a photographer's argot

Harvest

2012-02-11T03:09:00.004-05:00

Nearly every Saturday morning I go to the local farmers market to get my 10 Fuji apples. There's all the usual stuff. Lots of root vegetables, overpriced breads, organic this and that. Jams and granola. Expensive honey and oddly overpriced cheese at the tune of $20+ per lb. There's even a pickle man.

Last week I was struck by the rich colors and textures of the mushrooms, garlic and an unexplainable box of onion skins lying on the ground. How and why did the skin come off? For whatever reason they were there, I found them beautiful.

Me & JLo

2012-02-10T02:27:00.006-05:00

Today I was shooting still life photos of beauty products at the Condé Nast/Fairchild studio on 46th St. and Third Ave. I poked my head into the scanning/retouching department to say hello to my friend Alex (top notch retoucher), who was finishing up an image of Jennifer Lopez on his screen. I smiled and said, "Hey, I shot that." He thought I was joking, then realizing I was serious he said, "Wow, what a coincidence." While admiring each other's skills, we caught up on the latest gossip and publishing news.

Technical note: The dark empty space to the left was added later to make room for headline and type.

Later Alex walked into the studio and handed me a pre-press test print. It was a very nice gesture but what do I do with a 16 x 19 print of JLo? Sign it and sell it on Ebay for $12.

What Rhymes with "Mitt"

2012-02-05T23:55:00.001-05:00

The New York Times reported that the band Survivor made Newt Gingrich stop using its song "Eye of the Tiger" for his campaign. And, Mitt Romney was asked to stop using Somali born K'Naan's song "Wavin' Flag". Don't you find it funny that rock and pop musicians are rarely if ever supportive of Republican candidates? What does that tell you? To add to that list, in earlier campaigns, Jackson Brown sued (and won) a suit against John McCain for using "Running on Empty". David Byrne of the Talking Heads sued Charlie Christ for using "Road to Nowhere". Ann and Nancy Wilson of Heart stopped Sarah Palin (moron) from using "Barracuda". Tom Petty made Michele Bachmann (moron) stop using "American Girl". Don Henley of the Eagles forced Chuck DeVore to stop using two songs, "Boys of Summer" and "All She Wants to Do Is Dance".

All of these idiots used these songs without permission, stupidly assuming the artists would have no problem with it.

Interesting that Fleetwood Mac let Bill Clinton use "Don't Stop", with its lyrics "thinking about tomorrow", without any complaint.

But, oddly enough, country music star Toby Keith let Gov. Rick Perry use "American Ride".

So, what does this tell you? Well, it tells me that talented, liberal minded songwriters obviously want no part of the Republican agenda and refuse to allow them to use their songs. And, middle American, blue collar, sports loving, bible thumping Republicans must turn to equally small minded country artists for their campaign musical needs. Although apparently not very often....

And finally: The Republicans are seriously going to settle on Mitt Romney, the abortion hating, flip-flopping, religious Mormon lunatic, to be their candidate? They can't come up with anything better than this idiot in their entire pool of presidential possibilities? Fucking ridiculous.

The New York Giants won tonight. Yeehooo... Go team!! Thank God I missed it.

Hearts & Wheelie

2012-02-04T00:05:00.003-05:00

The other night while walking to the subway after having dinner with a friend, I heard loud motorcycles and spun around just in time to grab a blurry snap of a guy doing a wheelie through Times Square, going about 50mph. A second later, a police car pulled out from a side street trying to block the other 10 or so bikers who were behind the guy. They all gunned their engines and swerved around the cop. He didn't bother to pursue them.

What says Valentine's Day better than this?

"Okay Diego, take these flimsy wooden sticks, this wire and these old red Christmas lights and make a big heart shape out of them. Now go hang the whole thing out front. Got it?"

Aaaahhh, the joys of living in the Dominican ghetto.

Beautiful Things

2012-02-02T03:18:00.005-05:00

I'm probably not supposed to say anything but I had a GREAT photo shoot with a certain celeb yesterday. I was expecting the worst after my Gaga experience and had an minor anxiety attack every time I thought about the possibilities of a repeat. Thankfully, it couldn't have gone more smoothly. Hanging out in a little boutique hotel suite for an hour, sipping coffee and eating oatmeal raisin cookies. She was so cool. Sweet, elegant, accommodating and professional, and with zero attitude. I knew I had it on the third frame. She was awesome. I'm smitten! That's when I love my job.

Just a snap during the interview with point-&-shoot camera.

Tonight my beautiful friend Katherine and I went to see the movie "Hugo." The most visually stimulating movie I've ever seen in my life, bar none. And, my first real 3D experience. Holy shit, the whole movie was like watching it through one of those old View-Masters you played with as a kid.... Incredible. Could the glasses look any goofier?

Afterwards we went for Thai at Yum-Yum on 8th Ave. Katherine pulled a bean sprout out of the Pad Thai that looked exactly like a tiny whale. Almost impossible to get a shot of it in that dark restaurant. A very fun night.

Simple Things

2012-01-30T10:30:00.003-05:00

The perfect snack, breakfast or addition to a meal. A wonderful friend recently (re)introduced me to the simplicity and perfection of taking a ripe avocado sliced with a fresh lime squeezed over the top and dash of sea salt... Perfect. I'm hooked.Walking along the Boat Pond recently, the sky turned a beautiful fiery red. I never get tired of Central Park.

Needle in a Haystack

2012-01-27T13:03:00.004-05:00

Last night my friend Laura and I experienced another evening of bad art. Hitting Chelsea galleries is a hoot, but rarely results in an inspiring night. Finding good art is like finding a needle in a haystack.

The first gallery offered tents that were scented. One smelled like grass, another like exotic spices and another like an overly perfumed old lady from Sarasota. Nothing inside the tents, just aroma. "Scent sculptures", this made us laugh. Here's an idea: For a LOT less money, go to Costco, buy a simple outdoor party tent ($100, tops) and put a scented candle in it. There, you made art.

Another gallery. Tiny clay sculptures mounted on flimsy wire sticking out of the wall. Amateurish and childlike. Such bullshit.

Laura focuses in on a brilliant piece

Now here's pure genius. This piece was entitled "Brick Girl". Made of two bricks, wool and ponytail holders. Yours for only $1800. Seriously?

We both agreed that we are going to have t-shirts made up with the word "Really?" silk screened on the front in big letters. When we go to such a show, we'll introduce ourselves to the artist and without saying a word, point to our shirts. Mouth "Really?" silently.

The highlight of the evening was great Thai food and good conversation around the corner afterward.

The Worthwhile Journey

2012-01-25T03:10:00.004-05:00

I hopped on the A train yesterday, transferring to the L train, venturing out to Bushwick into an industrial area deep in Brooklyn. Normally I wouldn't put forth so much effort (sad to say) but I felt compelled to create something. I didn't want to just shoot someone for the sake of shooting. Besides, I was promised that if I made the long hike, a reward of great images was guaranteed. The train took well over and hour, followed by a 10-minute walk carrying 35lbs of cameras, lights and stands. I mumbled to myself "this better be worth it" as I trekked through the rain.

Walking into the stark, sparsely furnished apartment I had serious reservations. What was I to do in a bare apartment? After the makeup was applied and the bits of clothing decided on, we began to shoot. Within the first 20 frames I knew the journey was worth the effort. Kori never disappoints. Ever. She never gets tired and has boundless energy. I'm so appreciative. And, as a bonus, we went to a nearby spot afterwards for my favorite tacos. A perfect afternoon.

Cat & Dog

2012-01-23T23:37:00.005-05:00

West Village Cat

Happy dog

I received no positive feedback on my last "sports" post. I did however receive some grief via phone calls and emails. Seems that a lot of people really enjoy sports. Who knew? Even though a blog is often used to express one's thoughts, I suppose I should keep certain opinions to myself.

I'm sorry if I offended anyone. I'm also sorry to all those creatively challenged people who don't have anything more interesting to do than stare at a box for 4 hours watching grown men chase each other around. But hey, to each his own.

Hey, that didn't sound like a sincere apology.... Really? Sorry.

Sports vs Models

2012-01-21T00:50:00.008-05:00

Lovely Sophie. Photographed during a football game.

Today my friend Kristi called and asked (jokingly) where I was going to watch the big Giants game Sunday night. I told her (sarcastically) that I had already purchased a helmet and matching jersey for the event and was researching the best sports bars with giant screen TVs to watch the game.

The other night while on my way to have dinner with friends, I happened to walk by a large sports bar on 33rd Street. Hearing screaming, I paused in front of the window, peering in as if I were watching some fraternal ritual. Everyone was pointing and yelling at six large screen TVs hanging from the ceiling. These were mostly grown men, between the ages of 25 and 60, most appeared drunk and nearly all of them wore blue jerseys or hats with emblems on them. I suddenly felt a rush of euphoric superiority. Who are these goons? Is it really that fun to sit and watch 22 guys in tight pants chase around a piece of inflated leather for four+ hours? Do these men have lives? Families? Wives? Do they have a single creative bone in their bodies? Obviously not. How could anyone enjoy this weird testosterone-fueled clusterfuck? None of my friends watch this crap. Then again, they're all smart, creative types. I'm truly baffled. On the news after the last game I saw interviews from local bars. Most of the people they spoke with had very thick New Jersey accents and sounded like they had the IQ of a mildly retarded person. "Yeah...I'd give my whole friggin week's paycheck to get a ticket to the next game," one woman screamed. Then, "Go Giants!" Thrusting her fist into the air. All the other jersey-clad retards cheered in unison.

I've tried to watch a game maybe twice. I got about 17 minutes in each time and had to run out of the room.

Here's a test: For all the artistically challenged bozos who actually like watching football, basketball, baseball or any other sport, do this: Find a pretty girl, a model, maybe even your wife or girlfriend, borrow a digital camera from a friend and get a hotel room. Now, for way LESS than a ticket to a game (including those 10 beers and travel) you can pay her modeling fee, pay for the room and still have enough money left over to eat dinner. Now, aim the camera at her and take some nice photos. It's fun, really. And, I bet if you ever actually do this, you'll NEVER toss your money down the toilet on some douchebag football game again. I promise you, it's FAR more fun than hanging around with 200 drunk assholes screaming at a TV.

Or, if that doesn't work, try this, go to a gallery, see a great movie, go see a band.... shit, for that matter, read a classic book. I promise there are many more cool and fun things to do than watching a bunch of men slam their heads together chasing around a stupid ball.

Lastly, long ago a friend who loved sports called me a "homo" for not liking football. I laughed and said he was the one watching a bunch of guys in tight pants grabbing each other for 4 hours, so who's calling who the homo?

If I'm watching sports, I'm watching women's gymnastics.

More City Snaps

2012-01-19T02:45:00.005-05:00

I think I posted this awhile ago. Most people just make little posters for lost animals.

Hazy morning on the West Side.

There was a store on 7th Ave. with this most inappropriate sign: "30%-70% Off Most Shit"? I think it's gone now. At least the sign is anyway.

Various Wonders and Curiosities

2012-01-17T01:13:00.004-05:00

I really love Fuji apples. When I can drag myself out of my apartment early enough on Saturday mornings, I go to the local farmers market and stock up on them, buying 10 lbs or so. Incredibly sweet and crisp, better than candy.

Stepping onto the subway I nearly stepped on this origami bird lying on the floor. I Googled "origami birds" and discovered this is the most common shape, the crane.

Did someone in the above apartment leave his shoes there on purpose? Are these an offering for whomever might want them? Curious sight.

The "low pants" thing is getting out of control.

Observations

2012-01-15T02:52:00.005-05:00

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did.” ~ Mark Twain

Nice stenciling job in the Village.

Curious passenger on 8th Ave.

She smiled as if she knew me.

New window treatment in progress, 6th Ave.

