"The Family Project"

The Family Project was inspired by Beyond the White Picket Fence, a photo exhibit by Courtney Coolidge. Getchy participants took cameras home to explore their own families from a new perspective.

  
 

OUR FAMILY — A COLLABORATIVE POEM written by 2002-2003 GETCHY PROGRAM PARTICIPANTS:

My Family smells like hamsters, incense, soap and Wizard brand spray.
Like candles, lotion, socks and barf.
My Family smells like popcorn.
Like pot pie.
Like corn bread.
My Family smells like Top Ramen, Fabreeze, cologne and this one kind of conditioner.
New, sweet peas, tea and Pantene Pro-V;
My Family smells of cafeteria food, French fries, barf and perfume.

My Family tastes like Mexican food, soy and (ew!?!!) chicken wings.
Like strawberries and cream, puffed rice, tacos, enchiladas and tea.
My Family tastes like chicken breasts and Fruity Pebbles.
My Family tastes powdery.
Refreshing, gritty and chewy.
My Family tastes like cinnamon.
And broccoli.

My Family looks Black and Mexican.
Like an old, gray cat with orange stripes.
Or a mix between a cat and a dog.
Philipino; like Texas.
My Family looks brown, white, green and beige; a colorful rainbow.
My father, like an immigrant.
Like milk chocolate.
Short, average, fat; I can't describe.
My Family looks like soy milk, but with pointy noses and muscles.
My Family is a plate with too much food on it
And sometimes just a little.

My Family sounds like the telephone ringing, T.V. and internet dial-up.
A hamster biting on its cage, the expressway, water, dripping in the walls;
My Family sounds like kids screaming outside.
Like sirens, babies crying, police cars and yelling.
There used to be rats in our house.
My Family sounds like stomping from above.
Stuff hitting the roof.
Stuff hitting the ground.
Talking on the phone.
And the radio; Eminem at my house.
But My Family sounds like comfort.
Speeding cars – that's like my lullaby.
My mom talks to herself.

My Family feels like like bunnies; my dad like cotton, my mom like wool.
Safe, comfy, fun and couches.
My Family feels like history when I touch a picture.
Fragile, like love and caring.
Warm chaos.
My Family feels like I don't know . . .