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			<title><![CDATA[Red Dot - Travel Video Podcast]]></title>

			<link>http://www.studioreddot.com</link>

			<description><![CDATA[
Studio Red Dot jaunts around the world for various clients, and &amp;#34;Red Dot Podcasts&amp;#34; are a result of the photos and video that personally captures our curious and sometimes quirky imagination. These short films include our original music, writing, travel news, travel tips, international culture, media and humor.  Enjoy!
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studioreddot
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			<pubDate>Wed, 22 Apr 2009 22:15:00 GMT</pubDate>

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			<title><![CDATA[Red Dot - Travel Video Podcast]]></title>

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			<link>http://www.studioreddot.com</link>

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<title><![CDATA[Red Dot Episode #20 - Indio Viejo]]></title>
<description>
<![CDATA[
I heard the baritone of Alfredo yell my name as I was already half way down the street. "Alicia!" he said with a big broad smile.  He pointed up to a small grey flag waving above his door. I knew exactly what he meant. Our home for the next week could easily be identified by looking up to a flapping cloth.  For several days I managed to find my host family's street in their neighborhood, but at times the exact address eluded me. I looked up a lot.    But whenever we would eventually wander back into our host family's home we were always rewarded with smiles, impromptu Spanish lessons, games and, most impressively, some of the best food in Granada. Spending the afternoons preparing meals I re-discovered a common universal language: The language of the kitchen.  We all worked together cleaning, cutting, serving and washing. It didn't matter if I knew the word for mint, rice, or sauce. The ingredients were Nicaraguan.  The instructions were Spanish.  The atmosphere was universal.   Cooking, laughter and family helped to create a savory recipe that was far more than just the food on the plate.    Alberto's grey flag hanging above a door became the difference between being just another wandering tourist... and coming home.
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<link>http://studioreddot.libsyn.com/index.php?post_id=458549#</link>
<pubDate>Wed, 22 Apr 2009 22:15:00 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Red Dot Episode #19 - Eras Through Morning]]></title>
<description>
<![CDATA[
The levitating neon orange tentacle god.  The slow motion storm troopers in pastel satin.  Slurred french delivered with drunken amore.  Three year olds wielding violent morning stars.  Decorative fans manipulating the cool wind.  And, of course, casual cha-cha and ballroom dancing amongst it all.  You won't find these amazing visuals on Shanghai's famous Bund unless your willing to forsake your free continental breakfast and arrive before the vendors assemble and the tourists take over. Dawn is the time to witness the change; from night time lovers to morning revelers in the sunrise.   When the evening fades and the early hour scenes unfold, one's imagination takes over. Kites becomes gods. Masked retirees begin their daily tai chi as colorful soldiers.  It's another morning on the rivers edge of Shanghai China, and as you begin to wake, hopefully you have enough energy and alertness to dodge the small kids with the martial arts weapons!  -Alicia
]]></description>
<link>http://studioreddot.libsyn.com/index.php?post_id=446684#</link>
<pubDate>Tue, 24 Mar 2009 04:41:00 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Red Dot Episode #18 - The Propaganda Poster Art Center]]></title>
<description>
<![CDATA[
Propaganda. Communism. Posters. China.   It sounded like something we shouldn't be allow to see, but a western guide book's invitation lay in front of us, written in the familiar detached language of tourist lingo.   Good enough.  Off we went to the corner for a taxi.  As with most cab rides in Shanghai, the 20 minute trip took us about 45. Trying his best to dodge the traffic, our diver maneuvered through unmarked streets, pedestrians and bicycles. What little directional ability I had was completely gone within 3 minutes. I was lost. I think our driver was too. Alas, the announcement was made, we had arrived. "I don't live here" was my first thought. We're looking for a museum not an apartment complex. Gesturing, Chi-English, pointing ensues and soon the security guard of the complex enters our circle of confusion and confirms that indeed we are in the right place.   We enter the basement of building B. No signs lead the way but a lady with her laundry points down a small hallway to an unlocked door.  We open it and enter the world of Propaganda, Communism style.  With over 5000 prints, the owner Mr. Yang Pei Ming has been collecting his art work for years with the hope of preserving it for generations.   The Propaganda Poster Museum; not an easy to find. But, for the curious, the invitation is always open when exploring Shanghai.  -Alicia
