Taliesin West

Ever since April’s family moved to the Phoenix area, she and I have wanted to visit Taliesin West, the winter home and desert laboratory of Frank Lloyd Wright in the foothills near Scottsdale. Last week we took the self-guided tour on a sunny, 102 deg. day. If you like architecture, art, and particularly FLW’s unique style, you may enjoy the photos.

Wright and his apprentices began building in 1937. It was a more like a “camp” in the beginning with no windows and open to the elements, which made sense in the cooler months. Windows and air conditioning were added over the years. He purposely chose natural, native materials in order to blend in with the landscape.


Wright’s “Whirling Arrow” Taliesin logo was based on a petroglyph found on property indicating the clasping hands of friendship

Wright's "Whirling Arrow"

The building designs were low to “embed” them in the desert landscape. The angles and triangular forms were reflective of the mountains in the background.


FLW’s office is an good example of his concept of “compression” when you enter a room… and “release” when you are inside. And check out that cool door!


The Family Room (Stock photo) Isn’t it lovely? Wright knew how to bring the outside in. This room is much larger than it looks. Wright’s “open concept” design was a break-away from the Victorian homes with their closed off individual rooms. All the furnishings were designed by Wright and the apprentices. The chair nicknamed the “origami chair” can be made from one sheet of plywood. The screen is a map of Taliesin West.


The Apprentice Studio had canvas panels on the ceiling to diffuse the desert sun. Later windows were added on the ceiling and sides. It was an inspiring space.


Wright’s signature redwood beams are everywhere. Note the beautiful rock/sand/cement work.


Cool drop leaf table in the Theater Room


The last four photos from 1950: My mom and dad stopped by Taliesin West on the way to Colorado during their honeymoon.

My dad’s journal reads…

February 3, 1950 Phoenix… “We had a noontime breakfast, then left for Frank Lloyd Wright’s home about 1:00 pm. The Arizona weather is very nice and we are enjoying the wildflowers along the roadside. We were a bit perturbed at the very contemporary sign directing visitors up the side road to Taliesin West and the message about no casual visitors. It was our honeymoon and we hoped Mr. Wright would understand. As it turned out there was at least a spark of the romantic behind his gruff manner when he came out to ask why we were photographing his architectural creation here in the heart of the Sun Country. He was accompanied by his most vicious looking dog, and this could be the hair-raising moment of our honeymoon. He did ask us not to bother any of the students as we made our way around the stone and wood structure, my camera in hand. Our visit was tempered by letting him know how we admired his work in the world of architecture. “Build of native materials, eh?” We could buy that! I wondered what he thought of the skies on top of our car. 4:00 pm and we were back in Phoenix, packed quickly and took off for Prescott.”


My mom snacks on the roadside the day they stopped at Taliesin West. A few years later, my dad would build a rock fireplace from golden rocks he found near Mammoth Lakes, California for my childhood home.

All in all, it was a very special time with April, and led to some sweet recollections of my mom and dad too!

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Snowplows, Pizza and Happy Anniversary to Me

The Ransoms

I was 18 months old the first time my parents strapped a pair of snow skis on my feet.  You would think that growing up skiing I’d have been a better skier but I guess I never knew I was supposed to keep getting better, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t have fun!  My dad really worked hard to save up vacation time and $$ for our ski trips and I’m thankful.

My Dad,

the Ski Instructor

My dad, Bill Ransom, taught many people to ski, besides my brother and I.  Hearing my daughters and their husbands giving instruction and tips to my grandkids brought back fond memories.  I could hear my dad’s voice again, saying “If you fall and your skies come off, get your skies perpendicular to the hill and put your lower ski on first.” 

Dad, giving tips to my friend Jenni and I at June Mountain. 1969

My mom, encouraging my brother and I to use our turns to control our speed, called back over her shoulder, “Follow me down the hill and turn where I turn.”  At lunch, Dad would let me put my hands on his coffee cup to warm them.  My brother, Paul and I would look for unmarked powder snow on the edge of the runs that we could leave our tracks in.

The Prices

When Gary and I married, exactly 47 years ago today, (HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO ME), Gary wanted to learn to ski and we went on a skiing honeymoon.  Being more competitive than me, and much more athletic, he learned fast and soon passed me up.  We honeymooned for two weeks, and by the time we came home, he was zipping down the runs like he’d been skiing for years. 

When the Lord gave us our two girls, we enjoyed teaching them to ski. 

Sarah 6 yrs at Mammoth

April 4.5 yrs at Mammoth

The Doughertys

&

The Andersons

For Christmas, our family got together in Arizona to celebrate, but a few days before that, we spent a day at the Arizona Snowbowl.  We shared the day with another family too, so there was a total of 15 skiers, 2 snowboarders, and 2 grandmas with their cameras to take pics.  History repeated itself, as some learned to ski or snowboard for the first time, and some improved their skills and speed.  It was so fun to watch the improvement over the hours and hear reports of small victories and large strides forward.  Whether navigating “getting on the lift” smoothly, figuring out how to “walk” in ski boots, how to slow down, get some air, turn, or stop without crashing into someone, everyone had their stories to tell at lunch. 