The Doodle

2012-01-13T02:28:00.004-05:00

Today a friend and I went to the Ihop in "Da Bronx." It wasn't crowded but we quickly made the observation that we were the only white people in the place, including all customers and staff. Not that we cared, it was just an observation. We waited an unusually long time for service and finally a waiter helped us with our order. As we sat there in comfortable silence I began to doodle on the upside down placemat. As I did, I remembered how much I loved to draw one summer as a kid and how I never took it past the most basic, amateurish point. Most everything I've tried to master, such as wire bending, playing piano, painting, playing tablas (Indian drums), whittling wood, some European flute thing I bought once, the yo-yo, playing harmonica and even golf (twice, maybe), all faded away quickly due to frustration. I thought all of these things would be somewhat easy and I fully expected to master each of them very quickly. I obviously didn't. With some, such as guitar playing, I got to the point where I could play a tune to a friend without them wincing... or perhaps they did but were good at hiding it.

Doodling on the place mat made me extremely aware of my past lack of commitment. My inability to put forth the effort it takes to overcome the frustrations and diligence of practice and the perseverance it takes to be good at anything. I gave up soon enough on these interests for my ego to be saved thinking I would be lousy at them soon after the first stroke of the pencil or toot of that flute. Not giving it long enough to be considered a failure.

In my defense, I did pursue photography and stuck with it with the zeal and passion like nothing else I've ever even come close to sticking with. I guess that's something. I can't imagine life without taking photographs.

Maybe you only get one thing you can do well. Another thing would take away from that singular talent and would ultimately compromise it. So, maybe it is best that I sucked at all those other things. Perhaps that's it, you only get to do one thing well.

As we were getting ready to leave the waiter looked down and said, "I'm gonna keep that when you leave." I was embarrassed and put it in my bag.

New Yorkers Agree!

2012-01-11T02:34:00.005-05:00

While home over the holidays I stopped by the cemetery to see my mother's gravestone, which I hadn't seen yet. My father picked it out and helped with the design. The stone carving people did a great job. It's simple, tasteful and mom would be proud.

I still can't wrap my head around the fact that she's not here anymore.

I was expecting a semi-shit storm from my last post regarding friends and family, mumbling about my negative attitude. I heard nothing from anyone. Then, friends from here in the city started calling me saying they had the EXACT same experience. They also moved here from some boring place and nobody came to visit them either. Are we all unwanted runaways that people are glad to be rid of and regret our visits? Or, are our loved ones back home just uncaring, phobic people too scared or too lazy to make the trek? Unanimously we all think the latter. My best friend since high school has never set foot in the city since I've lived here. How is that possible?

My Holiday Joy

2012-01-05T11:37:00.010-05:00

I'm back from my journey(s). First I went to Virginia to spend some time with my family and friends. A bit stressful for many reasons. It's very hard (and annoying) to try to coordinate around other people's schedules. When they work, when they can fit me in for a visit, when they prefer to eat and sleep, what restaurants they like. On top of that, I cracked a tooth eating a chocolate chip cookie of all things. Went to a dentist who took an X-ray, frowned and said, "You need a root canal and a crown. It'll be $2991.00." Lovely. Or, I can have it yanked out of my head for around $100. Either way, he let me know it's going to start hurting soon. I've weighed my options and I'm thinking I might have it pulled. Then I'll go to Home Depot, buy a small piece of wood, carve a small bicuspid out of it and paint it white... Like George Washington. Really? They can't fix a small molar for under 3 grand?

Anyway, it's very apparent that I annoy a few people on my visits home so I'll try to work on that this year (good luck with that). Or, perhaps those who mumble under their breath about my "attitude" should consider that for the past 17+ years it's always me that comes to see them. I don't see any of my friends or family dragging 100lbs of crap 300 miles to visit me. Very few have ever even attempted a trip to "big and scary" New York City. Come to think of it, no one has ever come solely for a visit except my friend Amber from Vancouver. The few that have come, incorporated seeing me into another reason to be here, such as work or seeing a Broadway show.

And then they scratch their heads and wonder about my "negative" attitude and annoyed disposition. It's easy to point fingers when you're sitting in your own comfy house with your thumb up your ass doing things on your own schedule. Try living out of a suitcase for a week waiting on people to make time for you. And, who make very little effort comparatively.

Here's a challenge to all: Get off your fat, lazy, boring, mundane, suburban asses, pack a bag, drag it up to NYC on a bus, train or plane, followed by an hour long subway ride up to the Dominican ghetto and 7+ hours later show me your cheery attitude when someone can't fit you into their demanding schedule.

Assholes! Yes, that means you....

On a brighter note. On the 29th I flew down to Atlanta where I met with some non-boring adventuresome friends and drove up through Kentucky and Tennessee. We made plans to go to a few churches way off the beaten path. My friend Kim did a spectacular job coordinating the whole thing. The first two services we watched were like nothing I'd ever seen before. Within 5 minutes the music was blaring, feet were stomping, tamborines pounded and people were wailing in tongues. Soon, the snakes were out of their boxes. Some services were very warm and inviting. Others were more ritualistic and dark. From a photojournalism standpoint all of it was amazing.

I already feel the need to go back.

My Upper Room

2011-12-22T23:10:00.004-05:00

When I was a kid, my mother used to read a small religious publication called "The Upper Room." Thinner than a Readers Digest but about the same dimensions. There were always one or two on the coffee table
in the living room. It always had a photo on the cover of a bearded, Caucasian Jesus in a soft tan robe, looking up at a sky of parted clouds, sun rays streaming down, hands clasped, perhaps a moment just after a storm. Odd note: that's what photographers now call "God Rays," sun rays that appear while shooting a landscape.

My father has taken up reading "The Upper Room," which is now in a larger format, more like the size of a regular magazine. As a kid, I didn't want to think of heaven as "a room." It sounded too claustrophobic. I was once told by someone it was a vast, endless place, a place you could run barefoot for miles through huge fields of grass in the summer sun, without any fear of stepping on a bumble bee or a shard of glass. Heaven was the place the old people go on that movie "Cocoon." You never get old, you never get sick, you never die and every single day is sunny and beautiful.

Yesterday, while surfing the Web, I found my ideal of "The Upper Room." I can't imagine a more wonderful place. Small and quaint, filled with art books, a small bed covered with fine linens, a few thrift store decorations, a stuffed rodent or two.... Yes, this is my heaven. This is my "Upper Room."

Sophie

2011-12-20T02:00:00.007-05:00

The other night I was looking at eyewear in a store off West Broadway. The young woman waiting on me was a tall, striking, model-type with obvious mixed ethnicity. I asked her why she was helping people choose eyewear instead of modeling. After all these years of being a photographer, I'm still concerned about coming off as some lecherous creep when I meet someone I'd like to photograph. She explained that she had recently moved to NYC from California and hadn't started her modeling career here yet. I gave her my card and told her to call me if she was interested in doing a test.

Fast forward to today. My friend Todd was kind enough to let us invade his eclectic, art-filled apartment for the shoot. My friend Kristi did her makeup and helped with styling. We spent four hours snapping away. Sophie was amazing. Fun, energetic and didn't complain about my continuous shooting and adjusting the lighting.

What a great afternoon I had.

All test shoots are not created equal.

Junk Mail

2011-12-14T17:24:00.007-05:00

I have this ongoing mission of returning junk mail to the senders with a note: "Take me off your mailing list." I've been doing this for a few years and have gotten my junk mail reduced to a few pieces a month. Most of that comes from various galleries I've attended. It ends the hassle of recycling and obviously helps the environment. Not to mention that I've always wondered if all that paper actually is recycled.

A few weeks ago I gathered up all the crap that AARP has sent me for the past few months and sent it back to them in a large envelope with a stern note about their constant, annoying offers, as well as the obvious waste. Being just slightly over 40 (cough) I don't even know if I qualify to be a member of AARP.

Well, my letter was answered. I do applaud AARP for responding. I suggest everyone do the same to anyone who sends out constant junk mail. The only person who will care is your mailman... And, fuck him.

Are We in Montana?

2011-12-11T07:24:00.004-05:00

Odd scene at the BBQ restaurant in Chelsea. I wonder what interior decorator thought this was a great idea? Chelsea doesn't exactly have that Montana vibe, even with some random deer head hanging below the air vent next to the bathrooms. I also wonder who shot this deer and where?

Walking through the Village, I glanced over to see a coyote staring back at me through a closed store window. Maybe Manhattan is more like Montana than I thought.

I remember watching large flocks of birds flying around the cathedral at Notre-Dame in Paris. I've posted similar photos like these before but I find birds flying in formation both beautiful and fascinating.

Beats Digging a Ditch

2011-12-09T00:50:00.003-05:00

Tuesday I spent the day in a beautiful studio with a great crew taking photos of pretty girls in bathing suits and sunglasses. All this while snacking on gourmet catered food. I'm sure this wouldn't appeal to everyone (yes it would) but for me, life doesn't get much better than this. I have truly been blessed.

Just a Regular Joe

2011-12-05T12:46:00.005-05:00

I'm obviously not the paparazzi type, nor a stalker, nor enamoured of famous people, but I've seen John Currin and his artist wife Rachel Feinstein at my favorite little dive Mexican restaurant, Lupe's, on more than one occasion. While eating lunch with my friend Iris I secretly snapped this shot. They're just regular people like everyone else... well, except for being rich famous artists with gallery shows all over the world... and...

...The next day I was on the subway and sitting directly across from me was Michael Stipe of REM. I waited until I was off the train and then snapped a shot of him (in white hat) through the window with my crappy point-and-shoot camera. Just a regular Joe... well, except for performing for millions of people at concerts around the globe and many number one hits, and...

...I just find it odd when people like them go to regular places like people like me. One would think they'd be eating at Balthazar or Babbo or taking a limo instead of a subway.

Mr. Fashion

2011-12-01T02:58:00.003-05:00

While surfing the web this morning, I ran across this photo I took of the lovely Kardashian sisters for Women's Wear Daily. I never knew whether the photo was published until today. It ran a half page on October 10th.
Today was a bit out of the ordinary. I did a model go-see (audition) for a job I'm doing next Tuesday. The shoot will consist of 3 girls in bathing suits wearing sunglasses. Today a steady stream of models came into a conference room where I had them lying on the floor in bikinis (or, the ones who didn't receive the memo, in bras). I photographed them in a similar position to the way we'll be shooting next week. This made for a very interesting afternoon.

Fireworks/Gunfire

2011-11-29T19:24:00.005-05:00

The other night I was walking through my lovely ghetto, I mean, neighborhood, and heard what sounded like gunfire. Now, it could have been fireworks but the last time I thought that I was corrected by Roy down at the corner, who said, "No, that was a machine gun." Anyway, that got me thinking--what is it about firecrackers that is so appealing? You light the fuse of this object, quickly jump away and put your fingers in your ears blocking the very reason you lit it in the first place. It doesn't make pretty sparks or colorful flames, it just makes a loud, obnoxious noise. Again, a noise that you cover your ears to avoid. This makes no sense to me. Even though I love firecrackers.

While up on a friend's roof I snapped this shot with a point-&-shoot camera. Later played with it in Photoshop (very limited skills). Wouldn't this make a nice cover of my favorite magazine, the New Yorker?

Or

I've had Thanksgiving dinner at expensive restaurants and crappy diners and everything in between. I have to say, I think I like the diners better. The expensive places do weird things to what should be simple dishes: chutney this-and-that, cranberry-walnut-raisin-fennel-apple stuffing, shallot mashed potatoes, turkey rubbed with exotic herbs. I just want the basics. And, that's what I got at the Village Den diner on Greenwich Ave.

Tidbits

2011-11-27T02:51:00.006-05:00

Little shaft of late afternoon light in Chelsea

Laundry day in Inwood

There are constant bulletins on the subway and the news telling New Yorkers that "if you see something, say something." If you see any suspicious packages, suitcases or boxes to report it to the police. Here's the problem: you see an unattended suitcase, box or strange package a few times a day.

Last Remnants of Fall

2011-11-23T14:04:00.003-05:00

A mini rainbow. A tiny blip of color in the sky.

Reflections along the High Line.

A glimpse of geese flying over in Van Cortlandt Park.

Fall path

The last of the leaves have fallen for the most part. Now comes the bleak long winter. I like winter but I'm not looking forward to the biting winds and black slush in the streets after a snow. I have to appreciate and enjoy these last few days of fall.