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<link>http://studioreddot.libsyn.com/index.php?post_id=434874#</link>
<pubDate>Thu, 19 Feb 2009 00:12:00 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Red Dot Episode #17 - The Dragon's Backbone]]></title>
<description>
<![CDATA[
It stretches across miles.  Curved lines crisscrossing the countryside.  Some stretches are better maintained then others, but all of it breathtaking. And that's just the road to get to Guangxi's rice terraces.  Our personal driver arrives with the morning's first light and picks us up. We acknowledge each other with a "I'm sorry I don't speak your language" nod and climb into the mini van.   Out of town we pull off the main road. Two senior women dressed in traditional Mao clothing jump in; their attire vibrant, their faces wrinkled with age and character, their smiles enchanting.  More nods.   Driving in this part of China is a balance of survival, gambling, artistry and skill. With one hand on the knuckle indented horn button and the other taking turns smoking and steering, our driver possess the balance. After an hour of white knuckles, I sink into the routine and become, like the ladies in the back, unaffected. I settle in to the ride and enjoy the scenery of Youngshu.  Reaching the summit of the rice fields, we see it.  The Dragons Backbone.  A canvas of tiered agriculture makes up the spine of this metaphorical creature.  Every direction holds a new vantage point and we quickly realize that four hours are not enough to capture its beauty. But we must go.  It is time to meet our driver again for the journey back to the city.  Half the adventure is getting there. I agree.  -Alicia
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<link>http://studioreddot.libsyn.com/index.php?post_id=425383#</link>
<pubDate>Fri, 23 Jan 2009 03:08:00 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Red Dot Episode #16 - The Strip Flip]]></title>
<description>
<![CDATA[
The neon lights flashed nonstop, coins dropped into machines, sirens wailed, we heard people cheering and often cursing.    Yup we were in Las Vegas.   However the "strip" where we were located on this particular evening was a humble commercial mall located just outside the faux pyramids and counterfeit gondolas.  It's a place where nostalgia and art come together: a museum where you leave chance behind, embrace the din, and put your eye-to-hand skills to the ultimate test.   Overwhelmed best describes walking into the Pinball Hall of Fame.   Where to begin?   Somewhere between bemusement and nostalgia we managed to find a few machines that returned us to our childhood. Depositing quarter after quarter, it wasn't hard to spend a couple of hours here. And even though I couldnât manage to get my initials on the TRON hi-score board, I figure I still came out ahead.  Wether your into the classics like pinball or your nostalgic tastes lies in a game of Donkey Kong, it's easy to find something to play in the over 200 machines jammed into the exhibition space.   No matter where your aesthetic falls, this museum has a something for everyone.  -Alicia
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<link>http://studioreddot.libsyn.com/index.php?post_id=417189#</link>
<pubDate>Mon, 29 Dec 2008 22:11:00 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Red Dot Episode #15 - Riverside Antiquity]]></title>
<description>
<![CDATA[
We almost didn't go.   Another 22-hour train ride, this time through China's deep countryside. I remember thinking it would be easier to just go back to Shanghai.  I kept my thoughts to myself.   Maybe it was the visual in my mind's eye of a city on stilts, a green river flowing through its center. The image enchanted me and this new curiosity began to restructure the itinerary.   Our early morning arrival into Feng Huang seemed underwhelming at first.  Perhaps it was the long journey, the grey morning sky, or a city that had not woken up yet. Thoughts of Shanghai crept back into my head.  But, it didn't take long to discover that the beauty of Feng Huang lies in its primitive simplicity.   Wooden houses on stilts, uneven stone steps, narrow alleyways all within an ancient walled city. The overcast skies turned the city into a giant soft box of light, making the colors amidst grey buildings pop.   The Tuo Jiang River not only carried tourists in boats but also served as a laundry source, kitchen basin and even bath, its waters rushing through the town at a fast pace but leaving the city seemingly untouched by time.   We almost didn't go, but thankfully we did.
