Mike Hettwer Photography - Documentary, Archaeology and Dinosaur

826CHI Volunteer Photo Book: My World Project - Part 2

826CHI is the excellent non-profit that teaches creative writing and other skills to Chicago's inner city kids. I volunteered to teach a photo class and we eventually designed and published a book of the 68 extraordinary student photos seen here. They were accompanied by the student's short creative stories and captions.

The ten students ranged from 7th to 11th grade and they used the $90 digital cameras that I donated. Most of the students had no formal training and we had six weekly shooting sessions.

The book is available on www.blurb.com and 100% of the profits go to 826CHI. Please note that all photos in this section of the site were taken only by the 826CHI photo students.

“I’m going to step outside, Mom,” Maria said. “Smoking kills!” her mom yelled. “Pshh, as if I haven’t heard that one before,” Maria thought to herself. Yelling back wouldn’t help since that’s always what she argued about with her mom. Maria paced back and forth as she lit her cigarette, her cancer stick that got her though the day. She now finished a box daily. Of course she would. She smoked for every little thing. She had a job interview – oh, there’s a smoke. Finished eating – another one. Maria never stopped. She was well aware of her addiction and the consequences, but just joked about it, never made a fuss about it. She slowly took another puff and exhaled after. Her lungs were very weak now. She had been smoking since her early teens and was now a middle-aged woman. Little did she know that she had lung cancer and it was developing more and more. Her friends told her to get checked, yet she ignored them. A very naïve woman she was. She inhaled more and coughed extensively, but it wasn’t a big deal, nor did she care. Her sweet addiction was all she knew and it killed her more and more every day.
   
One piece of metal, two years to create. Millions have visited, everyone looking at the same thing and everyone seeing something different. When I look into the bean, I see hundreds of myself and thousands of others, all looking back at me.
   
During the Evanston Custer Street Fair, many types of entertainment were going on at once. These percussionists were the highlight of the fair. Their drumming became the crowd’s heartbeat.
     
  
The multicolor aviator glasses and polka dotted boots still rested in the display window as Jacqueline DeAnda, the designer, passed by – her face in defeat as she noticed no one had bought any of it. “%@#&, what is up with people these days?” she asked herself. She went into the store and began to burn everything that wasn’t designed by her. “Now they have to buy my things!” she yelled. “It’s getting extremely hot out of nowhere,” she thought to herself. She didn’t realize her dress was on fire.
   
“Daddy, Daddy, when is the water going to come out of the woman’s mouth?” asked the little girl as she pointed to the fountain.“Hold on,” her father said. “Be patient.”But the little girl kept tugging on his shirt trying to get his attention. “Why is it taking so long?” she cried. Her father told her that the fountain would open its mouth when somebody pushes the button, not just when we want it to. And it’s always like that when you want something. You won’t just get it at the moment you ask for it.The girl didn’t understand, so she started running around her father in circles, yelling, “Now! Now! Now!” It was her father’s turn to lose his patience. His voice became harsh and his face grew darker. The little girl started crying. He bent down and grabbed her by the shoulders and said, “Stop crying now or we’re leaving.”“I don’t want to leave! I want to stay! I want to see the fountain go off.” She stomped her feet and crossed her arms. “I want to get wet.” Just then, the fountain went off.
   
“I wish this bus would get here already. I’m getting tired.” After waiting for almost an hour, the three friends grew weary. It was summer and none of them ever went to sleep until after midnight. Today they’d been up since 7 a.m. so that they could spend the whole day at the amusement park. But waiting was unbearable. The body becomes heavy and restless as the spirit remembers the gravity defying promise of the park.
     
  
“I was married,” the young woman told me, “but I had a lover.” She began to tell me of a young man named Gabriel.“We were very much in love. I was going to leave my husband and elope with him.”Her eyes began to water. “I got a phone call one day. It was Gabriel. ‘Baby,’ he said in a depressed kind of tone. ‘Baby, I just came from the doctor and… and…,’ I thought he would never tell me. And then, he said it. ‘I have cancer.’ I broke down right there. The worst part was, he was beyond salvation.”She turned to the wall and touched the painting. “He was a painter,” she said. “He painted this self-portrait for me to remember him by. He told me that if I waited here for him, he would come back for me.”Every day she sits and waits. Waits for her love to come and get her.
   
“OK, so act like I’m not here. I just want to get cool pics of you skating. Don’t look at the camera,” I said to him. And, BAM! Chris looked straight at the camera and struck a pose. “Gah! What did I tell you? You’re lame.” But it did come out looking pretty cool. I snapped a couple more pictures and went back to sit out on my porch. After all, it was only across the street.
   
