Writing on her blog, photographer Alli McWhinney profiles Sweet Heather Anne, an Ann Arbor cake maker with a shop on Main Street. Photos include shots of Heather Anne Leavitt working in the kitchen. In a Q&A, Leavitt talks about her own favorites: “My favorite cake is our almond olive oil cake with blood orange curd and citrus praline buttercream. It was inspired the blood oranges that I fell in love with in Italy. The curd is the perfect combination of sweet and tart, and I love the delicate texture of the cake. I’m also incredibly partial to our mexican shortbread cookies. I sneak more of those than anything else ;).” [Source]
The public address announcer at University of Michigan football games always reminds the fans that they are part of the largest crowd watching a college game anywhere in America. What he could also brag about these days is that those same 112,000 or so people sitting in Michigan Stadium are making the game the most photographed event anywhere in America that day.
At the Nov. 10 University of Michigan game against Northwestern, local journalist Lynn Monson documented that no matter where you look on Game Day, someone has a camera raised. Here’s a small selection of the people who decided to freeze moments in time before, during and after the game won by UM in overtime, 38-31.
Editor’s note: The monthly milestone column, which appears on the second day of each month – the anniversary of The Ann Arbor Chronicle’s launch – is an opportunity for either the publisher or the editor of The Chronicle to touch base with readers on topics related to this publication. It’s also a time that we highlight, with gratitude, our local advertisers, and ask readers to consider subscribing voluntarily to The Chronicle to support our work.
Writing on Damn Arbor, a blog maintained by a half-dozen self-described “grad students, townies, and derelicts,” Quinn Davis wondered recently: “So. If a citizen gasps during a city council meeting but no one reads about it, what’s the point?”
Davis posed the rhetorical question in the context of an article she’d written for the Washtenaw Voice, a Washtenaw Community College publication she edits. About that article, her advisor ventured: “I worry that our readership may not be that interested enough to get through 800 words you have so far.”
Here at The Ann Arbor Chronicle, we would also worry about an 800-word article. We’d wonder what happened to the other 5,000 words.
Count that exaggeration as a rhetorical flourish.
In fact, since since June of last year, we’ve routinely published items shorter than 500 words. These items are outcomes of individual public meeting votes and other civic events – they’re collected in a sidebar section we call the Civic News Ticker. Readers can view all those items in one go on the Civic News Ticker page. Readers who prefer to receive The Chronicle using an RSS feed reader can subscribe to just the Civic News Ticker items with this feed: Civic News Ticker Feed.
But back to the rhetorical question: What is the point of ever including details that most people might not ever read, in an article that tops 10,000 words?
The sitting woman smoothed a tiny wrinkle in her lap. She glanced up at the large skylight partially screened with gauzy curtains. It was a May day in 1872. Large fluffy clouds sailed silently behind the glass. The photographer was taking a while adjusting something on the camera. Finally it was ready. “Look at me, please,” said the photographer. Click.
“That was very good, thank you,” said Mary Parsons, Ypsilanti’s only 19th-century female studio photographer.
Born in Vermont in January of 1838, Mary Elizabeth married John Harrison Parsons when she was 21 and he 25. The couple followed other western-bound migrants, and during the Civil War both taught in Ohio. By war’s end the couple had two sons, Dayton W. and Frank John.
The conflict had decimated the student-aged population of young men. In 1865, John and Mary came north to Ypsilanti. John bought the equipment of retiring photographer J. A. Crane and created his own studio. It occupied part of the top floor of Ypsilanti’s post office building, then on the west side of North Huron next to Pearl Street. It was a good location near the bustling downtown on Michigan Avenue. Mary helped run the business and kept house in the family’s apartment, next to the studio.
This is a story about feeling uncomfortable.
Nudity tends to do that – make people, especially Americans, feel uncomfortable – and public nudity even more so. Not for everybody, though. Not for Harvey Drouillard.
Harvey has achieved a certain notoriety for taking black-and-white photos of nude men and women in public settings – walking down the street, standing in front of movie theaters, mingling with crowds. He uses the photos to make postcards and greeting cards and calendars, and has published a book as well, titled “The Spirit of Lady Godiva.” The shots are taken in Seattle, Chicago and other cities, but mainly in Ann Arbor.
I’d heard of Harvey, of course, but when he called The Chronicle to see if we wanted to tag along while he did his thing at this year’s art fairs, my first thought, frankly, was “Ick.” But I learned long ago that some of the most memorable, transformative experiences are ones that start out in an uncomfortable place, so on Thursday evening I headed over to Harvey’s staging ground – Antelope Antiques on East Liberty.
From 4-5 p.m. on Sunday afternoon, as the skies achieved a spitting sprinkle, but did not ever achieve a steady rain, the puppets of FestiFools cavorted at street-light level for the crowd that was several people deep along Main Street.
We were there to look at the puppets, but without even trying, we saw any number of people that Chronicle readers might recognize, just standing in one spot at Main and Liberty.
The Chronicle missed the opening on Friday, Sept. 12, of the Crappy Camera Club exhibit at the Argus Building. Called “Vintage Argus: Contemporary Images,” the exhibit features contemporary photographs made with Argus cameras, which until 1962 were manufactured right there in the Argus Building. But the exhibit runs through Oct. 12, and is open from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m., so we headed over to check things out.
The exhibit is easy enough to find on the second floor of the building, with temporary signage clearly indicating where the pretty pictures can be found. There’s also clear signage indicating that the white barrels on both floors are containers for the Argus Building Food Drive for Food Gatherers. But if Chronicle readers throw their empty cupcake wrappers or other assorted litter into one of those barrels before noticing the signs, it’s good manners to fish that stuff out before heading up to the exhibit on the second floor.