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<link>http://studioreddot.libsyn.com/index.php?post_id=410289#</link>
<pubDate>Sat, 06 Dec 2008 14:32:00 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Red Dot Episode #14 - Kiwi Whitewater]]></title>
<description>
<![CDATA[
On this south pacific island nation God experiments in grand yet Lilliputian proportions.    As I traveled across this enchanted country, my American sense of space and distance compressed.  We drove quickly to our destination, from valley to peak in mere minutes.  But around the summit: a vista that seemed as if it was a hidden and forgotten mystical kingdom.  Herds of snow-white sheep grazed by the thousands across the sloping hills. As those white waves of animals descended into a calm river bank to drink, it was easy to understand why this was the desired location for the fantasy movie trilogy "Lord of the Rings."  The challenge of rafting down the steeper parts of the Rangitata River removed any earlier diminutive impression from the landscape and returned it to me.  Floating through this watery path of New Zealand nature was at once both exhilarating and humbling!  Gulliver's travels were never quite like this.  -Matthew
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<link>http://studioreddot.libsyn.com/index.php?post_id=397818#</link>
<pubDate>Wed, 29 Oct 2008 15:43:00 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Red Dot Episode #13 - The Extraterrestrial Highway]]></title>
<description>
<![CDATA[
I thought I saw it in the distance, but I wasn't sure. The day was windy with dust, plastic bags, and my hair, flying in every direction. I couldn't be certain of a lot of things in front of my eyes that afternoon.  Leaving Las Vegas late morning and driving for hour after hour through compelling monotonous landscape, it seemed as if we might have passed our destination just outside Area 51. But slowing down I caught a glimpse of the hand painted sign confirming this was indeed Rachael, Nevada: Humans-78, aliens - ?  Hungry, we pulled into the Lil'A'LeeInn Cafe. The snowbird waitress nervously confirmed the order twice.  She only worked there 2 months out of the year. The door opened and closed in steady intervals as locals and curious travels enter the room with expressions of relaxed familiarity to unfamiliar excitement.   "It's just awful. The winds are over 55 mph today" a local declares, followed by, "Gimme a shot of Tequila."  Too soon we were leaving Rachel behind. I echoed a comment I heard earlier by an earnest out-of-towner, "Well this was definitely well worth the drive!" And before Rachel faded too far into the rear view mirror, we couldn't depart without one last photo in front of the infamous "Exterterestrial" sign... or... could... we... ?  -Alicia
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<link>http://studioreddot.libsyn.com/index.php?post_id=375002#</link>
<pubDate>Fri, 05 Sep 2008 16:18:00 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Red Dot Episode #12 - The Rafts of Spirits]]></title>
<description>
<![CDATA[
Typically, we allow ambiguous sentences in our guidebook to dictate our journeys. This particular afternoon we found words to the effect of: "this small country lake becomes aglow with lanterns that appear to float in air." We were sold.  Intuitively, we knew it would be beautiful. Logically, we knew finding it wouldnât be as easy.  The train out of Kyotoâs city center was packed tight during the busy Obon, a festive tribute to Japan's ancestors. As we disembarked at the last stop, the crowds rapidly dispersed and soon we were wandering through neighborhood streets alone.   Many âDoko desu kaâs?â (where is it) and rice fields later, I was ready to give up, but a mirage of blue in the distance gave hope. Waving farewell to our scarecrow companions we trekked on.   When we arrived, the scene was chaotic. People hurrying with crates piled atop with paper bags, distant chanting, and families scurrying to claim spots at the lakes edge. Overwhelmed and excited with the desire to capture each moment, I reached for my camera. My Nikon fell from my hands. I heard the shutterâs final âclickâ as it violently hit the asphalt.  The Nikon had just joined the spirit realm it would have been documenting.  A blessing in disguise.   Without my expensive camera, I instead quietly watched the sky slowly change its hues of blue to black, and the wind guide colorful lanterns on the lake.  At 8:10 the distant mountainside was lit with torches to create the Kanji symbol for gate. The canvas painted before me was magical.   Experiencing Japanâs annual Obon on this countryside lake was not ambiguous at all. The images captured in my mind that evening created an impression more profound than any photograph.  --Alicia
