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.

Buick 8 Better Wait

My third attempt writing about this photo. Previously, I found myself getting bogged down in describing every detail. I tend to ramble and lose focus at times, leading me astray from the original idea or question posed. Step back, pause, and try again. To me it looks like two separate images slapped together -- and I like that. On the left a large circle and a feeling of open space. To the right unyielding lines top to bottom. It’s all about the lines. They even exist in the headlight, but with new pattern and direction. Add to that the standouts against the chrome and black on either side: the punch of the yellow tinged dome and the red “Buick 8” branded on the grille.

School's Out for the Weekend

Autumn. Friday afternoon. Last bell rings and there‘s a football game tonight. Friends pile in a car and drive around, grab dinner, then head to the stadium. Laughing, carrying on: not a care in the world. They root for the home team. Cheerleaders rally school spirit, shaking their blue-and-white pom-pom’s. The clock winds down. One last play. The quarterback throws for the winning touchdown and the crowd goes wild! Possibilities are limitless, dreams are endless, and the night is young.

Dashboard Confessional

Quarter-mile long rows of cars line the fairgrounds. Set up to allow the flow of traffic to move easily at a good pace from one end to the other -- and it works. People walk by, check the tag in the window identifying the vehicle, maybe glance at the car in passing, and move on. They are looking for something in particular and only those cars warrant stopping for a closer look. I have no such preconceptions. I don’t write something or someone off without getting to know them first, learning about them, finding out if we share a connection. I didn’t see one person other than myself even approach this car. Look at what they were missing. So much beauty on the inside. So much to offer.

Red and Black Raindrops

The weather. Wind can blow dirt into the lens. From this point forward until the lens is cleaned, every negative or digital image taken is ruined. A photographer must care for his or her camera and make sure to keep everything clean and in working order. Raindrops can create a similar hazard. The possibility of a storm passing over a car show I planned to attend used to give me pause for thought, considering whether there was any point to still going. Then, one cloudy morning I was at a Carlisle show when rain started to fall. I made sure to keep my lens pointed down to protect it from moisture. Then, I noticed something. As with wind, rain does not always hinder possibilities for photographs, rather it can also create them. While everyone else ran for the buildings to get out of the rain, I raised my camera to my eye and took a good look; and I discovered photographs that would not have worked without the pattern of rain drops coating surfaces.

Sun Valley Southwest

There are those that stop to look at the cars wheeled in on flatbeds, visibly in ruin and little more than a shell with a few spare parts. Still, they are few in number. I am one of the few, and I’m fine with that. No lines, no obstacles, unfettered access -- it’s great! Case in point -- this vehicle wasn’t winning any Best in Show award, but I felt like I hit the jackpot. Look how it washes roughly top to bottom with increasing amounts of rust across the yellowish-cream paint. Meld with that the broken double “L”. The worn molding accentuates the angled flaw and apportions the picture. When I see this photo I think “the desert”: dry air, blistering sun, sweltering heat, and old Route 66.

Tattered Edges

Walking down an alley on my way to Bar Island, I encountered this posting. Maine’s early morning light both intensified moisture-induced wrinkles and cast a shadow over parts of the rust stained proclamation. This was just the beginning of a day trekking miles of shoreline, stopping often to appreciate nature. Among the many firsts I experienced: spotting a live starfish, holding a dead sea urchin, and crossing the sand bar to the adjoining island during low tide.

Mermaid

The Summer of 1995. I was taking my world of black-and-white photography by storm, relentless in my pursuit of the next great image. Also known as my “Up with people” phase -- beautiful people decked out in dressy-casual attire. I scouted locations, seeking out interesting new venues; and I scheduled sessions whenever friends were available to participate. Most took place within a few miles of Camp Hill. Here, we traveled a little further: the Susquehanna River south of Middletown. This early evening outing included two friends: Carla and Brian. The former the subject of this print. Much of the photo shoot came off resembling a fashionable young couple walking the shore of a beach and romping a bit -- carefree and enjoying each other’s company.

Better Days

I still see this beat old Packard in the used car lot on Route 94. Flat tire and busted up just about everything. I may just have captured an image that paints this car to be in better condition than it real is. To me, though, it’s still something great and a testament to one being able to find beauty and value if willing to look for it…no matter how unlikely the source may seem. The machine’s strength and power endure, even if cosmetic damage suggests otherwise -- merely a matter of locating the right person for a fit.

ACME Synchro Shutter

It’s a gorgeous lens, deserving of a clean, crisp close-up. The night I took this I was experimenting with my new Panasonic Lumix digital camera with Leica lens. The goal: to test its capabilities in low light conditions. The result: mounted on a tripod and given the right lights (and a few extra hands to hold them) still life could yield some stimulating results. This ranks among the best black & white images from that evening. And what photographer doesn’t appreciate a sharp image of a camera?

Cycle in Flames

Chrome on Color. Fall 2005 - Dillsburg Farmer’s Fair. Antique tractors, motorcycles, hot rods and custom cars line the curbs from the far side of town down Baltimore Street to the Square. The contrast of cool chrome against brightly colored flames called to me.

The Three

Reflections, including my own, are a always a concern when photographing certain subject matter, such as windows, cars, and planes. Typically, I do everything I can to become invisible. In addition, I am vigilant with regard to the presence of others: either waiting out the oblivious gawkers that step in my line of fire, or beating them to the punch by framing and snapping my shot before they approach. The latter is preferential, but the reality of car shows means it’s not always possible. I’ve waited 10 minutes (which feels like an eternity) for a shot, refusing to move because I believed the image was worth my time. I strive to keep the object’s surface clear of outside visual interference. That said, there are exceptions; and this is one of them. A dark finish, the location of “the three” in relation to the sun’s position, and my camera placement. The result: three silhouettes front and center each unique yet working together, adding a dimension to the image rather than detracting from it.

