Private - Dream series - Boston, Mass
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“ No one who does not know himself can know others and in each of us there is another whom we do not know.
He speaks to us in dreams and tells us how differently he sees us from the way we see ourselves. ”

Carl Jung - Civilization in Transition

I dreamed about a hospital. I was in a large water tank with a woman who had just given birth.
We were all swimming.
Her partner said the baby was pure white when it was born.
A man came up to me holding a small, flat faced dog with bat like ears.
I was standing with two scientists in the White House.
We were talking to President Reagan, who was about to go into a budget meeting.
Last night I dreamt I was at a party at my grandparents.
My ex-wife was there, hiding on the attic stairs, and she was sick.
Driving near New Orleans, on the edge of the land.
There were lots of houses in the sunset, many empty.
I wondered why people wouldn’t be living there when it was so beautiful.
The houses were quite ordinary.
I was in a cellar, and a recently deceased neighbor was there.
I turned around as I processed who it was.
When I looked back, the room was closed off -
with a wall that looked like all the others, but it seemed newer.
I am on a beach, the entire scene is dark and somewhat bluish.
There is a storm approaching and people begin to leave.
Beach umbrellas begin to be blown by the wind, and the water picks up.
I leave and enter a forest, following a stream.
I was in the American Southwest, on Indian land, and hear a song,
“It’s a beauty beauty world, a beauty beauty world.”
I wake up singing it.

October, 2014
Harrison Judd
August 29, 2014


Maurice's Animal Postcards

Young Gray Rabbit - Watercolor and pencil
John James Audubon (1780-1851), American
The Pierpont Morgan Library
From Maurice Sendak’s postcard collection - click for portfolio

“I once had a sparrow alight upon my shoulder for a moment while I was hoeing in a village garden, and I felt that I was more distinguished by that circumstance than I should have been by any epaulet I could have worn.”
Henry Thoreau -
Walden - Winter Animals

Animals are the soul of a place. In our homes, in our landscapes, they are omnipresent.
In cities, where they have no natural habitat, we build zoos.
Not only would it be lonely if there were no animals - civilization couldn’t exist.

Maurice gave me a set of postcards once. He didn’t want them anymore.
I couldn’t understand why, they were beautiful. There was a big stack in a paper bag, probably hundreds of them.
Many were of animals, drawings, photos, architectural details.
They were around for years, often being combed and sorted through. Then one day I let most of them go.

I had been through the stack of images many times, trying to absorb the messages they carried.
Some spoke to me, many did not. The ones that didn’t, were the ones I let go of.
What was left behind was the cream of the crop.

Some of them can be viewed here,
along with other images of animals I photographed and shared with Maurice,
and which he sometimes used as references for his artwork.

October 2014
Harrison Judd - futureHistory.com



Le Monde - French keychain - Perspective series
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“I was walking in Bali, and I saw a bunch of people in a clearing, having a ball,
because somebody had just died.
And I realized that
everything was just how you decided to think about it.
Sometimes people let the same problems make them miserable for years
when they should just say, ‘
So what?
It’s one of my favorite things to say. ‘
So what?
I don’t know how I made it, through all the years, before I learned to do
that trick.
It took a long time for me to learn it, but once you do, you never forget.”

Andy Warhol

How we
look at anything - is everything.

We make it big or small, important or unimportant by our perspective, our view of things.
That’s the

The images this week are all of keychains - purchased at several Paris flea markets in June, 2013.

October 2014
Harrison Judd - futureHistory.com


The last time I saw Maurice

Secret Squirrel
Me at 6 as "Secret Squirrel"
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"We are always the same age inside."
Gertrude Stein

Acknowledged or not, we all wear masks - social masks, family masks, masks disguising our selves to our Self. Many are necessary and useful, and when they fail us, our social structure and sense of interior meaning can also begin to break down. 

We wear these masks because they help us make sense of the world and our place in it. Welling up from our unconscious, thunderstruck with an image from the heavens, put in place by the prevailing social and religious structures - masks are mythic embodiments representing our powers and potentialities, our hopes and fears, our inner monsters and heroes.

