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.

 

Baby Bryson

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

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.

They call it isolation

We watched Three Days of the Condor the other night. The 1975 movie with a cute Robert Redford and a gorgeous Faye Dunaway. She is a photographer in the movie; he is a book translator, CIA researcher. At one point when they are in her apartment, he comments on her black & white photos being lonely.

I have been thinking about this very statement since then. Sure, many b&w's are lonely. Most things that photograph remarkably well that way are metal, steel: bridges, benches, etc.

Then again, for me, b&w creates a sense of other worldiness. We do not see in b&w, so the perspective on an image is stunning.

It is also lovely utilized to enhance the texture of an object or even a surface, such as a face or a petal, even fish.

So I am not sure if lonely is the right notion. Black and whites can hone in on a sole impression. Maybe that is what he really meant. Or maybe just like with a poem, it is the observer who denotes the interpretation.