Not Much to Report (obviously)

2011-11-21T11:52:00.004-05:00

I find graffiti interesting for many reasons. I understand the whole "street art" concept. A frustrated artist skulking off into the night with his cans of paint to find a barren wall or billboard to scrawl his message upon. Think Basquiat, Keith Haring. I never really got the turf war concept of "tagging" over each others street art. The 80s seemed to be the height of the graffiti era. The first time I came to New York in the 80s the red line subway cars were covered in graffiti. I sort of miss that.

This guy...now this is deep. Why bother to scribble such nonsensical bullshit on the wall? Not particularly funny--though I admit I did smile briefly when I saw it--not creative and just plain stupid. The "unimaginative graffiti artist." Well, unless he actually did shit himself.

Me standing on 6th Avenue at a bus stop. Not waiting for the bus, but using the lights of a broken lighted advertising display of the bus shelter for a quick self portrait.

Odd Night

2011-11-18T02:52:00.004-05:00

I went out tonight to see my good friend Mike Ault playing with the PRS Experience including the AMAZING Davey Knowles (Back Door Slam) and David Grissom. They were doing a little promo gig at a beautiful guitar store in Soho called Rudy's. Strangely, only about 30 people showed up to see these world class musicians jam.

Afterwards a few of us cabbed over to Raj Mahal in the east village for some awesome Indian food.

What's better than hearing some great guitar playing followed by a big plate of Chicken Sag, some chana bhaji with naan bread, a few Kingfishers and stimulating conversation? Not much.

Paul Reed Smith and Nicky Moroch (above), Mike Ault below.

The night got more interesting when I hopped on the L train across to 8th ave. A person in a skeleton getup wearing a red dress and leather jacket was standing on the platform ravenously eating something from McDonald's. I walked up, pulled out my camera, showed it to the character and said "May I?". A semi-feminine voice replied..."Certainly".

Subways can be frightening late at night. For more reasons than one might think.

Where else but New York City?

Pee & Tree

2011-11-16T00:43:00.006-05:00

There are many different types of urinals throughout the city. These occupy the bathroom at Van Cortlandt Park. Though some urinals around town are very modern, these might be better suited in a prison than a park.

And yes, I feel a bit weird shooting in bathrooms so obviously I wait until everyone is gone so I won't be caught and perceived as a pervert. I always wanted a home with a urinal in it. They seem so practical.

MOMA's ultra modern urinals.

Nothing to do with urinals, while in Van Cortlandt Park I found this very interesting tree consuming a fence .

Republican Noms

2011-11-13T10:39:00.010-05:00

I've seen a few of the debates on TV and it looks like Mitt Romney probably has the best chance of being the Republican nominee.

Just read some interesting facts and quotes on Mitt Romney. This is why he's a douchebag:

He's a devout Mormon (cult member).
Quote: "Freedom requires religion in society."
Against abortion.
Would like to overturn Roe v. Wade (though he's flip-flopped when need be).
Vetoed emergency contraception for rape victims.
Vetoed stem cell research bill.
Quote: "Cut taxes and Grow! Apply Reaganomics."
Wants to add 100,000 troops to military.
Quote: "Bush and Cheney made mistakes but kept us safe."
Quote "$700 Billion was well spent to win freedom in Iraq" (said in 2009).
Against gay marriage.

Wants to drill in ANWR (Alaska National Wildlife Refuge).

Other possibilities?

Newt... A lying, hypocritical sack of shit. What I loved best was that he was cheating on his own wife during the proceedings to impeach Clinton for perjury. Actually known to have cheated on both previous wives. He's now on his third marriage. And, he's fat.

Michelle Bachmann? Please! Crazy eyes, crazy mind! She's religious, says idiotic things and doesn't believe in global warming. Enough said.

Herman Cain? He did it.

Rick Perry? Comes from Texas, loves George Bush. Has A+ rating from the NRA. A total buffoon. Enough said.

Rick Santorum? Religious zealot. Every decision he makes is based on his misguided religious beliefs. Here's a terrifying fact: After giving birth to a premature baby (20 weeks), who died 2 hours after birth, he and his wife brought the corpse home, introduced it to their other living seven children and slept with it in their home until the next day before taking it back to hospital. Fucking crazy!

Jon Huntsman? Not bad actually. Believes in global warming and evolution. But he is a Mormon, which is scary.

Ron Paul? My choice. Stance on foreign policy is consistent non-intervention. Believes in pulling all troops out of Europe, Japan and Korea. That's enough for me.

It'll be an interesting race. The Republicans better get their shit
together and find someone with a brain.

Autumnal Bliss

2011-11-12T09:57:00.005-05:00

Truly spectacular colors in the park. So vivid and rich. Walking down a path, I looked up to see a flock of geese flying over, honking in their V formation. Another Courier & Ives moment.

There are places where it's summer year round and places where it's always winter; if it existed, I'd move to a place that had never-ending fall. By far, my favorite time of the year!

A Walk in the Park

2011-11-12T02:52:00.006-05:00

Today I took a long walk in Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx. The air was brisk and the wind was howling. I've been battling a chest cold for a week and discovered quickly that I hadn't worn enough clothing for a long jaunt in the woods. Van Cortlandt has a vast variety of maple trees that have blanketed the ground with an array of colors. Hard to believe I was in the Bronx, it felt more like upstate New York.

Focus

2011-11-10T15:43:00.004-05:00

"You cannot depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus." Mark Twain

The Perfect Crime

2011-11-08T00:53:00.005-05:00

Sunday I heard a knock on my door sometime in mid-afternoon. I opened the door to find a small-framed woman around sixty looking back at me with a somber expression. She said something in Spanish when I interrupted her with, "No, no, Ingles."

Then she spoke in clear but semi-broken English, "I'm sorry to bother you, there was a tragedy in the building."

Me: "Really, what happened?"

Her: "A small child died in the building last night." (She was noticeably distraught.)

Me: "What? That's horrible, what happened?"

Looking as if she was going to cry she replied, "A small child bit into an electrical cord and was electrocuted."

Me: "Oh my God...That's terrible. What apartment?"

Her: "5-E." (while looking down at the ground)

Me: "What apartment do you live in?"

Her: "5-B."

Me: "Right across the hall."

Her: "Yes." After a pause she said, "We're collecting money for flowers for the family."

I stared at her with a concerned look...trying to read the validity of her emotions. I reached into my pocket. I had five one-dollar bills and two twenties. I unfolded and straightened out the five ones and held them out to her...then paused and said, "This isn't some sort of scam?"

She looked at me with a disappointed look as if wondering how I could think such a thing.

I handed her the cash. She looked down and quietly said, "Thank you," and turned and walked away. I watched her go around the corner leading to the steps. For a brief second I wondered why she didn't go to another apartment and then thought that maybe I was the last one she tried on the floor.

I closed the door and shook my head at what a sad tragedy that was. I also thought back to the night before trying remember what time I had gotten home, wondering if I would have seen all the commotion with police and paramedics. I was disappointed in my cynicism.

Today, just out of curiosity, I went over to the other side of the building and walked up the steps to the 5th floor. I saw a hispanic woman in the hallway, about 30 years old. I said, "Excuse me, did you hear anything about a child dying on the 5th floor yesterday?" She looked back at me surprised and said, "No, I haven't heard anything."

I paused and then slowly walked down the steps and had to smile to myself.

I realized that my cynicism was not unfounded. She was a pro, that poor, sad woman had hustled me. Wow, she was really good. Like, Oscar winning good.

City Snaps

2011-11-05T01:55:00.002-04:00

Cloud cover

Landing zone (click on photo)

Early commute

Da Bronx

2011-11-03T10:54:00.003-04:00

Twice this week I've gone up to the Bronx very early in the morning just after sunrise. The Bronx used to be a very scary place back in the 80s. I read that people would sleep on the steps of their local police stations during the summer nights because they were terrified of being shot in their homes. A lot has changed. Obviously good from a safety standpoint but it's not exactly the Bronx I was hoping to capture. It's a bit homogenized these days, like everywhere else in New York. Photographically speaking, safe places are not that visually stimulating.

Graffiti, remnants of days gone by.

Bronx commuters.

Under the #1 train

On the bridge between Manhattan and the Bronx.

My breakfast at some little corner diner for $3.50. Not a caucasian in the place.

"CLEAR"

2011-11-01T02:41:00.004-04:00

As if Americans weren't fat enough. Along comes KFC with its solution to the problem: a big bowl of cheese and bacon. I guess they didn't get the memo that America has become a nation of obese, sloth-like pigs who love HUGE portions and rarely move a muscle. I read the other day that the average person in Dallas walks one tenth of a mile a day (the average New Yorker walks about 2/3 of a mile).

What marketing genius came up with this cardiac surgeon's fantasy? Incredible.

Big Things

2011-10-29T03:26:00.005-04:00

In Central Park there are a few guys drawing crowds, equipped with only buckets and sticks. They fill the bucket with water and dish liquid. They tie some rope on the end of two long sticks, making a noose-like thing that reminds me of something you might see a Vietnamese fisherman using. Then they dip this "noose" into the soapy bucket, pull the noose apart, let the wind blow into the opening and suddenly they're making giant bubbles. Fairly effortless. Now, take some kid, teach them to do it, have Mom and Dad toss a few bucks in the tip bucket... Brilliant.

My local 99-cent store.... The sign pretty much sums things up. There are few items that cost 99 cents, my observation has been that most items start around $1.49.

I like the charm of a small house, so much more than some big McMansion that takes forever to heat, to cool, to clean, to paint, to maintain, to furnish, with its high taxes and glut of unused space. Most people I know with large homes have at least two unused rooms that end up being used for storage. Not to mention they're an environmental nightmare. Unless you have a very large family, big homes are nothing more than an ego trip--"Look what I have, look what I've acquired, look how successful I am." And sadly, when you finally get that big energy-sucking Castle remember this: nobody cares and nobody is impressed. It represents gluttony and debt. No one needs over 500 sq. ft. per human.

Coney Island in the Fall

2011-10-27T02:44:00.003-04:00

Yesterday I made the hour+ subway trek to Coney Island, starting at at 6:15 in the morning. First stop was at McDonald's for the weakest, nastiest cup of coffee I've had in years. I finally arrived shortly after sunrise. The morning light was nice, the beach was somewhat uninhabited and more filthy than I had expected, with litter strewn everywhere. Walking toward Brighton Beach (dubbed "Little Odessa" because many of the residents came from that city in the Ukraine), you hear the locals speaking to one another in Russian while out for their morning walks along the boardwalk. The walk from Coney to Brighton and back was probably 5 miles or so. My last journey there until next year.

These people enjoy the sun. It was a chilly 56 degrees and I was dressed in layers while many of the locals were shirtless, all with faces aimed towards the sun.

Coney Island camping. A sleeping bag and a fake palm tree, what more do you need?

Ukrainian stroller with fish.

The usually crowded (and disgusting) public bathroom, now empty for the season.

MIC CHECK!!!

2011-10-24T00:57:00.009-04:00

I went to see the protesters with a friend Friday night. Walking through the crowd someone suddenly screamed "Mic check!" at the top of his lungs and the whole crowd in unison screamed back "Mic check!" It seems the NYPD has banned the use of any amplifying devices such as megaphones or the use of speakers. Therefore, when someone has something to say to the masses, they yell out "Mic check!" The crowd then quiets down momentarily, followed by loudly repeating whatever the speaker says in spurts of a few words for all to hear.

Speaker: "Mic check"

Crowd: "Mic check"

Speaker: "The general assembly..."

Crowd: "The general assembly..."

Speaker: "Needs to address..."

Crowd: "Needs to address..."

Speaker: "The issue of..."

Crowd: "The issue of..."

Speaker: "Dirty laundry."

Crowd: "Dirty laundry."

This incredibly annoying procedure went on for an hour to get out what seemed like 5 full sentences. There must be a better way to communicate, like an LED message board. The subject in this case was that there is a ton of dirty laundry that "needs to be taken care of." They were asking for $3000 in donations to do all the protesters' laundry. Here's a suggestion: Have everyone do their own laundry. Brilliant solution!!