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<link>http://studioreddot.libsyn.com/index.php?post_id=371677#</link>
<pubDate>Mon, 25 Aug 2008 16:35:00 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Red Dot Episode #11 - Through the Golden Gate]]></title>
<description>
<![CDATA[
Light in Gdansk rises on the horizon at 3am in summertime.  Only a few hours earlier had I laid my head down for rest at a Polish hotel. Now I was struggling to pull my socks over my feet. I complain internally.  If I've seen one middle-century-european fresco I've seen them all, dangnabit,  "Unngh," is about the most verbally articulate I can be at this hour.  By 4am Alicia and I are walking north to the old quarter of the city.  I know before I arrive that it's a wonderful sight: medieval towers stand tall against the shore of the MotÅawa river, re-constructions of beautiful buildings from the time of the Hanseatic League, a modern riot of 13th century architecture.  Yet, as we continue forward under fading starlight, all I want is the hard starchy pillow back at the hotel room.  I'm reassured once again that the a.m. is going to be the ideal time to experience the familiar DÅugi Targ and "Royal Road."  My grumpy skepticism is not interested.  But then... The sun began to appear, warming the cool pockets of shadows with long soft light.  For the next hour we share the fresh illumination in Gdansk's old town with the ancient walls of the Golden Gate, the processional paths of historical European kings, and relative silence.  The past competes with the new millennium for these moments.  It is victorious.  Gradually, the town wakes.  A half-dozen bicyclists or so glide through our shots, an alarm clock placed in an open window goes ignored, and matrons shuffle to market, plastic bags in hand.  Still, in that time between starlight and bright morning, the diffused visuals and quiet corners of legacy returned for us.  --Matt
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<link>http://studioreddot.libsyn.com/index.php?post_id=355115#</link>
<pubDate>Wed, 02 Jul 2008 17:04:00 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Red Dot Episode #10 - City of The Dead]]></title>
<description>
<![CDATA[
Everything we read told us not to go alone. They told us not to go at night. Brochures admonished to always enter with a group of people (safety in numbers). Don't wander astray! Curious warnings indeed for St Louis Cemetery No. 1 in New Orleans.  Heeding the cautions we took off anyway. I have to admit that when we first walked in - alone, wandering astray - I was more than a little nervous and honestly somewhat creeped out. The narrow alleyways, tilted tombstones, long shadows and muddied pathways knotted my imagination.  Slowly, gradually, the grounds and mausoleums shifted away from sinister. I became a little more comfortable with the surroundings, I released my grip on Matt, looked more into my viewfinder and less over my shoulder.  For me, cemeteries have always piqued an interest and created comfort. They are celebrations of lives and places of histories. So as the winds parted the clouds and revealed blue skies, the titled white marble tombstones looked more like well-worn jewels. The narrow alleyways became a maze of discovery. The shadows gave contrast to my photos. The muddied paths created the perfect texture for old and new shoe prints.  So heed the warnings, but don't ever get creeped out.  -Alicia
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<link>http://studioreddot.libsyn.com/index.php?post_id=347139#</link>
<pubDate>Fri, 06 Jun 2008 17:05:00 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Red Dot Episode #9 - Sakura Snapshots]]></title>
<description>
<![CDATA[
Pink petals of velvet snow shrouded the April morning.  I witnessed the wind carry soft pastel folds across the skies... and as they covered the ground in a light blanket of pink. Sakura snow.  This season of warm color continued to romance me in a torrid yet all-too-brief liaison.  The petal pathways on the ground were leading to the end, but the dawning of my new love affair was still a fresh recollection.  My first Cherry Blossom season started when I overheard some ladies telling each other they had spotted an opening bud on a tree near National Hospital, their voices full of temporal excitement. Eager to see for myself I grabbed a camera and headed out. Discovering the location, my courtship began. I photographed every stage of the trees transformation, from tiny florets to full blossoms and finally green leaves. But the most memorable time was towards the end of the engagement as the flowers began to drop and envelop the ground, creating a sensual cloak of snowflake blossoms.  Some consider it sad to see such a relationship end, but impermanence infatuates me. And two weeks after arrival, this new suitor was gone. My Sakura had moved northward, charming anew. Vanished, but leaving my restive ardor behind, anticipating the next embrace.  -Alicia
