What an honor it was to be a photographer for the Vermont Community Foundation’s Annual Report again this year. Along with the cover image (second row, left square) of my son and his grandfather at the 2019 Vergennes Memorial Day Parade, Vermont Community Foundation used several other shots of mine inside their magazine (tennis photo, hope heart) and had me capture a portrait of Gardener’s Supply co-founder Will Raap with Lynette Raap.
Look who’s on the cover this month of Kids VT–it’s my daughter, Remy! Its the June magazine issue and you can find it inside of this week’s Seven Days, June 10-17, 2020. We were rollerblading down on the Burlington Bike Path near North Beach and we went through the tunnel. It was almost like an optical illusion and I’m including the original photo below, which I shot with a fisheye lens. I love how Kids VT designed this cover and I especially love the Editor’s Note Managing Editor Alison Novak wrote. Here is only the last portion of it. She fully encapsulated the feeling of this photo. Please read it in its entirety here.
“The cover image of this issue, taken by Cat Cutillo on the bike path in Burlington, resonated so deeply with me because it feels symbolic of our world right now. We are in a bleak place, and there is so much uncertainty about what the future holds. Yet still we roll on, wobbly and uncertain, arms outstretched, with hope for a better tomorrow. That future is only possible if we work to counter those who espouse bigotry and hate. Let’s keep on moving toward the light.” —Alison Novak, Managing Editor Kids VT
STAY-SCHOOL ADVENTURES: Breaking Through, Quarantine Month Three from Cat Cutillo on Vimeo.
This week marks the end of the school year for my first grader and preschooler. As days have become weeks and weeks have become months, we find ourselves mostly outside. This week, we explored Shelburne Pond and the land near our house. We talked about how we will use our voices to speak up for change and how people around the country and around the world are also speaking up for change.
Everywhere we looked, we saw metaphors in nature. On Saturday, we found a snakeskin in our backyard. We think it belongs to the snake we spotted days earlier slithering around the shrubs. My first grader explained to my preschooler that snakes shed their skin through molting. Online research told us that snakes are symbols of rebirth, transformation, immortality and healing. They shed their skin so that they can both grow and also get rid of the parasites attached to their old skin.
Near Shelburne Pond, we found a turtle carrying its home on its back. Its shell provides both shelter and protection We were carrying an enormous backpack stuffed with everything we might need for our outing, so we could relate.
We even found a frog at the pond and talked about its life cycle, and its ability to change so masterfully that it becomes unrecognizable from its earlier tadpole self.
We caught up with our bird friend in the backyard, who has made a nice life for itself in our birdhouse, with the freedom to come and go as it pleases. We believe this chickadee is creating a nest to lay eggs.
Nature has a way of turning over, of shedding its skin, of changing. I’ve been thinking about the bird eggs and hatchlings we will likely witness soon. In order for a creature to be born, it must first shatter and dismantle the very thing that has been its source of protection. An egg can’t hatch unless it breaks.
STAY-SCHOOL ADVENTURES: Memorial Day, Quarantine Day 73 from Cat Cutillo on Vimeo.
Watching the Vergennes Memorial Day Parade every spring is one of our family traditions. When we lived in Vergennes, we would walk to the parade with my daughter Remy’s toy ride-on tractor in hand so she could watch the giant tractors roll by while sitting on her own mini version. Last year, my son, Bo, sat on that same tractor during the parade. We have both created memories and also started to relive similar experiences every year at this parade — which is held to remember and honor those we’ve lost.
This Memorial Day, the parade was canceled. We decided to fill the void by doing something new.
Our family created our own mobile parade, riding our bikes and rollerblades on the Burlington Bike Path. It was the first week since mid-March we ventured into a more public arena. We went early and the path it was mostly empty. The beat of the parade was replaced this year by the sound of wheels on pavement. We pulled over at North Beach to look at the lake, staring out at the infinite space of possibility.
We have wandered off the map of predictability. With a calendar of cancellations this summer, there are no go-to events for us to fall back on. Autopilot is out of order. There is both sadness from that loss and relief that there is space now for something new.
STAY-SCHOOL ADVENTURES: Drive-By Parties, Quarantine Week 8 from Cat Cutillo on Vimeo.
I once did a project called “Passenger-Side Stories” — a collection of drive-by photos I took while riding shotgun. The images include oddities, like a mannequin on a bicycle, and slice-of-life moments, like four-wheelers racing alongside the road. It’s amazing what you can capture and connect with in the blink of an eye from the car window.
This week — the eighth in quarantine — I was reminded of this project. The week began with the distant sounds of sirens. My heart skipped a beat as they quickly grew louder. I worried something had happened to one of our neighbors. We opened the front door to see fire trucks and police cars streaming by, waving and yelling Happy Thursday! to our neighborhood. Relief and tremendous gratitude washed over us, and we joined the chorus of cheers. The sounds of sirens and honking brought reassurance this week.
My daughter’s good friend, Matilda, turned 7 and her mom planned a drive-by birthday party. She drove Matilda to friends’ homes, where they held up signs, waved and cheered. We live across from Matilda’s aunt, uncle and cousins, so there was a surround-sound celebration at our stop with handmade signs, bells and presents that we slipped into her trunk. Still, I know my 7-year-old, Remy, and 3-year-old, Bo, wanted to run up and give her a hug. It felt strange keeping our distance.
The next day we met up at a parking lot for a birthday parade for Remy’s classmate, Adara. We held handmade signs out the window and cheered and honked as we drove by Adara and her family, who were standing on the sidewalk with balloons. Then we returned home and just the four of us had a festive marshmallow roast in our backyard.
The week ended with a parade of teachers and administrators from Remy’s school, Chamberlin Elementary. Dozens of them drove the length of the entire school bus route, honking and yelling students’ names out their windows. My kids stood on the lawn, waving.
These drive-by parties and parades made a big difference this week. It was amazing how connected we felt, in the blink of an eye, to friends, classmates and teachers. All it took was seeing them in person — albeit 15 feet away and through a car window — instead of just online.