I have to say that after watching these people attempt to conduct an orderly meeting and seeing their obvious inability to show any trace of organization, I realized that most of them have no clue how to run a protest, how to organize one or even what they are protesting. They're dancing, playing drums, holding misspelled signs, chanting, sleeping, arguing, handing out fliers and eating free donated food and supposedly "hooking up" with one another. Many of the participants appear to be homeless, or very close to it, and only there for the food and camaraderie. Granted, there is a percentage of concerned citizens like myself who want to see some sort of banking reform. But, camping out under tarps and stinking up a small park in lower Manhattan is not going to convince anyone in power to change anything. Do you think the execs at Goldman Sachs or Chase give a rat's ass about some dirty hippie with $38 to his name protesting about Wall Street's policies and corporate greed? Not a chance.

Good intention, piss poor execution.

The weather is getting cold... I think this protest will fizzle out soon.

Me: "MIC CHECK!"

Losers: "MIC CHECK!"

Me: "People, Please, Get a Life..."

Losers: "People, Please, Get a Life..."

Me: "Go Home."

Losers: "Go... what? Home?"

My thoughts on this matter? You want to affect the banking industry and make a statement? Encourage everyone you know to take ALL of their money out of the banks. Tell everyone to purchase as much as possible using cash and make any other payments with Postal Service money orders. Don't buy anything on credit. If you don't have the money for something, don't buy it.

See how the banking industry likes that. Then maybe there won't be a branch on every corner and America will get off its materialistic path of self destruction.

Which New York?

2011-10-22T03:27:00.005-04:00

There are roughly three New Yorks.

There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born here, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size and turbulence as natural and inevitable.

Second, there is the New York of the commuter - the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out at night.

Third, there is the New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something. Of these three trembling cities the greatest is the last - the city of final destination, the city that is a goal. It is this third city that accounts for New York's high-strung disposition, its poetical deportment, its dedication to the arts, and its incomparable achievements. Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness; natives give it solidity and continuity; but the settlers give it passion. And whether it is a farmer arriving from Italy to set up a small grocery store in a slum, or a young girl arriving from a small town in Mississippi to escape the indignity of being observed by her neighbors, or a boy arriving from the Corn Belt with a manuscript in his suitcase and a pain in his heart, it makes no difference: each embraces New York with the intense excitement of first love, each absorbs New York with the fresh eyes of an adventurer, each generates heat and light to dwarf the Consolidated Edison Company.

-Here is New York, E.B. White, 1949

Random Crap

2011-10-20T03:48:00.007-04:00

In the Bronx yesterday I glanced up to see this nice sky. (Yes I like the large glowing lamp in the middle of the shot.)

In Chelsea I noticed an impromptu Michael Jackson shoot going on.

More protesters.... They're diligent, you have to give them that.

Do you really think your vote counts? It's a joke. ALL politicians are getting funds from some crooked source somewhere (oil, tobacco and pharmaceutical companies). Therefore they can never be unbiased and truly change anything.

I have constant arguments with my friends who drive SUVs. I believe ALL cars should be required to get at least 30-35 mpg. If your car gets less, you're a Gashole. Americans want to be less dependent on fossil fuels yet nobody wants to compromise comfort and convenience and give up their big-assed, gas-guzzling luxury vehicles.

4

2011-10-18T00:48:00.003-04:00

Walking down the street the other night this guy asked me for a cigarette. When I told him I didn't smoke, he asked me for money. I said "I'll give you a dollar if you let me take your picture." He glared at me and said, "You already did." I gave him a dollar.

A protester's boots. Oddly southern Confederate Flag motif.

Brains? Guts? No, smoothie (I think).

The Protest

2011-10-16T03:44:00.004-04:00

Out of curiosity I went to the protest down by Wall Street. The park was smaller than I expected and I found it full of exactly the type people I expected to be there. Many of whom were hippies, bums, street urchins and near homeless people who probably don't vote and surely don't have bank accounts large enough for corporate executives to care what they think of the banking/trading industries. People with low to no income seem to care a lot more about these issues than people with lots of money which I find odd. Why does a person with $95 in their account give a shit about corporate greed? In the whole crowd I saw one guy nicely dressed with an expensive watch. I doubt many of the protesters actually know what they're protesting. But, many people did have signs that struck a nerve.

How true! Thank you Mr Bush (you dumb son of a bitch).

Like I've always said... most people are basically stupid and sheep-like. Give them a job and a few benefits and they're happy. People question very little in life.

The sign should include Democrats. Sadly, most Americans (sheep) actually believe that by casting their vote they may have some effect on making changes in our government. How naive people are. It's all a sham. Name one time in the last 50 years this has happened.

I have no idea what these women stood for. But, they had the least clothing on...

Crappy Art and free drinks!

2011-10-14T03:11:00.007-04:00

After a horrible week spent doing taxes and battling a sinus infection a friend called and asked me to spend an evening with her going to gallery openings. We decided on the Chelsea art scene starting off at Bruce Davidson's show at Aperture. The show was series of shots he did on subways back in 1980. Dark, moody, edgy. Not my favorite of Davidson's work, but a nice show. I spoke to him briefly asking about his lighting. Interesting man who is a member of the exclusive Magnum agency and one of the true photo greats.

We drank wine as we browsed the images.

Moving on it, was definitely downhill from there. The next gallery had really crappy art but served ice cold Grolsh beer.

You can have this mess for only $10,000.

String stretched across wall at eye level, with silly string added (photo shot from ground looking up). Genius! (Um, that'd be sarcasm.)

Obviously trying to incite a race riot.

Lots of drunk "bad art" lovers.

Empty Chelsea streets.

After viewing lots of bad art, drinking free beer and cheap wine we decided to end the night with some good Thai food at Spice on 8th Ave. A very nice night overall!

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

2011-10-11T02:08:00.008-04:00

I've been in Virginia since the end of September. My niece Kristen was married to her love Brian down in Richmond. We are all thrilled to have him as part of the family. The wedding was perfect. Beautiful weather, cool temperature, blue skies and the whole thing went off without a hitch. I came down a day before and took many photos. Though obviously not a real "wedding photographer", I was the designated shooter for the event and I did the best I could. I'm sure I have some beautiful photos....

In the years since leaving Fairfax, so many things have changed. Friends and family members have died, married, divorced and have moved away. All familiar landmarks have been torn down or changed drastically. Maybe that saying "you can't go home again" is true. I'm sad about what has happened to the place I grew up. The greed and desire for growth has turned a once lovely town into an ugly, traffic congested, chain store mecca. It's become impossible to drive in any direction in the morning and afternoon during rush hour. The powers in control of zoning have let anybody with significant assets build any store wherever they want to drop one. Fairfax Virginia has all the charm of a festering boil.

With that said, I also realize that I have changed while my friends remain much the same. For the most part, they go to their 9-5 jobs, come home, eat, watch some TV and go to bed. Which is all fine, except I haven't done that for a very long time. I have no 9-5 routine. Dinner for me happens around 9pm. There's little difference between a Tuesday and a Saturday. I have no "hump day" or "thank God it's Friday" to celebrate. Familiar topics of conversation in Virginia include kids, sports, jobs, retirement, IRA accounts, divorces and the farmer's market. I've got nothing there... I can't relate. I DETEST sports and usually loathe the people who watch them finding them boring, obnoxious and uninteresting. Subjects that interest me, such as art and music or one's own creativity, rarely come up in my conversations in Virginia.

The truth is, I think differently, I act differently, I talk differently, I dress differently. My political views are different. I'm not judging, I'm just very aware of the dissimilarity. So, with that said, I've come to realize that no, I can't go home. New York City is my home now.

And lastly, I lost a very close friendship this week due to poor judgement and deception. Whether on my part or theirs is irrelevant. Sometimes things happen that can't be taken back or be forgiven. And, in those times it's better to walk away and remember the good times than struggle with trying to repair the damage. Beating to death questions of "why" and "explain that again" is exhausting and rarely fixes anything. Walking away is the only option in this situation. Sadly, it's like a death, knowing you'll never see that person again....

The past few weeks were brutal to my psyche. The above realization that I have little in common with many of my hometown friends, suddenly coming to terms with my mother's absence while at the wedding, the changes in and my disenchantment with the place I called home and the loss of a close friend. Damn!

I just remembered, my taxes are due Friday.....

Electronics-Free Road Trip Anyone?

2011-09-28T03:38:00.006-04:00

Norman Mailer once said something to the effect that "technology is the devil's greatest invention."

In the past year I've become hyper-aware that in every restaurant, store, gallery, library, in every seat on a bus, subway, train, plane, cab, limo and even movie theater, people are either on a phone, checking their Blackberry, looking at an iPad, Kindle (or other reading device) or plugged into some sort or game or iPod. I can't remember the last time I had a meal with anyone where at some point they didn't check their phone for an email, text or Facebook entry. Stand on any street corner and look at the people around you, everyone's on the phone. Walking down the street, everyone's got earplugs in or looking at a device. I went out to dinner with 5 friends recently and at one point everyone but me was checking their phone. I was appalled but didn't say a word. WTF???

The other day my phone died. I was incommunicado for about 5 hours. I must admit I had a rush of panic and a nagging sense of anxiety until I arrived back at my apartment and plugged in my phone. "What if someone calls? What if I miss a job? What if someone dies?" I tried to rationalize how stupid my thoughts were. I took a Xanax.

I think this is a HORRIFIC shift in our society. We rarely communicate face to face without interruption. We're not offended if someone says "hold on" while looking down at their electronic device, because frankly, we want the same consideration when our phone buzzes. Walk into any Starbucks or small coffee shop. It's impossible to get a seat because 30 people are plugged into an outlet doing something on their computer. They sit for hours staring into their screen unaware of what's going on around them. Coffee shops have become personal work spaces for the few able to get a seat.

Not to mention that people are dying left and right from walking out in traffic unable to hear horns blowing just before they're squished. Dead on the ground, iPod still attached to their ears. Ridiculous.

I want to take an electronics-free road trip. Like the old days. Leave the phone at home, take only a film camera and a few rolls of film. Take off for a few days and just drive. Sounds lovely. Now, should I pack some Xanax or take my chances?

Mailer was right....

Random Three

2011-09-27T03:01:00.004-04:00

People wonder why Americans are fat.

Bad day

Ferry sunset

Red

2011-09-26T00:30:00.002-04:00

In a bar by a red neon light.

Two red doors, upper east side.

WAY Too Much Time on My Hands!

2011-09-24T03:08:00.005-04:00

Sitting in a sushi restaurant I set my chopstick down on my plate making a tiny stain that looked like a pair of sunglasses. I felt a sudden rush of creativity! Using a chopstick as my brush, I created a soysauce man on a scooter. I executed this incredible piece of art all during a conversation with a friend. For her, I'm sure it was like dining with Picasso.

I peeled an apple tonight without breaking the peel once. What a feat!

Buildings along 5th ave reflected in the boat pond in Central Park.

I like digital but I LOVE film. I saw this sticker on a sewer lid in Soho. My sentiments exactly!!

Two nerds donning Mickey Mouse ears having their engagement photos done in Central Park. Who does that?

Serra

2011-09-19T15:16:00.006-04:00

I went gallery hopping Saturday and stopped by the Richard Serra show at Gagosian Gallery in Chelsea. Having never been a big fan of Serra, I have to admit I was stunned as soon as I walked into the gallery. Those huge slabs of leaning steel makes one wonder how they got the massive sections inside the building, much less assemble them. Walking through the maze of thick rusted metal gives a visual effect very similar to those deep sandstone slot canyons in Utah.

Though I'm not a total Serra convert, I was very impressed with this show. Just the enormity alone is worth the visit.

Old Friends

2011-09-17T01:11:00.004-04:00

Stepping off at my subway stop the other day I was greeted by an old friend. A large movie poster of Christina Hendricks had been installed on the wall of the station. It seems like a very long time ago since we were close. She's obviously doing very well these days. I'm proud of her.

Last weekend I made what was possibly my last trek of the season to Coney Island. It's all cleaned up and improved. Most of the old rickety rides are gone, replaced by newer, faster, scarier ones.