The Farm - Tulips Bid Adieu

As time on my uncle’s farm drew to a close with his family’s impending departure at hand, I set out, once again, to photograph the beauty and majesty I found there. David grew up there and he raised his children there. His tremendous commitment and care for the land, the buildings, the whitewashed fences, the animals, his family, and their home were all evident. It is true that you never really know what you have until it’s gone. I took for granted that the farm was just a half hour away down Route 94. For decades I squandered time I could have spent there writing short stories beneath the huge Linden trees in the front yard, kicking back on the screened in porch visiting, and walking the fields. Not to mention photographing further in-depth the marvels that only exist in an 1825 solid brick farmhouse or a well-preserved barn built in 1850 and still in use 155 years later. Here you see tulips (originally planted by my Grandma) in their full splendor, bidding me a final farewell and providing such a wonderful way for me to remember that great old farm.

Whitewall, Red Rim

Vivid white paint and muted whitewall rubber separated by a black void with a hint of tread. Driven by shape and contrast, fire engine red shatters the visual silence while the silver hubcap punctuates an image steeped in stark relief. The fender’s flare sweeps left to right with a curve so natural the eye can’t help but follow it from start to finish. Fine white lines accentuate details of the decorative wheel and spoked caves. Circles upon circles upon circles. The more closely you look, really look, the more you will see.

The Bedford Record

Bedford is a small town in western Pennsylvania. My mother grew up there, and several times each year we hop on the turnpike and drive out to visit for the day. A small pastry shop called The Washington Bakery used to make the best maple rolls -- that was always our first stop, until it closed its doors in 2007 after 83 years of business. The rest of the day would consist of lunch at The Landmark and perusing antique shops, hoping to find, among other collectibles, any items bearing my Grandfather’s name from the Sinclair gas station he owned. Over the years I have been lucky enough to find a rain gauge and a matchbook. I happened upon the former in one of the town’s two antique co-op’s. In the basement of that same now-defunct establishment, I came across the above vinyl set to play on a large vintage turntable console. The sleek black grooves and circular patterns, the small separate tears following in suit, and the colors and image -- in tandem, they all worked. Eye to the viewfinder, I zoomed in and experimented with framing the shot. This was the end result.

Shadows on the Tarmac

Four of us set out early that June morning for the WWII Weekend Air Show in Reading, PA. Loaded for bear we stepped onto the airfield, wielding an assortment of cameras, with satchels of film slung over our shoulders. Each of us with a different approach, yet the same vision: to photograph everything that caught our attention and struck our fancy. A sweltering summer day, its effects were compounded by the heat pouring up off the tarmac. That didn’t matter though -- we were relentless in our pursuit of “that one image” of the day, framing shots ranging from restored WWII bombers to classic cars and living historians to memorabilia. Hours slipped by like minutes as we roamed up and down the runways, around and underneath the aircraft, inside the bombers, along the vintage automobile alley, and through the military encampments. We stopped only long enough to grab a beverage at the authentically recreated Officer’s Club -- the real draw: they gave a steel penny as change if you plunked down $2 for a soda.

The Shadows (left to right)

Adam - Double fisted a pair of Minolta 7xi’s (35mm SLR‘s): one for color film,

the other for black & white film.

Greg - Hasselblad Medium format camera with separate backs for both color and
black & white film; store bought 8x10 Large format camera.

Tim - Leicaflex 35mm SLR for color slide film and black & white film;
Bender 8x10 Large format camera built by his father from a kit.

Tom (Tim‘s father) - the purist photographer of the group with the skills to back it up: shot only black & white film with his Minolta 35mm SLR.

Shore Path - The Birch Tree

This is where many a morning's photographic journeys began. Sometimes following an early morning breakfast just up the street at Jordan's in Bar Harbor: a hot cup of coffee, scrambled eggs, hash browns, and blueberry pancakes. I feel energized and ready for a day of exploration and discovery. The white birch is striking against the sky's backdrop of blue hues. A sense of exhilaration and anticipation washes over me every time I approach the tree, wondering what natural treasures I might see and enjoy this time. I start down the Shore Path, looking for shells and rocks, color and texture, pattern and points of interest. Whether due to the season, time of day, or cloud cover, the quality of light is never a constant: either adding to or washing away shadows. And like the ebb and flow of the tide, can either reveal or hide sea life and other wonders. When I look at this image I see opportunity and a day filled with endless possibilities.

Sunrise on Cadillac Mountain - Maine

5:44 AM, August 17, 2006. I stand atop Cadillac Mountain located in Acadia National Park, Maine. It is just past pitch black as the sky starts to lighten to a deep blue/purple. The air is frigid. All around me everyone else either stays in their vehicles with the motors running or sits atop boulders and folding chairs draped in layers of blankets and winter wear. What we have in common is we are all waiting for the sunrise. A rainbow of colors appear on the horizon, letting me know the event is fast approaching. Camera in hand, I am on the move. There is more to observe and appreciate than the first glimpse of the sun's ascent, and I did my best to embrace and photograph as much as I could. I never felt the cold -- too engrossed in the experience. I stood here two years ago for the very same reason and I can tell you both sunrises were unique. Among the sights I had the privilege to enjoy: silhouettes of the surrounding islands, deep rich colors in the day's infancy, a group of Moose swimming out to one of the islands, and the experience of a spectacular sunrise in all its stages that I would not trade for anything.