
3.0
Simple, yet powerful book. A collection of art and photographs from the Museum of Modern Art. Pages are minimal with one image/artwork and few words. These images represent an arrange of emotions and time periods. I read through this twice thinking about the images of my own life. The images where I was mad for my parents taking pictures of us. The times I refused to smile. The times I was full of smiles. Time evolves. The world moves on. We change as the world changes. More importantly, do we recognize small glimpses of our life that shed light on more stories from own personal journey? This is what the book inspired me to think about as I studied the images of these women.
lucyblack's review against another edition
2.0
A really cool idea done badly. Really interesting old photographs of girls and women posing outside on lawns and porches. The photos were fantastic but the whimsical muttering about them left me cold.
juliannealkire's review against another edition
3.0
One of my favorite things about paintings, old family photographs, maps, or a really amazing piece of pizza is imagining the process that led up to the moment it was created. What inspiration, conversation, and/or life events worked together to produce something like this? So it was fun to read this little book, where the author and illustrator did exactly that, creating little narratives for the photographs, drawing me in to create my own. And, it was fun to see the artsy symbolism about confidence and happiness and youth... Overall, it was a well done and a SUPER quick read, thanks to all those photos! ;)
juliaeditrix's review against another edition
4.0
Charming-- but so short. Should be in the poetry action.
hereistheend's review against another edition
4.0
I love Kalman, and I love old photos. This is quirky and simple enough to be lovely and easy to get through.
starsbyname's review against another edition
“Stand for something,
Stand for something!
Otherwise what do
You stand for,
Why are you even standing?”
Weird, interesting, artsy, and random. Just what I’d expect from a Daniel Handler collaboration containing vintage MoMA photographs. I liked it!
Stand for something!
Otherwise what do
You stand for,
Why are you even standing?”
Weird, interesting, artsy, and random. Just what I’d expect from a Daniel Handler collaboration containing vintage MoMA photographs. I liked it!
beadeeh's review against another edition
4.0
Ten delightful minutes of old photos, new paintings, and short verses. Could inspire all sorts of art projects of your own.
chwaters's review against another edition
3.0
This charming little book is a three-way collaboration amongst artist Maira Kalman, writer Daniel Handler and the Museum of Modern Art. The theme is, obviously, "girls standing on lawns" and is illustrated by Handler's poetic interludes, Kalman's paintings and photographs of girls who are, quite literally, standing on lawns. Just about everyone who grew up in a household with a camera has one or more pictures of themselves in just such a setting. I know that I personally have many pictures of myself standing on a lawn (first days of school, school dances, etc.), as do my mother and her mother. These particular photos are all from a more distant past, largely the '30s-'50s. Kalman's paintings are her own take on some of the photos (the originals of which appear in the back of the book).
A very fast read, Girls Standing on Lawns is an interesting experiment in form. The short vignettes of text evoke a sense of potentiality for the girls in the photos. These girls are going somewhere, preparing for something - just as any of us would have been in our pictures. We don't know who the girls are or where they're from, but these snapshots into their lives reveal intriguing bits of personality and remind us of ourselves. Notes from the collaborators and credits for the artwork follow the main text.
A very fast read, Girls Standing on Lawns is an interesting experiment in form. The short vignettes of text evoke a sense of potentiality for the girls in the photos. These girls are going somewhere, preparing for something - just as any of us would have been in our pictures. We don't know who the girls are or where they're from, but these snapshots into their lives reveal intriguing bits of personality and remind us of ourselves. Notes from the collaborators and credits for the artwork follow the main text.
ahngelras's review against another edition
5.0
"We are all standing for something on this lawn."
bye i actually kind of love this
bye i actually kind of love this
bookishcassie's review against another edition
5.0
My Mom always gets a little sad when we find old black & whites at the flea market. Sometimes, I find them quite creepy because they're not smiling. Does anyone know what's up with that? I wonder if there's some historical precedent of looking demure, quiet, or moral. She also doesn't like to find knit, sewn, quilted, or crocheted coverings. We both believe some grandmother has spent hard worn hours, pricking fingers or using a tight lip to pull out slip knots and excess yarn. Let's be honest, I know nothing about these crafty art forms, even though I do believe that pirates wore them best.