(L to R) Nate D, Julia D, Micah A, Lauren D, Me, Miles A, April A, Derek A, Jon A, Owen A, Grant D, Sarah D, Ryan D at Arizona Snowbowl

Julia and Ryan

Micah and Jon

Owen and April

A Different Kind of Day

For multiple reasons I stayed off the skis this time so it was a different kind of day for me… but SO FUN! I loved walking around by the Bunny Slope watching everyone learn and improve. The day was nostalgic and a total blessing to my heart. The Lord was kind to give us such a sweet day, with no serious injuries, beautiful weather and great company. I was happy to get to know Diane (the grandma of the Dodd family) better as we held down the fort collecting the extra jackets, hats and paraphernalia shed as the day got warmer. It’s been 25+ years since I went skiing and changes are obvious.  New to me…Helmets!  Snowboards!  People-Mover-Sidewalk-Conveyor-Belts instead of Rope Tows!  “Pizza” stance instead of “Snow Plow” stance! But some things never change.   The snow squeaks and scrunches in the tread of snow boots.  Fresh cold air makes cheeks rosy.  It’s still hard to keep track of all your equipment. Friendly strangers on the sun deck happily share space at their tables.  The day ends with pizza, and on the way home, the skiers laugh, tell stories and make plans for the next trip.   

As always, I love to hear back from you if you have a comment!

 

Winter Olympic Dreams

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Been watching the winter Olympics?  I have.  It's timely, because In the process of digitizing my dad's photos recently, I came across his winter Olympic albums.  He was able to attend three of them, as an official photographer, starting in 1948.  The Olympics has changed a lot since then, but the spirit of competition and national pride seems to remain.  Dad (Bill Ransom) was hired to film the events with his 16mm Bell & Howell movie camera, and some day I hope to get the films digitized as well.  Meanwhile, here's a few fun pics with Dad's captions from his album of memorabilia from...

V Winter Olympic Games 1948

St. Moritz, Italy.

 
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This is the same Mr. Paul Helms. of Helms Bakery... remember the neighborhood trucks?  (I'm showing my age...)

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Skiers

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Stylish!  And look at the competition suit below...not too aerodynamic for downhill racing in those days.

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Figure Skaters

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Speed Skaters

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Souvenirs

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And the films...

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More Opportunities to come

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That's my dad, Bill Ransom on the far right ready to leave for Sun Valley Idaho to film the Harriman Cup Race.

I have such fond memories of our family ski vacations.  Dad loved teaching us to ski, and we had such fun together exploring new runs, making the first tracks in fresh snow, and warming my cold hands on Dad's warm coffee mug while he put his hands around mine.  Dad was known for his many stories, and we heard the "Olympic Stories" over and over but I'm so, so thankful that he was happy to share his experiences, and he left me with his albums, and notes.  Going through the albums I've learned even more, and find it fascinating.  His phone call to Paul Helms got him started on the road to being a professional ski movie photographer and allowed him to travel to some amazing places, on someone else's dime.  In 1950 Dad married Mom.  He taught her to ski, handle a camera, and they worked together filming and editing their Olympic films.  But that's another story.  

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A Tribute to the Artist (well sort of)

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This Sunday, my dad, Bill Ransom, would have been 100.  It seems like a good time for a tribute.  Well, sort of…I’ll let you decide if it’s a tribute or not. 

You’ll need a bit of background to understand.

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My mom was an artist.  She painted, and her main subjects were landscapes. 

She was really good.

 

 

 

 

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Dad was a photographer.  It started as a hobby when he was a teenager, then continued as an adult.  My dad, had a career as a designer in the aerospace industry, but photography was always a part of his life and a side business.

He was a great photographer.

 

My parents were each other’s biggest fans. 

But one day, in 1966, (I was 13), Dad came home from work early, with a big canvas, paint brushes and an artist’s beret.  To the best of my memory, it went something like this:

Mom (surprised): “What is THIS?”

Dad (grinning): “You’re not the only one in this family who can paint.”

Mom (with skeptical tone): “Are you sure about that?”

Dad (confidently): “I have my scene already picked out, and I’m ready to start.” 

Mom (laughing, rolling eyes): “Ok, you do your best.” 

Mom, Paul, and Laurie: (laughing and more laughing)

So for several weeks, when Dad came home from work each day, he went to work on his painting.  (It was a view of the Grand Teton Mt. range with the Snake River in the foreground.)  This did not go on without mocking and playful teasing from my mom, (and my brother and I too).  Dad dished it right back with confident talk, and a flourish of the brush! 

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As the painting progressed, we all realized it was actually turning out good, but following mom’s lead, we never let on to Dad.  When dad finished his painting, he framed it and hung it over their bed.  It moved with them to three other homes, and was placed above their headboard for 48 years.  With every move, Mom made comments about there "not being room" for it at the new house, but it always ended up in its "place of honor" in the master bedroom. 

And for 48 years, it was the source of MANY private jokes, and bantering.  Dad smiled and teased back every time and we NEVER did tell him that we in truth liked the painting and admired his talent.  It was his one and only painting and quite amazing actually.  I had always hoped to tell him some day that I really did like it (though I’m sure he knew).  I never told him, but maybe that’s more fitting anyway. 

I miss my parents.  I miss their love of the beauty of God’s creation, and desire to capture it on canvas and film.  I miss the “inside” family jokes, the hilarious things that happened on some of our vacations.  I miss their adventurous spirits.  I miss their devotion to each other.  But I DON’T miss dad’s painting, because it is hanging above the headboard in my guest bedroom.  When I see it a smile forms in my heart. 

Good job, Dad!