Dead Type: 4

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

John Bulmer Nature Stock: Summer 2009

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John Bulmer Nature Stock: Green

John Bulmer Nature Stock Photography and Textures for Commercial Design and Advertising Applications. Available at select stock photography sources or through jbulmer.com

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

John Bulmer Nature Stock

John Bulmer Nature Stock Photography and Textures for Commercial Design and Advertising Applications. Available at select stock photography sources or through jbulmer.com

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Dead Type: C193

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Revolution 7 Logo Remix 2009

[Above] The Revolution 7 Battle Flag logo remixed for Summer 2009
Battle Flag Carbon

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Dead Type: C45/JOGX 8945 Panel

The rail yards of the Port of Albany are a moving gallery of wild style tags and spray paint genius.

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Parson's Beach Note

Found this on a piece of scrap paper in a photo journal from 2008. Written on the dirt access road to Parson's Beach just outside of Wells, Maine.

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

The Unseen Northeast

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Monkey Mind

Standing in the forest, shooting photos and studying every element of my surroundings, is as close as I can get to meditation. The monkey rattles the cage, but the time behind the camera shuts him down. Photography is one of the only things in my life that allows me to be fully present in the moment.

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Low Orbits

In the early morning hours, strange, traveling cities appear in parking lots and empty fields. They appear much like crop circles, something man made with a covert delivery that camouflages a less than mystical back story.

Carnivals transform the empty spaces at the edges of the suburbs into something that is both magical and trashy all at once. These tiny, self-contained cities of fried dough stands, Whack-a-Mole booths, and flashing lights seem to spring up overnight. It is a proven business model that will attract people from three counties and try to tempt them with riches won from throwing a ping pong ball into a fish bowl at 10 feet. 'Hey you with the pretty lady, be a man, try to win her a stuffed monkey." A true standard of one's devotion.

The very DNA of a carnival is foldable, packable, and drivable: low-fi Transformers that plug into orange extension chords that play canned organ music. It is a world that is transient and fully retractable by necessity.

As a kid, the carnival's arrival always signaled the end of summer vacation. As an adult, at a distance, the lights of the Ferris wheel and Tilt-a-Whirl look like a mirage of childhood wonders. Up close, the rides look like shit can contraptions that are at best marginally maintained and controlled by bored looking roughnecks in NASCAR apparel.

Memories of the end of summer are triggered with the smell of cotton candy, fried food, and popcorn. The local carnival was the last stop before we returned to the structured environment of school days and schedules. We all knew a good thing had come to an end, and this was our one last night to live it up. The last chance to live to up the way 13 year old boys do: to antagonize the girls we liked, eat shitty food, and ride the most rickety, dangerous rides we could find. Bonus points if all three were combined into one.

I forget just when exactly I stopped going to the alter of cotton candy to celebrate the summer's passing, but I have a feeling it has something to do with the massive infusion of hillbillies and country music that has come to be the trademark of Carny life. Today, the hip hop wannabe's and pseudo-cowboys occupy the same midway with knock-the-chip-off-my-shoulder, don't-scuff-my-pumas bravado. Carnivals are amazing examples of just how similar urban and rural cultures are to each other.

I remember the last time I actually sat on a ride at a carnival by the music that was playing. It was the summer that the Beastie Boys released Intergalactic. Checking Google, the single was released on July 14th, 1998. This puts our time line at approximately one month later. I was on a date with a girl with whom I would soon forget. We were riding one of those swing carousels made famous by either the countless internet posts of lost limbs and head injuries, or the stock photo on the first Dave Matthew's release, Under the Table and Dreaming (I can make the argument that both examples are equally painful.) As the ride gained momentum and the chair swings were carried out by centrifugal force, the Carny landscape unfolded as a haphazard shanty town of souvenir booths and odd attractions. The ride provided a look behind the airbrushed and blinking facades that seemed to hide a seedy infrastructure. As we arced higher, we could see directly into the ride parked next to the chair swing, The Viking’s Castle. Probably not part of the ride, but infinitely more entertaining, was a thin, shirtless man with a farmer’s tan and a Viking headdress, kissing a woman who was seated on a folding table. As we orbited over the carnival, with each rotation, another piece of clothing would disappear until all that was worn between the two of them was that headdress with the fake plastic horns. Carny Thor was oblivious to the 50 people orbiting 30 feet over his head as he played out his dingy He-man Master of the Universe fantasy. Near the end of the ride (ours not his) he raised his hands in victory, punctuated by two metal signs (sometimes called Hook'em Horns) at the heavens. Very, very heavy metal. It was like watching a parody of a parody of a Led Zeppelin themed piece of performance art.