A very high, fast ride where your whole existence dangles from a few small links of chain.

Odd Stephen Shore-esque scene. (Google him if you don't know who he is). Bleak and sparse.

Somebody's Got to Do It!

2011-09-14T02:54:00.003-04:00

The truly great thing about working for Conde Nast as a photographer is that you never know who you may be shooting next. Yesterday I was sent to do a story on Rosie Huntington-Whitely. She's a Victoria's Secret model and now actress. I spent some time with her and I even got paid. Not a bad gig.

Rachel and the Red Sky

2011-09-13T02:36:00.005-04:00

Late the other evening I was hanging out with a friend in Central Park. It was a bit overcast after a beautiful sunny day when all of a sudden we looked up to see these beautiful, fiery red, almost apocalyptic looking clouds hovering over the Upper West Side. It was a bit spooky!

The Rachel Zoe show that I'm on airs tonight at 10pm. Check it out. Might be good, might be bad. Keep your fingers crossed.

Kori's Video

2011-09-11T14:31:00.003-04:00

My friend, model and muse Kori sent me this video last night. She took a short clip from a recent shoot, slowed it down and added the perfect soundtrack. I love when people create things, especially when I was involved in some way. She's not just a pretty face!

Almost Famous

2011-09-09T01:11:00.005-04:00

I got an email today from Conde Nast letting me know that the shoot I did a few months ago for WWD of Rachel Zoe will air next week. Here's the trailer. I'm very relieved that I didn't come off as being a complete chump. Perhaps I should wait until I see the whole show. Take a look:

More recently, I did a shoot this past Tuesday with the Kardashians. After watching their show I was a bit concerned that the shoot might be "difficult." Other than an hour of primping, after coming "camera ready", the shoot went off without a hitch. Kim, Khloe and Kourtney were very professional, did exactly what I asked and were a joy to work with.

Mirror, Mirror

2011-09-06T01:07:00.008-04:00

I generally think that people who put photos of themselves on their blogs (as so many do) are somewhat narcissistic. Then again, perhaps people with blogs who expect others to read their thoughts and look at their daily photos are narcissists as well. So, all bloggers are self-absorbed egomaniacs?

I'm always perplexed when I see photos of myself because looking in a mirror I don't see the same thing. Why is that? In the mirror I see a normal, happy, pleasant looking, middle-aged guy staring back at me. When I look at photos of myself I see something entirely different. An average looking, weathered, tormented man with a bit of mileage behind him. Someone who might consider addressing that ever-deepening furrowed brow with a syringe of Botox. Not to mention that I never really noticed how asymmetrical my nostrils are until I did a few self-portraits, even though I've never broken my nose.

Funny, I don't feel particularly tormented (except the constant, nagging desire to create something). I've had a relatively easy life so far. I'm not overworked. Not overly stressed. Don't have kids to drive me crazy. So, why the tormented look? It's a mystery.

New(ish) glasses and unshaven.

Sans specs.

Portraits from the Fair

2011-09-05T01:53:00.002-04:00

More images from the Perry County Fair.

I photographed many of the same people I had in the previous two years, most of whom (re)introduced themselves and said hello.

How Much?

2011-09-03T10:37:00.005-04:00

While at Nemo's farm, I happened to look up and see something that reminded me of a famous photo by William Eggleston, titled "Greenwood, Mississippi, 1974". Here's the kicker, Eggleston's photo sold at auction not long ago for $84,000. You can have mine signed and numbered for $84. A savings of $83, 916.

Happy Birthday to my wonderful sister Margie. Sorry I let it slip by; I lost track of the date and was extremely busy yesterday... but that's no excuse.

The $84,000 Eggleston.

A Rural County Fair

2011-09-02T03:22:00.004-04:00

Last Thursday I headed for the Perry County Fair in rural PA. I arrived at my friend Nemo's home and he immediately tossed me the keys to his Range Rover and I was off to the fairgrounds. I've gone the last two years and couldn't wait to start shooting. Especially fearing the hurricane that was bearing down on the East Coast.

I shot many portraits of the annual tractor parade. These farmers are quite proud of their restored old tractors. From there I moved on to shoot the carnival workers and attendees of the fair. I shot for three days and had a great time. Sadly, I discovered (again) that "fair food" is horrible. I had a barbecued chicken that was dry as dirt, ate two soft serve ice cream cones and drank too many lemonades and sodas. But I refrained from other sweets, cotton candy and funnel cakes.

Nemo and his lovely wife Carol put up with my coming and going, getting in after midnight, using their car, eating their food and basically disrupting their home. But what are friends for? I appreciate their friendship very very much. I was also able to establish my place as "Uncle Steve" with their three-year-old sons Ellis and Aiden.

All trains back to NYC were canceled due to hurricane flooding (I'm sure to everyone's dismay) so I stayed an extra day.

The night air was cool and crisp at their farm in Elliottsburg. Late one night I looked up and saw stars like I haven't seen in many many years....

Funny

2011-08-24T12:45:00.002-04:00

Old Things

2011-08-23T03:34:00.005-04:00

Walking around Sunday, completely uninspired, I came across a large metal structure that was rotting away. Studying the amazing textures, I aimed my camera at various sections and snapped some images. After downloading, I was surprised at the outcome. The layers of rust and decay were far more beautiful than I would have ever imagined. I'm sure most people pass by without so much as a glance.

At the Met, a hunched little man examines a sculpture's description. The sculpture appears bored.

Simple snaps and pondering

2011-08-21T02:46:00.005-04:00

Two simple photos taken from the elevated subway tracks, coming from the Bronx.

Today's thought...

After losing both my mother and Mario in the past few years I often (constantly) find myself pondering the existence of God, the authenticity of Christianity, Buddhism, reincarnation and atheism. So far I still haven't read or heard anything that REMOTELY sounds feasible or plausible.

I found this definition of religion: The belief in and worship of superhuman controlling power, esp. a personal God or Gods.

Today while reading a blog written by a photojournalist and war correspondent I came upon this quote: "Do you believe in a personal, loving God who really cares about us mortals down here? Go to a few war zones and famine areas and watch all those innocent children die, then answer this question...."

Scratch Christianity. For now, I continue to be agnostic (which loosely means I don't have any idea, nor belief, in whom or what may be running the cosmos).

The search continues....

Lovely

2011-08-19T02:43:00.002-04:00

Nice scene around the corner from my apartment. Small basketball hoop fastened with wire to the fence of a vacant trash filled lot with a rat poison warning. Lovely.

High Line sunset. Would make a nice song title.

From the High Line

Pigeon at subway stop in the Bronx. I "sneaked" up on him...("snuck" is incorrect, I checked)

A Day of Art

2011-08-18T02:20:00.005-04:00

Interesting large scale Robert Adams photo on a billboard, seen as you're walking the High Line. One of my favorite strolls in the city.

Beautiful pink cloud at sunset as seen from the High Line.

Lovely afternoon spent at Moma. People watching in the sculpture garden is great. Who naps like this? Public place, no shoes and lying across three chairs. Who does that?

This piece was actually a "void space" where the drywall was taken away instead of an actual piece of art hanging. Seems the lack of art is now considered art I suppose. (cough...bullshit...cough)

This was a lovely piece. Brilliant "artiste" takes a white can of paint, points it at the ground and sprays out the contents. Calls it something like "40 seconds of aerosol paint pointed at ground". (cough...bullshit....cough....) There were enough shoe prints on it to say people didn't understand it was actually the art.

Seriously, what has the art world come to? Such bullshit!

Mouser and odd symbols

2011-08-14T02:36:00.006-04:00

There's a bodega (NYC-speak for small convenience store) on the corner of 6th Ave. and Watts Street that has a very handsome cat who occasionally walks out and greets me when I walk past. He's the sweetest guy with the disposition of a kitten but the owner just informed me he is 13 years old. Unlike most cats, he never bites or claws after having had enough of stroking. He loves affection and will lie there on the sidewalk as long as you offer it.

As I stood up to leave he looked at me bewildered as if to say "Hey, where are you going?"

Last night while waiting for my friend Tatiana to meet me I noticed this odd symbol drawn into the chipped edge of the building. Very very small. (Reminder: you can click on images to enlarge.)
I glanced at the other side and found a symbol with a V, also very small. I wondered what these symbols meant, who may have put them there and why? So curious.

Many things...

2011-08-13T02:50:00.007-04:00

Wednesday night my very good friend Mike Breen called from Virginia and told he had just seen a band called The Eric Tessmer Band at Payne's Biker Bar the previous night in Leesburg and suggested I check them out. They were playing at a bar called Stout on W. 33rd Street. I had just finished dinner with Nemo who was in town for work and the bar was just a few blocks away so I went. As I walked in I could already hear the band who was downstairs. Mike had warned me they were extremely loud. There was a sparse crowd which surprised me being a Thursday night in the city. The guitar player, Eric Tessmer, is obviously a huge Stevie Ray Vaughan fan and had down most of his licks/bends/technique and sound. Being very dark in the bar I decided to take some snaps and make them artsy--long shutter speeds, blurs using high ISO.

He was a pretty good guitar player and quite the showman.

What's better than hearing a good band, sipping Magners cider and taking photos? Not much! A fun night.

Hat seller on Prince Street today in Soho.

Couples on a bench on Carmine St. Someone should've introduced the "bookends" to each other.

Shot today on Greenwich Ave. The tiles (and shadows of) that memorialize the WTC. So many fall and break as the years pass.

Random Pics

2011-08-08T01:38:00.004-04:00

I still have a slight "knee-jerk" reaction of anxiety when I look up and see a plane flying up Fifth Ave.

Reflection of me in the ceiling at the Met.

You have to wonder why these homeless people who collect cans and bottles never turn them in for cash. This is one major bottle/can/shopping cart train on Waverly. The guy is probably a millionaire (slight exaggeration) and doesn't realize it.

Just found this snap from the last time I went to the Met. I had never walked around the Met's Arms and Armor exhibit. It is truly incredible. The fine inscribed detail in the armor is amazing.

A Quiet End

2011-08-03T00:18:00.009-04:00

A few days ago I downloaded all of the photos from my last trip to Virginia. On the flash card I found pictures I had taken the day we buried my mother's ashes. I was torn whether or not to write about it, thinking people don't really want or need to read about the sad events in my life.

It was sunny, extremely humid and hovering around 100 degrees on the Friday morning we buried my mother's ashes. We had a small family service at Fairfax Methodist Church and then drove a short distance to the cemetery for a few words at her grave site. Afterwards I felt the need to stay after everyone had gone and waited while the cemetery worker placed the urn in the ground and replaced the dirt and sod. I found a sense of comfort sitting there alone arranging the flowers on her grave. I couldn't help but think that it seemed like a modest end to everything that had transpired since her illness was diagnosed in early May. All of us hyper-focusing on her illness, keeping her comfortable, getting medications and supplies, hospice and caregivers. All ending suddenly by placing a small wooden box in a shallow hole in the ground and a few short words.

Cremation definitely takes most of the grandeur from the funeral tradition. No big shiny casket, no hearse, no vault, no railings around the coffin, no pallbearers. Definitely a simpler, less traumatic, more efficient way to pass on to whatever the universe has in store for us (in my opinion).

The next day I passed the cemetery while running errands and strained to see the flowers from the road. Late the following afternoon I pulled into the cemetery and walked over to her grave. After just two days of temperatures over 100 degrees the flowers were completely dried out and brittle. I felt I should buy some new ones but never did, knowing that in two more days the outcome would be the same. And plastic? No.

Back in New York (nice to be home)

2011-07-29T02:31:00.005-04:00

Back from Virginia. A somber and sweltering week. We buried my mother's ashes last Friday. It was 102 degrees at her grave site.

A sudden downpour started while sitting in traffic. I hesitated turning on the wipers because everything looked more surreal through the rain-battered windshield.

A second shower as I made a u-turn on my parents street. Again waiting to turn on the wipers.

Walking past a BP gas station I glanced up to see these vents against the blue sky.

Walking along Hudson Street last week I spotted this gentleman wearing a straw hat peeking through the trees.