]]></description>
<link>http://studioreddot.libsyn.com/index.php?post_id=325387#</link>
<pubDate>Sun, 06 Apr 2008 03:58:00 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Red Dot Episode #8 - Isolated Outback]]></title>
<description>
<![CDATA[
Alone with white sand and white noise.    Losing myself by design.  The Indian Ocean's waves poured warm salt foam across my bare feet.  I had been wandering along the coast for over an hour, capturing images of the seascape.  The view gradually changed, but never became any less impressive.  The isolation crept up on me, much like my languid pace.  Turquoise blue, sea turtles, and the tracking sun was my company. I hadn't seen another soul for hours and I wouldn't have it any other way.  This is the typical beach experience in Exmouth Australia, and the seclusion of the afternoon made it my own; wonderfully unique.  These moments accumulated over the next handful of days as I explored the western coast of the island continent.  Even when touring with a small group of friends, the isolation remained, impossible to escape.  The sweep of the landscapes and the expanses humbled me.  That experience remained as I returned to the modernity and aggressive cacophony of urban life, far away from the brush and shores of the outback.  I long to get lost once again, distant vastness on the edge of the world.    Exmouth is still there there to hide me.  -Matthew
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<link>http://studioreddot.libsyn.com/index.php?post_id=317078#</link>
<pubDate>Thu, 13 Mar 2008 16:36:00 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Red Dot Episode #7 - Coaching Canines]]></title>
<description>
<![CDATA[
"The Last Great Race on Earth" has a starting line, but that line seemed a long way from where I was standing; surrounded by a howling pack of grungy mutts on a warm and muddy mountain plateau.  "These are the best dogs for the job," I was assured. "All they want to do is run," Matt Hayashida claimed while rubbing a torn ear on one of the pack leaders. Matt is the owner and breeder of the clan that was howling in anticipation. "We keep these dogs in training year-round."  The scene was yelping chaos as his favorite collection of dogs were harnessed and attached to a metal-go-cart contraption. Eight people piled onto the buggy. I couldn't imagine the train of canines moving this unwieldy apparatus with any sort of energy, but Matt recommended I hold on tight. He recommended it three times.  Good thing.  This particular dog team was in training for the Iditarod. Alaska's winter race spectacle runs from Anchorage to Nome on the western Bering Sea coast covering over 1150 miles in the middle of the arctic winter. The milder summer of Juneau and a wheeled cart turned out to be hardly a challenge for our accomplished pack.  "Get it! Get it! Get It!" sent the yelps into the background as the dogs suddenly lurched forward. I went the opposite direction and became, rather quickly, very personable with a housewife from Sacramento who was also along for the ride. Her parental grip saved me from spilling backwards out of the now surprisingly supersonic chariot.  "Once they start it's hard to wind 'em down," Matt had mentioned earlier.  And, for me, imagining the Iditarod starting line in Anchorage suddenly became a whole lot easier.  -Matthew Nothelfer
]]></description>
<link>http://studioreddot.libsyn.com/index.php?post_id=310152#</link>
<pubDate>Sat, 23 Feb 2008 01:35:00 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Red Dot Episode #6 - Towers on the Seine]]></title>
<description>
<![CDATA[
If you're a tourist like me who prefers walking to bus rides and subways, then a hike inside the City of Lights is perfectly historic; especially if you start at Notre Dame where all the roads, as well as the city, originated.  Finding the first Parisian island in the middle of the Seine was probably a bit easier back when the Romans were stomping around, but in modern day Paris you best know how to read a map to figure out where Notre Dame is exactly.  Sometimes topographical skills suffer in the morning hours, so sitting in a cafÃ sampling cheeses and wine before noon will help you get your bearings. Once grounded, a simple hand gesture to the right by your waiter will clearly show the buttresses of the cathedral as it stands (in front of your re-focused view) just over the river.  Wandering to the other icons of Paris should be as the French say, "morceau de gateau," or a piece of cake.  In theory, yes, the Eiffel Tower peaking through the skyline and the Louvre's internationally known glass pyramid should be easy enough to locate, but with wanton feet it's not always so obvious. Even Moulin Rouge, though a few blocks from your hotel, might seem to evade you for days on end. And of course, The Arch de Triomphe from the south of Champs-ÃlysÃes looks like an easy walk, but at this point who has the energy!?  --Alicia