He had come down to sector B-12 from the northern face of Gorilla Mountain to stop the coming of twilight, to stop the killer robot nurses from the gorilla massacre that was scheduled for that very night. He disguised himself as one of them in hopes of saving his family, held prisoner in the San Francisco zoo for these cold, lonely six years. He wept bitterly as he thought of Auntie Gorilla and Uncle Gorilla being forced to dance for Mayor Dakota, the little girl cackling maniacally at them like an evil cat. But he had to go on: he had to give Mayor Dakota the wrong medication and steal the keys to their cage before it was too late. He walked casually to the Walgreen’s behind the other Walgreen’s next to the other Walgreen’s on the corner and dashed to the pharmacy aisle. He selected the Walgreen’s brand of Head-On and put it under his nurse’s hat. The girl behind the cash register was busy doing her nails and didn’t pay attention to the flaming pink gorilla-nurse crawling through her store. As soon as he was out the doors, he ran to the Mayor’s office, jumping behind a bush every time he saw another nurse. Finally, he burst through the doors.Mayor Dakota was lying atop a black chaise lounge – which he saw, to his horror, was made out of gorilla fur. Was he too late? “Oh, you’re here now, Nurse Hannah,” she purred. “Come over here and apply the Head-On directly to my forehead. I have a splitting headache and I’m having a dinner party – right after my evil robot nurse minions catch the main course.”The gorilla clenched his fists, but said nothing. He took the Head-On from underneath his nurse’s cap and applied it directly to her forehead. Little did she know that he had bought the cheap off-brand Head-On – and Mayor Dakota was powerfully allergic to anything that she hadn’t personally appeared in an advertisement for.Dakota screamed and began to melt in pain. He ran to her desk and pressed a secret button that called off the nurses. Then he grabbed the keys, galloped to the glass elevator, and punched a button that read “ZOO” in giant letters. He found himself in a basement, the walls hung with gorilla skins and spider webs. But just then, he heard his little gorilla cousin crying in the corner. He back flipped into the darkness – and when he landed, he saw his cousin pointing toward a huge button in the middle of the ceiling. He jumped up and pushed it – and suddenly, he felt as if he were falling into a bottomless pit of despair. When he woke up, he was in a bed and his gorilla family was crouched all around him. Although they couldn’t remember their years of torture down in sector B-12, he would never forget the awful sounds he heard.
     
  
Waffles meowed his head off until I opened my eyes.I know, buddy. Sorry I forgot to buy your food yesterday, something was really wrong with me. How did I forget something from my weekly routine? My body usually moved on its own after waking up. However, today I woke with a new type of energy, almost as if I looked forward to something. I saw all the colors again: the reds in my worn out slippers, the blues in the cloudless beautiful morning sky, and the yellows on the walls of my crummy old apartment. Since when did I have yellow walls? Was I out so long I didn’t even notice them? As I dressed to go outside I passed the Blue line where it all happened the night before, or as teenagers called it: “Train Station Checkering.”Until yesterday evening, I’d been living my life in a silent black-and-white film. It was around six at night when I walked from the newspaper building with my mind focused on buying food for my only companion and pet, Waffles. I kept my eyes forward and walked at a steady, rhythmic pace. I coughed as the smoke coming off cigarettes passed me. That’s when I was pushed abruptly to the side and a shower of small pieces of paper fell all over the ground. Some crazy teenagers had run past me, throwing the paper around like confetti all over the place. Almost everyone screamed at them, some even cursed. As I continued to walk, I noticed the confetti wasn’t just a paper; it was copies of a photograph.I did a double-take. It wasn’t a picture that would make the best photographer in the world say, “My goodness, this is GENIUS!” but it took my breath. It was the best picture I’d seen all my life. The colors popped and made me feel self conscious in a way that I felt like I was in this person’s place – maybe I was this person. I stood still while this insane paradigm shift rushed in and out of my head. Maybe that’s how life is – you don’t see what’s in front of you until someone takes pictures of it, makes thousands of copies, and throws them all over the place.
   
Photography is all about seeing. Great photos, like great writing, allow people to feel and think about things they might never have noticed before.You focus your mind and eyes to notice details and capture moments that happen only once in a life time.
   
Are flowers more than pretty? The answer is, “yes.” Flowers are everywhere and they are important in our lives. They provide oxygen and we give them carbon dioxide in return. They are the beauty of nature. They make people smile even when they feel gloomy. They are an inspiration to many people. Poets write about them. Touching the delicacy of a flower and letting the scent through your nose can be the most memorable and enjoyable moment, even therapeutic.
     
  
She lands with one foot placed on the board and one foot off. The one foot still in place stays in motion on the skateboard, causing her to do a distorted split and to scream. She slowly recovers and we both walk forward, past the playground bursting with joy.It smells like spirit and sounds like the laughter of many children. We begin to skateboard again, repeatedly practicing the same motion, perfecting our ollies, kickbacks, whatever our legs manage to do.
   