As children we can put on and take off the masks with ease, it's still a game. Children have direct experience of the fearful and fascinating mystery life is. The monsters under our bed are still real, as are the heroes that can come to our aid.

But as we grow older we're indoctrinated as to what's real and what's not, what matters and what doesn't.
So we put on a new mask, a mask fashioned for us by our parents and their beliefs and fears, by our society and its needs. For the fortunate few, the mask fits and our life is blessed and supported by it. But far more often it chafes and has little to do with who we are and what we want, and we can begin to confuse the mask with our essential selves, with tragic consequences.

Mid life crisis is just such an occasion, the impending loss of our powers and our inevitable death is another.

When I last saw my friend Maurice Sendak, he was in the hospital after suffering a stroke. He was about to be moved back up to the intensive care unit. I'd just returned from a trip to Japan and we held hands and made small talk for a few minutes about how remarkably different their world view was. Having seen the movie "The Tree of Life" on the flight back - and knowing he had recently watched it, I asked him what he thought. He said, "Don't you think the actress who played the mother was..." - and then he made his eyes very, very large, referring to main actress's big eyes. I laughed. Of course he was right, but I was trying to get to something else. "Yes" I said, "Of course, but don't you feel the movie said something important?" He said he really didn't think he understood it, which I was only half convinced he meant.

So we talked about how he was going to be moved to another unit and he looked at me for a long moment and squeezed my hand really hard, and then whispered - "I'm scared". "You'll be OK." I replied, and I still believed it - then I kissed him on the lips and went to leave. Before we said good bye, he looked at me for what seemed like a long moment and said "I love you." "I love you, too" I replied.

It was the last time I saw him, he died less than a week later.

My relationship with Maurice was like having a relationship with an extraordinarily brilliant eight year old. We connected as boys, with direct and unfettered experience of our emotions. He possessed, and was possessed by - his direct relationship with his own inner child. Putting masks on and off with abandon. He created the eternal boy, "Max" in "
Where the Wild Things Are", who was able to befriend and rule his inner monsters by donning the mask of a king, and was then able to sail home to be a boy once again.

Maurice never stopped being a boy, he was always the same age inside.

In the end I'm afraid Maurice was once again possessed by the monsters he played so freely with, but he took off his mask for a moment.

October 2014
Harrison Judd - futureHistory.com


Our own backyard

Our Backyard
My backyard - Prospect Hill Historic District - 09/2014
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“We shape our buildings and afterwards, our buildings shape us”
Winston Churchill

Last weekend I celebrated a birthday, and my wife insisted we do something to mark the occasion, which is an excellent idea.
We live in a society often empty of rites of passage, so we must create our own. Annual events are a chance to assess, review, look around us.

I'd noticed Wikipedia was have a "
Summer of Monuments" challenge. The goal, to gather as many images as possible of Nationally Registered Historic Places - and one of the places that had no images was the very neighborhood we live in, the Prospect Hill Historic District. So we walked around and took photos of some of the unique architecture in our neighborhood and posted them to the Wikipedia page.

You can view the current images here.
I intend to document as many of the 993 buildings in the district as possible in the coming months.

Straightforward images - letting the architecture speak for itself. They don't need any help. These are remarkable homes. Stately, large, sturdy, majestic, they exude elegance and grandeur. Most of them are over 100 years old.

A few of the homes are in excellent condition - many more are not. To keep them in good shape, their size and age requires ongoing maintenance. Consequently, few people are willing to put either the time or the money into them. So they are being taken over by landlords and divided up into smaller apartments, or slowly deteriorating from time and the ravages of New England winters.

“This is your native domain, your own ancestral, natural habitat.”

My wife often jokes that she wants her next house to be plastic. Many new homes are. Vinyl siding, melamine surfaces, laminate floors.
The houses in this neighborhood are made of wood. Living inside them is a beautiful feeling.

Keeping the original plaster walls, the casement windows with the original sheet glass; trying to have an ongoing conversation with the house as it was built and the desires and requirements of modern life. Slow work, unpredictable in scope, but with the reward of a house that becomes a home, a space with warmth and grace that only a historical structure can provide.

Has it been worth it?


October 2014
Harrison Judd - futureHistory.com