Review

The girl in the window

Tampa Bay Times

Lane DeGregory, Times Staff Writer
Posted: Jul 31, 2008 04:35 PM

But She’s a Human too…

Lane DeGregory is a journalist first and foremost. She’s had a career that has spanned over two decades including the time she spent as Editor-in-Chief of her college’s newspaper.

            When it came time to write “The girl in the window” DeGregory was simply trying to write a piece that was a feature highlighting adoption stories, but it quickly grew into much more.

DeGregory wrote the feature piece for the St. Petersburg Times, now called the Tampa Bay Times. It quickly took on a life of its own leading to an eventual Pulitzer Prize for her.

            DeGregory’s captivating piece is about a 7-year-old girl found in captivity, living in her own filth, and severely neglected. It documents her journey from being rescued to her eventual adoption, and the obstacles her new parents had to overcome when taking in the girl.

While DeGregory’s vivid imagery of the deplorable conditions the young girl was found in is quite hard to stomach, it is what captures the reader’s attention from the very beginning. “It sounded like you were walking on eggshells. You couldn't take a step without crunching German cockroaches," the detective said. "They were in the lights, in the furniture. Even inside the freezer. The freezer!” she writes.

The subsequent point of views center on the adoptive parents and doctors, which help to paint a clear picture of exactly what this girl had to endure.

DeGregory carefully crafts her piece based on the traditional reporting style of the inverted pyramid outlining the most harrowing yet disturbing bits of information from the start which hooks the reader to the lengthy feature article.

DeGregory does an excellent job outlining the situation from the very beginning. She also continues to develop the story with details, characters and character interaction. She frequently discusses the adoptive parents but the nagging feeling of wondering what happened to the animal the put this little girl in these conditions haunts the reader for the duration of the article.

She finally addresses the “Mother” in depth towards the very end, which is the only gripe I have concerning the piece. The constant waiting for the mother’s “explanation” at times distracts from certain areas of the story.

How the little girl ended up in this situation is finally revealed but it feels rushed, as if DeGregory is hastily trying to tie up loose ends. She doesn’t seem to spend nearly as much time getting answers from the child’s birth mother as she does documenting the child’s progression. I don’t believe that the mother should have been the focus of the story, and she wasn’t, however it would be more insightful to hear about her before the very end.

Overall DeGregory does an impeccable job of bringing light to this particular situation and noting that there are thousands of neglected children in the U.S. at any given time. DeGregory starts the story with despair and ends it with hope. This story gets something that most others like it don’t often get… a happy ending. 

Reviews

The reviews of John Jeremiah Sullivan’s new collection of essays vary by source. We were to read reviews form the New York Times, National Public Radio, and Amazon. Personally I’ve used Amazon reviews to help me decided on whether to buy something numerous times, so reading the Amazon reviews were more familiar to me than the other two.

The New York Times and NPR review were about the same in construction and content. Each of the two focused on Sullivan as a non-fiction writer and they both touched on previous works by him. The New York Times chose to give a bit of background info about Sullivan like a mini biography while NPR chose to dive right into Pulphead, the piece being reviewed.

Both the NYT and NPR reviews are pretty positive and they provide a general overview of the subject matter Sullivan addresses in his essays. They both mention Michael Jackson, Axl Rose, and Bunny Wailer, which must mean these folks have a particular significance in the essays. While neither of these two reviews were directly negative, they were written very matter of factly. I’m also sure the writers were professionals and this wasn’t the first go round at reviewing for them.

The Amazon reviews were a different category however. Like the other 2 many of the reviews left on the website were positive but then there were people who didn’t write the most glowing things. It also has an amateur flare to it since the people leaving reviews aren’t professionals and they’re just writing their personal opinion, not catering to any particular publication or audience. The Amazon reviews probably appeal to a wider variety of people than the New York Times and NPR reviews do.  

Current State of Being

A state of confusion has overtaken my life. I'm currently sitting at work and I tend to have a lot of free time at my particular job. Pandora is blasting through my headphones and i'm in my own little world. This would be all fine and dandy if this free time didn't allow my mind to continuously wander. Although I try to avoid it I somehow end up worrying about the future and also the present. Will I be able to perform well on my finals? Will they be disrupted by evacuation? What's in store for the summer? will I be able to get into that last class I wasn't able to register for in the fall? These are just a few of the thoughts that race through my mind. and as I think of this my phone goes off .... new message from Pit ENS, 2 more threats. at this time I just can't even function properly, yesterday my dorm was threatened and I haven't been able to sleep the past few weeks. The state of panic and paranoia that has overcome the students of the University is no joke. It's affecting my ability to concentrate and has sent my brain into overdrive of what if scenarios. This is obviously not helping my already overactive brain. I'd just really like for all the madness to stop so I can somewhat breathe a little easier. I suppose all I can do is try to put it all out of my mind but that's a wee bit impossible with my phone going off with new ENS messages every day. I've called my parents, they say don't worry but they're not here so they don't have to endure this day in and day out. It's an almost impossible situation, the University isn't doing much to calm my nerves or reassure me. I just don't even know what to think anymore.

