Saturday, August 31, 2024

Pinebush Red Sunrise | 08.31.2024


Pinebush Red Sunrise | 08.31.2024
Albany Pinebush Preserve, Albany, New York 

© 2024 John Bulmer Photography, John Bulmer Media, and Nor'easter Films
www.bulmerphotography.com
www.johnbulmermedia.com
www.noreasterfilms.com
All Rights Reserved    

Thursday, August 29, 2024

First Light, Tomhannock | 08.29.2024


First Light, Tomhannock | 08.29.2024
Pittstown, New York

© 2024 John Bulmer Photography, John Bulmer Media, and Nor'easter Films
www.bulmerphotography.com
www.johnbulmermedia.com
www.noreasterfilms.com
All Rights Reserved    

Tuesday, August 27, 2024

Gilded | 08.26.2024

Gilded | 08.26.2024
Large Format Image

An actor in costume walks to the set of HBO's The Gilded Age in Albany, New York 

© 2024 John Bulmer Photography, John Bulmer Media, and Nor'easter Films
www.bulmerphotography.com
www.johnbulmermedia.com
www.noreasterfilms.com
All Rights Reserved    

Monday, August 19, 2024

A Love Letter to Photography on World Photography Day


A Love Letter to Photography on World Photography Day
By John Bulmer, John Bulmer Photography

Life is full of fleeting moments—some slip away, while others stay with us forever. Photography has this incredible ability to capture those moments, freezing them in time. On World Photography Day, I find myself thinking about how photography isn’t just about preserving our personal memories—it’s about shaping how we see the world. It captures our highs, our lows, the progress we’ve made, and the challenges we still face, connecting us to each other in ways that words alone can’t.

The first time I picked up a camera, I felt its magic—the ability to stop time with just a click, turning a moment into a memory that lasts. Some of the most powerful images in history, like the "Tank Man" standing alone against a line of tanks in Tiananmen Square, make us confront the past and remind us of the need to keep pushing for justice. Equally powerful are the photos from the Civil Rights Movement, showing the stark contrast between one group’s halcyon days and another group’s painful reality. Images of young Black students braving hostile crowds as they integrated schools, or protesters facing fire hoses and police dogs, force us to face the harsh truths of our capacity for inhumanity.

Then there are the images of tragedy, like those from 9/11, which remind us of the deep pain that can bind us together in shared grief. Or the heartbreaking photos from humanitarian crises around the world, showing people fleeing war and famine. These images push us to care, to act, and to remember our shared responsibility to help each other. But photography also gives us hope. The sight of soldiers returning from long, hard deployments to the open arms of their families reminds us of the enduring power of love and resilience. These moments of reunion capture the strength of the human spirit, even after the darkest times.

On a more personal level, photography captures the everyday milestones that mean the world to us—like the images of our children’s first days of school, or those Facebook memories that pop up, reminding us just how quickly time moves. These photos urge us to stop and take a look around, to not just observe life, but to truly see it. They remind us that while life moves fast, we can still hold onto the moments that matter.
Some people say that with smartphones and billions of photos being taken every day, photography has lost some of its power. I don’t agree. If anything, it’s made each of us a storyteller, capturing our lives in a way that’s never been possible before. We are now the narrators of our own stories, curating and capturing our lives like never before, and that’s powerful. Every photo we take, whether we share it or keep it to ourselves, adds another layer to our story and to the collective story of humanity. The ubiquitous smartphone camera has also enabled real-time photo content of breaking news and developing stories, allowing us to be better informed instantaneously by citizen journalists.

The photos that mean the most, though, are often the ones we keep tucked away—those personal treasures that anchor us to our past and keep loved ones close, even when they’re gone. Looking at childhood photos, for example, can bring back the simple joys of those days. Photography isn’t just about capturing an image; it’s about holding onto the feelings, the voices, the essence of life in that moment.

In a world that’s always changing, photography is one of the few constants. It’s our way of saying, “I was here. This mattered.” Whether it’s a global event or a quiet, personal moment, photography helps us find meaning and reminds us that we’re all part of something bigger. And while it’s important to live in the moment, it’s also important to capture those moments—so we can look back, remember, and share them with others.

Today, I’m grateful for all the moments I’ve captured, the people I’ve met, the places I’ve been, and the stories I’ve told through my lens. But most of all, I’m thankful for how photography brings us closer—to our past, to each other, and to the world around us. Every photo holds a piece of who we are—our struggles, our joys, our growth. Here’s to photography, the keeper of our memories and the reflection of what it means to be human.

We are all photographers. We are here, and it matters.

All Content © 2024, John Bulmer Photography. All Rights Reserved. 