New York street at dusk.

To Be, or Not to Be (tranquil)?

2011-07-21T04:55:00.005-04:00

How does one resume a blog based mainly on goofy snapshots, biased opinions and a warped sense of humor after such a sad previous post? It's a true dilemma... Do I post some nice landscapes that offer quiet tranquility? Would that be more appropriate? Do I gently lead into a lighter tone over a period of time? Do I wait a month, or three months, before adding a non-serious image? I truly don't know.

I'm going to Virginia tomorrow and may not blog again for a week or so...

Here's a pretty sunset photo taken from the High Line tonight.

I've been toying with bailing on the hat and going for a new look. I'm kind of digging the Jimi Hendrix/Don Was look (Don Was is a big-time music producer). Thoughts and opinions are welcome.

My Wonderful Mother

2011-07-11T23:51:00.003-04:00

It's been almost 2 months since my last post. I've gotten many calls and emails from friends asking why I haven't blogged. The truth of the matter is, I've been in Virginia for the past 3 weeks. My earlier post regarding my mother's illness came to a sad conclusion. My beautiful mother passed away on July 3rd. If there's any good side to this it's that she died at home in bed, in her sleep. Sadly, few people have the opportunity and time to tell their loved ones how much they loved them. My family and I were lucky in the sense that we had over a month to lie in bed with her, tell her how much we loved her and hug and hold her. Her illness was so rapid and ravenous on her body that we were all amazed and shocked at how quickly cancer took her. She became weaker and weaker until her last days were spent quietly in bed mostly sleeping. We're so thankful that she didn't suffer for very long. The emotional roller coaster we all endured was sometimes overwhelming. Knowing the end was getting closer each day, you become hyper aware of every cough, sniff and sigh. You are tormented with the fear of witnessing the end of her life. At 5:00am Sunday morning the healthcare woman knocked at my door and asked me to come upstairs.... My beautiful mother was gone.

Ferry, Head, Hopper

2011-06-16T00:06:00.003-04:00

Riding the Staten Island Ferry for the 300th time (give or take a few) I'm still amazed at the beautiful light and deep rich colors.

The ferry terminal on Staten Island

Passing liberty

Giant head statue now on display in Madison Square Park

Walking the new section of the High Line (23rd-31st street) I looked over the railing to see this Hopper-esque scene.

Enthusiastic Tourists

2011-06-14T15:53:00.004-04:00

While walking along the boardwalk at Coney Island, I saw these two European girls standing quietly at the perimeter of a crowd of people dancing. They kept whispering back and forth, watching as if mesmerized. Before long the rhythmic beats got the best of them. They couldn't help themselves and began to dance.

Rebel Rebel

2011-06-13T02:24:00.005-04:00

After a few hours of shooting, I decided to try out my Lumix camera on video mode. Who better than Kori Lei to jump around to Bowie's "Rebel Rebel"? Nobody. She's a rock star.

Sights around town

2011-06-11T03:43:00.004-04:00

Snapped on Fifth Ave the other day while headed to the Herb Ritts exhibit on 57th street.

Bergdorf Goodman.

Prince and Crosby Street in Soho.

Fleet Week. Don't ask, don't tell.

Rothko-esque sunset on the Westside.

Coney Island Opens

2011-06-07T02:33:00.003-04:00

Between trips to Virginia to see Mom I went to Coney Island for "opening day" last week. They have completely changed the area where all the rides are and added many new ones. I'm not a big fan of amusement parks nor rides but I did stroll along the boardwalk for a few hours to get a good look at all "the locals". It was bit brisk and windy so the crowd wasn't as large as I had hoped. I still had a good time.

I found this giant boa on display and waited around to see people's reactions to it. Someone made a killing charging $5 to hold the thing for a minute and offering to take a photo with the holder's camera. I have to admit, I was secretly hoping to see it wrap around some big gang member's neck and strangle him to death or possibly eat a small child. Sadly, it didn't happen.

This kid must have thought I was from the press. He climbed up on that railing and did either a front or back flip 20 or 30 times in a row as I clicked away. Secretly, I was hoping to see him bury his head in the sand at least once. Didn't happen... (almost, but not quite).

It was Fleet Week and many sailors (and "sailorettes") were out taking in the sights. They were mobbed like rock stars. Everyone crowded around the great mariners begging to be photographed with them and asking about their latest deployment, all hoping for some great war story. Which from what I overheard, none of them offered. I guess the most dangerous tale they might have would involve getting drunk or catching a venereal disease in some remote port of call around the globe. How thrilling!

Jack Is Right!

2011-05-31T02:40:00.008-04:00

For a week after her hospital stay my mother was in a rehab facility trying to regain her strength. Each day or so I would drive my father to see her. She was in a bleak little room. There was no TV and a crappy curtain for privacy. (Note: there is a TV room down the hall for those few capable of getting there to watch it.) Thankfully she had a very nice roommate who was suffering with terrible rheumatoid arthritis.

When Mom was sleeping I would wander down the halls peaking into rooms and studying life in this place. Actually it was more of a glorified nursing home. It was clean and efficient, the walls all painted a pale blue or nauseating pinkish mauve. Large gold-framed paintings of blossoms hung every 20 feet of so. An orchid here, a cluster of roses there. Semi-capable people scooted their wheelchairs to a point and then, out of frustration or exhaustion, slumped over dozing off cluttering the corridors. Like a scene from the upcoming movie, "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest Part 2: The Geriatric Ward".

An old woman across the hall from Mom would loudly repeat something like, "Please don't do that...Please don't do that....Please don't do that..." over and over in a voice sounded exactly like Mr. Bill from Saturday Night Live (from the late 70s). This went on fairly often throughout the day and night. Though it was sad, I had to sort of smile at the similarity to Mr. Bill.

One afternoon, sitting there drinking some horrible old stale coffee in the "TV room", I couldn't comprehend why some of these people were even there. Aside from the few that were to leave soon after rehabilitation (like my mother), most of these patients were obviously being kept alive solely by drugs and constant care. Most of them had no idea who they were or who was visiting them. Was this any quality of life? One day while walking through the lobby I saw a woman wheeling a semi-comatose man out into a parlor type room. I looked at her and said, "Happy place eh?" She looked at me and replied, "Tell me about it, I've been here everyday for the past 2 years."

This brought my thoughts to Jack Kevorkian. He obviously saw this as a problem as well. He was brilliant, 100% right and went to jail for his actions. Why prolong this incredible agony? Ninety-five percent of these people will never leave this place. And, at a HUGE expense to society and their families, they are lying there being helped to eat, drink, breathe, relieve themselves and wait for the end....some waiting for years. Does this make any sense?

I have a real problem with this. Obviously no one wants to say goodbye to a loved one. But, because of the almighty religious right and thanks to big pharmaceutical companies that will suck every dime out of Medicare and Medicaid keeping a generation of lifeless, Depend-wearing zombies alive, sleeping in wheelchairs in hallways of expensive nursing homes throughout the land.

This is sheer lunacy.

I snapped this with my point-&-shoot while walking around the grounds of the rehab place. The grounds were beautifully manicured, though I think I saw 2 people outside the week I was there.

On a happier note, it's finally warm in NYC. I went to the park and Coney Island for the kick off of summer on Saturday. Crazy as usual. Pics to come.

Another Found Photo

2011-05-29T01:18:00.007-04:00

First car. Taken sometime around high school graduation, give or take a year. Amazing how much a 1969 Chevelle SS 396 goes for these days.

The very day I got my driver's license and tags I was drag racing down Route 50. Brilliant!

My good friend Mike Breen and I went to Rehoboth Beach in that car after graduation. I remember the transmission linkage was messed up and had no reverse. Each time I pulled into a parking space we had to push it back out when we left. I remember thinking it was funny, not embarrassing.

It was a very good car and left me with so many great memories.

What Was I Thinkin'?

2011-05-28T01:00:00.010-04:00

While looking through old boxes at my parents' house I ran across hundreds of old photos. I cringed a bit opening each envelope or stack of pictures, expecting to find something embarrassing. Didn't take long; here's a couple. A ridiculous example of me hiking in the Blue Ridge wearing very short shorts while in my shit-kickin', southern rock hat phase. Luckily that look was short lived. Jesus...

Another fine example of a fashion no-no. Here's me working as a photo assistant for my friend Nemo in the early 90s. This was pretty much my standard uniform back then. Actually, it was worse, I usually added a rolled up red bandana around my neck to keep the photo vest from chafing. I showed this to my niece Kristen and she said I looked like a member of the Village People. Note the ever present large goofy glasses, the "porn" mustache, the short shorts, the white socks (and tennis shoes) and walkie talkie hanging from my belt. What the hell was I thinking? That's just frightening....

I guess it could have been worse, I didn't dress up like Boy George or all goth like Robert Smith from The Cure as so many did.

Though in hindsight, this little getup was just as bad.

The Source of All (my) Knowledge

2011-05-27T02:49:00.006-04:00

I grew up in Fairfax, Virginia, which at the time was a quiet suburb of Washington, D.C. My family lived in a 3-bedroom rambler on Embassy Lane where, except for a slight paint variation, all the houses looked the same. I thought everyone in the world grew up in a similar neighborhood. At the end of the block was about 50 acres of woods full of trails where my best friend Bruce and I played and rode our bikes every day. It seemed like an enormous expanse and kept us busy for years. So many experiences in those woods. We caught countless frogs, turtles and crawfish, built forts, shot my BB gun. I knocked out my teeth in a bike accident and had my first experience with a girl's body.... It was a true gift having that park so close. We didn't need toys, those dense woods were all we needed.

Halfway down the street from my house was a storm drain. For many years, just after dinner (weather permitting), a small group of neighborhood kids would gather and sit on that cold slab of concrete. There we would discuss our day at school, talk about family problems, play various games, smoke cigarettes stolen from our parents and, as we grew into puberty, our discussions inevitably turned towards sex. Bruce, Carol, Caroline and her sister Mary Beth, occasionally Peanut, Marilys (sp) and myself. That was the core group, though sometimes another kid or sibling would show up. Though I vaguely remember that being frowned upon. For years, each night I would excuse myself from the dinner table and run down to the corner to be with my friends. I didn't know how much it meant to them but for me it was very special. It was an escape. Other than Bruce it was the first time I felt a true bond to a group of people and felt a part of something special. There truly was a bond between us. I think back and try to remember details of conversations but can only remember vague little snippets of what happened on that sewer lid. Some of which I'm sure has been distorted by time and my imagination. Lighting fireworks (snakes), playing "smear the queer", chasing each other around for hours, attempting to tackle the girls and hoping to brush against their breasts as we pulled them to the ground, all while pretending to try and grab the ball away from them.

Around 9 o'clock, after we were exhausted, sweaty and grass-stained, each of our parents would whistle or call out our names to come home. My father had a very loud whistle he made using his fingers crammed into the corners of his mouth. It was piercing and could be heard a mile away. We would all say our goodbyes knowing we would meet again the next night. I always dreaded winter knowing that we wouldn't meet on the storm drain again until spring. I don't know why it was so much different to me than meeting inside one of our houses.

I clearly remember one warm day in March walking out of my house and looking down the street finding no one there. Miffed, I looked out again the following night and sadly, again, no one was there. I realized a few nights later that the storm drain had served it's purpose for us and that part of my life was over. I remember being very sad about that. I think I was about 14.

Whenever I come home to visit I drive slowly past that corner and glance out the window at that sewer lid. I don't know what I'm looking for, but it makes me feel so nostalgic. I learned just about everything I know about human behavior on that cold slab of concrete.

A Pain in My Heart

2011-05-26T04:04:00.007-04:00

A photo of my mother as a teenager we found while cleaning the house.

When you get a call in the middle of a work day from one of your siblings you have a sudden rush of panic. As you glance at the number on your phone you have a feeling in your gut that it's probably not good news. The day after Mother's Day my sister called me to tell me my mother was in the hospital. She explained what had transpired and suggested I come home sooner than later. I jumped on the first train out of the city and got to Virginia before they were to do a procedure to fix what was causing a blockage in her throat. Afterwards, the news wasn't what a family wants to hear. Different doctors made their assessments and suggestions of treatments or the option to decline them. I believe I was (and still am) numb to what was said. I heard everything the doctors were saying but it was too unbelievable to grasp. She's here, she's talking, she can eat and drink and she's smiling.... She feels better.