The Worst Valentine's Day

It was Valentine’s Day 2010. An extremely useless holiday if you ask me but since it fell on a Sunday this particular year I didn’t have to worry about walking around seeing everyone at school with their flowers and candy and bears, galore. I was a senior in high school ready to get out and leave my mark on the world or as I now know, do a bunch of cramming and take a lot of naps. I was living in what my dad referred to as “the sticks”, Virginia. I don’t know how he concluded that this was any better than where he grew up because by all definitions of the word, “the sticks” North Carolina wasn’t any better. In actuality we only lived a good 40 minutes outside of northern Virginia, a huge bustling suburb of Washington D.C. but Winchester was its own little world complete with run down mall and mediocre restaurants, but there was something scenic about the place, maybe that’s why it was voted “best place to retire” by multiple publications. Nevertheless I looked forward to any reason to get away, even if it was just for the day.

            My parents informed us that we’d be going to the REAL mall in northern Virginia, one complete with Forever 21, Macy’s, MAC cosmetics, and a plethora of other stores, which I was so deeply deprived of where I lived. Even better was the fact that we’d also be going to the Cheesecake factory for dinner, somewhere we’d never been, but idea of any place selling 30+ types of cheesecake most certainly had me sold. This was going to be the best Valentines Day ever. Just shopping, Food, family, and cheesecake what could go wrong?

            Upon arriving at the huge beautiful mall with bright lights and white tile floors, multiple levels, and people galore I was in heaven. I somehow had to find a way to squeeze in visiting all the stores I could before our dinner reservation. I started at MAC and found some new lip-gloss I loved and couldn’t wait to see what other finds I’d come across. I made it to Forever 21 and almost lost it. Clothes, and shoes, and jewelry everywhere! It was a dream and I didn’t even know where to start. Oh how the excitement raced through me, in that moment I was the proverbial kid in the candy store.  Only 10 minutes into my visit to Forever my phone starts ringing, it’s my mom. “Now what could she possibly want this soon” I think to myself.  “We have to leave now meet us by the car.” She tells me when I pick-up. “Are you serious but we JUST go here, I haven’t even had time to look.” “MEET us at the car.” This time she says with more emphasis. It is at this point I know something serious has happened but she won’t tell me over the phone.

Pain... It's all Relative

In Eula Biss's piece "The Pain Scale" she discusses the different levels of pain and the scale which medical professionals now use. She also compares the levels of pain to Dante's circles of hell from his Inferno. I've always wondered where the scales of 1-10 with the cartoon faces on them I see when visiting the doctor originated. I was surprised to learn that this has only been around since the 1970s. I've also wondered how accurate it is in helping with a diagnosis because people have such different levels of pain tolerance so two people faced with the same ailment may not even realize it because one may be in far more pain than the other. Nonetheless I suppose this arbitrary scale has worked for the most part thus far, so why change it? Biss does a good job with her comparisons although they are a bit graphic however it adds imagery to the piece. 

Soulful Intervention

My father, being raised in the 60’s and 70’s and growing up a music aficionado especially of the soulful sounds of these decades meant a lot of long car rides listening to the music of the past when I was a child.  Since I can remember he always had a vast collection of this music both on vinyl and on CDs. His music practices of listening to this music ALL the time lead to me knowing a wide variety of these songs before I was even in elementary school, and liking them. I remember being in the car and asking my dad to put on the songs that were so ingrained in my head.  One of my particular favorite groups he had us listen to were the O’Jays, singers of Philly Soul era in the 70’s.  One year my dad found out they’d be performing at the State Fair and he of course took the family. I knew more than a few songs in their set and I could tell people were looking at my 7 or 8 year old self, singing all the words (some incorrectly, but I didn’t care.) I knew these people were probably wondering how this little girl knew the words to the songs that predated her by 20-30 years but little did they know this was how I was raised. I think I enjoyed the concert more than my Dad did and although I don’t really listen to this music much since I’ve left home, when I hear it you bet I know it. 

Photography: Defining What's Real

Photographs are often considered, tokens of remembrance, they capture and preserve emotions, feelings, time and place. In the words of author Eudora Welty “A good snapshot stops a moment from running away.”

