Project 2022
126/365 Not far from Phoenix, the daily ritual continues unbroken: Salt River horses emerging from the forest for their afternoon meeting and drinking at their favorite watering hole. To the delight of so many gathered, these gentle animals share this time with photographers, visitors and regulars. And so goes the story… some time back, this older white stallion had been challenged by another to be the leader of the pack. Age being what it is, he was forced out. He became a loner - and while the daily drinking ritual was ingrained in him, he came out of the forest quite a distance from the herd, taking his afternoon water upstream, with only his reflection to share in the moment. While a sad story of aging, I received an update months later, and learned that our loner friend had been accepted into another small herd where he’s living out his days in companionship and peace.
125/365 It was the peak of the Pandemic - more than a year in. Walking the Duck Hollow Trail along the Monongahela River was more than a daily ritual; it was another opportunity to “shoot what I see”. It was a way to see what had always been there before, but was never seen in quite the same way… more of Mother Nature’s artistry, but interpreted through my own creative lenses. Crafting an image often starts with a an idea, a vision. I’m attracted to color and texture, often as it re-emerges from the trees shedding their Winter skin in favor of the new shape of Spring. This is indeed an intense moment, especially as interpreted through the intensity of color, texture and shape. Having walked these trails now for several years, the path was now giving birth to greenery, and color was coming back to life in the surrounding trees. I helped it along a little …
124/365 Mother Nature paints extraordinary images. Acadia is one of those gifts. A day earlier this view was shrouded in heavy fog. But on this day, the Jordan Pond leads us to Acadia’s Bubbles - less than 1000’ of pine-covered mountains. The height belies the majesty and beauty of this peaceful setting.
Oak Alley Plantation, Louisiana
123/365 Joy - and jumping for it - just as they crested the banks of the canal running near the Oak Alley Plantation, not far from New Orleans. Was it a race? Was it a celebration? Or was it just the sheer pleasure of being together sharing that moment? Life is about moments - special, brief, and then gone - only to be re-lived in memory … or photographs. That’s why I love photography. It brings back the emotion of the moment. What was I doing? What was I thinking? What was I feeling? How do you connect with a photograph you created?
122/365 Every corner of this country offered something new and unique to this traveler. As we crossed the Chesapeake Bay into Virginia from the Delmarva Peninsula, we left behind many stories from the lowlands of the Eastern Shore and wound our way through the dense pine forests of Virginia, and then North and South Carolina. The geography constantly changed as we dove deeper into the South. Rich red earth, tobacco fields and cotton fields - all new to me - passed by our windows - each day something new to absorb. Then finally, as we neared Beaufort, the late day sun cast its warm amber glow across the low country. You could feel the heat of the day slowly draining away. Savannah was just ahead…
121/365 At first, it felt like I was standing on shore behind a roiling ocean staring out at some far away, cloud-covered planet in our solar system. But no, it was late in the day and just for a brief moment, the clouds above pulled back to reveal the outline of an intense setting sun. It was barely burning through, reflecting the dense cloud cover hiding the Arabian Sea off the southwestern coast of India. The palate is always some part of light, texture and color. I was certainly witness to all three at play in this moment.
120/365 Contradiction: a combination of statements, ideas, or features of a situation that are opposed to one another. That thought, and Rod Stewart’s “Every Picture Tells a Story” were stuck in my head as I, watched, dumbstruck and totally absorbed in this auction. The Barrett-Jackson Car Auction is likely the greatest classic car auction in the world. It brings together especially the most outstanding classic cars of the 50’s, ’60’s and 70’s with traders, collectors, and just plain folks anxious to own a piece of the dream they’ve had for decades. The auction hall is teeming with excitement as buyers and spectators intensively study every detail of the restored classic cars - often in show or concours condition - and paraded before them. And quietly they bid … 10, 20, 40, 60, 100 THOUSAND dollars for cars that once sold new for just 3, 4 or even 5 thousand dollars. Think it’s crazy? Caroll Shelby’s personal 427 Cobra, sold for more than $5 Million - a car that had a list price of $7500 when it was new in 1962. That’s well over a 70 thousand percent return! Millions of dollars exchanged hands this day. Where did all this money come from? Where did these buyers come from? As I looked around, I saw baseball and cowboy hats, t-shirts, and dungarees. Men and women. And not a single suit. Nobody from Wall Street, it seemed. It surely contradicted my expectations. And yup, every picture does tell a story, right Rod?
