There Must Be Something in the Beignets.

Au Revoir Grande Facile.

2009-06-30T08:49:00.000-07:00

It's been another insane trip in New Orleans. I've seen the students push themselves (and sometimes be pushed) into making photographs they didn't know they were capable of creating. I've heard countless stories of survival and perseverance. I've seen destruction and sadness. I've seen hope and been inspired. I've been given a message. We have a story to tell. New Orleans is here and they need you. Pay attention.

Getting There.

2009-06-28T20:14:00.000-07:00

I have not been making enough photographs.

17th Street Canal: Breach

Sunrise. Pirate's Alley, French Quarter.

Soccer Fans. Audubon Park

We are coming home soon.

On Bayou Teche with Donovan Garcia

2009-06-27T07:16:00.001-07:00

Donovan Garcia on Bayou Teche from Becky Olstad on Vimeo.

Your Confederate Flag Makes me a Touch Uneasy.

2009-06-27T05:24:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was insanity. I was literally in motion for 14 hours. At 6am I drove out to Franklin with Kristyna to head out on Bayou Teche with Donovan Garcia. Donovan is an extraordinary man who is extremely passionate about Bayou Teche and its preservation. He took us through the canals and waterways for four hours and throughout that time he shared his encyclopedic knowledge of the history and prospective future of the area.

At one point we saw a 14 foot alligator. The bad news is there is no picture. The good news is, despite the fact that the 'gator was the length of our boat, I am still alive.

After swinging back through New Orleans to swap Kristyna for Stephanie, I headed out to St. Amant. I dropped Stephanie at her destination and decided to go make photographs. This town made me rather uneasy. I'd elaborate but I think the photographs illustrate that tension.

Below is Donovan and a nesting area from the Bayou Teche. The problem with this area of the Bayou is that the oil companies came in to dredge a canal creating a mound of earth along the side. When the water surges in from the Gulf of Mexico, the saltwater pours over the ridge and into this basin. Normally, the water will flow back out with few problems but because of the ridge, the saltwater pools and the salt kills the trees. The environmental impact of the gas and oil industries was rampant throughout our tour. In addition to the environmental impact on the natural habitat, the destruction of this wetland creates imminent danger for the residents of Franklin by removing the barrier that protects them from flooding and hurricanes.

Photos below from St. Amant:

Hi Dad!

2009-06-25T21:05:00.001-07:00

*** This post was originally written a couple of days ago but it took me a bit to get the video converted and uploaded.***

If you've read this blog before, you may have heard about my father's trip to New Orleans not long after Hurricane Katrina. He volunteered in St. Bernard Parish and when I first came to the Big Easy in October, I was eager to discover some of the things he had experienced. At that time, I never made it out to the area where he volunteered.

Today, I had the time to drive around St. Bernard Parish in the neighborhood off Jean Lafitte Pkwy and Judge Perez Blvd. It breaks my heart. As you watch this video, please keep in mind it was shot nearly 4 years after Hurricane Katrina.

Dad, around the 2:12 marker in the video, you'll see in the distance the big smokestack near Chalmette if that helps get your bearings straight.

St. Bernard Parish: June 2009 from Becky Olstad on Vimeo.

Good Shoes in Common

2009-06-23T21:22:00.001-07:00

Today I met an Italian and an alligator:

More updates from Morgan City, Avery Island and the Barataria Reserve tomorrow. It is far too late to be blogging when a sunrise shoot is pending.

Back in the Big Easy.

2009-06-22T19:10:00.000-07:00

I'm back in the Big Easy again with a new group of students and a new collection of photographic essays as part of the New Orleans Travel and Study Course with the Art Institutes International Minnesota. It's been a long day of traveling. We met at the MSP airport at 4:00 am and after arriving in New Orleans we took a bus tour of the city to get a greater perspective on the redevelopment (and lack thereof) since Hurricane Katrina.

I wish I could say I was surprised at how little had changed since we were last here in October. Unfortunately, many areas of the city are still in desperate need of the return of businesses. In particular, we went through New Orleans East and the lack of rebuilding in that region almost 4 years after the storm is heartbreaking. Below are a few pics shot from the tour bus of New Orleans East and the surrounding neighborhoods:

In contrast to the lack of development in New Orleans East, Brad Pitt has been busy rebuilding in the lower 9th Ward with the Make it Right Foundation. This region was flooded when the Industrial Canal broke during Hurricane Katrina -- again, almost 4 years ago. Below, you can see some empty foundations next to the green houses Mr. Pitt is rebuilding followed by an overview of the Industrial Canal as it stands today.

For more info on the students and our experience, you can check out our class blog at aimneworleans.blogspot.com.

Updates from Nola:

2008-10-02T19:20:00.000-07:00

Jean Gordon Elementary School in Lakeview. Notice the waterlines far above the students' heads. This school has sat abandoned since the storm. Below, Chalmette Battle Ground.

2 years in 200 square feet.

2008-09-30T20:27:00.000-07:00

Today, I learned a valuable lesson from the wise Miss Gibbs: "It's easy to get yourself in to trouble but tough to get out."

Miss Gibbs lost her home in Hurricane Katrina and recently moved in to a new home on the same lot in the Holy Cross area of New Orleans. While she has been in her home for about six months, only recently has she begun to get her photographs back on the wall. When her home flooded, everything was ruined. She explained she kept only the photographs ... and the china. The photographs hung on the wall in her old home just above the water line and she seemed quite thrilled to be getting the back on the walls.

