Summer at the Pier, Seattle, WA
During weeks like this where there’s a lot on my plate, not enough hours in the day, and fatigue sets in, my camera rarely leaves my bag. I shoot less. I spend less time looking at art. I pursue fewer opportunities.
And I’m reminded of this article from The Onion: “Find The Thing You’re Most Passionate About, Then Do It On Nights And Weekends For The Rest Of Your Life.”
A gentle reminder to suck it up.
I’ve spent a lot of time recently in other people’s spaces.
(to clarify, I’ve been house hunting, not breaking and entering)
Though the homeowners may not have been present, much of them was reflected in their surroundings.
And have been enjoying seeing intimate portraits of familiar strangers.
A match made in Portland. . .
I am a fan of photographer Elliott Erwitt’s photograph Dogs Legs.
The photograph was taken in New York City in 1974, and it has always felt like New York to me. Though there may be limited information in the frame, what is there is enough to paint a larger picture, or to encourage your mind to fill in the rest.
This weekend in Portland, I attended a parade. And realized – in a city that celebrates being weird, it can be hard to tell the everyday characters from the clowns.
A follow up to my December 29th post. . .
Yesterday was a blustery 55° on the Oregon coast. But don’t try telling the locals it’s not beach weather. . .
Throughout my childhood, my family lived in the same house. Its walls hold memories from my first steps to my college graduation.
As an adult, I have moved several times. I have also watched as spaces once home to friends and family were emptied, and have felt a strangeness walking through familiar spaces whose residents have disappeared.
As a photographer I am frequently drawn to estate sales, sensing a presence that lingers, even after the homeowners and their belongings have gone.