My littlest brother’s name is Joshua. He is the youngest of six children. Yes, six. He has been walking for almost six months now and I can’t believe how he’s growing up. Every time I watch his face, his changing expressions, and hear his curious and excited voice, I am amazed. He is learning so many things about the world, things that we all had to learn but take for granted. His ability to absorb gigantic amounts of information is at once fascinating, adorable, and lovely. I can’t help watching him explore the world for long stretches of time. Perhaps this is how my mother feels about all of us every day.
   
“Dad, can we go to the beach today? It closes in thirty minutes and we haven’t gone in a while.”“Ok. Go get Alex ready and we’ll leave in five minutes.”Seven minutes later, we boarded the hover car.“Get in your bubble, Alex. Your mother would kill me if she knew you were standing in Mr. Hover.”Grandpa told me there was a time when you actually had to go outside to go to the beach. I can’t even imagine how gross and sweaty that would be. I mean, come on, who would ever want to go to a beach with no AC?
     
  
Once a science teacher told us a story about big and little fish in the water. She said they spoke of the world – earth, sky and water. The little fish learned so much, but at the end, couldn’t help asking, “Okay, so where is all the water?” Sometimes humans are like the little fish, not realizing how small we really are – how small and diminutive our planet is in the gi-normous universe.
   
Alone again. Used and abused, and back up for rent. Somebody good will take time. Won’t tear things apart. Please. Come. “A great view. An elevator so there’s no walking up.”Wait a minute. No! A hammer. No destroying. An image is hung. Once again, loved. Someone cares.
   
My friend and I talked about what kinds of things any person might be thinking of at any time or place. Would they be thinking about what they were going to eat later? Maybe they would be thinking about the weather or what kind of shoes feel more comfortable for walking long distances. It doesn’t matter where you come from, what color your skin is, what kind of clothes you wear or how you fix your hair; it’s the inside that matters when it all comes down to it. Nobody looks the same in this world. Who are we to say what is pretty and what isn’t? Look around you and realize that true beauty lies within.
     
  
Happiness. What exactly does it mean? According to the dictionary it means “good fortune, pleasure, contentment, joy.” But, to many people it means different things and comes in different forms. To Steve Fabian, a 12-year-old boy, it means to live life without a care, to be outside all night long playing, or to sit in the stairs without any troubles from his parents. He says, “Enjoying the outside makes me not worry about anything else, like school, but the nice cool weather.”For Osvaldo Maya, a 17-year-old, happiness means being with his girlfriend. He says, “Her presence is enough and her kisses.”What makes me smile are the little things in life: the way the clouds form in the sky, a newborn’s cries, an old couple still in love showing that true love does exist, spending time with my friends even if we don’t do anything but sit on the stairs, the cool air blowing on my face on a hot, sunny day.And even a balloon with a smiley face on it. It shows that happiness is everywhere. Everyone wishes to have happiness – easy to experience but oh so hard to keep afloat.
   
“Muerdele al pastel! Muerdele al pastel!” the young Mexican mother of two – soon to be three – said to little Nico. People with cameras began to crowd around.“Muerdele! Muerdele!” She held on to him as he went toward the cake. His mouth opened and he took a small bite. “Devuelta! Devuelta!” everyone shouted. Again, he opened his mouth, but only wider. This time, the bite was bigger, and cake was smeared everywhere from his nose to his chin.If his birthday is March 12, then why is this party on June 28? It’s not his birthday. No, the party wasn’t for him. It was a baby shower; inside of Nico’s mother was a 7-month-old fetus.Now, let’s fast-forward four weeks and four days.“Oh, I’m not going to be there for long,” the mother said as she walked into Panera for a small breakfast. “I’m just going to be in the hospital for a little bit and then they’ll send me back home.”Two hours later: “You’re in labor,” the nurse said. “What?!” the mother said, “I’m not even crying yet!” “Watch,” the nurse said. “It’ll be out by 5:30.”At 6:04 pm, little 8-pound, 13-ounce Cristian Xavier Jacome was born.“Happy Birthday, baby,” little Nico said upon his first look at his baby brother.
   
Looking in this room, Kelly doesn’t even notice the old pictures. To other people it could be a family room – but to Kelly and her family it’s the wasted room. From the couch on, there is nothing but space and empty walls. It’s an abandoned room filled with a few objects that represent the family, but the family is never there. The family has a full house but this room is lonely.
     
  
“Mommy, why do we have to hand these out at Warren Park?”“We need a lot of people to know about the yard sale so that they can come and buy our things, honey.”“Why?”“Well, it has to do with the economy. We need more money right now to keep living normally. Now go get your sister ready.”“And, why do we have to match?”“It’s cute; people think it’s cute. They’ll notice you.” “How long should we stay at the park?”“Come home before dark. And be careful.”
   
It’s cheap and good, customers say, at this diner in Scarlax, a town just outside our galaxy. The food here is greasy, inexpensive and loved. The lady in the doorway exits with a bag of camel eyes, a rare Scarlaxian delicacy. She tries to hide but doesn’t do a good job.