That almost 11 years ago, I can’t listen to Intergalactic without thinking of that day.

-jbulmer

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Dead Type: 242

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Provincetown, 5:38AM

I found a piece of yellow paper
Folded into quarters
And tucked into an old notebook
A note from the recent past

Written on August 22, 2007
On a scrap from a mini legal pad. probably in my car sitting on McMillian wharf.

Ghosts in culinary white cotton
Bake Portuguese bread at
5.38 in the morning.

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Only as Strong as the Signal

You check the news
From the outer world
Signals travel through fog
Finding the end of an aerial
At the top of the Corning
Not exactly a one in a million shot
But still impressive from over the horizon
Low clouds draw halos around aircraft warning beacons
Red at six seconds

The television stations
All went off the air 40 minutes ago
A tinny national anthem soundtrack
To film of Mount Rushmore
Fighters drawing contrails
And the American flag in front of fireworks
12 seconds of test pattern
And then nothing until
The white noise of static
The day ends
Only as strong as the signal

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Battle Flag

Be kinder than usual because everyone is fighting some sort of battle.

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Rails

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Dead Type: Falls View Park

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Sunsets & Rural Roads

I am haunted by the smell of evening out among the cornfields. Reminds me of my 20's when I had nothing better to do than ride my road bike 300 miles a week. I would see the sunset every night and sleep deeply from the training and fresh air. I have since lost the potion for bottomless sleep. Sunset drives are bittersweet reminders.

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

The Revolution Will Be Publicized

[Above] Revolution 7 2009 Propaganda Posters
With New York City Cab, Times Square, NYC
"An Enemy of the Enemies"

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Throwing Pixels WInged Bomb

[Above] Throwing Pixels Winged Bomb Logo
Summer 2009
Developed by Revolution 7 Creative | John Bulmer

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Revolution 7: Times Square Beautification Project

[Top] Revolution 7 Creative 2009 Propaganda Poster: An Enemy of the Enemies

[Bottom] Revolution 7 Creative's Time Square Beautification Project
Times Square, NYC

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Strip Mall Zen

Via Twitter: 1:48PM
Sitting in a Starbucks, eating oatmeal, drinking dark roast. Strip mall zen.

Today is one of those days in the northeast that isn't quite hot, but the humidity makes up the difference. Humidity builds up under watchbands, and car seat backs, and around the brims of hats.

Today whispers of August and hot parking lot solitude. Rows of spaces remain because everyone is either hiding in the air conditioning or sitting in the shade of some park.

Today also whispers of thunderstorms, the trademark of a northeastern summer afternoon. Right now, the sky is featureless and gray but not quite purple. Eventually the gray will fade into nothing OR some unknown tipping point will fire off a monster that will come over the horizon decked out in bruise purple pointing dendrite fingers toward all the high points.

I missed the summer. Winter is a wait. Something to endure. Summer is an opportunity. Something to be used as a starting point.

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Fog in the Valley

[Above] Sunrise with Fog
Red Rock Canyon, Nevada

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Dead Type: Energized

[Above] Warning, Access Door
Hoover Damn, Nevada

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Dead Type: Esquire Drugs

[Above] Dead Type: Esquire Drugs | Menands | New York

Today, the world is a franchise. Nothing is left to chance, but that means nothing is unique. Mom and Pop sold out to Panera and Wallgreen's and are now living comfortably on the small Caribbean island of St. Kitts. Part of me despises them and part of me can't blame them. In the end, we are all just looking for better days.

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Hay Trailer in Fog

[Above] Hay Trailer in Fog

10.32pm and I am calling it a night. Helicopters fly over the house and the moon dips in and out of passing clouds. I can see the top of the Corning Tower from my living room window. The aircraft beacons are automated, as is much of the city at this hour. Much of the world runs on autopilot. The designs for automation are everywhere. Embedded and ingrained. Satellite radio is on and I am listening to the New York City traffic report. There is an accident on the BQE. Information used to be scarce, now there is an overload, everyday, all the time. I heard a fact somewhere that the average person in 2009 takes in and processes more information in a day than a person in the middle ages processed in their entire lifetime. Too much of anything can't be good for you.

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Sound Roaring Through Sunlight

Sound roaring through sunlight.
Safe as an enemy asked for help.
Never without noise.

Created with TouchPoet for the iPhone/iPod
Downtown Burlington, Vermont

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Killswitch Magazine 2009 Redesign

[Above] Revolution 7 Creative has redesigned Killswitch Magazine's logo for Summer 2009
Visit Killswitch Magazine at www.killswitchmagazine.com

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

The Myths of Childhood : Tales from the Backyard

Childhood is a collection of minor heroes and villains that live in the oral histories of neighborhood kids. As with all forms of oral history, there is no absolute truth, and facts change depending on the person telling the story. Filtered through innocence and awe and insecurity, these stories acquire a life force that strengthens with age.