119/365 This street in Central Havana is not only rich in color but also in it’s history. As the first street built outside of the Old City of Havana, the goal was to create a boulevard as beautiful as any found in Paris or Barcelona. While Paseo di Marti, formerly Prado, shares limited resemblance to the streets in those European capitals, as we drove down the boulevard, the rainbow of saturated colors found on these buildings was both unique and attractive. Indeed life was engaging.
118/365 It was fall already, in the South, harvest season. We were just 30 minutes outside of Jackson, clocking our first miles on the Natchez Trace Parkway. We were in pursuit of a different kind of experience - exploring the history of the Civil Rights Movement. The Lorraine Hotel in Memphis, Little Rock Central High and Jackson Mississippi were already in our rear view mirror, having provided the roadmap for our historical pursuit. The Natchez Trace Parkway was a meandering two lane Federal highway winding though gentle farmland and rich forests. It stretched 444 miles between Jackson and Natchez, on the banks of the Mississippi. As we could see, the farm combines had already done their work and were no longer in sight. The summer wheat had been rolled up and left for collection; the fields were now yellowed and left to fallow. It was a peaceful time - such a contrast to the history we were traveling.
117/365 China is an artform unto itself. The variety seems immeasurable, offering up constantly unique imagery. Perhaps it’s its age. Or perhaps it’s as viewed through these western, untrained lenses. The Summer Palace, a UNESCO site found in Beijing, is good example of the variety of artistry. It’s a collection of palaces, lakes and gardens, viewed as a masterpiece in Chinese landscaping, especially as it combines manmade items such as its buildings and boats with the surrounding natural background. Likely by intent, the softness of the trees backstops and contrasts the rich color and design of the dragon boats in one of the many lakes found in the Summer Palace.
116/365 As a photographer, I explore the world through my lenses, sometimes with a vision in mind that I’m looking to craft. Other times, my vision may be the interpretation of what I see, and I create an image that best reflects that. As I look back at the totality of my work, I have cataloged hundreds of images of doors and stairs over the years. Oddly, my sense of city is often characterized by such things - as they provide a portal into hidden elements of that location. Walking through the narrow streets of Lisbon, doors may be the first hint I have of what or who is behind them. They may conceal or expose a home or business, courtyard or restaurant. Some doors are billboards for all who may pass to see - with not so subtle messages. I think to my self…”Am I welcomed here? Or not.” Doors may be wood; others are glass. Some have elaborate door-knockers; others may have a simple bell or buzzer. Paint on the door may glossy, shiny, or it may be chipped and peeling Doors may be arched doors or simple rectangles. Some doors may have windows, or perhaps a design? With so many color choices, how do you interpret all that a door shares about what’s hidden within. When you’re walking though a city, do you walk on by the doors, or do you sometimes stop, take the time to look, and wonder what’s behind that door? I do.
Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta, Albuquerque, New Mexico
115/365 Morning Ascension at the Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta is something else altogether to see and hear. Well before sunrise, bursts of colors begin to change the skyline from the moonlit-filled night to all manner of patchwork colors and shapes. The roar of propane-driven flames explodes in your ears, and quickly heats the cool morning air, breathing life into inanimate objects flush with the ground. They slowly expand and then rise like a Phoenix into the sky. The moon is no longer alone on this morning.
