Skyward Horse

Simple. Straightforward. Just the cloud and the weather vane. That’s what I like about it. You could look beyond that, if you choose. Talk about the space or the differences between the two objects that exist on the canvas that is a pale blue Summer sky. The cloud is white and freeform with gradient degrees of density. Whereas, the weather vane is black, structured, well-defined, and full of straight lines and 90 degree angles. I am reminded of the day I took this photo. I drove an hour across Pennsylvania to a small village populated by living historians. And there, I ran into some of my closest friends that lived just a few blocks from me. I spent the rest of the day walking the grounds and watching demonstrations with them, photographing all the while. It was a good day.

Tin Roof Rustic

Texture and weather beaten wood. Actually an inaccessible second story door, traces of whatever steps may have once provided a method of ascension are long gone. Wood grain and flaking paint. The latter does it for me, but pattern is bold and at the forefront with thick black strips of void and shadow. Integral to the visual functionality are the door handle and lockset. Whether as a unit it is the color tone, the condition of the metal, or physical reach, they possess that something that would otherwise be lacking.

The Old Mill

A Saturday afternoon drive into the country yielded this find. I happened upon the gutted structure and pulled over immediately. The muted tones of the brick and doors clash with relation to the pitch black pits where windows should be. There is something so desolate and eerie about the area and the building. Driving back passed this on my way home after dark -- I knew I would not want to find myself coming upon this on foot after nightfall. The sensation of being watched by someone sent a shiver down my spine -- and I was in a moving car. I willed the car to carry me as fast and as far away from there as possible.

Sky Mirrors Earth

This is what I saw when I reached Bar Island. Observe how the clouds in the sky mirror the land below. A large cloud takes the shape and height in its space with relation to the tree below. The next set of clouds is lower like that of the wild grasses, and finally a low bank of small broken clouds like the rock covered ground itself. This feels very open, soothing, peaceful.

Theater of the Ages

On a trip north to visit some friends, I was introduced to this grand old theater built in 1929. Run down and so far beyond a state of disrepair the establishment needs a full restoration at the hands of professionals. Given all of this and that there are treasures like this chandelier sprinkled throughout, it’s obvious how I responded -- I was ecstatic. The intermingling of distressed architecture and preserved magnificence was intoxicating. Original wallpaper still intact yet peeling in places, two-story marble columns, and an intricate hand-carved ceiling and trim. Boasting historic character, an atmosphere of elegance, and an air of timelessness, this is just a glimpse of what is in store for those who stroll through the front door.

The Blue Star

Bangor, Maine. Exterior: antique shop. From the RYB color model (primarily used in art, especially painting) we have all three primary colors and two of the secondary ones. Don’t stop there. Five objects…five textures…five colors. Explore for yourself. What all do you see?

Black Magic

His story goes like this. He appeared on my uncle’s farm one day and made himself right at home. Based on a tag found on the goat, Dave figures he was on a truck bound for the slaughterhouse. There’s a lot of traffic on Route 30, which runs in front of the farm not 10 feet from of its white fencing. Seems the goat had a strong sense of self-preservation and leapt from the moving truck, perused the farm and made his way to the enclosed barnyard. Whether he bounded over the fence or squeezed through it -- we may never know, but he had no intention of leaving, not that anyone tried to remove him. He got along well with the horses and donkeys, the dogs and farm cats that resided there over the years, and even the lamas, not to mention the humans. What’s more, he made a good friend…a best friend -- Morticae the horse. They were inseparable. They looked out for each other; and it was funny to see the goat standing under the horse from time to time, whether just to be close to him or seeking protection from the unruly lama Paco. Black Magic went where he liked -- no fence could hold him, but he never strayed from the farm and usually not far from his fellow residents. Adorable, entertaining, and always quick to protect if he felt any of his barnyard companions were potentially in danger. I can still hear his snort and stomp. He did that a lot. Often it was just to get your attention, as if to say, “Hey, I’m here. Hello-o-o!” He was funny and he made me laugh a lot. A few years ago he passed away and it was a sad time. And while everyone missed him (and there was an obvious void left by the absence of his indomitable spirit), the one it hit hardest was Morticae. He seemed lost without his friend. Sadly, a little while back, he, too, passed away. I like to think they are together again in the next life, sharing once more in their antics and camaraderie. I miss you both.