At one point in my college writing life I thought that if I collected enough of these old pictures - in their lockets and out - I would be able to write the stories of the people in them. The art of "judging a book by its cover." I think Ransom Riggs kind of stole that dream, at least in the strange fiction young adult way. Even though I only read the first in that series, I've found two of my favorite, favorite authors created (dare I say it) an upscale form of the flea market photo a la a book series with MoMA.
Maira Kalamn, Daniel Handler, and MoMA have created a "unique collaboration" as the blurb says. I found the first one, Girls Standing On Lawns, in Parker & Otis, carried it around for thirty minutes, placed it next to my feet like man's best friend while I ate lunch, and then promptly went back to the stationary aisle where I found the second in the series collaboration, Hurry Up and Wait. Both of these texts are fascinating just in their basic forms.
As a twentieth century woman, Girls Standing on Lawns is my favorite, but as a teacher and a person who lives by a to-do list, Hurry Up and Wait is just as good. Girls Standing on Lawns, as a woman, is a quintessential read. What of us have not stood on a doorstep for a prom photo, or a first day of school montage? Which of us did not leap through sprinklers on the lawn, or practice dance moves for the boy across the street before we knew those things were called "a crush," and would be the burden of our entire existence? Which of us aren't in a scrapbook somewhere in a lace dress? I'm not sure how many lawn photos my mother and I have taken together, and she's taken of me, but I'd guarantee it's more than a thousand.
The book is an odd mix of MoMA photos, Maira Kalman's paintings, and Daniel Handler's quaint but effective prose. In a photo of a young girl, hesitant on the bricks just before shrubs, Handler writes, "Because I didn't want to ruin my shoes, is why." And I can just hear her little high-pitch whine to her mother, or her sweetheart who wants her in front of the brush rather than next to it. My mother always posed me, which is exactly why I also want her to read this one. My favorite lines, "A painting, a photograph, a sentence, a pose. Keep track of this. You will not remember every place you have stood. A picture will last longer. There will come a time when you can't believe it's you standing on that lawn." This was my favorite line because I love having pictures of my relatives everywhere. I am my mother's daughter in this way. I like my grandmother's small cursive dating the photo of her holding a line of caught fish across her elbow. I love that my mother wore jumpsuits with big hair back in the day and the only way I have to own these moments is through the photographs.
I wonder now who will look at my photos on the lawn. What daughter of my tribe will want to know why I was all dressed up? Especially in this world of social media where we only take photos for other people's "likes." I can't tell you the last time I stood in a photo with my mother. Oh wait, yes I can, we were climbing a very unshapely log, and she climbed higher because she's a bold woman and sometimes I am sheepish.
Maira Kalman's paintings in each book are as wonderful as ever. I have a small collection of all of her books on my end table in the living room and it makes me happy just to look through them. They're always vibrant, and they don't ever deny the human spirit that was captured in the inspiration. I adore that about her. She's also quite witty, much like Handler, and so the words in her books can make her reader laugh out loud.
Hurry Up and Wait is the story of the American Dream to me. Here we are, rushing around, checking off our experiences, calling them "bucket lists," when only really half the time we are waiting for the next thing, the next adventure, the bus line, the coffee at Starbucks, the television show that comes on just past our bed time. There are blurred bikers, women walking with scowls (I'm a mean face walker so I get that), girls jumping into pools. Alongside children get puckered on popsicles, women hailing a cab, couples sleeping on the train. This idea that our lives are made of waiting, then standing, then rushing is so true. Handler says things like, "I'm just standing still, and then suddenly I think I am waiting for something. Once I've decided I'm waiting it's like I'm not standing still anymore." Somehow, this becomes this hyper-philosophical idea in my head.
My favorite image comes on a page with a photo of a man hauling bags (of feed, maybe) on a cart down a street. Handler writes, "If you had to leave right this minute forever, what would you take with you? / Just this. Just this."
Both books are just sixty-four pages and can be read in one sitting. Just know, you will be coming back to these. They are forever books. They are designed beautifully (as MoMA would of course complete) and they are brilliant in both their words and small ideas, as well as the art and times held within. These books make me look new at flea market photos. They may be next to cheaply strung pearls, or someone's rusted iron work, but they are important to someone too. They have meaning and putting them with concise, simple words makes them true art, a new form, innovative and reactionary.
