Shot Glass

When my colleague spoke about buying more glass, I thought drinking glass. Then, I thought shot glass. Silly me, clearly she was speaking about camera lenses. How could I be so daft? It is about the LENS, baby! The lens is the photographers only friend. The lens does not demand a refund, or complain that it is too FAT. The lens accepts the world. Imperfections and all.

Suburban Archaeologist

I am so excited to present my new photo series entitled SUBURBAN ARCHAEOLOGIST. I will be photographing that which is tossed into my driveway each week. Right? As gross as it is, I am turning my utter irritation at the Arlington litter bug, into art. In doing so, I hope to find humor and interest in what the careless, lazy person drops onto my property. This week an interesting assortment:

Broken watering container

Over due health insurance notice from two towns away

Dust mask

Two balls

French fry container

Lottery scratch ticket (of course it is a winner!)

Egg shells

Cheeseburger (I admit to adding that last week, but no animal will touch it!)

Shampoo/cream sample

Taking Notes

Am I to find her climbing up the walls this vacation week? Off the walls? Off the walls? How odd, but this image is more a self-portrait. Parent. Home with child. Home with the love of my life. Yet...day seven. Seven days into this retreat. Cabin fever. Yes I am off the walls. My whirley girl is just fine.

Self Portrait

Mando 101

I tore the house apart looking for one of my music books. Lost. A trip to the local music store. Yes, in fact, a real store. A great place where the guys are hip and understand my scattered music/photog/highly caffeinated mind. I will buy a replacement. Wasteful indeed, my organizational skills. Shetland Jumper calls my name and for the life of me, I can't remember how it ends...

Universal Frame

A few years back I was able to travel to San Francisco. A pilgrimage of sorts. One thing that I really really wanted to experience was the Golden Gate Bridge. After having cycled in Napa Valley, a rented car would serve, for the journey to the hills. Camera on my lap, I waited in great expectation of seeing this marvelous bridge. A monumental connector that I had only seen photographs in magazines. Who knew, that in order to leave Napa and arrive in San Francisco early, one had to travel bumper to bumper in the thickest fog bank I had ever seen. The entire bridge was engulfed in fog. I might as well have been traveling on a road in New England, for there was absolutely no clue as to my location on this massive bridge. It was not until almost the very end of the bridge that I was able to finally get an image of her spectacular structure. A moment in the midst of fog. Developed, the picture lacked composition. Failure embraced disappointed. I tucked the photo into a book and forgot about it.

Six years later, I find myself reading a book about Annie Leibovitz. Page 15 of AT WORK, is a picture that Annie took of the Golden Gate Bridge during the 1970's. How interesting. Leibovitz's photo is 100 times more amazing. Fog is a feature, or at least it appears to be. A quick snappy 30 years earlier. Same frame, universal journey, yet Leibovitz, queen of all things pixelated, demonstrates why she is who she is. Gingerly, I embrace my limitations, discontented, as photog.

Reflections at Walden Pond January 7 2012