Rusty love

This girl loves rust. Maybe, I should say I love the stories I can only imagine that come with a rusted building or a rusty vehicle. The people who used to work there, the products they produced, and how they changed the local landscape. The individuals that once drove the vehicle, who transported things in the back of the pick up truck. I am addicted to the character within those images.

Over the years, over the many states in which I have lived and traveled, I always seem to stumble upon a rusty GMC truck. They must be made with superior materials that dictate longevity, as I cannot understand why they are so available, in that regard.

This morning, a friend dropped by to pick up some vintage finds from us and pulled into my driveway with this gem. Bedecked in my robe and slippers, I quickly grabbed my camera and snapped some images in the gorgeous morning light.

I was in heaven, as this truck full of the colors I love to see on an old truck, was within walking distance of my front door. Now I can add this one to my collection that started with this photograph I shot in rural Idaho nearly 10 years ago. You cannot shake a love like that. 

The perfect backdrop

A few years back, one of my clients I met at the International Home Furnishings Center in High Point, NC, asked me to photograph his lamps within an old abandoned factory. Here in NC that is an easy thing to find. Accessing them is another story. Many are still full of asbestos and boarded up, understandably, but a shame, as there is so many gorgeous old buildings.

I drove around one afternoon and stumbled upon this one factory in Thomasville, NC. Yes, that Thomasville. It was being utilized as a vintage car repair shop with hopes of turning the upper floors into a bar and grill. So they welcomed me with open arms. 

I was in heaven, as I love photographing the grit and history that surrounds us.

The light in these spaces is impeccable, as they were created to be illuminated by natural light well before factory lights were the norm.

If only I could have one of these as a studio... I'd be in heaven.

The trickiest part of the shoot was getting the lamps to be lit, but without plugging them in. No outlets. We thankfully found some fluorescent bulbs that were meant to be charged up and used without a direct electrical source.

Unzipped

Commercial Photography for a local marketing firm for an in-store promotions campaign for Wrangler Jeans.

Lookin' back

It's virtually impossible for most people to not reflect back on September 11, 2001. Where they were. What they did. How they found out. Who they knew. Their connection to NY. To PA. To the Pentagon and DC. To the world.

I have blogged about my time in New York City a mere 2 weeks before what we now refer to as 9/11. To me, it was about an outstanding journey both professionally and personally by way of New York city, or more accurately Newark, onto Stockholm for a business trip. But we thankfully had a long layover in NJ. And well, wouldn't you go into the city??

New York is much like any city in America. A must see. Grand walking access, although wear comfy shoes. And a photographer's dream to visit.  When we were there, we were shooting film. And traveling with film required thought and a plan. Or at least a back-up to buy more film. I chose to shoot in mostly in black and white. There is something so timeless about a black and white photo.

Bust, From My Window No. 7, Andre Kertesz

It is like every other city in that you have to accept the challenge to exploring a huge city. We had to stop an employee to ask him how to get to certain stops on the subway. He was the nicest man. So very helpful and really made our time so much easier.

I do remember that no one really looked at each other when we were moving. That train car was like a long elevator ride, where no one talks or looks at each other. I was so happy to hear that after 9/11, that people were talking more to each other. What cool people. I can only imagine their stories.

John Lee ©brandMOJO Images

As a photographer, it is weird to not look around. I had my camera in hand and wanted to photograph every nook and crack. I crave street photography. That is where Chinatown came in handy. Not one person looked at us with disdain for taking their photograph.

So today not only makes me think of how dramatically that city changed and how so many lost loved ones, but I think of the journey we all have come. And New York City continues to completely thrill many many visitors and photographers.  Cheers, New York.

On my way to heaven

Living in the south affords me the chance to photograph one of my favorite subjects: abandoned vehicles. I have taken photographs of old trucks and cars for years. There are so many angles and details and grit and history to these vehicles. It is a true love of mine to capture them.

Driving down this street not far from town, you'd never think to find this gem tucked in this small barn. A beautiful 1954 Ford Customline.

 

Anna Grace

I adore photographing kids, especially in an outdoor setting where they can just wander about and be themselves. 

Little 1 year-old Anna Grace has the most gorgeous face, so expressive. 

And so full of joy. She was a blast to photograph.

 

brandMOJO Images 

Baby Bryson

Little man Bryson, only 7 weeks old and was such a happy and well behaved little model.

The original click

Where would we be without the camera. From my childhood memories caught on slide film to learning on a manual 35mm to experimenting with plastic and turn-of-the-century types to digital of today... this blog is a summation of the cameras of my life.

My first memory of any camera was my oldest sister's 110. I am sure it was a Kodak of some sort, but the 110.  I think this holds the first memory, as I was full of envy. Not knowing then that I would be surrounded by cameras for the rest of my life.

The next one in a long line was the infamous Disc camera, again by Kodak, and again my sister's. I see these for sale on Etsy and eBay as collectors, which I find beyond amusing since the negative was about as big as a dime. Horrid little thing, but it was portable and very discreet for its day.






