Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Martyr

[Above] Graffiti
Harvard Square, Boston
Massachusetts

At the end of City Lights, when the film's heroine at last sees the man who has delivered her from blindness, we watch her romantic dreams die in an instant. "You?" she asks, incredulous. "Yes," the Tramp nods, his face, caught in extreme close-up, a map of pride, shame and devotion. It's the oldest story in show business — the last shall yet be, if not first, at least recognized, and perhaps even loved. This holds true for real life too. Sometimes. All the answers to all the questions are hidden on deep cable, wedged between remixes of Temptation Island and the Mole. Sometimes we're the hero. And sometimes we're the tramp.

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Fortune is Gone

[Above] Winter Surfer on Ogunquit Beach
[Lower] Surfer through vintage Kodak Duaflex

Rain hits the windows of the car in sheets with a sound similar to rock salt being thrown at glass. A lone, neoprene clad surfer makes his way through the 4 foot breakers to a non-existent lineup. Everything is gray. Up is gray. Down is gray. The only line of demarcation between the horizon and beach is the white fingernails of the waves. Somewhere off shore, a winter storm draws in energy from an air mass over the Canadian shield and coughs this miniature winter swell shoreward. There is talk of snow tomorrow. Another trademark day for the Maine coast. 50 feet from the car, a boarded up fortune teller’s booth reads “See you next season.”

There has to be a lesson in there somewhere.

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Rose with Logo

[Left] Rose on Black Velvet with Logo

Photography for Promotional Materials & Website Background
In-Studio Photograph

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Friday, January 18, 2008

Northeastern Revolution Promo Image

[Above] Image for Northeastern Revolution:
A New England Mountain Bike Journey
DVD menu screen and web promotion.

In-Studio Photograph

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Spheres

[Above] Terracotta Spheres
Texture Stock Image Series

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Saturday, January 12, 2008

The Last Angry Man

[Above] Incredible Hulk Action Figure *
© Marvel Comics

This guy has been kicking around the studio for years. He used to live on my desk at a job I really didn't like.† He faced out to greet anyone who entered my office. His expression told the whole story, I raged vicariously through him.

Growing up with a darkroom and studio in the basement of our house, my father and I used to build elaborate miniature photographic scenes with Star Wars action figures, painted Styrofoam planets, and poster board. In retrospect, our visual effects were slightly less ghetto than the original Star Trek. In attempt to keep shooting and stay out of the concrete gray upstate weather, I scheduled a little photo time with Mr. Hulk. I chose a studio backdrop that would best set off his profile and mimic the color of his tattered shorts.

Really, who am I kidding? Like trying to assign meaning to reality TV on deep cable, I am just wasting time. There are no lessons for the outer world when someone is voted off the island. But wasting time is sometimes fun too.

* I wanted to name this post Some Kind of Monster until I realized it was the name of that documentary about that bad metal band and their millionaire personal dramas.

† I'm contractually prohibited from mentioning the name of the firm. Upon my departure, there was a mutual agreement that this firm would not defame me and in turn, I would not speak of their corporate secrets.

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Marvel Comics Logo & Incredible Hulk © Marvel Comics

Friday, January 11, 2008

Fallen Comrade


[Above] Fallen Comrade
Wild Beach Horses
Outer Banks, North Carolina

Early morning on the Outer Banks, 5AM. The solemnity of the scene weighed as much as every grain of sand on that 9 mile stretch of beach. I stood in silence watching them as they watched over their fallen comrade.

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Thursday, January 3, 2008

January Notebook

While I miss the summer terribly, there are benefits to the winter. Over the past 10 days, the northeast has endured a chain of storms that have blown in from the Midwest, gained strength over the eastern seaboard and dumped a swath of heavy snow from the Ohio valley into upstate New York. This is considered to be a classic Nor’easter pattern of storm development and this season has seen a steady diet of these powerful storms. This particular weather pattern usually targets upstate New York for the heaviest precip. Right now, the weather station mounted to the back of the house reads 3 degrees. While I hate the gray skies and lack of color, I accept the cold. My personal theory is that if you choose to live in the northeast; there isn’t much of a basis for complaining about the winter weather.

Last night, a friend and I snowshoed eight miles of virgin powder. My secret stash of trails is always a great fix for quality snowshoe terrain. * [For purposes of anonymity, I call these trails the The Race Track. Locals only, Brah.] The sky was sharp and clear. Radational cooling chilled temps to the low single digits and the wind made it all feel that much colder. On the coldest night of the year, we hiked for well over three hours. Chemical heat packs under layers of fleece and gore-tex kept the arctic air at bay making for an almost comfortable excursion. Felt great to be outside. The reductionist in me tends to see the winter as series of portages between heated boxes. I have never dealt well with being locked down for long periods of time. Winter is a wait. The numbers don't lie. The next warm day is months off.

Not much in the way of new photography to post. I am in the midst of numerous writing and media development projects. Planning a minor road trip tomorrow in search of some ice climbing to shoot. The cold temperatures of the past few days are the perfect incubator for strong, plastic ice. I am sure it's possible to find some climbers who've shelved their day jobs on a Friday for some crampons and ice tools.

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