I am a diarist of ordinary moments that move me. I gravitate towards black and white photography but still celebrate color. I love the candid capture but respect the power of the choreographed moment. I study the rules of phos+graphis but am compelled periodically to ignore them.
Inspiration: The fold of his hat. The old world charm mixed with just a touch of "badass". And his love for his old 1940s press camera. His name is Louis Mendes , one of New York's famous and oft photographed street portraitists.
Inspiration: As I was walking through the northern end of Madison Square Park, I heard a funky cool drumbeat. It was coming from this dude, who was jamming on a drum pad as well as the side of a bench. I took a few shots of him in action. After a few seconds, he looked up and smiled. We talked for several minutes. I told him I liked his super-bling Dolce & Gabbana shades. He told me he liked my monster camera. While we were chatting, I took these photographs. He's a sanitation worker by early morning and a drummer in a jazz band by late night. He's been playing drums and writing music since he was 13. In 1996, he taught himself jazz and thereafter completely revamped his musical style and focus. Whenever he has free time, he heads to one of the parks to write and practice because he can't do so at home. Apparently, his girlfriend doesn't approve. She wants him to go for a desk job so that he doesn't continue to hurt his knees jumping on and off the sanitation truck every morning. But mostly, she wants him to give up the night life of a jazz musician. He is tempted to tell her it's over. He said: "It's a sin not to use my god-given talent. To give up the best part of me just to make only one of us happy."
Inspiration: In order to force myself to accept that fall is making its formal debut next week, I have decided to purge myself of summer stuff. I am putting away the summer whites and strappy sandals, pulling out the sweaters and boots . . . and dumping some of my summer pictures on you. I love this one because it reminds me of the precious few truly hot days we experienced this year. Also, something about it made me think about that point in a relationship when two people can sit, not talk, touch or stare into each other's eyes, but yet still feel in touch and at home with each other.
Inspiration: If you were there (and maybe you were), you would have seen the heads of these women turning almost simultaneously with each other, side to side, scoping out the scene, not missing anything.
Inspiration: I love books. I love the potential a book holds just before I open the cover and the satisfaction I feel at the end of a good one. And everyone knows that reading the book is almost always better than seeing the movie. If a book turns out to be a disappointment, I don't recommend it. But trash it? Never. So, this "attack" on the side of 3rd Avenue made me sad. Why waste? Why not donate?