Traveling is an addiction. The routine of getting ready to go, packing up the bags with outfits, toiletries, cables and the rest is exhilarating. Deciding how to get to the airport, whether with a UBER, park there, or having someone drop you off. Continue reading “New York. July Fourth, Immigration and a Wedding”
Every great love story starts with a copious amount of flirting. The push and pull, the looking and not looking, the smiling at each other from a distance, the subtle questions with double meanings, the … you get it. Continue reading “A Fujifilm X100F Love Story, and Japan”
It starts with “The Passenger”, by Iggy Pop. The Spotify playlist, “Parts Unknown” that is. Yes, this entry is about Anthony Bourdain‘s “Parts Unknown” docu-series, produced by CNN.
The light outside is just too bright. But it’s still early enough in the morning that I have a vague feeling of what it is like when that damn coffee shop that I love writing from opens up. Some Spotify playlist is going on in the background. Up comes “I Fall Apart” by Post Malone which is probably perfect for this post. Detroit. To many it might have fallen apart. But not quite yet. Continue reading “A Day with Professional Architecture Photographer Roberto Conte”
There’s something about sunrise which is always opportunity-filled. When sunset hits, you think of what you left behind, another day is gone. Sunrises are filled with surprise. The day is ahead. There is opportunity. Something is coming.
It’s 5:40 am, everyone else is still asleep in the cabin which some friend, my wife and I rented for Memorial Day weekend. We came to Frankfort, Michigan on Crystal Lake. And this is what my iPhone says it looks like right now. Continue reading “Memorial Trip and Washington DC”
It might be a fascination with documentary photography. It might be the attraction to viewing distant lands, often for the pleasure of mentally traveling while staring at the computer screen, at times to see what the fuck is really going on in the world. Continue reading “Shah Marai, and 8 Heroes”
It probably started in December of 2016. No wait. Most probably many years before that. When I wanted to become an architect. When I bought a few architecture books at the bookstore. When the ‘bookstore’ was still a thing.
You sit down on those teal velvet armchairs or brown leather couches and start flipping the pages. The architecture is in front of you. You can touch the pages, usually thick, heavy, with perfectly exposed photos. You focus on some of the details, the commas of architecture, be it the windows, the window sills, or just the orange flower arrangement in front of a blue wall. Continue reading “Frank Lloyd Wright in the Midwest – Part 1”
In the past 3 weeks that I haven’t written an entry I learned a very valuable lesson which applies to the artistic world, and as a consequence to both my photography and this blog.
I caged myself in. I’ve been wanting to write this post for a long time, about Michael Kenna and his work at The Rouge plant here in Detroit, but as I read, and admired his work, I went down a few too many rabbit holes. Continue reading “Michael Kenna and Detroit”
Discovery through photography; the force behind this blog. Learn about photography. Learn through photography.
So when the World Press Photo finalists are presented in February 2018, I scroll through the photos. I admire the work. I read the short photographer bios, trying to look for a hint that gives their art, their craft, their dedication to journalism away. Continue reading “World Press Photos. News and Art.”
The entire stadium sings along. “Born and raised in South Detroit…” as they walk down the steps, no matter if they are satisfied with a win or disappointed by a loss.
Every time Journey’s song, ‘Don’t Stop Believing‘ comes on I sing along as if I was walking down the Joe Louis’ steps. I can’t associate the song to anything else now. Only to Detroit, Motown, and yes, Hockeytown.
“What music would you like to listen to? Here’s the phone, you choose.” Car is clean, there’s no waiting outside in the snow, or rain, or blistering cold. We jump in for the 20 minute ride from Lake Whitmore to Ann Arbor, just a little outside of Detroit. I chose The Animals, for this post, not when I was in the car. My hockey teammates chose the music that time. Continue reading “Is it Super?”
Winter is still in full effect here in Detroit, and although the days have gotten significantly longer, the last three days have been nothing but white. Snow, snow, more snow. I put on Pink Floyd, The Dark side of the Moon. It seems fitting with the outside mood, the tone. But also with today’s post. Continue reading “A Process to Process”
How is it that the Blues Brothers’ soundtrack continues to evoke such emotion after almost 40 years? Like a Youtube user, Ramblingamblinwillie, wrote “A band powerful enough to turn goat piss into gasoline”. Hilarious. Truth.
Jim Belushi and Dan Aykroyd running away from the police as the timeless music plays in the background. Continue reading “K9”
A clarinet to suavely introduce the delicate French voice. The singer hums and sings while I hold a cocktail, a cigarette, clearly with a cigarette holder, tapping to the beat, listening to the vibrato in her voice. I’m getting confused. But through her voice I am taken there, to those time.
I had to listen to Edith Piaf for this post. If I had Six Hours in Paris, I would spend them in a cafe’, mesmerized by her voice, sobbing one moment, feeling exhilarated the next. Continue reading “Six Hours in Paris”
What would you pay? How far into your pockets would you be willing to reach? What fare would make it worth it? How much? To see Bruce Gilden in action at one of these fairs. To see him approach the subjects and make these almost-grotesque portraits.
To shoot the flash straight into their eyes. To search for their soul. To capture himself. Continue reading “A Fare for Bruce’s Fair”