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”
Eminem or Frank Sinatra? Or possibly David Bowie, Duke Ellington, or Louis Armstrong? I think Eminem.
In November 2002 the movie 8 Mile, featuring Eminem, comes out. I was in China at the time, and who would have ever imagined that 10 years later I would be moving to Detroit. Continue reading “Another Gem”
-18 degrees Celcius says the weather app on my phone. -24 if you factor in the wind chill. It’s that cold right now. The entire Eastern part of the US is under a weather advisory as arctic winds sweep in. Continue reading “Same People, Different Nations”
Rome is now beneath us. Once again on a plane headed to the next destination, Barcelona. Although the last two posts, including this one have been ‘on the road’ I do look forward to heading back to the usual cafe’ in Detroit. But, for this week’s photographic story being in an airplane is actually very well suited. Continue reading “A Riveter’s Name”
How do you feel about queues? About waiting in line? About that inner feeling of getting ahead, but at the same time being respectful and courteous as society has taught us to be?
Finally on the flight that will take my wife and I to Paris, for a whole 13 hours. I haven’t been to Paris in some 15 years, and my wife probably the same amount. The country of Bresson. Continue reading “Fire to Snow”
I love Thanksgiving just as much as I love Christmas. I love the Holidays Season. The lights on the trees, the snow on the ground, the home cooking and getting together with friends and family around the dinner table. Laughter, arguments, opinions flying across the table, all just washed down with a good glass of red wine, or beer, or whatever is left at the end of the dinner. Continue reading “Nothing but Something”
The color has been removed! The green has been replaced by white. The grey? By white. The blue? By white. The autumn colors? By white. It has all been replaced by white as it snows outside. The first snow of the season. It’s a little late on arrival, but who’s complaining?
Detroit never disappoints. Snow, coffee, Bach in the background.
Colorless Landscapes. Or should I call them monochromatic? Or black and white? Continue reading “Colorless Landscapes”
Back at the cafe’ I come to. It’s becoming a routine. One croissant, one black coffee. Gather my thoughts, re-read my notes, think of what music I’m into for this post and then off to the races. It has to be house. Something electronic. Some sort of beat created with the push of a few buttons and synthesized on a computer, or some other device of which I do not know much about. Continue reading “Digital Proof”
Coffee should be on its way. We should be at about 30,000 feet more or less. It’s real warm right now, which feels awkward seeing how they were de-icing the wings just a few minutes ago, as a child looks outside. Continue reading “West Ave”
Portraits. Photos that should capture the essence and spirit of the subject. Studio photographers go to great lengths in trying to capture just that. They might ask the subject to look down for three seconds and then lift their head straight to the camera, or they may have the person close their eyes and think of their favorite color, vacation, etc.
Is it necessary? Yes. Continue reading “Street Style”
As photographers we often ask ourselves whether or not we should press that shutter button. In street photography that question comes up more times than not, and it takes time to overcome that initial fear.
Questions spinning around endlessly. Should I? What if he sees me? What if she calls the police? What if they simply ask what I’m doing? What will a parent say if you photograph their children having fun in a water fountain?
What if they’re a member of an organized crime clan? What if they exchange me for the police? Will they shoot me? Or politely ask me to remove the photograph? And what if I am shooting with film?
Continue reading “Capturing the Mafia”
It’s still dark outside. The little French-inspired cafe’ I come to is empty, croissants all neatly organized in the baskets, coffee pots ready to help the sleepers wake up, and some music playing in the background. After the owner and I exchange our usual pleasantries I cover the background music with some BB King. The Thrill is Gone, comes on. Ironic, ’cause the the thrill is not gone’. I love waking up early on Saturdays, while the world sleeps, and coming here to discover through photography.
I thought about the following idea early-on when I was first getting started. I was applying photography, the art, the form, the technical aspects, to other aspects of life. I was trying to find correlations between totally different fields to maybe learn quicker, maybe to be more thorough, maybe to experiment, or maybe I was just being curious. Continue reading “On Trade-Off”
The Counting Crows have to be one of my favorite groups. I could listen to their albums over and over without ever getting tired of them. Not only do I like the music itself, but the lyrics. Phrases always seems to be disconnected, or make little sense, at least initially. But once you hear them a few hundred times they just kind of fit. Not to mention that Adam Duritz, the lead singer, has dealt with a dissociative mental disorder. But still, look at his craft, what he has produced.
And I dream of Michelangelo when I’m lying in my bed
I see god upon the ceiling I see angels overhead
And he seems so close as he reaches out his hand
But we are never quite as close as we are led to understand Continue reading “Northern Psychiatry”
This post could have waited until the hunting season opens here in Michigan, on November 15th, but while reading for this post I came to find out that between October 1st and November 15th it is the archery season, so still “one shot”. Maybe even more so if you’re shooting with a crossbow.
When I first watched The Deer Hunter, by Michael Cimino, I was blown away. The transition between the life of middle-America, of the the working classes, and their departure to a foreign land to fight a war. The details in the wedding and the length of that scene, the bittersweet relationships of the main characters. And what about that first scene with the blue-collar steel workers handling the machinery? Continue reading “Deer Hunter”