Once In a Blue Moon

On my last night in the Northwest, I made the routine drive back from Portland to the Gorge under the cover of an almost full moon. A 30 mile per hour east wind shook the car from side to side as I listened to Rebellion by the Arcade Fire on my iPhone. Staring out of the window at the scenery illuminated by the vibrant light of the moon, I realized that December was a Blue Moon. I slammed on the brakes, hopped out of the car, opened my trunk, grabbed my tripod and 5d Mark II, and set the shutter for long exposures.

The near full moon's light illuminated the landscape and provided surprising contrasts and colors.

Every few minutes, headlights appeared down the road and I released the shutter to avoid over exposures. Baffled by the by concept of being outside of their heat seats and radios, the drivers sped on.

The harsh wind and cold temperature only increased the solitude of the night. I guess it's my contrarian nature, but the longer I stayed outside numbing my ears and fingertips, the better I felt about standing alone and enjoying the night.

The harsh wind shook the tree's limbs and tall grass, blurring edges in this 30-second exposure.

Protected from the biting cold and gusting wind by my Filson Mackinaw Cruiser, I danced to the Arcade Fire as as my camera stood close, capturing the night on its tripod. Like a silhouette from an iPod commercial, I bounced around inspired by the night's beauty and the possibilities of youth.

Here are some more links,
Once in a Blue Moon (Picasa),
Blue Moon (Wikipedia).

The Most Interesting Three Weeks of My Life

One of my favorite high school teachers would always quote Socrates, "The unexamined life is not worth living." At the time I thought little of this pedantic morsel and often responded with a quote from a most excellent movie, "you mean So-crates?" Despite my D in sophomore English, most likely a function of smart ass comments and failed vocabulary tests, the lesson of introspection and evaluation resonates more and more as I grow up.

On the morning of Sunday, December 13th, I packed up four shirts, two pairs of jeans, a handful of underwear and socks into a backpack and headed towards the wild blue yonder. I split the next three weeks between Boston, New York and the Portland, Oregon area, my toothbrush and iPhone with me at all times. For three weeks, I went to bed early, I went on walks by myself, I saw old friends, I roughhoused with my brother, I played with my dog, I ate my mom's food and more than anything, I thought.

Our campfire at sunset.

Emma in Central Park.

Sunrise in the Columbia River Gorge from a window in my mom's house.

Acrylic Paint in Soho.

Alice and Bob's Maine Cooncat in the West Village. In the summer he has a lion cut.

Tim overlooking the Columbia River Gorge on a foggy day.

Liberated by my freedom of mobility and lack of obligations, I traveled light, snapping photos with my iPhone as I went. Each photo connects an image to a thought like news clippings on a refrigerator. I know it's not what my sophomore English teacher envisioned some six years ago, but thank you "So-crates."

All of these photos were taken on my iPhone 3GS and the Colorcross Camerabag Filter.

Here are some more links,
The Most Interesting Three Weeks of My Life (Picasa),
Camerabag (iPhone Application),

A Hike in the Snow

On Christmas Eve, my brother, dad and I set out on an adventure into the Silver Star Mountains. A drive up gravel roads to inspect the previous night's snowfall quickly turned into a hike when my dad pulled his 4runner to the side of the road and asked if I had ample footwear for a hike. I looked down at the red laces on my Danner Mountain Light II's on my feet and responded with an unequivocal "Yes."

For the next three hours, we slowly gained altitude tromping around the Silver Star range, overlooking Portland, the foothills of the Cascades and the Columbia River Gorge. We trudged through six inches of snow on the old logging roads that dissect the hills like trails of ants on a kitchen floor as clouds flew past east to west.

My dad, and dedicated proofreader, on the left and my brother Tim on the right. For reference my dad is 6'0".

Frozen leaves on the side of the trail.

The north face of Mt. Hood overlooking the Columbia River Gorge and the foothills of the Cascades. Snow highlights the clear cuts. As a teenager I spent most of my winters snowboarding on Mt Hood's east face.

The sun started sinking below the hills as we made our way back towards the car. Snow trapped around my foot seeped down into my socks like water in a flowerpot. The breeze picked up, numbing my hands as I cradled my camera. My brother and dad charged on ahead as I lingered behind taking photos and listening to the post-storm tranquility. I trudged on smiling ear to ear.

Here are some more links,
A Hike on Christmas Eve (Picasa),
Outdoors (ART).

Logging Antiques and a Shack my Family Built

Eighteen years ago, my family built a small building on our property in the Columbia River Gorge. We salvaged flooring from a nearby house and used wood from a fir tree on our property to construct the the one room, 180 square foot building. At first, we intended to use the building as a sauna, however its single layer wood walls held heat like a pair of wet cotton gloves. For the better part of the next two decades, the building housed my grandmother on her frequent visits, numerous middle school sleep overs, teenage debauchery, and most recently, my mom's shit.

Upon returning home for the holidays in mid December, I undertook the project of clearing out the building and setting it up with some antiques and furniture. Inspired by Skamania County's logging heritage and the rugged nature of the building I decorated the the walls with old logging equipment and camping gear as an ode to the logging camps that once occupied the surrounding woods.

Paul Bunyan?

I love augers.

This basalt column acts as a step and a reminder of the building's close proximity the area's iconic basalt formations.

These old gas cans were used on Jeeps during the second World War and since have been adapted to all sorts of applications including carrying water and fuel throughout the world. The raw steel shows through wear in the red paint, resembling the worn teeth of the eight foot saw blades.

My mom bought the Coleman Lantern at the Catlin Gabel Rummage Sale a few years back. The Yellow newspaper can visible in the lower left dates back to the 50s.

These tripods were originally used for surveying equipment and large format photography. My mom and I plan on converting them to lamps. I like the 50's aluminum helmet on the raw fir.

Despite my affinity for vintage clothing and Americana antiques, my furniture taste lends itself to modern Scandinavian design. The juxtaposition between the old logging axes and raw wood of the building and the Scandinavian couch works for me.

As my college career quickly winds to a close, the immense prospect of spending less and less time in the place where I grew up hangs in my mind like lingering email that I need to respond to. This building will serve as a reminder of my rural roots on the few days a year that I will be able make the three-thousand mile trip back to the Northwest.

Here are some more links,
My Happy Place (Picasa).