Archive for October, 2013

October 27, 2013

Flowered bike

If I remember correctly, this bicycle was part of a fundraising ride for a plantation house – built to look awesome and presumably be photographed by media in order to build interest. What’s funny is you’re not allowed to take photos on the plantation’s grounds – including these bicycles. Of course, I try to play Jedi mind tricks on security people and hosts and such, and so I have this photo of one of the dozen laying around. Still, I was noticed and scolded on the way out. Seems kind of self-defeating to fight what aids you, no? You should let people shoot – everything. If you want people to visit, don’t you need to be everywhere.
Flowered bike
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October 26, 2013

The old gym

It’s just an old gym with a really small air conditioner. I’ve been inside, and it’s pretty cool. Old basketball gyms are way better than newer ones – if their floors have been taken care of. They get waxed over so many times over decades of use that they feel different under your feet. The seem to have more life in them and give the ball back to your hand better off a bounce. Anyway, you can’t see any of that in this photo. It’s all a guess as to what’s inside from here, but the facade sort of gives it all away.
The old gym
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October 25, 2013

Web in a light

It’s probably strange to see someone taking a photo of a streetlight at 11pm. But this one lined up really nice with the Boeing Building behind it, and it had a spiderweb inside. I mean, there’s a spiderweb in the light, which might not be interesting to anyone, but I wanted a photo of it, so I got it. I think I smiled and said hi to at least 10 people walking by… who then forked their heads around in really awkward ways to try to figure out what I was doing. Ever notice how awkward the word awkward looks?
Web in a light
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October 24, 2013

Southeast pause

The train stopped all of three minutes the other day, and about sixty seconds into that pause I looked up to notice the perfect scene framed up by the window. Pity it was darker outside than it was inside, and so the lights and innards of the train reflected back harshly. One little corner was salvageable, however, and this is it. Something about it looks really 1920s, and so I applied some extra grain, even though the skyscrapers on the horizon defeat that feeling. The moment I snapped this frame the train started moving again.
Southeast pause
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October 23, 2013

Transparent grasses

This title is a total lie. The grasses are not transparent, nor are they more than one type of grass. They are simply regular blades of grass from one tuft of grass. They might not even be grass at all; it could be a plant. The more I worked on it, the less real it looked. Then it became something else entirely and a worthy candidate to be blogged here. Cool.
Transparent grasses
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October 22, 2013

Evening cellscape with rising moon

Found this one hanging out in an old folder on my desktop, just like the last one. It’s nice to go back and rediscover something you liked but didn’t touch. I believe I wasn’t certain how to process this photo when I made it over a year ago, but coming back to things helps you lose what you were intending and then somehow stumble upon it again. Photos (when taken) rarely look like their end result, though you often need an idea for how they should turn out when taking them. When the processing doesn’t go as planned, that’s when you throw them on the scrapheap or leave them in a trash can down a dark alley. Funny what happens when you open them back up.
Evening cellscape with rising moon
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October 21, 2013

Can a bridge be a door?

Can foliage be a wall? Can we put on our critical thinking caps?

Door There Somewhere
there’s a door there somewhere
hidden and overgrown
not the one you see
it’s a wall
but you know
there’s a door there somewhere
hidden and overgrown

Words NOT by me. Image by me.
Can a bridge be a door?
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October 20, 2013

Twosixthreefive

I think the story goes… the address remains a requirement despite the building standing in ruin – in case of fire. It’s easier to call in a giant numerical address than say “it’s the third abandoned building on the right as you head south.” This is actually the first one, heading south. The other two are already on the blog, and they’re headed south, too. Louisiana is beautiful, gritty and incongruous to the senses. Everything, not just the buildings, could easily fall apart. It never will.
Twosixthreefive
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October 19, 2013

Zydeco road

There’s something uneasy about the country. You expect nothing to be around, and so it worries you a touch when you notice someone is coming. Are they supposed to be along this way? If they’re not, why are they here? If they’re here for no good reason how long will it take for help to get here? My friends live down this road where at night you can hear it coming from maybe a mile or more away. It starts as an unnatural noise up in the corner and then slides down to the horizon when you see it. When you orient the sound with the visual it then blows you away just how long it takes to arrive. Sound and light carry so well and from such a distance at night.

A few hours after taking this shot a noise rolled our way from way down the dirt road. It sounded all treble from the treeline but then became more distiguishable. Loud, upbeat music – like a party. Two vehicles traveled slowly our way, almost as though they were attempting to avoid kicking up the dust. It made sense. As they passed, I hid along a fence to get a good look at them – a father and son riding ATVs blaring zydeco music. They had fishing tackle tacked on to the back of their bikes, and the teenaged boy had hung a boombox off one of his handlebars. They crept by at maybe 10 miles per hour, grinding the road into a cone of dust behind them.
Zydeco road
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October 17, 2013

The boxer

Lots of boxes. I’m seeing boxes all over the place. People in boxes, looking into boxes, boxing their days around little events written into box-like calendars likely made out of recycled cardboard boxes. This man stood in a box inside of other boxes and stared into his little box and even wore an identification card that kept all his info nice and square for whomever had to let him into a box-like building to work. Even his shirt is nothing but a series of boxes.

Sometimes homeless people sleep in that doorway at night. The window is always decorated in a way to entice a business to set up shop, but it never comes. Photography is all boxes. Thankfully, the street is angled.
The boxer
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