I had the privilege of listening to two artists, Todd Hido and Vicki Hartman, talk about their work this week. The first was Todd Hido, a photographer who is known for his photos of homes at night. He doesn’t photograph architecturally beautiful houses or bustling cityscapes with plants hanging from apartment windowsills as cars and buses pass below. He is interested in suburban landscapes, particularly planned communities that were once idyllic. He is fascinated by the psychology of those neighborhoods. He doesn’t include people or pets or other signs of activity other than the light in the windows. And there is something beautifully lonely about these photos. It’s the combination of the old 70s architecture and the anonymity of seeing a house otherwise shut to the outside world, aside from the light. Hido captures it so perfectly and beautifully that it makes you want to weep. As he explained, he takes photos like a documentarian, but then adds color like a painter. No staging or posing. He then plays with the color during development to give it the mood that drew him to take the photo in the first place. Hido is drawn to things that remind him of his old suburban neighborhood in Kent, Ohio. He captures what has happened as we have become far removed from each other, as we retreat to our homes.

The second artist I had the privilege to see this weekend was Vicki Hartman. She is a ceramics artist (which is simplifying what she does) whose recent work includes a series about the home. The picture on this page and the main page are of her work. She has had an exhibit at the Fourwalls Art Gallery and gave a talk Saturday along with another artist. Among the fabulous work Vicki does, she makes these small 3D clay homes and other figures that, to me, evoke the sentiment that we are who we truly are in our homes. Some of the homes reflect city scenes and industrial landscapes; others reflect nature and the simplicity of emptiness. There is a solitary mood to her work, but not the lonely anonymity of Hido’s depictions of suburban homes. The pieces in Vicki’s exhibit convey hope in the midst of that solitary mood. The idea of the home as a refuge. The idea that we grow and change, but carry a piece of home with us always.

Being able to see both these depictions of home made me very grateful for the community of family and friends I have. And it underscored my belief in the importance of strong and vital neighborhoods and communities. People say it all the time — that in the end it’s only you. I think that’s such a sad idea. We may be left with ourselves in the end, but up until then we can benefit from the profound joy of being part of one another’s lives. And it all begins with the decisions we make in our own homes.