Color chrome, Dublin
Off the deep end
Downward from the parent cloud
A man with too much choice
New outfit every time
Script the same 10 days on
Reconstruct the narrative
Spin like a top
Color the border
This fence against us
Hope on the horizon of another setting sun
Purchase a print of this photo
Nothing to photograph, NYC
Friday feeling like a Monday
Plane crashed by its pilot
Something radical and new
Nothing new under the sun
I forced myself to ignore Times Square
Nothing to photograph in New York City
Purchase a print of this photo
Securing the light
Creative block is not devoid of color; it is rather filled with it. The disconnect comes in the lack of motivation. You can still see what you need to see, but you can’t see reason to cultivate outcomes. I ran into this color wall in October but avoided it for almost three months as if it were chasing me. I’m way behind in editing photos. I haven’t taken any since December 13th while attempting to comb through the backlog.
A sliver and slices
The moon and some color, or is it a moon and the color?
Purchase a print of this photo
Two-named guitarist, NOLA
“Hi, my name is…” and that was it. He had two names, and he said them to me like it was the most important thing ever. I gave him two dollars, and from there it was all stare. “I play weird chords,” he said. “The weird ones are better.” I remember it sounded like a country name, but he was from Aurora and living in New Orleans. He stood there, strumming, but I didn’t hear a thing. I’m bad with names.
Purchase a print of this photo
Transitional fade
I saw her go around the corner, so I ran-walked across the street and tried to get ahead. You can’t full-out run or they’ll notice you. There was a family of five and a man pushing a giant garbage bin of ice between me and the desired location. You could see the contents of the bin, but someone still found it necessary to outfit the front with a crude “ICE” sign – maybe for comedic effect, maybe to direct you where to put the ice. The letters were in blue and drippy from the sweating can. It’s funny how you remember the funny stuff in a moment of crisis. Maybe crisis is too strong a word.
Purchase a print of this photo
Between the black
I’m not sure whether it was a protea, but any time there’s a perfect flower wedged between black velvet chairs on a backlit, piano-key glass wall, I’m interested. After the trip to South Africa I have proteas on the brain, but this was taken in a hotel lobby in Chicago.
Purchase a print of this photo
Two doors in Bo Kaap
My only regret about Bo Kaap is I didn’t spend a couple of hours there. I got maybe eight minutes, and I was stopped and complained at for shooting by a local for half of that time. With all the irregularities of the space there are hundreds of composition opportunities. Any pair of doors was awesome simply for the stark differences in color. Green against red worked fine by me.
Purchase a print of this photo