114/365 I was not prepared for the sensuous experience that enveloped me as I was drawn through Antelope Canyon. I was not prepared for how the light carved and shaped and shaded and etched the canyon walls that pulled me forward, a step at a time. I was not prepared for the kaleidoscope of color that opened up before me, above me, surrounding me, pulling me around the next corner. Light is surely the dial tone of photography - I knew that - but I was still not prepared for how this light, in this place, in this way, touched so many senses. It was a Shehecheyanu experience…
Lake Powell, near Page Arizona
113/365 Man is a relatively new visitor to this part of the country. Much of the western US is Mother Nature’s raw, natural earth - water and land, desert, mountains, rivers and lakes. Man’s footprints can be seen scattered about and where they intersect with nature make for engaging contrast. Take for example, the dam, forming Lake Powell, and the bridge, together holding back and forging the Colorado River, near Page Arizona. The Colorado is on a 1500 mile journey from the Rockies through the Grand Canyon and out into the Gulf of California. Along the way, man has built the Glen Canyon Dam holding back the Colorado to ensure sufficient water for parts of the West especially during drought years, and to provide electric power to many of those same states. A nearby bridge of similar name also crosses the Colorado. The earth, in this part of the country, is hard, red, rocky desert, layered sandstone, here-and-there hearty vegetation and occasional hills and small mountains in the muted, distant background. The dam and the bridge, on the other hand, bring smooth-carved cement and arched, shiny metal to intersect with the rough desert floor and deeply carved river walls. It’s a striking contrast of texture and color - visually and functionally incongruous - between man and nature. And at the same time - vital cooperation…
112/365 Half way between Florence and Genoa, along the northwestern coast of Italy, houses coated with the soft colors so typical of the Mediterranean are nestled into the hillsides. Welcome to the 5 villages that make up the Cinque Terres. May 2004
Orleans Cove, Cape Cod, Massachusetts
111/365 Tonight - no words. Just endless silence.
110/365 They say a journey always begins with the first step. In many ways, my photographic exploration of abandoned sites, and to a large degree a much deeper foray into photography in general, started here in Pittsburgh area at the Carrie Blast Furnace almost 10 years ago. And it was here that my sense of crafting abandoned imagery through “color of abandonment” was first born. There is a unique “feel” of abandoned sites that to me is best expressed through strong color, crunchy texture, and wide dynamic range. Closed in 1978, the Carrie Blast Furnace is just a few short miles from my home, and remains an iconic symbol of Pittsburgh’s leadership in the steel manufacturing industry, especially during its heyday from the early 1900s until its collapse in the 1980’s. First built in 1884 as part of the Homestead Steel Works, it’s now a national historic landmark maintained by Rivers of Steel. Like so many other “abandoned” sites, its museum-like, aging-in-place structures, remain largely untouched from when it was closed. Navigating through the jungle of pipes, wires, rooms and mezzanines offers a glimpse into some of the complex processes of steel-making. Peering into storage rooms, mechanic facilities and training spaces, lent an eerie quiet and contrast to what was historically a constant drone of machines grinding, steelworkers shouting and and fires blasting. Years ago, I created this image to best represent what I saw and what I felt as I experienced the Carrie Blast Furnace: rusting metal, uniquely flowing colors, blistering painted skin, extreme detail in shadows - the color of abandonment.
109/365 The Klotz Silk Mill closed in 1957. It’s about to get a second life. This is one more in a series of my “color of abandonment” images. A few years ago, I was fortunate enough to gain access to Klotz, camera in hand, to photograph this site as it was abandoned years ago. Calendars on the wall were still dated 1957. Employees’ personal effects were still in cubbies. Machines were simply turned off and spools of silk were left in place for a potential future re-start. And in this image, a palate of used spools were being transported to another floor for re-loading. They never got there. Time was simply frozen some 70 years gone by. The Klotz facility was recently bought from the descendants of the most recent owner and undisclosed plans were put in place. And like an increasing number of other abandoned sites, access to the inside of Klotz to further record aged history was no longer permitted. My images were among some of its last.
