Could be Dick's gig in retirement .....
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
A ROSE IS A ROSE
Audrey C. Tiernan 
"In the midst of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer." Albert Camus.
"In the midst of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer." Albert Camus.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Gifts
By Ken Spencer
I am driving north up the Pacific Coast Highway. At night. In the rain.
You have heard of this road - it is cut out of the side of a cliff, hundreds of feet above the Pacific Ocean. In daylight it offers unimaginable views of ocean, sky, and the crashing surf at the bases of the cliffs ahead, as they appear and disappear as the road twists and turns following the mountains. At night it is unnerving. I had NOT planned on driving this road at night. It's all my fault, though. I am spending a week on a crazy thousand mile trip, driving around California, photographing the landscape. At every turn today I was given the gift of yet another spectacular view, of landscape, or ocean or tree or field. It was pouring rain leaving Santa Barbara, and within an hour I was soaked, even wearing rain gear. The landscape and trees in the rain and mist were impossible to pass by. So I stopped. And stopped again. And again. And now I find myself on the road I didn't want to be on at night. But then another thing happens - it becomes simply magical. The twilight sky is reflected in the wet road ahead, and off to my left, the sky, instead of being bright blue, is gray and black and misty, and behind the clouds the setting sun is reflected in the ocean. So I keep stopping and keep shooting. I am thankful for this magical weather, and the late hour of the day.
On my last stop for a photo, I stand by the side road watching the lines on the road reflect the last light in the sky, and just then a car appears from around the bend, headlights on. I wait for a moment, and then snap this. One more gift on a day of gifts.
I am driving north up the Pacific Coast Highway. At night. In the rain.
You have heard of this road - it is cut out of the side of a cliff, hundreds of feet above the Pacific Ocean. In daylight it offers unimaginable views of ocean, sky, and the crashing surf at the bases of the cliffs ahead, as they appear and disappear as the road twists and turns following the mountains. At night it is unnerving. I had NOT planned on driving this road at night. It's all my fault, though. I am spending a week on a crazy thousand mile trip, driving around California, photographing the landscape. At every turn today I was given the gift of yet another spectacular view, of landscape, or ocean or tree or field. It was pouring rain leaving Santa Barbara, and within an hour I was soaked, even wearing rain gear. The landscape and trees in the rain and mist were impossible to pass by. So I stopped. And stopped again. And again. And now I find myself on the road I didn't want to be on at night. But then another thing happens - it becomes simply magical. The twilight sky is reflected in the wet road ahead, and off to my left, the sky, instead of being bright blue, is gray and black and misty, and behind the clouds the setting sun is reflected in the ocean. So I keep stopping and keep shooting. I am thankful for this magical weather, and the late hour of the day.
On my last stop for a photo, I stand by the side road watching the lines on the road reflect the last light in the sky, and just then a car appears from around the bend, headlights on. I wait for a moment, and then snap this. One more gift on a day of gifts.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
All Along the Watchtower
Thomas A. Ferrara
"Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth,
None of them know along the line what any of it is worth."
-Bob Dylan, "All Along the Watchtower"
This photo was made at the watchtower overlooking the Colorado river from the south rim of the Grand Canyon. The Arizona sun was setting in the west and opposite that, the red rock of the canyon wall glowed in the basking.
"Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth,
None of them know along the line what any of it is worth."
-Bob Dylan, "All Along the Watchtower"
This photo was made at the watchtower overlooking the Colorado river from the south rim of the Grand Canyon. The Arizona sun was setting in the west and opposite that, the red rock of the canyon wall glowed in the basking.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Monday, February 19, 2007
FOR THE BIRDS
Audrey C. Tiernan 
I admit it… I took ornithology my senior year of college because I thought it would be an easy A and I needed a class to fulfill a mandatory science requirement. Actually it wasn't easy and getting up for a 7am lab once a week was downright painful. I never expected to enjoy the class, but I did and I gained a life long interest in birdwatching. My backyard has lots of feeders and several birdhouses. I enjoy looking out the kitchen window to see who has stopped for breakfast or lunch. Several Cardinal families have remained all winter. Of course it is built in entertainment for Slugger too. The birds at the feeder have repaid me by providing me with several floater opportunities! This great blue heron didn't stop in my backyard; I spotted him here in Tampa. That's what I like about birdwatching, you can do it anywhere. No special equipment needed--just keen vision. Every day is ripe with opportunity-- catch an Oriole in your backyard birdbath, or an American Kestral on the fence! Actually, birdwatching has made me a better photographer, it has helped me to learn to be a little more patient, to look at things just a bit more closely before releasing the shutter. In many ways it is just like photography, the birder is always on the hunt hoping to find an elusive species or a special moment.