We spent a lot of time today talking to residents in several neighborhoods in New Orleans. In addition to Miss Gibbs, we met Chuck Byrne of the Lakeview neighborhood. Chuck has been living in a FEMA trailer in his front yard for 2 years (2 years in 200 square feet) as he works to cut through the red tape of reconstruction. He is rehabbing his childhood home -- a home that has only been occupied by generations of the Byrnes family. Here, Chuck stands in his childhood bedroom and displays a ship in a bottle that once belonged to his grandfather.

Below, Chuck, in his FEMA trailer, displays a jacket he had signed by several poker players he met as a participant in the World Series of Poker in Las Vegas. The jacket was salvaged from his flooded home after Hurricane Katrina.

I would like to thank Chuck for opening his home and sharing his story. With his help, I have come a little closer to understanding the dramatic transformation that my father experienced when he volunteered in New Orleans shortly after the storm. It's not the beignets. It's the people.

Growing up, my father was quite the conversationalist. He could swap stories with anyone he met and immediately put people at ease. The people of New Orleans are not only, incredibly welcoming, but also, patient. And willing to share their stories. I have been tremendously humbled by the individuals I have met during my time here and expect that, like my father, I too will be transformed by my experience here and I want to thank the people of New Orleans for that. ... and, of course, my father.

Fishing Lake Ponchartrain

2008-09-29T16:48:00.000-07:00

And... A self portrait from the roof of the Ogden...

Morning in the Lower 9th Ward.

2008-09-29T11:22:00.001-07:00

Sunrise in the Lower 9th Ward -- 3 years after Hurricane Katrina. 3 years.

Big Easy. Big Time.

2008-09-28T16:10:00.000-07:00

Arrived. Witnessed:

Today we drove out to Jean Lafitte on the Barataria Bayou in Jefferson Parish. Recently, Hurricane Ike caused serious flooding in the region.

Temporary dumps were set up for residents to discard the refuse and debris caused by the storm.

Also in Jean Lafitte, I met Kenneth, (front) who was rebuilding a plane that had been disassembled in preparation for the storm.

Jean Lafitte, LA. (Jean Lafitte was under significant flooding after Hurricane Ike last month and prior to that was heavily damaged by Hurricane Rita in 2005.

Daryl, of Jean Lafitte, and the frozen alligator head from the 11 foot alligator he shot this season. What kind of bait do you use to catch an 11 foot alligator? A 6 foot alligator, of course.

Oh yes. Of course. I had to.

From Itasca to NOLA

2008-08-21T21:15:00.000-07:00

Journalist: Mr. President: What are your thoughts on Roe v. Wade?
Mr. President: I don’t really care how they get out of New Orleans.

~ Copy from a magnet my father brought back from his visit to New Orleans in 2006. … [and that was the one deemed fit for publishing to the blog. The other one was a bit more succinct.]

Politics were never discussed at the dinner table. Or rather, they were just never discussed. On occasion, my young heart which beat boldly from its resting place upon my sleeve would shout in opposition to any remark that may possibly have been interpreted as offensive … by anyone… anywhere. [Fine. My slightly older heart still does that on occasion -- though it now beats most typically from its happy home within my chest.]

Pre-Katrina, my impression of New Orleans was admittedly cliché. I had traveled quite a bit throughout the western United States and spent some time on the east coast but never managed to make it to New Orleans. These were the nouns and thoughts that would come to mind when considering New Orleans:

Jazz. Jazzfest. Harry Connick Jr. Food. Seafood. Oysters/Ersters. Cajun. Mardis Gras. Beads. Beer. Debauchery. And also, as a child, we made frequent family trips to the headwaters of the Mississippi at Itasca State Park and every time we went, as I waded across the shallow water I would wonder, “If I hopped in a tube right now, how long would it would take me to float down to New Orleans.” Now, as I type this I wonder if anyone has crossed through the lock and dam at St. Anthony Falls in a flotation device like a tube. … But more on the Army Corps of Engineers and their facilities to come soon enough, I suppose.

After Katrina, there were a whole new fleet of clichés that tainted my impression of a city I still had yet to visit.

In 2006, my father, a man for whom I have a tremendous amount of respect and admiration, took it upon himself to organize his own personal volunteer trip to NOLA to assist in the rebuilding efforts. Prior to his trip, my impression of my father was that while he was [and is] by no means complacent, he wasn’t one to ruffle feathers. He had his political opinions, I’m sure – though he kept them largely to himself. In fact, prior to his trip, I’m not sure I could have guessed accurately which candidate he may have voted for in any of the previous presidential elections.

From what I can gather, there were many factors from my father’s trip that contributed to his subsequent transformation. There is one story, however, that is emblematic of the change. I was living in Boston at the time completing my master’s degree in journalism and working at a Boston-based newspaper when my father phoned from his camp in New Orleans to pitch me a story idea. The organization he was volunteering with, which was based out of a camp, was being threatened with eviction from FEMA for one reason or another. FEMA had told the director and volunteers that they needed to be out by the end of the week and anyone remaining in protest would be arrested and sent to jail. The details of the story are a bit fuzzy in my head. I think, in retrospect, my memory of it has been bogged down by the sheer volume of tomfoolery-based FEMA stories to come out of New Orleans since the storm. The punch line, of course, was what my father said next:

“So we’ve all been talking down here and we’re just gonna stay! They can arrest us if they have too…”

I believe there likely was also some undoubtedly bad-mannered language at play somewhere near the end of that dialogue – most likely instigated by one foul-mouthed daughter on the other end of the line. The conclusion being that I promised to come down and bail him out and the upshot being an obvious transformation that accompanied my father on his return to the Midwest and still seems prevalent today.

There is evidently something in this town that fosters passion, enthusiasm, fire, commitment, spirit, community and solidarity. These are now the nouns and thoughts that come to mind when I consider New Orleans. As I prepare for my first trip to The Big Easy, I hope to find when I arrive, the things that changed my father.