108/356 The art of photography is the crafting of an image to produce an intended vision. Simplifying the process, what then follows are the techniques of composition (including site, light, equipment choice and camera settings), darkroom and finally the printing. Each step along the path provides enormous room for creativity - and like any other artist, all in the execution of your own vision and “voice” or style. The best photographers, like the best painters and other artists, do so in such a consistent manner that it’s easy to instantly recognize their work: oh, there’s an Ansel Adams or Annie Leibovitz image or a Monet or Picasso painting. When working on “abandoned” imagery, HDR techniques often let me best express my own vision and “voice”, my interpretation of “abandonment”, and do so through strong color, crunchy texture, and wide dynamic range (most visible through detail in the shadows). Together they create my “color of abandonment”. So look again, this time through my “color of abandonment” lens, at this image of a 1947 Studebaker Champion Business Coupe found among more than 4,000 decaying cars in Old Car City returning to the earth. And revisit other abandoned imagery in this Project through that same lens.
107/365 Abandon: to cease using. But wait! Maybe, for these, to no longer use as streetcars - but certainly given new life … as, say, art? Surely a canvas for others’ creativity. Are these the colors of abandonment? Maybe so. Rusting metal as the streetcars shed their skin - just like a molting snake. Is this the texture of abandonment? These former creatures of transportation once knit together disparate parts of the urban jungle. Now, as they lay amongst the trees in the Trolley Graveyard, they offer rich memories of the past - of a different time and different place. For me, I see my youth riding the colors of Boston’s T - the Green, Red, Orange and Blue Lines. Today, those are the colors of abandonment giving new purpose to yesteryear’s trolleys.
106/365 America has abandoned much of it’s industrial manufacturing from the hey-day of the 1900s for a modern, technologically-driven world of today. Ghosts of yesteryear’s plants give life to these decrepit buildings storing the decaying artifacts of history gone by. Exploring these sites not only peels back and shares some of the past, but let’s me interpret my experience of abandoned America through my imagery. As I continue to explore Scranton Lace Factory, like so many other abandoned sites, I feel the texture of decay, sense the lives that passed through and see the color of abandonment. I wonder if those sites will be condemned to the ash heaps of yesterday, or will they find new life and new purpose for tomorrow.
Puerto Penasco, Sea of Cortes, Mexico
105/365 Right on schedule, the daily ritual began. Sunset exploded all around us, painting every inch within our sight a fiery bright orange, fading only slightly as we looked higher in the sky. The seagulls took their signal that the day was done, and seemingly headed home for the night. The warm waters in front of us gently rolled towards the beach, striping the Sea of Cortes to reflect the day’s end. Soon it was quiet, only the hypnotic sound of the waves lapping the beach.
Queenstown, South Island New Zealand
104/365 Fall color spills across the landscape just outside of Queenstown, pulling my attention sharply in this direction. Angry clouds gather above. The road below threads its way through the mixed terrain; one side - sharply sloped and mountainous, the other gently climbing packed forests. A contradiction or a balance? Either way - a stunning delivery of visual nature that New Zealand, especially the South Island, offers time and again.
Marstons Mills, Cape Cod, Massachusetts
103/365 Flowers enrich our world, don’t they? From a distance they bring color and texture to an otherwise, more neutral, less interesting landscape. But look close. No closer. In fact next time, stop, look inside, and like for so many other things, absorb the inner beauty. There’s been a hand at work here crafting a macro-world, engineering-like, that we just look totally past. Consider this flower: outer petals of yellow, with an inner ring at their base of lighter red morphing to a ruby red. The center core - probably the seed - is a tightly structured collection of concentric spirals of diamond-shaped mini-seeds wrapped around each other, fading from a burnt- orange to a yellowish orange, with a hint of green in its center. And to complete this unique design - there is a circle of tiny flower-like stamen planted around the inner core. Nature’s engineering. What does the bee see?