I admit it… I took ornithology my senior year of college because I thought it would be an easy A and I needed a class to fulfill a mandatory science requirement. Actually it wasn't easy and getting up for a 7am lab once a week was downright painful. I never expected to enjoy the class, but I did and I gained a life long interest in birdwatching. My backyard has lots of feeders and several birdhouses. I enjoy looking out the kitchen window to see who has stopped for breakfast or lunch. Several Cardinal families have remained all winter. Of course it is built in entertainment for Slugger too. The birds at the feeder have repaid me by providing me with several floater opportunities! This great blue heron didn't stop in my backyard; I spotted him here in Tampa. That's what I like about birdwatching, you can do it anywhere. No special equipment needed--just keen vision. Every day is ripe with opportunity-- catch an Oriole in your backyard birdbath, or an American Kestral on the fence! Actually, birdwatching has made me a better photographer, it has helped me to learn to be a little more patient, to look at things just a bit more closely before releasing the shutter. In many ways it is just like photography, the birder is always on the hunt hoping to find an elusive species or a special moment.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Group Shot
Julia Gaines
This photo was found last week when they finally got to the bottom of the pile of papers on Stanley Wolfson's old desk. The assignment came to shape when Stanley got hold of Mitch Freedman's beat notes on a woman in Montauk upset that gentlemen were swimming in only their bathing tunics with no leggings. Their ankles were fully exposed! Stanley contacted the woman and told her to tell all her neighbors and relatives and anyone she'd ever met in her entire life to meet the photographer at 9am outside the local church for a group shot. When the photographer arrived, expecting only the original upset woman, all the ladies begged the photographer to wait for the 145 other protesting citizens to arrive, but by 4pm, only 140 more had assembled and the sun was going down and the photographer had to take the photo because there was a deadline. The photographer returned to Alicia Patterson's Hempstead garage and worked in the darkroom for several hours. The finished print was placed on Stanley's desk where someone covered it with a pretzel bag and a box of paper clips and two thousand other photographs. It was not seen for 113 years.
Okay, I bought this photograph in an antique shop in Columbia, South Carolina. At the bottom of the photo I found what I was looking for--the embossed surname of my great grandfather and his brother, partners in a photography studio in Columbia in the 1890's. Their subjects were the buildings around the city, class pictures, and portraits of prominent townspeople. I don't know whether it was my great grandfather or his brother who clicked the shutter on this particular photo. I like looking at the fashions and individual faces--some pretty, some plain and some downright strange. I was amused to notice that the chair supporting a woman in the back row (far right) was visible. Maybe an oversight of the photographer due to deadline constraints? That wouldn't be anything new.
This photo was found last week when they finally got to the bottom of the pile of papers on Stanley Wolfson's old desk. The assignment came to shape when Stanley got hold of Mitch Freedman's beat notes on a woman in Montauk upset that gentlemen were swimming in only their bathing tunics with no leggings. Their ankles were fully exposed! Stanley contacted the woman and told her to tell all her neighbors and relatives and anyone she'd ever met in her entire life to meet the photographer at 9am outside the local church for a group shot. When the photographer arrived, expecting only the original upset woman, all the ladies begged the photographer to wait for the 145 other protesting citizens to arrive, but by 4pm, only 140 more had assembled and the sun was going down and the photographer had to take the photo because there was a deadline. The photographer returned to Alicia Patterson's Hempstead garage and worked in the darkroom for several hours. The finished print was placed on Stanley's desk where someone covered it with a pretzel bag and a box of paper clips and two thousand other photographs. It was not seen for 113 years.