Now, the fun gets started: Polaroids. If you did not have the luxury of growing up with a Polaroid, or have one at any point in your life, you really missed out. My other sister had the One Step, just like this one. She let me use it, when we had film. But, ugh, the film was so expensive; the one major flaw in this camera.





Now, I will get you into my cameras. I am sure my parents waited until I was old enough not to ruin a camera. But here's to the first which came to me in 8th grade: my Ricoh.



It's hard to believe this plastic camera survived the years until I went to Penn State for my second year of college, when my dad gave me his Canon AE-1 with a variety of lenses.  The AE-1 was my first real camera and some of the images I shot are still some of my favorites. Crisp, sharp, good color... and I had full control over everything. It really let me find my eyes (so to speak) as a photographer.

This camera was heavy. I mean a beast. But I still shot with it everywhere. I took it to Europe, shot a Fashion Runway shoot in Orlando with it, which was tricky shooting 100-300mm manual focus zoom handheld.

When I lived in central Florida, I worked at Wolf Camera and I started to collect old cameras. My grandfather's old Kodaks were my first forray into any film other than 35mm. They took 120. At the time I thought that was a vintage film, like 110. The cameras took these gloriously grainy images and I had to look down through this view finder. It was weird for me, but cool, too.

Anything vintage. But I fell in love with rangefinders. And the camera that started it all was a gorgeous 1969 Minolta Hi-Matic 11 Super 3 Circuit I bought at Terry & Jerry's in Lakeland. I had no idea what a rangefinder was, but that camera took the most gorgeous of black & whites. I knew how to line up the dual images, since that how you focused with the AE-1. The Hi-Matic was my go to camera for years, if I shot anything black and white.

My sister and I moved out to Oregon in the later part of the 90s and the AE-1 documented the whole journey and time there... until I started working at Pro Photo Supply. Probably the one move that changed everything for me. I decided it was time to get a new 35mm point n shoot and knew I found THE one with the Yashica T4. Oh! a Zeiss lens. I had learned that this glass was the best optical glass ever and I needed this camera. I bought one. My sister also bought one, which she still uses today.

Pro Photo Supply enabled me to learn about other camera companies and their systems and I fell in love with the idea of a Nikon SLR. By replacing my Canon gear with this, I could buy a manual focus system, piece by piece until I could later afford an AF system. But the MF system I fell in love with was the Nikon F3HP. Another tank-of-a-camera, but I adored this camera. It also made me feel like I was moving into the pro arena of photography.

The clientele at PPS were all pro's and some budding amateurs, some of whom went to Brooks Institute and knew SO much more than I. I wanted to hook their brain up to a shop vac and dump their knowledge into my brain. To a certain degree, I did. And here came the Hassleblad with Zeiss glass lenses. My first ever experience with a medium format camera of the 20th century.  Again, another beast to carry, but I didn't even care. I was in love. The pictures were so amazing compared to 35mm. Thank god I could rent from PPS.

I was surrounded by so many people who actually knew how to take great photos with whatever camera they used, be it Leica, Rolleiflex, 4x5, even Holga's. Ah, the Holga.  This was the only way I could own a medium format camera since it was $25, oh and $5 for the roll of gaffer's tape you needed to seal up the light leaks. But the look was so vintage!



After working there for a number of years, I had the extreme fortune to be sent, along with a co-worker and great friend of mine to see the Profoto Lighting factory in Stockolm, Sweden. Profoto was distributed stateside by Mamiya Corp. And the fantastic Mamiya sales rep offered to let me borrow and check out the Mamiya 7 II, a medium format rangefinder. YUM! I loved this camera. The portability of a 35mm, but with the gorgeous images from a medium format. Ugh! I was in heaven.


 The best of all worlds combined. I would still love to have this camera, but with digital now in the mix and labs dropping off of the map left and right, how does that compare???  Fast forward several years... When we moved here to North Carolina and we bought our so loved and well used kayaks, I knew I needed something small and digital that I could take on the water. And this trusty little guy has survived a lot and still takes good shots: the Powershot.

I even used this for our first product shots for brandMOJO Interiors back before we had our own website. But now, it all comes full circle. I was ready to get my first AF digital Nikon SLR since I had acquired mf lenses over the years for my older F3HP manual focus body. Remember how I said I bought it knowing I could then move up slowly until I could get the autofocus system. Well, 12 years later, I was ready.

Up until a few months ago, I didn't even own an autofocus lens. I used those glorious mf Nikon lenses with this great lightweight camera body. And actually, I still shoot product with those lenses.

So, the 110, Disc, and One Step are collectibles now. You can buy a Holga still in 35mm format now for the plastic camera experience that is still holding strong. Just don't forget the gaffer's tape. And rangefinders and film cameras are the new thing with twenty-somethings, who've never experienced film.

They say that it isn't the gear you use that dictates whether you are a good photographer or not, which I do agree with. But it is a lot of fun using a variety of different pieces of equipment from many time periods in history and learning photography on them. And fun looking back.

