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: One of the best things about Sunday is the Sunday newspaper (no matter which one). My favorites are pretty standard: the New York Times and the Financial Times. And I never seem to get all the way through them.
Inspiration: "Only boys would do that" I thought to myself as I took this shot of some guys testing the strength of the ice in the pond. Maybe there are a few girls who would too, but not me. What if the ice cracked causing me to be devoured in a sea/pond of icy pain? The pond is probably not that deep, but why test it? I stood on the sidelines. So, we are back to wicked winter weather here in New York. I wore a t-shirt, sweater, jacket, coat and a scarf and I still felt cold.
New York: Union Square (1st and 2nd); Washington Square Park (3rd and 4th)
Inspiration: I am in a phase right now. One in which I hark back to my photos of street musicians that I've captured over the course of the past year but that didn't make into the blog (until now). Bear with me.
Inspiration: The Bird spreads his wings and they take him high. His body is soon silhouetted against the sky. With impossible ease he takes off in a glide. Showing off, turning side to side. In this moment, freedom is his. No one can take it away. Freedom he expresses in his flights day by day. The clouds belong to him. The skies his own. It's as if the world exists just for him to roam. In the turn of his body and by the impossible ease of his glide, the Bird mocks me, "Freedom is mine."
When I was a child, I loved to write stories and poems. Recently, I came upon a tattered notebook close to the bottom of a box of stuff that has been "lost" in storage for years. The notebook has a beautiful red silk cover on the outside. I think that my Mom gave it to me years ago just because I loved the color of the cover. Inside the little diary are a bunch of poems that I wrote as far back as when I was 8. Oh My God! What a find. So, the funny little rhyme above is by me. That is, the 11 year-old me. Please don't laugh. Okay . . . laugh. So, I wrote this during detention one afternoon at school. I cannot now recall why I got in trouble, but I do remember that in the midst of wishing that I was anywhere but there, I saw a bird soaring above the trees outside. Free. And suddenly (as was often the case back then) this little poem took shape. Mind you, I wrote this back in the day when I was convinced that a poem wasn't a good poem unless every line rhymed with the one before it:-) In any event, this shot reminds me of that moment.
Inspiration: I am, and have always been, a bookworm. When I was a child, I carried at least two books with me everywhere. The walls of my childhood bedroom were dotted with pictures of people lost in a book. Books offer so much. They are at once portals to knowledge and portable entertainment. So, I suppose it is no wonder that I am inspired to photograph readers. But readers of books. Not Kindles. I love technology but some things should remain old-school. Such as the relationship between a person and a good book.
Inspiration: I shot this a couple of weeks ago when it was so cold that the only "people" outside to photograph were these dancing ladies in the Conservatory Garden. New York has enjoyed weather that's been a tad bit warmer over the past week or two, but I cannot help wondering when the mind blowingly cold weather will return . . .
Inspiration: This is the black and white version of one of the photos I took of this woman on Sunday. For a color photograph of her (and her puppy, which you cannot see in this shot), see The Photodiarist in Color. By the way, did you notice the squirrel on top of the bench?