Okay, I bought this photograph in an antique shop in Columbia, South Carolina. At the bottom of the photo I found what I was looking for--the embossed surname of my great grandfather and his brother, partners in a photography studio in Columbia in the 1890's. Their subjects were the buildings around the city, class pictures, and portraits of prominent townspeople. I don't know whether it was my great grandfather or his brother who clicked the shutter on this particular photo. I like looking at the fashions and individual faces--some pretty, some plain and some downright strange. I was amused to notice that the chair supporting a woman in the back row (far right) was visible. Maybe an oversight of the photographer due to deadline constraints? That wouldn't be anything new.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Right Under My Nose
Ken Spencer
A friend loaned me a new high-end camera for the amateur market, and said “Give it a try, see how you like it, and take some nice landscape photographs with it.” For me, most of my best landscape photographs follow the time-honored style of foreground, middle ground, background - layers of an image that make a landscape more complex and more interesting for the eye. So I went down to Hempstead Harbor which has been frozen for a week or so, and concentrated on the blocks of ice which had piled up on the rocks as the temperatures fell. It was below freezing and windy, and after about 45 minutes I felt I was about done. Then suddenly I looked down at my feet, and there were all kinds of interesting patterns in the ice itself, formed when the tide rose and fell, and the water apparently melted and froze repeatedly. I switched the lens to macro mode, and spent another 20 minutes looking for details in the ice. I cannot imagine how the bubbles froze into this piece of ice, but I accepted nature’s gift and made this photograph. And I reminded myself to look for details in the future. (If you click on this photoraph, by the way, you will get a higher resolution version that shows more detail)
A friend loaned me a new high-end camera for the amateur market, and said “Give it a try, see how you like it, and take some nice landscape photographs with it.” For me, most of my best landscape photographs follow the time-honored style of foreground, middle ground, background - layers of an image that make a landscape more complex and more interesting for the eye. So I went down to Hempstead Harbor which has been frozen for a week or so, and concentrated on the blocks of ice which had piled up on the rocks as the temperatures fell. It was below freezing and windy, and after about 45 minutes I felt I was about done. Then suddenly I looked down at my feet, and there were all kinds of interesting patterns in the ice itself, formed when the tide rose and fell, and the water apparently melted and froze repeatedly. I switched the lens to macro mode, and spent another 20 minutes looking for details in the ice. I cannot imagine how the bubbles froze into this piece of ice, but I accepted nature’s gift and made this photograph. And I reminded myself to look for details in the future. (If you click on this photoraph, by the way, you will get a higher resolution version that shows more detail)
The Ice Storm
Thomas A. Ferrara
As photojournalists, we see many things. It's our job. We look at life through probing, analytical eyes. One of the disadvantages of this, is that we often do so at the sacrifice our own fascination.
Moments that we would once find special, become "assignments" in our minds. Events like Parades, street festivals, and days at the beach, become "floater" opportunities. Sporting events have deadlines, Sunrises and sunsets without a camera become "Missed opportunities"...
And snowfalls...
This I miss most. Once wonderful days. Schools would close, and the world would turn beautiful again under blankets of white. Where I would once grab my sled and head to the local hill... I now find myself grabbing my camera and heading out to photograph the myriad of adult calamities that go along with a winter storm, and I'm finding it harder and harder to be facinated by it all.
But l try, and I still find myself looking for beauty in the crystalline ice.
I made this night time exposure of a tree, encased in ice, in the parking lot of my office, at the end of my shift.
As photojournalists, we see many things. It's our job. We look at life through probing, analytical eyes. One of the disadvantages of this, is that we often do so at the sacrifice our own fascination.
Moments that we would once find special, become "assignments" in our minds. Events like Parades, street festivals, and days at the beach, become "floater" opportunities. Sporting events have deadlines, Sunrises and sunsets without a camera become "Missed opportunities"...
And snowfalls...
This I miss most. Once wonderful days. Schools would close, and the world would turn beautiful again under blankets of white. Where I would once grab my sled and head to the local hill... I now find myself grabbing my camera and heading out to photograph the myriad of adult calamities that go along with a winter storm, and I'm finding it harder and harder to be facinated by it all.
But l try, and I still find myself looking for beauty in the crystalline ice.
I made this night time exposure of a tree, encased in ice, in the parking lot of my office, at the end of my shift.
Meanwhile, In a Galaxy Far, Far, Away
Thomas A. Ferrara
Pitchers and Catchers report!
With hopes toward October, Timeless heroes of sport, from both my beloved Yankees, and their lesser cousins to the South, the Mets. (I know I'm going to catch hell for that one) convene once again in Florida for spring training.
Pitchers and Catchers report!
With hopes toward October, Timeless heroes of sport, from both my beloved Yankees, and their lesser cousins to the South, the Mets. (I know I'm going to catch hell for that one) convene once again in Florida for spring training.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Monday, February 12, 2007
FLIRTING
Audrey C. Tiernan
Every day, this little feral black cat that I have named Cashew comes to flirt with my indoor cat Slugger. For weeks I tried to ignore her dances on the window sill, her piercing yellow eyes that are still peering into my kitchen late at night. But her persistence and personality have won me over. She won’t let me touch her yet, although each morning when I take her breakfast she flirts with me, letting me get just a little bit closer. Slugger, well, he acts mighty territorially. He bats at the window and sometimes even hisses. After a few minutes, he is completely put out and turns his back on her. But sometimes, real early in the morning, before the kitchen light is on I see him sitting gazing out the window looking for Cashew. As I watched this all play out in front of me one day, I thought about flirting. My camera flirts with situations every day. It flirts with angles and the ever elusive light and shadow. I flirt with ideas--- the things I’d like to photograph and the places I hope to document. Flirting, it’s everywhere. It’s instinctive.
