See some other photos here. Presented mostly without comment.
A reader points out: Yeah, I know his face is not in focus. I know. Come on, man. I’m working on it.
My rationalization: The textures of the blanket, and the bunching up of the blanket and his face towards the center of the frame, precariously and uncomfortably resting over an abyss, that’s what I was aiming at.
Do you believe that horses**t?
Ye Olde Coffee Shoppe.
Thirteen Ways Of Looking At A Blackbird here.
The images don’t necessarily stand on their own, so I hope this inspires folks to go and use their imaginations at the link.
II
I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.
XI
He rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
For blackbirds.
You can probably tell who I was looking at last week…
For some reason, I’m drawn to these guys and whenever I get a chance, I try for a decent shot.
Thanks for looking.
A cormorant on the lake.
With the fog and the Nikon, it reminds me of a faded postcard.
Greetings from Seattle!
Hey, it’s what I got right now.
All in-camera. Just a mesh banner in front of a chain-link fence, in front of a tile wall.
Thanks for looking.
I chased Badeau to the bottom of the stairs, where he gave a grunt and a cry before disappearing to the upper rooms. It was the last anyone would see of him until summer. Our little waterfront pursuit would go on to make headlines.
That night, I awoke as a neighbor’s headlights launched through my eyes, illuminating some animal part of my soul.
More of a publicity shot.
Potential advantages: Catching more genuine expressions.
Potential disadvantages: It’s tougher to focus and use available light in reflected surfaces manually (no pre-sets/settings).
Some people like this kind of thing…I’m not so sure who they are.
To see and be seen. To see yourself reflected in the eyes of others seeing you.
Trying to follow lines in the fog.
All in-camera. Just a sunset reflection in a curved yacht-window.
Addition: No, I don’t own a yacht. I don’t really know anyone who owns a yacht. I’m neither pro- nor anti- yacht ownership.
Looking for that red, blue and green.
A little over-saturation can make for more interesting faces.
Going for that ‘painted-from-a-photograph’ look.
Did you hear they found Bob Chambers’ body washed-up by the hotel?
It’s an awful business…
Thanks for looking (focus could be better, honestly).
Thanks for looking.
All in-camera (just another upside-down puddle). Reminds me of the mid-90’s MTV music-video fade, or maybe a CD cover liner-notes photo (CDs were things, kids).
Deep, man. Deep.
After noticing my shooting him, we talked for a while about why he’s out there, and the meaning of repeating: “God is King…Jesus is….”
His message is chanted, and somewhat hypnotic. It is practiced, repeated on a loop, and I suspect invoked from within him as well as for those of us outside.
After noticing the camera, he became self-aware, laughing a bit, awkwardly. Sheepishly, even. He pointed at me, smiling.
Who was I? What did I want? Friend or foe? What might the lens see?
In the photos, in his face, I see some anger, impatience, sadness, despair, and maybe a bit of hope. The kinds of emotions usually visible when people (kids, especially) stop paying attention if anyone’s looking.
Thanks for looking.
How low can the light go?
These low-light, figures-reflected-in-puddles-shots, are starting to look like illustrations in ‘young adult’ books.
‘I’ll send out a few more texts. What could go wrong?’
Can you smell the kelp?
Not exactly stuffing and gravy. Happy Thanksgiving!
Just the Smith tower in a puddle, flipped upside-down.
Reflections of a gray sky and a gray building in a gray fountain. No color manipulation.
November rain in Ballard (updated). Meet me down by the docks. Bring your troubles.
Over in Ballard.
Looking for complementary colors in the marina.
A different figure stepping from the curb.
Thanks for looking. Will try some different F-stops in the future to balance light reflecting upon objects and upon objects reflected in glass.
A redo. The same place with new focus.
Light’s a little weird. Thanks for looking:
A non-existent prize if you can properly guess what the theme is:
As previously posted:
For Eleanor Boylan Talking With God
God has a brown voice,
as soft and full as beer.
Eleanor, who is more beautiful than my mother,
is standing in her kitchen talking
and I am breathing in my cigarettes like poison.
She stands in her lemon-colored sun dress
motioning to God with her wet hands
glossy from the washing of egg plates.
She tells him! She tells him like a drunk
who doesn’t need to see to talk.
It’s casual but friendly.
God is as close as the ceiling.
Though no one can ever know,
I don’t think he has a face.
He had a face when I was six and a half.
Now he is large, covering up the sky
like a great resting jellyfish.
When I was eight I thought the dead people
stayed up there like blimps.
Now my chair is as hard as a scarecrow
and outside the summer flies sing like a choir.
Eleanor, before he leaves tell him
Oh Eleanor, Eleanor,
tell him before death uses you up.
**The confessional and often psychiatric despair of many mid-20th century poets can grow tiresome; solipsistic and gauche much of this subject matter can be. It can also fuel some pretty good poems.
Here’s a mildly creepy photo I took, which brought the poem to mind:
Thanks for looking.
Free literature.
We’ll find another photographer, thanks.
The Seattle & City Light building. Kind of a modernist clunker in my opinion, but the reflections seemed nice.