The news of a kid jumping a garbage can on his bike a few streets over would make its way through the neighborhood grapevine and come out on the other side as an epic tale of deadly jump over a moving cop car in the rain. Younger kids keep the myths of older kids alive in much the same way that indigenous people look to the myths of their forefathers for guidance thorough life’s struggles.

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Revoltion 7 Creative: Fine Corporate Propaganda Since 1999

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Red House

[Above] Red House. Somewhere in Saratoga County
New York

Took a drive yesterday out through the maze of sod farms in Saratoga country. Rain falling on acres and acres of perfectly manicured sod is very tranquil. The visual resonates at the same frequency as watching the ocean in a light rain.

10:53am and we are on the way to see the Dalai Lama in Albany.

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Soundtrack: Trip LIke I Do

On the iPod right now: Trip Like I Do | Crystal Method/Filter

Flashback 1997: Lower Manhattan. Little Italy & Chinatown. Walking through a street festival listening to Crystal Method/Filter's Trip Like I Do on my CD Walkman. Right now, today, I feel line every line of that song. Every line rings true. So, I went and fished the song out of my iPod and am listening to it right now.

Small detail: I also remember walking through a crowd of cops while wearing an NYPD hat. One thick accented patrolman looked over and said "nice hat" with a hint of annoyance. At that point, you couldn't buy a New York Police hat in every stall and bootleg shop on Canal Street. I got it through a convoluted set of back channels and wore it with extreme irony with a nod toward one of NWA's most famous singles.

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Revolution 7 Films

Revolution 7 Films: Summer 2009

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Dead Type: 8

Dead Type: 8
Albany, New York
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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Dead Type: 60

Dead Type: 60
Albany, New York

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Green on Green

[Above] Door, Tivoli Street
Albany, New York

Seeing color in the landscape is such a treat after a monotone, line drawing northeastern winter.

Went to the Port tonight based on rumors that the circus was coming to town. I really wanted to get images of elephants marching through the petroleum holding talks and mazes of pipes and sodium lights. The elephant train was late and I didn't the time nor the the inclination to wait. Damn carnies.

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Fog is a Fattened Cloud

[Above] Fog, Overlook Mountain
Woodstock, New York

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Dalai Lama Stencil

[Above] Dalia Lama Stencil
Alleyway, Burlington, Vermont

Andre the Giant has a posse.
The Dalia Lama has a street team.

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Freedom of Speech Means Nothing

Freedom of Speech Means Nothing...
Graffiti, Burlington, Vermont

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

The Armies of Progress March Blindly On

[Above] Albany Pinebush Landscape with Construction Vehicles
[Alternate Title] The Armies of Progress March Blindly On

Given enough time, everything will eventually be either a parking lot, strip mall, or abandoned retail space for new age churches to recycle and inhabit. Never do what cannot be undone. Profit trumps that every time.

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Repeaters

[Above] View Downtown from the Roosevelt Island Tram
Tilt Shift Focus LensBaby 2.0
Manhattan, New York

Standing on a corner in lower Manhattan, a little disoriented but pleased to be away from the pattern of days that have settled in. You flip open your phone and dial the number. Push send the connection is shot out into the data streaming through the air. Both invisible and tangible all at the same time. Beamed to a rooftop cell tower, relying the blips to the outer world

Repeaters repeat.

Words fly out of the city on invisible arcs to preset destinations. None of us are strangers anymore.

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

Burlington WIndmill

[Above] Windmill Outside of Burlington, Vermont

I find the road leading into Burlington from the south fascinating. The two lane strip of asphalt skirts a vast inland sea of farm fields and open space. The western horizon is dominated by the high peaks of the Adirondacks, and the light is almost always interesting. Century old farms dot the landscape as they they slowly shrink and fade in the northern weather. There is a lot to see, especially with camera in hand.

This windmill sits on a roadside hill about 20 miles from Burlington. It farms the wind tearing down from the mountains of New York and across Lake Champlain. There aren't too many of these old school windmills in the Northeast. Modern windmills are almost always derived from 1960's sci-fi geometry. Fired off a few shots from an old film camera on the way back from our last trip to Burly.

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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels

The Convenience Store at the End of the World

Went into a Cumberland Farms tonight to buy a water and there were 22 people in line. Each clutching a a few dollars and the impossible dream of winning the Mega Millions jackpot.

Bulmer Photography at: www.bulmerphotography.com
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© 2009 John Bulmer Photography | Throwing Pixels