Every day, this little feral black cat that I have named Cashew comes to flirt with my indoor cat Slugger. For weeks I tried to ignore her dances on the window sill, her piercing yellow eyes that are still peering into my kitchen late at night. But her persistence and personality have won me over. She won’t let me touch her yet, although each morning when I take her breakfast she flirts with me, letting me get just a little bit closer. Slugger, well, he acts mighty territorially. He bats at the window and sometimes even hisses. After a few minutes, he is completely put out and turns his back on her. But sometimes, real early in the morning, before the kitchen light is on I see him sitting gazing out the window looking for Cashew. As I watched this all play out in front of me one day, I thought about flirting. My camera flirts with situations every day. It flirts with angles and the ever elusive light and shadow. I flirt with ideas--- the things I’d like to photograph and the places I hope to document. Flirting, it’s everywhere. It’s instinctive.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Beleive
Julia Gaines
I saw this sign as I was driving on Route 4 westward toward Aiken, South Carolina where my great great great grandparents lived in the early 1800's, his folks from Ireland and hers from Wales--families that came to America for religious freedom. I saw religious signs everywhere as I drove through the state. In the middle of a cotton field, huge letters spelled out "Jesus Country." I wish I'd stopped to photograph that one, but it was along a busy highway with no place to pull over. For this "Beleive" sign, I was able to stop, wondering who had gone to the trouble of making the sign and posting it there.
Friday, February 9, 2007
Expectations
Ken Spencer
We were headed out to explore more of San Angelo, Texas, and Ginger asked if I wanted to see the water lily garden. “Sure,” I replied - I love to photograph gardens.” But water lilies in Texas? “I’ll just bring my toy camera and not drag the Nikon D2x around with me for this trip,” I thought to myself. I mean, what could I possibly find to photograph there?
Expectations... How many times do we think about a place, or a location or a subject, and pre-judge what we think it might be worth in terms of photographs. What time of day are we going there? High noon? What is the chance that time of day would result in great images?
I remember meeting the photographer Paul Caponigro at the Maine Photographic Workshops one year, and I asked him when he thought the best time was to photograph the low flat rocks down at the harbor’s edge. I will never forget his answer. Just go down and see what you can find, at any time. It would be strange to think that the rocks will suddenly reveal themselves to us, just because we arrived on the scene! Go and photograph - the longer you are out there photographing, the more chance you will have to find great photographs. More time in the field equals better photographs. It is now my mantra.
So we arrived at the International Water Lily Garden to fine huge tanks full of all kinds of water lilies, and some of them were just unimaginable, as these were. Someone has since said that these are most likely an African variety. Stunning photographs everywhere. This may be the single best image from a week of shooting! And what camera did I bring? My toy camera! What was I thinking! Fortunately, the little Canon S-70 produces a 20 MB file, and I can make beautiful prints from this small point-and-shoot, so all was not lost.
We were headed out to explore more of San Angelo, Texas, and Ginger asked if I wanted to see the water lily garden. “Sure,” I replied - I love to photograph gardens.” But water lilies in Texas? “I’ll just bring my toy camera and not drag the Nikon D2x around with me for this trip,” I thought to myself. I mean, what could I possibly find to photograph there?
Expectations... How many times do we think about a place, or a location or a subject, and pre-judge what we think it might be worth in terms of photographs. What time of day are we going there? High noon? What is the chance that time of day would result in great images?
I remember meeting the photographer Paul Caponigro at the Maine Photographic Workshops one year, and I asked him when he thought the best time was to photograph the low flat rocks down at the harbor’s edge. I will never forget his answer. Just go down and see what you can find, at any time. It would be strange to think that the rocks will suddenly reveal themselves to us, just because we arrived on the scene! Go and photograph - the longer you are out there photographing, the more chance you will have to find great photographs. More time in the field equals better photographs. It is now my mantra.
So we arrived at the International Water Lily Garden to fine huge tanks full of all kinds of water lilies, and some of them were just unimaginable, as these were. Someone has since said that these are most likely an African variety. Stunning photographs everywhere. This may be the single best image from a week of shooting! And what camera did I bring? My toy camera! What was I thinking! Fortunately, the little Canon S-70 produces a 20 MB file, and I can make beautiful prints from this small point-and-shoot, so all was not lost.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Stripped
Thomas A. Ferrara
Stripped, stark, skinned, spartan, standing there in rows, muted pillars in an alien landscape. Cut low as if by capricious whim. What happened here?