             Photography has always been an interest of mine but I’ve hardly had the time to pursue it. With this in mind I set out to find a place locally that centered on photography hoping for some inspiration and more importantly motivation to become a better photographer. In my pursuit I discovered the Silver Eye Center for Photography, a photo gallery on the Southside of Pittsburgh. I decided right then and there this was it.

Upon Arriving at the gallery 27 pairs of eyes greet visitors. The building however happens to be mostly unoccupied. These eyes belong to the teenagers being featured in the current Classroom Photos exhibit. 

The gallery is initially empty except for the man behind the desk. He’s wearing a red and blue plaid shirt and has tortoise shelled thick-rimmed glasses, and he looks to be in his late 20’s and very is approachable.

Dawoud Bey, Odalys, 2003, Chadsey High School, Detroit, Michigan Courtesy of the artist

The smell of the polished wood is quite evident. The gallery is composed of hardwood floors and plain white paint covers the walls. It is very trendy, with white fixtures, and studio lights focused on the artwork. The gallery is spacious yet still small, there is no furniture. The photos on the wall are griping, some quite haunting, and of course each tell a story.

The gallery attendant, Jeffrey, is very well informed about the gallery and the artistic process, probably due to his time as a student of photography at Pittsburgh Filmmakers. Jeffrey works Saturdays and sees anywhere between 5-10 people visit on any given weekend. He also states that the gallery features both local and national artists.

Jeffery shares that in between shows he helps take down and install exhibitions which he enjoys “It gives me a behind the scenes look at how a gallery functions, and has taught me a lot about marketing myself.” Jeffrey hopes to one day establish himself as a professional photographer and praises working at the gallery for the experience it gives him. It has helped him make well-known contacts in the photography community that will benefit him in the future.

A teenage visitor peruses for a while, taking in the photos.  “I’m impressed with the pictures and their great quality.” She tells me.

Jeffery, is also very excited about the current exhibition in the gallery, and shares some information about it. “It is a collection of classroom photos by artist Dawoud Bey.” Seeing Bey’s pictures makes me wonder about him as an artist and more so about his creative process.

According to Dawoud Bey’s website he is a national artist who has been taking photographs for a number of years; He has a Masters of Fine Arts from Yale University and currently resides in Chicago where he is a professor at a local college. Also according to the website he has three books that have been published in conjunction with his exhibitions.

Dawoud Bey, Lauren, 2006, Gateway High School, San Francisco, California Courtesy of the artist

The gallery advertises an upcoming event, which is essentially “An Evening with Dawoud Bey.”

When the night comes, In front of around 100 people in the Carnegie Museum of Art Auditorium, the solemn artist sits in the front row waiting patiently as people file in.

At about 6:35, 5 minutes after the designated start time a woman with short brown hair and an airy voice approaches the podium.

Linda Benedict Jones, curator at the Carnegie Museum of Art begins the lecture by noting it’s been a good year for photography at the museum and in Pittsburgh.

Following the curator’s remarks a very petite dark haired woman, in a dress and boots approaches the podium, I recognize her as Ellen, the director from Silver Eye. She introduces Bey stating that he’s a very sought after artist who has received numerous awards celebrating his work.  

Bey then approaches the stage as the lights dim, and a PowerPoint is projected onto the pull down screen and he then begins speaking slowly and deliberately.

Dawoud Bey is a middle aged African American man, with small gold hoop earrings in his ear, a full beard, wearing all black and casually sipping from the plastic water bottle provided to him.

He takes the audience back to his days as a teenager and enlightens us as to his work all started.  It was 1969 when Bey saw an exhibit in the Metropolitan Museum of Art called “Harlem on my Mind.” The Harlem exhibit was controversial and constructed an image of black America without permission; there were picket lines in front of the Met and he wanted to see the controversy first hand.

Bey says the photos he remembered most were by James VanDeZee who was an African-American Photographer taking pictures of other African Americans. Looking at VanDerZee’s pictures was the first time he had seen pictures of African American subjects on the walls of a museum.

Bey tells of how he inherited his first camera at the age of 16 from his godfather who had recently passed away. He had no idea what to do with the camera and “only took it to be polite” however it piqued his curiously and he eventually learned how to use the camera.  His passion for his craft is evident from his words and body language. The audience is hanging on his every word.

Bey tells us he learned a great deal about photography during his early years. He had to figure out how one finds subjects, and realized that the photos that resonated the most were those with human subjects, but didn’t know where to find them. Eventually he picked a place and was ultimately able to see how photos functioned as a window into the past. 

Another influence on Bey was Roy DeCarava, who was also an African American photographer. His photos were significant to Bey because they were about African American subjects and they were entirely self-motivated, no newspaper or studio interest. DeCarava’s photos showed Bey that African American subjects could be the basis of rigorous art practices.