Pale Moon Light

I rolled over and opened my eyes.  The evening thunderclouds had cleared, exposing a full moon that  illuminated the eastern Oregon landscape.     Shoving my head out of my mummy bag, I leaned up and looked around.  The interior of the Syncro lit up like I was parked under a city street lamp.

Canon 5d Mark II, 50mm f1.4, .06 seconds.

Checking my Luminox  watch, it was just 11:17 PM.   After a day of hiking and driving my brother and I had called it a night soon after sunset.  Peeking out of the window, I spotted Tim sleeping under a nearby juniper tree, sans tent.  Cracking the window, I grabbed my camera steadied it against the window frame.

After a few minutes of walking around the high desert landscape snapping pictures, the comfort of my LL Bean sleeping bag seemed rather appealing.  Gingerly hopping across the sage-covered ground, I jumped back into the Syncro to enjoy a few more hours of sleep before a hike up a nearby mountain the next morning.

Here are some more links, Pale Moon Light (Picasa), Copper Kettle (Bob Dylan).

Different with Film

Digital images always feel different from film. Regardless of the quality of a digital set up or post editing technique, the end result varies from that of an equivalent film rig. It's not a bad thing or a good thing.

This inherent difference sparked my curiosity. A few months ago I started taking a Polaroid Image Pro along with me on my excursions. Stockpiling film from eBay and Craigslist, I took photos much more intentionally than I would with my 5d Mark II. Instead of firing away like Stallone in the latest installment of Rambo, I took my time composing my shots and waited for the light. Here are some of my favorite shots from the last few months.

A Houston Astros tattoo in Williamsburg.

Clouds rolling in on Mt. Hood, Oregon.

A mouse trap in Bala Cynwyd, Pennsylvania.

Tim daydreaming on a hike.

Ripping open a pack of film and gingerly putting it into your camera can not be replicated by stuffing a 16 gig flash card into a port of a DSLR.

Vans in Wiliamsburg.

A view of Mt. Hood from Mt Hood Meadows Ski Resort.

Different towers on the Williamsburg waterfront.

A 1953 Willys Jeep in Mosier, Oregon.

A farm trailer in Vermont.

Patrick in the Upper West Side.

A bull in Washougal, Washington.

Edge in Chelsea.

The first pumpkins of fall in New Hampshire.

An ode to my friend Mikael, Passport To Trespass; My 5d Mark II, Filson x Levi's Jacket, and some Spectra film on Mt Hood, Oregon.

Desert in the West Village.

Train tracks near Hanover, New Hampshire.

I am not picking favorites between digital and film, just enjoying both. Staying curious, all the while enjoying the process of photography.

Here are some more links,

First of Fall (Picasa),

04/06 on 09/10 (Picasa),

A Few Rolls (Picasa),

Red, White and Brew (Picasa).

A Visual Journal

Growing up, I never kept a journal, despised school and spent most of my time staining clothes with blood and grass and scratching my knees and elbows with my younger brother Tim. As a dyslexic, my interests and intellectual appetite quickly surpassed my ability to read. Instead of fighting tooth and nail through Charlotte's Web, I spent my time looking at pictures in books during reading time in elementary school. My first memories of an Encyclopedia were the colorful diagrams of airplanes, not a list of the 50 states and their capitals. In order to make it through school, I learned to use my visual perception and stored my experiences as etchings in my mind.

For the last three months, I have carried my camera with me. Sometimes I see special things, sometimes I see monotonous things but mostly I see juxtaposing parts of things that make up my life.

An inlet in Reid State Park in late February.

Hope on a walk in mid February.

A shanty Down East in early February.

A gray, December day in southeast Portland, Oregon right near the Hawthorne food carts.

Picnic table at Fort Popham in January.

Ed's shanty catching some rays in February in Palermo, Maine. I love the font.

Christmas lights in Portland, Oregon in December.

Pumpkins in February.

An old logging road in late December in Skamania, Washington.

Down East in early February.

Waves breaking in late February at Reid State Park. I love the meandering footsteps in the foreground.

This space shuttle crashed on a frozen lake a few miles inland in the Mid Coast region. Well actually it's just an ice shanty.

Weathered shingles on Valentine's day.

Instead of writing notable parts of my day down in a journal, I take pictures of inspiring things around me. What inspires me a year from now will certainly be different than what inspires me today. Having a collection of images and my thoughts helps me keep track of my creative process.

Here are some more links,
A Visual Journal (Picasa).

Rain, Sun and House-Sized Waves

In a jet lagged daze I lay in the bed after waking up at 5am Northwest time, (8am Maine time), eating breakfast and then falling back to sleep. Despite being 3,000 miles from my typical place of slumber, I reached over to my iPhone in my standard morning routine and flicked through the apps. After reading my emails and Twitter, I eventually thumbed the Magic Seaweed application out of desperation to rationalize staying in bed for a few more minutes.

Instantly I jumped up from my semi-catatonic slumber into a state of hysteria. As an enthusiastic rider of Maine waves, I check Magic Seaweed daily and usually see numbers an order of magnitude smaller than the ones I was looking at for the Oregon coast. Like a six year old on Christmas morning I rushed down the stairs, grabbed my camera, car keys, and a wool jacket and headed to the Portland Airport to pick up my dad and then head to the coast in search of waves and rain.

An hour and a half later, I hopped out of my dad's 4Runner and scurried towards the lookout like a kid at the ball pit at McDonald's.

It was windy.

The last scene of Point Break was filmed at this beach. "We'll get him when he comes back in!" It sure looked like Bodhi's 50-year storm last weekend.

keep me honest.

After two hours of rain and wind the clouds finally broke and for fifteen minutes. My dad and I watched waves roll in and thunderstorm cells lurk closer.

From 300 feet up and roughly half a mile away these waves looked more like an avalanche on the Discovery channel than things people ride for fun.

We headed back to the car as the drops of rain fell on our backs. As soon as we got in the car and cranked on the heater, large hailstones started pinging off of the windshield. Our timing couldn't have been better.

Here are some more links,
Rain, Sun and House Sized Waves (Picasa),
Rain, Sun and House Sized Waves (Vimeo).