Suddenly in the days following there was an urgency to clean the house, take things to thrift stores, to the dump and recycling. "Organizers" were hired, hospice was called, caretakers, nurses and social workers stopped by and filled out papers, asked questions and took notes. My brother went into a cleaning, organizing frenzy. I did little comparatively. I felt like I was watching a strange nightmare from the sidelines and I wanted to slam on the breaks of this chaos. To make matters worse, as well as adding to my mental anguish, this happened to coincide with the anniversary of Mario's death.

Having been gone for 2 weeks I needed to come back to "my home" and try to get some work lined up. I was torn by the guilt of leaving as well as relieved to be stepping away from the sadness and tension a family feels during these times. We were all very much on edge. Each of us having a different opinion as to what could and should be done in regard to almost everything.

Needless to say I'll be making frequent trips to Virginia.

There are few things harder to deal with than one of your parents being extremely ill. I was lying in bed with my mother watching Oprah the other afternoon. She sat up and asked me to scratch her back. As I did, she laughed because I don't have any fingernails. Sitting there I couldn't help but think that all those times we argued and bickered over small trivial things seemed so insignificant now. All I could think of was how much I loved her and what a wonderful, supportive mother she had been to me all these years.

I have such a pain in my heart.

Sights and Blossoms

2011-05-05T02:24:00.006-04:00

Odd sight in Upper West Side store window.

Fine example of New York City's landscaping abilities.

Blossoms from the botanical garden.

Botanical Wonder

2011-05-04T00:41:00.004-04:00

Sunday I went to the New York Botanical Garden. I've heard it's amazing and many things were in bloom including magnolias, cherry blossoms, crabapples and azaleas. I've had this planned for awhile but the weather has held me back. I'm not really a "garden" type of person but this was incredible. Perfectly groomed, clean and vast, encompassing 250 acres. Roaming around you would never know you were in The Bronx. Aside from the distant sound of traffic, it's more like being out in the country.

Walking up to a cherry tree, what I thought was a rock turned out to be a young rabbit laying dead on the ground. It seemed oddly placed there and I wondered how it died. I started to take pictures and after a few minutes felt I was being watched. I looked up to find two elderly women looking at me from the path about 30 feet away. In a frail voice one of them called out "What is that?" Barely looking up, I replied, "It's a dead rabbit." "What are you doing?" "I'm photographing it." I heard the other woman say quietly, "He's doing what? Why is he doing that?" They slowly walked away mumbling to each other, obviously confused, looking back at me as they made their way up the path.

Bags & Faces

2011-05-03T01:04:00.004-04:00

Not long ago on a particularly cold day I saw this bag looking back at me while waiting on the subway.On the Upper West Side this "body bag" was in the trash.

Walking down a path through Central Park (I know, I'm there a lot) I noticed this big pillar type thing where there used to be a lamp or gate attached. It was obviously taken down long ago leaving holes and rust...and this face. Sort of creepy.

The other pillar directly across.

Santa...Is That You?

2011-05-02T03:25:00.004-04:00

For hundreds years people have wondered where Santa goes during the summer. Most assumed he and his elves were busy building toys up in the North Pole. Various sightings suggested he had a vacation home in Hawaii. Well, mystery solved. Sorry to say, I found the fat bastard drunk and filthy sleeping on a park bench in Central Park on Saturday. I truly hope no children saw what I saw.

Strolling through the park I saw this man enjoying the beautiful day with his best friend.

At the Met everyone was enjoying the sculptures. This guy spent a little too much time looking at this particular one. Probably reminded him of a long lost love.

Me in an odd mirror sculpture

The Struggle

2011-04-30T10:00:00.004-04:00

How to feel miserable as an artist (or, what not to do); check all that apply:

1. Constantly compare yourself to other artists.
2. Talk to your family about what you do and expect them to cheer you on.
3. Base the success on your entire career on one project.
4. Stick with what you know.
5. Undervalue your expertise.
6. Let money dictate what you do.
7. Bow to societal pressure.
8. Only do work that your family would love.
9. Do whatever the client/customer/gallery/owner/patron/investors asks.
10. Set unachievable/overwhelming goals. To be achieved by tomorrow.

Being a photographer and having a blog I'm constantly tormented with what to shoot, what direction to take my career and what to post on this blog. Talking with friends, I've often expressed my boredom with shooting what clients tell me to shoot. I basically have very little creative freedom or control when doing my job. Obviously I understand my clients have specific needs but I find myself always thinking I should have done something more creative. I envy many art and fashion photographers who have the ability (and confidence) to do exactly what they want without compromise. These are a very lucky few.

Having a blog, I tend to be MUCH more conservative with my language and photographic content, leaning towards what may be more "entertaining to readers" and less controversial. And, sadly, I'm acutely aware of what might be offensive to my family and friends. A little voice always pops up saying, "would that offend Mom?" I know other photographers who don't take such things into consideration. It's a struggle.

Last night I came across the little list above on some random blog. Pretty much sums it all up.

Cello Lady

2011-04-28T12:52:00.010-04:00

The other night I hopped on a northbound A train at 42nd street. As I stepped on and picked my seat I glanced over my shoulder to notice a woman rolling her eyes, pissed that I had taken the seat she obviously wanted. Not giving a shit nor feeling especially gallant I sat down and pulled out my book. There were plenty of other seats. She sat across from me holding a cello upright, obviously closer to some street person than she had hoped. She got off at 181st.

Yesterday, I was standing on the platform at 125th when I noticed I was standing next to the same cello lady wearing a red dress (sans cello). She glanced at me with that look of "Do I know you?" I smiled and said, "Weren't you on the train yesterday with a cello?" She smiled and said, "Yes," and then stopped smiling, obviously remembering that I was the dick who took the seat she wanted. There was an uncomfortable silence, so I broke it with, "I'm a big fan of the cello. The Bach cello solos are some of my favorite music." She returned with a raised eyebrow, a look of doubt and a short , "Really?" I said, "Yeah, I have a special bond with Bach, we were born on the same day." Her eyes lit up and she replied, "Me too!" I said, "Get the hell out of here." Smiling broadly she said, "March 21st, that's amazing...." I said, "Yep, first day of spring, How crazy is that?" I reached out my hand to shake hers, "I'm Stephen." She replied, "I'm Leigh."

Just as the words left my lips the train arrived and I jumped on. As it pulled away I didn't look back at her. Then I realized that in my haste to leave this odd conversation I had jumped on the wrong train.

***

I saw this and couldn't help but wonder whether three people sat on this stoop drinking coffee or if one person drank three cups over a period of time (and was too lazy to toss the cups in the trash). I obviously have way too much time on my hands to ponder such things.

Grounds for Divorce

2011-04-27T00:13:00.005-04:00

There are two kinds of sleepers: beautiful sleepers and ugly sleepers. Sadly, a person rarely ever knows which they are. I doubt anyone ever tells their significant other, "Damn you're ugly when you sleep."

I remember years ago I would occasionally fall asleep on Mario's couch and when I woke up he'd be giggling like a little kid. Thinking he painted something on my face with a Magic Marker, I'd say in a suspicious voice, "What'd you do to me?" Then after a few minutes of making me sweat, he'd show me photos he had taken of me while I was sleeping. Usually curled up on my side, hands clasped together and pinched between my thighs in a semi fetal position. Mouth closed and content looking. Not so bad really. He thought it was hilarious. Actually, I looked almost exactly like my previous post from a few days ago of the little brown man asleep on the ground next to the door.

On Sunday it was sunny and beautiful, in the high 70s. While walking through Central Park I came upon this ghastly sight lying on a bench. WAY beyond "ugly sleeper" status. I had to take a photo of this hideous creature. Without a doubt, the ugliest sleeper I've ever seen in my life.

Personally I think ugly sleeping should be justified grounds for divorce. Who could possibly get sexually aroused after looking at something like this night after night? It's repulsive. That limp drooping face, mouth gaping wide open, looking like death. If that's not a BK (boner killer) I don't know what is.

Is that a man or a woman? Whatever it is...it's frightening.

Saw this oddly lit corner on 4th Ave and East 12th street.

I know, this looks like a photo I may have taken in my Photo 101 class 30 years ago at NOVA. I was walking around the Central Park sailboat pond when I spotted these two geese standing on a drain cover. I found the the reflections to be somewhat interesting. What can I say?

Meatbats, real music with no additives

2011-04-25T19:06:00.007-04:00

Once in a blue moon a band comes along that renews your faith in music. With all the CRAP out there coming from the likes of Lady Gaga and others who can't sing nor play an instrument without the aid of electronics, it's so refreshing to go see a band who can play their asses off and make your heart pound. Last night I went to the Iridium to see The Bombastic Meatbats. Headed by the drummer Chad Smith of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, it's a departure from his usual type of playing. This is good old fashioned fusion. I was lucky enough to sit in the front row and snapped off a bunch of shots (and video) with my little Lumix point-and-shoot camera. And, to make a great night even better, because it was Easter night and the crowd was light, they let me stay for the second set (for free), which was even better than the first.

The best time I've had listening to music in a very long time.

I was told by my waiter that this was the loudest band ever to play at the Iridium. It wasn't that bad, though my ears are still ringing a bit.... I love that!

Variety of Odd

2011-04-25T02:44:00.004-04:00

I can never help myself from shooting a self portrait into one of those fish-eye mirrors on the front awnings of nice buildings.

What ever happened to plain old rat traps or boxes of poison laying around to kill vermin? Walking down Christopher Street I noticed this sign for a "Rodent station" pointing down to the building's basement.

It sounds cozy and nice (comparatively), when in actuality it's still just a box of poison.

On my way to the green market to get my weekly supply of Fuji apples I saw this man sleeping peacefully on a doorstep. He seemed very content and comfortable.

Someone took the time to balance this empty raisin box on top of a fire hydrant rather than put it in a nearby trashcan. People can be so lazy and stupid.

Flower, Gator, Jet

2011-04-24T00:17:00.005-04:00

Walking down 6th Ave. toward Canal Street, I glanced up to see these orchids in the sun on a roof deck. Colorful!

Odd sight lying on the ground in the Village. I have no idea what it was there for, some promotion I would assume. I'd bet it was stolen shortly after I took this.

On the A train platform, Far Rockaway.

A Pooch, Carts and Gas

2011-04-23T01:14:00.004-04:00

Today, after leaving Conde Nast, I saw this little dog sitting out in front of a bar patiently waiting for his owner. I wondered how long he had been sitting there. I really wanted to pet him but didn't. Instead, I just stood there looking at him. He seemed very sweet. I felt sad for that little dog even though he looked somewhat content watching the passersby.

Look how he rests his little butt on the planter thing.

I truly wanted to yell at his owner for being neglectful and then dog-nap him.

While in Virginia last week I stopped by Costco and noticed this long caterpillar of carts in the parking lot. I stood there for a few minutes watching people adding to it. People saw me taking photos of it and scratched their heads probably wondering why. Frankly, I found it odd but I guess it's a normal occurrence in the burbs.

Walking through my Dominican ghetto neighborhood I noticed the current price of gas. Suddenly I was thankful I didn't own a car. Still cheap by world standards where a gallon of gas in England is more than $8.

Then again, on the NYC subway you can travel 30+ miles for $2.25. A comparative bargain (if you don't mind watching degenerates pee and vomit).

Reminded of that, suddenly I want a car.

Spontaneous Shoot in the Woods

2011-04-19T00:58:00.006-04:00

While home for my sister's wedding last week I made time for a quick shoot Saturday morning. I picked up D.C.-based model Kori Lei and her friend Melissa at the Vienna metro. Not having a great location in mind we took a quick ride out Route 66 to Haymarket where we pulled down some dirt road and took some fun photos. The car was our only prop. It was a dreary, overcast day but turned out to be lots of fun. We pulled into an abandoned farm, put down the windows and blasted the heat. Kori and Melissa were both great fun. Kori's different looking than most models I shoot (in a good way). She's exotic and full of enthusiasm. I was exhausted just watching her jump around.