At one point in my college writing life I thought that if I collected enough of these old pictures - in their lockets and out - I would be able to write the stories of the people in them. The art of "judging a book by its cover." I think Ransom Riggs kind of stole that dream, at least in the strange fiction young adult way. Even though I only read the first in that series, I've found two of my favorite, favorite authors created (dare I say it) an upscale form of the flea market photo a la a book series with MoMA.
Maira Kalamn, Daniel Handler, and MoMA have created a "unique collaboration" as the blurb says. I found the first one, Girls Standing On Lawns, in Parker & Otis, carried it around for thirty minutes, placed it next to my feet like man's best friend while I ate lunch, and then promptly went back to the stationary aisle where I found the second in the series collaboration, Hurry Up and Wait. Both of these texts are fascinating just in their basic forms.
As a twentieth century woman, Girls Standing on Lawns is my favorite, but as a teacher and a person who lives by a to-do list, Hurry Up and Wait is just as good. Girls Standing on Lawns, as a woman, is a quintessential read. What of us have not stood on a doorstep for a prom photo, or a first day of school montage? Which of us did not leap through sprinklers on the lawn, or practice dance moves for the boy across the street before we knew those things were called "a crush," and would be the burden of our entire existence? Which of us aren't in a scrapbook somewhere in a lace dress? I'm not sure how many lawn photos my mother and I have taken together, and she's taken of me, but I'd guarantee it's more than a thousand.
The book is an odd mix of MoMA photos, Maira Kalman's paintings, and Daniel Handler's quaint but effective prose. In a photo of a young girl, hesitant on the bricks just before shrubs, Handler writes, "Because I didn't want to ruin my shoes, is why." And I can just hear her little high-pitch whine to her mother, or her sweetheart who wants her in front of the brush rather than next to it. My mother always posed me, which is exactly why I also want her to read this one. My favorite lines, "A painting, a photograph, a sentence, a pose. Keep track of this. You will not remember every place you have stood. A picture will last longer. There will come a time when you can't believe it's you standing on that lawn." This was my favorite line because I love having pictures of my relatives everywhere. I am my mother's daughter in this way. I like my grandmother's small cursive dating the photo of her holding a line of caught fish across her elbow. I love that my mother wore jumpsuits with big hair back in the day and the only way I have to own these moments is through the photographs.
I wonder now who will look at my photos on the lawn. What daughter of my tribe will want to know why I was all dressed up? Especially in this world of social media where we only take photos for other people's "likes." I can't tell you the last time I stood in a photo with my mother. Oh wait, yes I can, we were climbing a very unshapely log, and she climbed higher because she's a bold woman and sometimes I am sheepish.
Maira Kalman's paintings in each book are as wonderful as ever. I have a small collection of all of her books on my end table in the living room and it makes me happy just to look through them. They're always vibrant, and they don't ever deny the human spirit that was captured in the inspiration. I adore that about her. She's also quite witty, much like Handler, and so the words in her books can make her reader laugh out loud.
Hurry Up and Wait is the story of the American Dream to me. Here we are, rushing around, checking off our experiences, calling them "bucket lists," when only really half the time we are waiting for the next thing, the next adventure, the bus line, the coffee at Starbucks, the television show that comes on just past our bed time. There are blurred bikers, women walking with scowls (I'm a mean face walker so I get that), girls jumping into pools. Alongside children get puckered on popsicles, women hailing a cab, couples sleeping on the train. This idea that our lives are made of waiting, then standing, then rushing is so true. Handler says things like, "I'm just standing still, and then suddenly I think I am waiting for something. Once I've decided I'm waiting it's like I'm not standing still anymore." Somehow, this becomes this hyper-philosophical idea in my head.
My favorite image comes on a page with a photo of a man hauling bags (of feed, maybe) on a cart down a street. Handler writes, "If you had to leave right this minute forever, what would you take with you? / Just this. Just this."
Both books are just sixty-four pages and can be read in one sitting. Just know, you will be coming back to these. They are forever books. They are designed beautifully (as MoMA would of course complete) and they are brilliant in both their words and small ideas, as well as the art and times held within. These books make me look new at flea market photos. They may be next to cheaply strung pearls, or someone's rusted iron work, but they are important to someone too. They have meaning and putting them with concise, simple words makes them true art, a new form, innovative and reactionary.