]]></description>
<link>http://studioreddot.libsyn.com/index.php?post_id=303869#</link>
<pubDate>Tue, 05 Feb 2008 01:11:00 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Red Dot Episode #5 - Stone Souls]]></title>
<description>
<![CDATA[
Bits of red would jump into the corner of my eye the first time I visited Japan; glimpses around corners and behind modest doorways.  I saw that familiar color again on my second trip. I began to look closer at the vibrant crimson hats and bibs adorning cherubean stones.  On my third visit to Japan, the personal exploration of various faces, sizes, shapes and meanings of the Jizo intrigued and impressed me even more. "Who would take the time to warm these humble stones?" "Why?"  I learned more. I asked people about the meanings and I even found myself reaching for my camera every time I can across one.  I was reaching for my camera a lot.   Once I inquired, it did not take long for me to learn that Jizo are a very special part of Japanese culture. They offer protection from evil, comfort for losses and hope for our dreams. Now when I see the statues I am comforted.  I am reassured by their faces.  I know their meanings.  I understand their power. We continue our Japanese photo series this month and our second edition shares with you the color, the faces, the clothing and the meanings of Jizo.  A special thank you to Kyoko Yanaso, who's help, enthusiasm, and quest for knowledge helped make this episode possible.
]]></description>
<link>http://studioreddot.libsyn.com/index.php?post_id=300028#</link>
<pubDate>Thu, 24 Jan 2008 23:48:00 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Red Dot Episode #4 - Traditional Patterns]]></title>
<description>
<![CDATA[
Textures, patterns and colors seem like they are haphazardly thrown together. Combinations that at first seem unfathomable come alive with grace and fluidity. Would you ever put indigo blue and pink orchids together with florescent orange and green embroidery? I couldn't, wouldn't even know how to, but witnessing a Kimono ensemble come alive is a thing of beauty, wonder, magic and most of all Japanese tradition.   A month and a half after arriving in Japan, I shot my first images of a kimono. I remember the mid-December night that I watched my friend Noriko tie an obi, the heavy broad sash that becomes the Kimonos belt, with precision and grace. At that moment I said to myself, "before I leave Kure, Im going to do a Kimono series". Almost a year to the date of that thought, the series is complete.   This special photographic podcast is 1 in a series of 4 photo essays about Japanese culture. After living in Japan for over a year I wanted to share some of the things that amazed me, made me wonder or simply entertained my visual senses. I hope you enjoy this first episode on Kimonos and see how wonderfully beautiful the women in the textured patterns are.  --Alicia
]]></description>
<link>http://studioreddot.libsyn.com/index.php?post_id=289496#</link>
<pubDate>Thu, 20 Dec 2007 21:53:00 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Red Dot Episode #3 - The Masked City Part 1]]></title>
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<![CDATA[
If you visit Venice you probably leave with your own story of disorientation among the canals and foot streets. Confused wandering can be frustrating, but getting lost offers certain rewards.  Walking aimlessly, and most likely in circles, through Venice we strolled into a rather strange studio, OltreConfine.  It did not offer traditional Venetian Carnival costuming, but rather masks and designs inspired by pagan mythology and modern comic books. Artist Maurizio Di Celestino was quietly modest, telling us of dreams to create contemporary artworks, and how he made his dreams into reality opening his boutique.  From new to old, Maurizio put us in contact with local designer, Francesco Briggi of Atelier Pietro Longhi.  Visiting his studio was a journey into the past.  Watching his artists put handmade details into authentic period clothing proved that both shops were different, but they were also what Venice and Carnival are known for: a departure from reality, the opportunity for the metaphysical.  Sometimes being lost will help you find exactly what you looking for.  --Alicia