Tuesday, August 6, 2024

Summer's Veil


Summer’s Veil
, 2024
Double Exposure: Street Portrait and Midsummer Field Grass

Creating abstract images is an essential part of the creative process. Not all photography needs to be clean and literal; sometimes, it's good to experiment and play. This image combines a street portrait of a woman waiting for the bus with tall, midsummer field grass. The resulting black-and-white double exposure produces an ethereal figure stepping out of a white field, capturing a sense of surreal beauty. If you turn on its side, you can recognize the field of grass. 

I capture images of field grass throughout the summer because it is mesmerizing. If you look at a field of thigh-high grass long enough, it starts to resemble an inland sea with waves and tides in the breeze.

© 2024 John Bulmer Photography + Nor'easter Films
www.bulmerphotography.com
www.johnbulmerart.com
www.noreasterfilms.com
All Rights Reserved    

Sunday, August 4, 2024

The Bloody Pit

Eastern Portal, Hoosac Tunnel, Large Format Image, 2024

The Bloody Pit
By John Bulmer, John Bulmer Photography

Author's Note: The Hoosac Tunnel, also known as the Bloody Pit, has always fascinated me. If you've ever been there, you know its eastern portal lies deep in a secluded valley alongside the Deerfield River. The valley feels isolated, with cell signals barely reaching past the tree-covered walls that surround it. It’s a beautiful spot, dotted with farmhouses, old bridges, and even an abandoned power plant. The Yankee Atomic Electric plant, which was permanently shuttered in 1997, sits quietly nearby. Over the years, I’ve taken numerous photos of the Hoosac Tunnel, and this is my most recent, captured with a large-format camera. The tunnel’s history is fascinating when you think of all the lives that it claimed and their impacts, but if you visit, please don’t enter. The tunnel stretches nearly five miles and is still active, with freight trains passing through a few times a day. There’s no room to escape if you’re caught inside. When I was much younger, before security around infrastructure tightened post-9/11, I ventured into the tunnel with a camera. The sounds inside are disorienting, masking the noise of oncoming trains. Your eyes start to play tricks on you, and the echoes create a strange, unsettling atmosphere. It’s not difficult to see why some of the lore surrounding the tunnel persists.
 
The Hoosac Tunnel, known to many as the "Bloody Pit," is more than just a feat of 19th-century engineering—it's the epicenter of eerie legends. This 4.75-mile-long railroad tunnel, which carves through the Hoosac Mountain range in western Massachusetts, has a history steeped in tragedy. The tunnel’s construction, which claimed the lives of around 200 workers, left behind a legacy of haunting tales that still capture the imagination.

The tunnel’s grim reputation took root almost as soon as construction began in 1851. Spanning over two decades, the project was plagued by financial woes, dangerous working conditions, and frequent, often fatal, accidents. As the body count rose, whispers of a curse began to circulate among the workers. The tunnel earned the ominous nickname "Bloody Pit" after a catastrophic explosion in 1867 claimed 13 lives, casting a shadow of dread over the site.

Stories of ghosts haunting the Hoosac Tunnel began to emerge soon after the 1867 explosion. Survivors reported hearing the disembodied voices of their deceased coworkers and even claimed to have seen their apparitions drifting through the dark, damp passages of the tunnel, seemingly lost between worlds. These sightings became so common that many workers refused to enter the tunnel after dark, fearing the restless spirits within.

Among the most chilling tales from the Hoosac Tunnel is the story of Ringo Kelley, a worker blamed for an explosion in 1865 that killed two of his fellow laborers. According to legend, Kelley vanished after the incident, only to be found dead a year later in the very spot where the explosion had occurred. His death was never fully explained, leading some to believe that Kelley was taken by the vengeful spirits of the men he had wronged.

Another persistent legend involves the so-called "Phantom Workers"—ghostly figures dressed in old-fashioned work clothes, seen by both laborers and later visitors to the tunnel. These apparitions are often spotted carrying tools or lanterns, and witnesses have reported hearing the sounds of pickaxes and hammers echoing through the tunnel, even when it’s empty. These spectral laborers are believed to be the spirits of those who perished during the tunnel’s construction, doomed to continue their work in the afterlife.

Today, the Hoosac Tunnel remains a magnet for paranormal enthusiasts and thrill-seekers alike. Over the years, numerous ghost hunters have ventured into the tunnel, many claiming to have encountered the supernatural. Some have recorded eerie, unexplained sounds—disembodied voices, the clinking of tools—while others have felt sudden drops in temperature or the unnerving sensation of being watched. The tunnel’s long, tragic history, coupled with its oppressive, shadowy atmosphere, makes it a prime location for ghostly activity.

The legends surrounding the Hoosac Tunnel are more than just ghost stories; they are echoes of the fear, hardship, and loss experienced by those who labored there. Passed down through generations, these tales have become a part of the region's identity. The deeper meaning of these stories is the human cost of industrial progress.

All Content © 2024, John Bulmer Photography. All Rights Reserved. 
The story originally appeared on www.johnbulmermedia.com