I'm sure she'll be a famous at something soon (rock star, model, actress, etc.). Keep your eyes peeled. She's a hoot.

Another Day in Paradise

2011-04-18T03:11:00.008-04:00

Another Subway Tale:

So tonight I hopped on the A train headed home after shooting all day on 59th street. I'm sitting across from five flamboyant gay guys all laughing, singing, talking loud and being very "gay." The mannerisms, the hand gestures...very affected. They were causing quite the scene but no one seemed to care. There was also a plump boisterous woman in the middle of them (their f#g hag) having fun with her little "girlfriends." A seat opened up a few feet away and I sat there not paying them any attention. Suddenly (again) I hear people gasping and mumbling, "Oh no...." I glanced to my right just in time to see one of the stylish boys with vomit dripping from his mouth and about a gallon of what looked pancake batter in his lap, in his seat and all over the floor. All I could think of was, "What the hell had he been eating? Pig slop? Hummus?" And, just like yesterday when the bum peed, people got up and scattered. Someone handed him a big wad of napkins and he began to smear the mess around his pants attempting to wipe it off but ended up pushing it onto the floor. He mumbled "Sorry" a few times as the stared at his lap, mortified by what had just happened. It was truly disgusting. And what the hell WAS that pancake batter looking stuff?

I really have to stop riding the train so much.

Spring has sprung (I think). This guy drags this upright piano out into Washington Square Park and plays for money. He invites others to play as well. I've seen him rolling the piano home late in the afternoon up Bleecker Street. If you ever want to get your kid involved in music I suggest buying him a harmonica or a flute, maybe the triangle. Something a bit easier to carry around.

The other day it was beautiful. In the high 70s. People were confused with what to wear. I saw a girl in a bikini laying in the park and and hour later this old woman dressed like it was winter with an umbrella...it was sunny.

Standing on the elevated #1 train platform up in the Bronx, I looked over the side to watch the people below (I like to do that). I saw this guy standing there staring at the wall and shuffling his feet. He was there for the longest time.

A Subway First

2011-04-17T01:01:00.008-04:00

Subway Tsunami (read on)

Headed home the other night I hopped on the #1 train around 10:00pm. Stepping on the train looking for a seat I instantly noticed a homeless man lying across 5 seats asleep. At the next stop some guy about 30 stepped on and being that it was a packed train immediately went over to the sleeping bum and started clapping his hands inches from his face yelling, "Hey Buddy, get up--people need to sit down!" I thought to myself, "Wow...what balls this guy has." I imagined the homeless guy getting up, startled and lunging at him with a knife. Nope, he opened one eye, grumbled a bit and stayed where he was. A few minutes later, I hear women shrieking and looked over to see the bum reach down, pull the front of his pants down and start to pee. It sprayed out onto the floor and pooled. Everyone sat staring in disbelief, mouths wide open in shock. I said out loud, "Holy shit, now I've seen everything." Then, as the train wobbled back and forth the large puddle of pee started moving...like a urine tsunami. People grabbed their bags, jumped up on seats and darted to the other side of the train. At the next stop the car nearly cleared out. I stayed out of pee range but surprised myself with an overwhelming desire to do something horrible to this man. Beat him, drag him onto the next platform and kick him...just punish him for doing something so disgusting and filthy. In hindsight I should have felt compassion for him but all I felt was disgust and anger. I turned to the guy next to me and said, "Fucking animal." He looked back at me and replied, "No, a fucking animal wouldn't do that." Perhaps these people should be taken off the streets and institutionalized....or better yet... wait... no, no... bad thoughts... have sympathy on the less fortunate and disturbed. Yeah right. You pee or defecate on a subway and you should be punished. Maybe you won't do it again.

About once a month I stop into Mamoun's and have a falafel sandwich with hummus, hot sauce and extra tomatoes. The best $3 you can spend in the city

Walking down the street I saw this abandoned set of bunny ears laying on the ground. I couldn't help myself using my shadow instead of my head.

Walking through Times Square I saw this enthusiastic mother showing her very young child the sights. The kid was obviously less impressed than Mom.

The cops at Times Square park their horses for long periods of time letting the tourists take photos and pet them. This one was very majestic and well behaved. And, unlike that derelict on the subway, he didn't pee or poop once.

Harry & Margie

2011-04-12T05:09:00.005-04:00

Just back from Virginia. My wonderful sister Margie was married to Harry Lee on Sunday. The wedding was small and intimate with just immediate family present. It was a beautiful afternoon and the whole thing went off without a hitch. It was really very nice... I usually hate weddings because they're generally too formal, too long and too stuffy. Theirs was fairly brief and wonderful.

I was the designated photographer. These are just a few unedited random snaps--don't judge my wedding skills on these!

The vows...

Margie and Harry at the reception...

Wanting to make this day special, I dragged a ton of lighting equipment to the affair hoping to take some beautiful group portraits. As soon as the service was over everyone was running for the door. I was once again reminded (for the ten thousandth time) that most people really don't like having their picture taken. If I snap more than a few frames they start to complain..."Why do you take so many?" And they sigh with disgust, "Another one?" They roll their eyes and make faces and slump and complain. This isn't just my family, it's everyone. If I had a dollar for every time someone has said, "I really don't like having my picture taken," or, "I don't look good in photos," I'd be a millionaire. I want to scream out, "Shut up! I have to shoot a lot because you're going to blink in 75 percent of the photos and you're going to give me fakey unrealistic smiles in 90 percent of the shots, so shut up and let me shoot. I might just get a good one. And take that damned mint out of your mouth so your face won't be contorted." Damn what a pain in the ass. Now, this was a wedding with only twenty people attending so it was fairly painless. I can't imagine shooting 200 and trying to get a few good frames of each one of them.

A few times during the evening someone said, "Gee Steve, you may have found your calling. Move back to Virginia and become a wedding photographer." To which I replied, "I'd seriously rather blow my brains out," and I wasn't kidding. I'd sooner shoot myself.

After the wedding and my SHORT photography break, we went to a great little Italian restaurant in downtown Fairfax called Bellissimo. Amazing!

http://www.bellissimorestaurant.com/lunch-menu.htm

The the service was incredible and the food was as good or better than any Italian I've had in New York City, and that's saying a lot. Truly great!

Time for a Change? Perhaps.

2011-04-01T02:58:00.011-04:00

I look stressed. I think I need to go to a dermatologist and get a squirt of Botox between my eyes. Or, forget injecting rat poison in my face and change my life. Ever since Mario died I've had this permanent dent in my forehead. A divot, a crow foot, a crease, a gutter, a crevice (or crevasse), all synonyms for my furrowed brow. Whatever you might call it, I need to fill it in. Perhaps it's a combination of going to bed at 3:00am and eating too much sugar. I admit it, I do enjoy the "white devil." I love a cold Pepsi, though I only have maybe two a week. I do love ice cream. Always low fat, but still. Unfortunately I've watched a few of those late night infomercials by Dr. Perricone (the so-called skin expert) telling everyone that if you eat a single grain of sugar your face will soon morph into the likes of a Sharpei. Now I can't even enjoy a Pepsi without looking in the mirror afterwards to see if it made me look any older. That damn TV doctor, he ruined eating sweets for me.

To be honest, I'm fairly certain my furrowed brow is caused not so much by sugar as it is my flawed A.D.H.D mind constantly tormenting me.

The following things annoy me incessantly:

The massive consumerism in this country.

95% of what's on TV.

Our ridiculous celebrity worship.

The wars we've started and can't seem to resolve.

Our massive debt.

Our dependency on fossil fuels.

Our over consumption of virtually everything.

Our huge pollution problem.

Extermination of so many species.

Over population.

Plastic bags (actually, plastic in general).

Litter.

Overall human laziness and apathy towards everything.

Talking to my Dad last night I mentioned that I'm almost (that's, almost) ready to cash in my chips here in New York City and move to a place out in the country in Maryland or Virginia. Live in a small trailer or cabin, use my TV only to watch movies on DVD, have a good stereo, only have a few guitars (sell the other 9 or so), join or start a band, get a dog from the pound, start a garden, go to bed at 11:00pm, buy a four-cylinder car, read more, write a book, get a good rocking chair, put a fire pit and some lawn chairs out back, invite friends over often and finally, travel and take as many road trips as possible.

The things I truly love to photograph seem to be all outside of New York. Rural county fairs, coal miners, preachers, people butchering pigs. I feel I've done a full circle. Perhaps it's time for a change.

Now the BIG dilemma... Just what do I do for a living?

With that said, I can feel my forehead tighten and begin to furrow...

Looking up, looking down

2011-03-31T02:15:00.006-04:00

Walking through Central Park with a friend the other night, we came upon a group of people sitting on the rocks high above Wollman ice skating rink. It was like a little party up there enjoying the view.

After having lunch with Ron last week we stopped in front of Chelsea Market. Ron looked up and pointed out how the rain had collected on the glass awning hanging over us. Must give credit where credit's due.

Yesterday afternoon while walking through the West Village I noticed all these air conditioners protruding from this building. I couldn't help but wonder if one had ever broken loose, dropping to the ground squishing some poor unsuspecting person on the sidewalk. Which got me wondering about the other hundreds of thousands of a/c units sticking out of similar buildings. I'm sure most of them having much less stringent rules on mounting than this place. Makes me a bit wary (or paranoid) of walking down the sidewalk.

The Turn Around..

2011-03-30T00:55:00.007-04:00

I read not long ago in Time Out New York magazine that Carrot Top Pastries has some of the best muffins in NYC. I needed to go to the green market on 207th street for my weekly fix of Fuji apples (12), so I figured I'd hit both places since they were in the same direction. It was freezing outside. As I walked along I started to wonder if spring will ever come or if there may have been some cataclysmic global shift causing the tsunami in Japan as well as an indefinite continuation of winter here in the city.

I got my apples and continued on to the bakery. They had carrot, chocolate chip and bran muffins. I opted for carrot and foolishly asked for a decaf coffee but got regular after a snide smirk from the counter person. Finding a table in the front window I took off my camera, coat, hoodie and gloves. I got comfortable and pulled out a newspaper. My first sip of coffee scalded the shit out of my lip and tongue... Hot as lava. A minute later, after wiping the tears from my eyes, I reached into the little paper bag and pulled out the greatly anticipated muffin. It looked like any other muffin and, to my dismay, it tasted like any other muffin. I just walked half a mile to get scalded and eat an average tasting muffin? I didn't finish it and tossed it in the trash.

On the way home I decided to stop at the local diner to get an egg sandwich. Something I never eat. I ordered two scrambled eggs on a roll with cheddar ($2.75). Walking home I decided to eat it on my stoop in the sun. A little picnic. I unwrapped the aluminum foil and took a bite. I set the sandwich resting in the foil on my knee for just a second to loosen my coat and before I could grab it, half of it fell on the ground. The other half was bland and needed salt & pepper (not in the bag). I tossed it in the trash.

So far my morning was not going well.

About 1:00pm my friend Ingrid showed up. We had planned on taking some photos but didn't really have any ideas. Being too cold to shoot outside I decided to put up my trusty gray blanket in the hall outside my apartment. I set up a light and made a little makeshift studio. We would shoot a few frames until we heard a neighbor leaving or coming up the steps and quickly Ingrid would dart into my apartment. After 45 minutes or so of this I was taking down the blanket and once again the gaffer tape ripped off the paint on the wall. I had to do a quick touch-up job before my building super found out.

A real estate agent showed up while we were shooting to show the apartment across the hall. As they were leaving they didn't lock the door. We took the liberty of going inside and shooting some crazy photos for about 30 minutes. Beautiful light, much better than my place.

Finally, back in my apartment without any better ideas and light fading, Ingrid hopped up on my stove. She's a hoot.

After a disastrous morning the day turned around to be quite nice ending with a great Italian dinner of angel hair pasta with red clam sauce at my favorite place on Carmine Street.