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<link>http://studioreddot.libsyn.com/index.php?post_id=281721#</link>
<pubDate>Sun, 25 Nov 2007 19:30:00 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Red Dot Episode #2 - Moto Milan]]></title>
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Two wheels through the heart of Milan.  Fun stuff for a scooting go 'round.  Many times my eyes were closed, and my knees were usually squeezed tight as we crisscrossed through traffic. I struggled to keep my bag balanced in front of me. I really did try not to bump my helmet at every stop. I swear I did. It took a little getting used to but hey, if the Italians can do it gracefully, well I can at least I can try too.  Seeing Milan on a scooter is thrilling and surprisingly comfortable. It gives you freedom and the luxury of speed. Riding a scooter also implies in some sense that you know what your doing. Luckily, the helmet shields uncertain looks from the other drivers.  Catching glimpses of small neighborhoods, taking a 10 minute espresso break at a corner cafe, noticing those small shops that you might miss if you stayed on four wheels or long after the feet give out, what better way to discover The Bone Chapel or Bar Metro?  As a photographer, experiencing Milan from this perspective was exciting and challenging. Capturing the city from the back of a moving vehicle is a blur. A fast paced, nonstop flow, and a great experience to be right in the middle of it.  It's not an easy task. The roads dead end. Pedestrians are everywhere. You have to hang on to your belongings and be constantly aware of your surroundings. It's not an easy task at all... and I was the passenger!  --Alicia   
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<link>http://studioreddot.libsyn.com/index.php?post_id=263764#</link>
<pubDate>Sun, 07 Oct 2007 00:14:00 GMT</pubDate>
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<title><![CDATA[Red Dot Episode #1 - Osorezan The Gateway to Hell]]></title>
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<![CDATA[
Eerie. Sulfuric. Hissing. A few of the words used in our travel guide, and more intriguing than those of a typical Japanese destination. We headed north to the Aomori prefecture to witness these curious adjectives first hand.  Once in Mutsu, we boarded the local bus to Mt. Osorezen. The road up the mountain proved scenic. Subtly, quietly, slow chanting was piped through the buses intercom, electronic ghosts in the crackling of broken speakers. A glance at the only other foreigner we'd seen for half a week brought a moment of comfort as we shared a similar edition of the Lonely Planet. Comrades via travelogue!  The brakes squeaked in discordant harmony and there was an unannounced, (or perhaps announced - who knows) roadside stop to a mountain spring. The locals escaped the bus to fill waiting cups with cool water. Willing to try anything we participated in drinking. A sudden flash of potential intestinal regret, but we shrugged it off and returned to the crackling.  As the bus rolled to the top of the mountain the initial impression was normalcy, but then the breeze picked up and you could hear a squeaking rising in volume with the swirls of the gusts. We walked onto temple grounds and the pinwheels left behind by grieving parents came into view, thousands of colorful sticks whirling, some intact, some forced apart, others lying sideways on the rock cairns. The images viewed through a lens seemed limitless.  A few shooting hours later, hungry and completely windblown, we entered the only cafe for a cool ice cream treat. Was it ice cream? We don't know. It was cold... sorta. Paying the bill the waitress asked hastily, "Bus-Ka?" Without our answer she ran out of the restaurant flagging down the latest return ride into town. Many "X" hand gestures later we convinced her we were not ready to leave.  Going back for a second pass, there was still plenty of viewfinder and shutter exertion remaining. A few hundred exposures later the light turned into magic hour. Perfect! Unfortunately it was time to catch the final bus to Mutsu which was anxiously idling in the parking lot 500 meters away. Grabbing our gear and making a run for it we both saw the same "must have" image. Only one of us could get it while the other held the bus.  "You can do it, get the shot!"  I ran to the eerie statues silhouetted against the hissing sulphur sky. I fired the shutter 3 final times. Best shots of the day.  --Alicia     Mountain of dread  Osorezan  Sai-No-Kawara
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<link>http://studioreddot.libsyn.com/index.php?post_id=256642#</link>
<pubDate>Mon, 17 Sep 2007 11:00:00 GMT</pubDate>
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