Click click

A trip down memory lane

Collectibles. The blessing and the curse that it is. The sweet memories and images I see in my mind make it lovely.

I have decided to share some of my toys with the world, through our Etsy page MOJO Mercantile. Today I listed an item that takes me back so far to times when I was just a wee little one.

The Woodstock pull toy that flutters and flies and chirps when you pull the string. It is intended to be beside a bed or a crib for, trust me, hours of entertainment.

But what I find the most interesting is when I think to the major differences in toys of this current generation. For my friends' children, I feel as though they have been slighted. Sure this is a very one-sided comment and opinion, but I stand by this.

Nary a worry of lead paint or choking hazards, we lived with these toys and a caution to the wind. Swallower beware. Toy sucker beware.

I used to dip my sister's 1970s Luke Skywalker doll in peanut butter and lick it off of him. Despite what that must have meant about me then, I helped ruin that doll when all of his movements were gummed up with this sticky mass. My mom never freaked out about what it was we loved, rather that we took care of our toys. Obviously, Luke was an exception, as I was very little. But these remnants were not the exception for me.

I wonder what toys my generation will keep from their own children's collection. Think about if any of us would have kept those 1970s Star Wars figures. My sister even had the 12" Princess Leah. Sure, there was no way to get her buns back in after you took them out, but what memories!

Now it is time to hand these down to the next generation. I wonder when I will finally hand over my 1990s Star Wars figures? Somehow, I doubt I will ever get rid of my 12" Imperial Guard. I learned the first time.

Words jump off of the page like insects

A good friend of mine from many years ago asked me to contribute some prose to a song. A collaboration of sorts. He is and has been a musician since we first met, with goals and aspirations of making it one way or another.

I used to write more when I was younger; didn't we all. But I have found myself using words as a personal stretch into my mind that swirls with thoughts. You will likely even find this particular blog more vibrant than normal. Words are like pictures.

FranHorne 

Like a poster intended to inspire, they do go hand in hand. However, there are poems that create a vision, and images that stir up poetic musings. That is the best part of photography. And the glory of poetry. They can completely be altered in meaning depending on the viewer.

I have a degree in English and had the luxury to study poetry for nearly 2 years of my degree, instead of just literature.  Langston Hughes, Czeslaw Milosz, even Emily Dickenson. I always struggled personally whenever we had to figure out what the author meant. I found that up for complete personal interpretation. So how can you grade an interpretation? Dickenson didn't even want her poems published. Her sister did that after Emily's death.

sweersphotography 

I took my version of poetic and prosaic interpretation to the novels I had to dissect. One such was with Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. I honed in on an unusual word that regularly popped up in the novel and showed it's connection to the story and the understory. I got a D, which is why I likely do not recall that particular word. And why I know that prof did not study words as I did. He studied works.

The same holds true for photography for me. Personal interpretation. All art is. Words are art. Images are art.

FrancesPhotography 

And the mind skews both to suit the mood or the meaning. Both as the creator and the interpretor. And the collaborator.

Ignoring the urge

Nothing is really original. Not with photography, nor furniture, not even with music. We are all influenced by those who have come before us. Some of those influential people are still alive, some are dead, and some have past before we were even born. The most lovely part of this line of influence is the interpretation of a style and also the reminder that, our work evolves. That our work and a certain piece is beautiful for what it is right now without comparing it to anything else we have done. Okay, that is a complicated statement. But here's the gist.

I have been looking at my photo books lately, well, mine in that I own them. But the books full of collections by such amazing photographers as Lewis Hine, Robert Doisneau, W. Eugene Smith, and Henri Cartier-Bresson. These phenoms have had great influence on me and my work lately, in several ways.

Not every photo is perfect. Some images are perfect in their imperfection. With digital manipulation (Photoshop, Lightroom, etc) we get caught up in making the image look just so in order to sell. But I did not have that intention in mind when I clicked the shutter. The goal was to capture this unique scene. Period. So enhancing an image is meant to suit my eye. Not the feeling that I need that image to look just so in order to sell.

I have caught myself forgetting the main reason I am a photographer, what with the urge to get out there and sell sell sell. When I was looking at W. Eugene Smith's work, it hit me. Of course, I want to fill the world with my images, but only if what the buyer wants is what I have produced. The objective is to continue to produce what I love and almost ignore the urge to have it sell.

I am most certain that urge comes from wanting to do what I love every day. I am certain that urge comes from wanting to be able to pull the car over when I see a stunning sunrise over a misty field, as was there this morning, and not have to rush off to work. You can't rush what is meant to just happen. I cannot force success, at least not the monetary kind.

Misty Sunrise 

I have found again, to my utter joy, a community of photographers happy to share what they know without fear of their idea being stolen. Nothing breaks one's spirit faster, than envy and jealousy. The best of advisors and mentors are those who know that no idea is original. And that sharing the joie de vivre of their art keeps them alive, too, by passing down the thrill of being an artist. It is that drive that keeps people feeling alive and allowing them to live through their artwork. This is why art will never die.