New Mexico was a game changer in my life.
In 1994, I stashed most of my ego into a back pocket and signed up for a workshop in Santa Fe… it was a little rough for a very short time. My photographic education was completely homespun to this point. My parents were both serious photographers, if not full time professionals… they had vision and enthusiasm to spare but technique, in our small house, was limited. So I brought a bit of a chip to this class and discovered, to my delight, that I was in a crowd of my peers… we were all there to fine tune a thing we already knew.

Long story short, I found that a solid week of photography and photographers was a balm to my inner skin… no phones, no real housework, no outside life… no contest.
The textures and light that make up Santa Fe and it’s near neighbors were a healing time to me and they return to tease my mind on many a grey day here.

My teacher that amazing week was Kent Barker. Out of Dallas at the time, he was subtle and easy to talk to… a sweet sense of humor, his work was very strong.
He took us two hours north of Santa Fe to his friend’s art gallery in Tres Piedras… a hot pink adobe schoolhouse sitting all by itself on the Taos Mesa.
Imagine 18 photographers, 10 white dogs and a stormy afternoon sky… it was like a dream.

New Mexico pulled me back for many trips in the next seven years. I went until I couldn’t afford to go again but I am not done.
My camera will dance under those wide skies again some day.

My lucky life has more of this in it… the oddities stumbled upon. Seems as if I spend a great deal of time working at the computer for other people these days and I miss the sense of adventure… maybe chance is what I should call it.
I need to grab a little more time for me. That’s a given.

This particular scene is on the way into Santa Fe… right there on the side of the road. Seems that the owner/artist has a blow-in insulation company and he has crafted all of these life sized foam creatures in the yard by his house.
I passed by it a couple of times before I drove up to the house to ask permission. I am pleased to share the planet with all sorts of people. ;0)

The massive crab on the Governor Hotel used to show up every summer in the ’90′s… it was a promo for Jake’s Grill and I was always amused to see it up there. Well, one day I got serious and went downtown on a mission. Having waited too long on a few other things in my life, I was determined to make sure I showed up for this one.

My favorite personal film for the longest time was Kodak’s Infrared… all of the images in this post are that flavor. For all that digital has made reasonable progress, they have yet to bring this one to the table. I will keep my fingers crossed.

The Pterodactyl in Pioneer Place was a real surprise. I wish I had taken note of the artist’s name so that I could give proper credit here. It had a full, articulated wing span and I left out the beautiful wings and their supporting structure in this picture because I needed it to be more organic somehow… in film I didn’t have the chance to leave out the shiny metal rods. Makes me wonder how I might shoot it today since I have more tricks up my photographic sleeve?
Makes me wonder if that is a good thing…

I do believe photographs should be honest and I will try to keep that promise to myself.

The gentleman on the bench had the kindest eyes and a rather squashed hat on his old head… the pug was a little nervous. We were walking through Faneuil Hall in Boston and I didn’t do my usual sneaky candid. I decided not to treat him as a tourist sight… I went over and asked if I might take a picture of his dog. His smile and his yes were so gracious that I only took this one frame. I left out his fabulous face and hat because I had only asked about the dog.
Unusual for me.

Here’s to a kinder year ahead!

Photographers must all have a longish list of shots that we only took in our head… I can’t be the only one.
Opera Boy and I went to Venice for the first time in 2006. We got to our little hotel completely beaten up by the flying. The tall windows in our room looked out over Campo San Stefano… interesting and busy in the late afternoon light.

So we walked to stretch out and find a quick meal, stealing to bed as it got dark… it was like drifting off to sleep on a movie set… the cafes don’t get going until after dark so all of the friends and laughing people gathering for dinner mingled with faint music and, always, the sound of heels on stone.
I woke up at dawn and looked out the window… trying to identify a sound.

Here is where you will have to imagine the Campo empty save for one man and a two wheeled blue cart. He was sweeping the whole place with a long brush broom… made of twigs like we see in our fairy tales. No cars in Venice, of course, so he is the garbage service.
I was so entranced by the whole thing, I had to just watch. The camera, in the unpacking of it, would have made me miss something I wanted to see.

I went back to bed but my dreams were colored by that early morning encounter. Next time, I will be better prepared.

Crisp and moving, the late light comes early now. I don’t do it often but I am sometimes lucky to go out with my camera and wander… eyes open, no plan. We call it Walk About…

There was a time when my camera life was all my own… no clients to answer to… “unfettered and alive” and this was how I spent my free time.

Now, you might call it a stretching exercise, a chance to get away from the desk for an attitude adjustment. It makes my inner child smile… and breathe.

Each season is devoted to one contemporary playwright That means you get a great chance to get acquainted with some  marvelous and current work. The Trip to Bountiful opens this week… Horton Foote is this season’s featured playwright and I believe it will be a fine and wonderful collection of offerings.

I have had the pleasure of watching this company grow and thrive for 13 years under the direction of Jane Unger. She has the heart and she’s not afraid to use it.

In the spring of 2006, I was lucky beyond measure to finally visit Italy. I am sure Ron and I took on way too much in the short time we were there but I know I have to go back.

Rome was the last leg of our 13 days and we were getting punchy. Maybe Rome should be at the beginning of a trip like this because it was overwhelming. You need to have all of your wits and senses completely tuned in. As a photographer, I can get into visual overload pretty easily but if you combine that with the huge history around every corner, it’s almost like your brain says” Oh…just another ancient temple…”.  You have to stay focused or you risk glazing over.

If you tour the Sistine Museum, the famous chapel is towards the end of the four hour trek…imagine being swept along art encrusted corridors, some light, some very dark, shoulder to shoulder with masses of visitors. Many different languages and cultural habits all thrown into this boiling crowd thing. It’s probably the closest I have come to body surfing. Somehow, I expect my art encounters to be sublime and free of this bobbing and weaving fabric. The Chapel itself should have been quiet and calm with seats for all. Instead it was a sardine can…all packed in and staring up into the rich heavens created so long ago. The guards kept yelling NO PHOTO! and each time they did some unfortunate soul would pull out their point and shoot and it would start all over again. My view of the Sistine ceiling was straight up and ringed by jostling shoulders. Not sublime.

As we left the last galleries, the crowd thinned and we started down a ramp towards the exits. The stairway that opened up in front of me took my breath away. My brain came alive and I found myself starting to frame this massive beauty before I brought the camera up to my eye. Sublime accomplished.

Built around the turn of the 16th century by Donato Bramante, the spiral staircase was part of a new entrance to the palace and was designed for riding up on horseback.