"The Photographer"

I love waking and retiring with another artist everyday. Brian is a constant source of inspiration to me in my writing, and I love assisting him in his creative projects. This week, my poem, "The Photographer", a poem inspired by Brian, appeared in the recent issue of The Dirty Napkin Literary Magazine, and although my name is on the byline, I know that I couldn't have written it without him. And it made me think: my last name will soon be Adams, not Skabar!

This week, I was happy to assist Brian in making new photographs for the Alaska Native Heritage Center, both because I love watching the dancing and spending the day at the center, and because it was just another way that Brian and I were able to work together. Keep your eyes peeled for Brian's photos in their new publications!

Hot Dogs in a Cold Place

A story that Brian and I have been working and dining on for the past few months was published in this weekend's edition of Play in the Anchorage Daily News: an exploration of the mysterious, deceptively complex Alaskan reindeer hotdog.

The task of preparing a good hot dog seems simple, yet some vendors and restaurants do it really well, and others, of course, do not. The hot dog is, in this way, deceiving; it's just a bun, a dog, and some toppings, but if you've ever enjoyed a truly good one, you appreciate that making a truly delicious hot dog is more than an assemblage of good things—it's an art.

When I first moved to Alaska, I was strangely drawn to the concept of the reindeer hot dog, a definitively Alaskan repast that can be found in various cities around the state though nowhere else in my U.S. travels. Something about eating reindeer seemed indulgent in and of itself—a little like stealing Christmas—and eating reindeer in tube form on a soft bun with caramelized onions was downright sinful. Since my arrival, I've talked, tried, and tasted my way through the state, and I've found several dogs worth writing home about.

Read the full article on the ADN's website

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New York, a new week, and Newsweek

newsweek tearsheet
Originally uploaded by brian_adams

While Brian and I were in New York last week, we had the opportunity to meet with Newsweek photo editor Michelle Malloy for lunch at a small Italian cafe on the west side, Ino. It was serendipitous; just before our arrival to Newsweek's offices, Michelle was looking through her files to find the photo above, which was just published in this week's issue.

We can't thank Newsweek's staff enough for spending time with us on our visit; while at the offices, Brian and I were introduced to a great group of people, and lunch with Michelle at the tiny bistro was splendid, complete with great drinks, panini, truffle egg toast, and chicken liver pate (my favorite).

And, of course, Brian and I were both excited to see his beautiful photo in Newsweek after arriving back home in Anchorage. (Great job, Brian; you always make me proud!)

Engaged!

NOTE: The following post is going to be written by both of us.

Ash: Let me start this by saying that I never thought I'd get married, and after a long cohabiting relationship went sour five years ago, I was content working and living alone. I thought that that was how it was always going to be. I liked my space, liked my home. I loved my friends, my cat, my routines. So, I never thought that I'd fall in love all-in, or so to say, and I definitely never thought I'd be happier with someone else than I was by myself.

But when I first saw Brian and then we first spoke, I knew that that was it. This was the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, wanted to work with, wanted to love and grow old with. Since the very first day.

Since the day that we met, Brian and I have lived with each other, worked with each other, and loved each other, and I have loved every single minute of it. He inspires me. He is the best person I've ever met. I love him.

Brian: You never think there is a "one" until you meet the "one." Ash is the "one." From the first moment I saw her and spoke to her, I knew. We are both people that don't make light decisions; we know what we want, and we do it with all of our heart. But when we met there was no decision to make; it was already done. I have never had any second guesses or felt any hesitation with Ash. She keeps me calm, collected, inspired, driven, and wanting more out of this wonderful life. Now, I am happy I don't have to go it alone. In the last 10 months of living, loving, and working together we have seen and done so much that I can't wait to see what we can do in a lifetime. I love her.


2010 © brian adams
Ash: Last night, in New York City at our favorite restaurant, Prune, Brian had reserved "our" table for dinner. Before we ordered a thing, he reached across the table, grabbed my hand, and asked me to marry him. Of course, I said yes, after which he slipped on the most perfect ring I could ever imagine. He already knew the answer, and I already knew he would ask, but it didn't matter; we were both so nervous and excited that we started to cry, told each other how much we love each other, that we can't believe that we have been lucky enough to find each other. That this is it. That here we go. That life will always be good while we're together. That hell yeah.

The chefs and staff at Prune overwhelmed us with their generosity and enthusiasm, bringing out flutes of champagne and marinated veal heart ("a heart for a proposal makes sense," said one of the waiters) to celebrate with us. We cannot thank them enough for taking part in our special evening and joining us in excitement. And, of course, the food was amazing. (Good food usually comes from really good people, after all.)

Brian and Ash: Hell Yeah.

Out the Window

2010 © Brian Adams
Children always know the right questions to ask, which, in this world of information and communication, is so much more valuable than we often acknowledge. Poetry, to me, is all about questions; it's about finding the bridges between seemingly dissimilar things, relating internal sentiments with universal truths to make personal expressions accessible to the rest of the world.

This spring, I taught poetry to students of the Home Base After School Program, an educational enrichment program that serves Anchorage-area youth from primarily the Muldoon and Fairview communities by providing lessons and activities on a variety of subjects, from photography and math to poetry. Throughout our courses, I was amazed at the profound sentiments and observations that surfaced in the students' work; they are young--ages 9 to 13--but they are inquisitive, compassionate, intelligent little people with things to say and questions to pose.

As the culmination of our classes together, I worked with the students and Dianne Barske, a local artist, to produce a book of their poems and illustrations to share with their community. The book, Out the Window will be released this Friday at a reading of the students' work at Side Street Espresso in downtown Anchorage at 6:30 pm.

Of course, in this project Brian and I found another opportunity to work together: he made beautiful full-body portraits of the students to accompany their short self-written bios in the book. Brian photographed the children like the budding adults that they are, standing their ground in the street outside of the school in Fairview. (As a bonus, the students were thrilled to have a photographer that's photographed covers of magazines like Time take their portraits.)

"What We Learned" by Ashley Skabar, Narrative Magazine, 2009