Mary Rachel Fanning | Portfolio
Here is the rear view from my cellphone. No, our scarves aren’t gingham, they are houndstooth. Yes, that is an Auburn fan behind us in a tiger print bathrobe.
Awaiting southern fried football madness with my big brother.
My home in Alabama
2009 was the year of turning my camera on myself. Part of this was a realization that The South is a place I long for and maybe wish to return to. All of its rich, social complexity and imperfect history shrouded in “yes sir’s” and “yes ma’am’s;” and common ground attained and boundaries crossed with mechanisms such as brotherly (and sisterly) love of college football and ritualistic food. Of course Chicago certainly has its own imperfect history that has also been dragged through the public square (or Grant Park). But when faced with 3 more months of Chicago winter it is easy to embrace nostalgia for a place where it never snows. And if the rare snow occurs the entire state shuts down because there is only one snow plow, and it is in Birmingham.
Which brings me to what I’ve been shooting. Even though I spent most of my art-making time this summer sitting on the dock with my family huddled over the fish surveillance camera, I did some still shooting as well. That hasn’t been sorted though yet. This Fall was all about the religious ritual of football. Coaches and football teams as saviours and bourbon as the wine.
The BCS Football Championship occurred about 2 weeks ago. And yes, the Crimson Tide was in it. My guilty vice of Alabama Football rolled over Texas to claim our 13th national championship. (*NOTE* this vice has only emerged since I’ve lived outside of The South which I find curious.) Will the houndstooth of our football god Paul “Bear” Bryant be replaced with the Little Debbie Oatmeal Pies of Nick Saban?
I usually watch games alone. I was able to watch this one with some friends. Coincidentally the game occurred during our first winter snowstorm in Chicago. I almost didn’t make it to my gameday destination. But after living in The North for 9 years I have mastered the Un-Southern skill of driving in the snow.
Working it out.
My wonderful friend Opal has started writing a column about women in Birmingham, Alabama.
Women in the Magic City, Volume 1 | pavomag.com
One of my favorite lines: “And I can say now, after spending time transcribing the interviews and doing my own soul searching, that I learned a lesson much more beneficial than some hot-air intellectual stroking of feminist egos. What I learned was this: calling yourself a feminist means nothing to the world, and even less to Birmingham. Acting like a feminist – responding to a call for change by BEING the change – is the only measurable standard that matters.”