Stripped, stark, skinned, spartan, standing there in rows, muted pillars in an alien landscape. Cut low as if by capricious whim. What happened here?
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
Monday, February 5, 2007
OLD GLORY
Audrey C. Tiernan
A Park Avenue drive by shooting in the spirit of Childe Hassam. Perhaps, perhaps not.
A Park Avenue drive by shooting in the spirit of Childe Hassam. Perhaps, perhaps not.
Sunday, February 4, 2007
Potatoe
Julia Gaines
A Late Saturday Post
Maybe Dan Quayle stopped here and made sure "potatoe" was spelled correctly at this KFC in Fredericksburg, Virginia in December, 2006.
A Late Saturday Post
Maybe Dan Quayle stopped here and made sure "potatoe" was spelled correctly at this KFC in Fredericksburg, Virginia in December, 2006.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
The Cameras We Carry
Ken Spencer
For the past 20 years or so, I have always had what I call a “toy” camera. The first one was a Nikon L-35AF film camera which I brought with me everywhere. It was auto-exposure and auto-focus, with a 35mm f/2.8 lens and was always at the ready for a quick snap. What a joy that was to use - it would even do long exposures if, as I discovered, you held down the pop-up-flash against its will! When that one bought the farm, I moved to an Olympus Stylus Epic. I would bring cameras like these down to the harbor for a walk at sunset, or on a bike ride, or when I would go to New York City for the day to visit museums, wander in Central Park, or for dinners or the theater with my daughters. They are unobtrusive cameras, and ready at a moment’s notice for a quick shot. Snapshots. Professional photographers do snapshots too, you know. I still have the Olympus and it works perfectly, but as I became accustomed to shooting digital every day, the thought of taking a roll of 35mm film and then waiting to process it, and then scanning the best photos seemed to take way too long. So it was time for a digital “toy” camera. I chose the Canon S-70. Just because it is my “toy” camera does not mean it was cheap - I believe that I paid something like $475 for it about two years ago. The main attraction for me, other than the fact it was point-and-shoot, was that it had a 28mm equivalent lens when zoomed back to wide-angle. A 35mm equivalent wide-angle was never quite wide enough for me. The S-70 shoots a 20 megabyte file at its highest file size which is impressive. The one disappointment is that a camera which costs one-tenth the cost of a Nikon D2x cannot be expected to have the same image quality as its big brother. When shooting at ISO 400, the files have a lot of “noise” in them, and there are JPG artifacts along the edges of objects which can be seen if you make large prints. The other frustrating part for these types of point-and-shoot cameras is their “lag time” - the time from when you press the shutter button, until the camera first determines the exposure, then the focus, and then, finally, releases the shutter. Sometimes it takes longer than a full second, which is just maddening for those of us who are accustomed to taking the picture right NOW! In any case, I have come to live with this camera, and it is always in a small case on my belt. In the summer of 2005, my older daughter, Liz, was based in Nice, France, for the summer and at the end of her tour, my wife, Kathy, and I flew with our younger daughter, Amy, to Nice to join her for a family vacation. I had to decide what to bring with me for a camera, and with great reluctance, decided to leave the D2x home. I just didn’t want to have a heavy camera hanging off my shoulder all day long, and I worried that a professional camera would be an issue in museums that we visited. The S-70 had none of these problems, and was a joy to carry around. I would carefully take it out of its case and even do a forbidden snapshot every now and then in a museum with no problem. It was while wandering inside the walls of the town of Pern-les-Fontaines, that I saw this image. Amy had stopped to look at her guildbook, and Liz had gone on ahead to see where the street went and I came around the corner at just the right moment. Fortunately everything stayed the same for the full second it took the camera to figure everything out, and this photograph was the result. Perhaps just another snapshot, perhaps just a little bit more.
Ken Spencer
Ken Spencer
Maine again
Thomas A. Ferrara
At anchor in Pulpit Harbor. Our third day at sea. the cook is below baking bread, much of the crew and passengers still in their bunks. a few scattered on the deck above, looking back towards the edge of the american continent, the sun rises over the treeline, painted red by the mist, rising like smoke from the water.
At anchor in Pulpit Harbor. Our third day at sea. the cook is below baking bread, much of the crew and passengers still in their bunks. a few scattered on the deck above, looking back towards the edge of the american continent, the sun rises over the treeline, painted red by the mist, rising like smoke from the water.
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