Thomas A. Ferrara
For all those who were wondering how the post office would compete with E-mail.
Showing posts with label Thomas A. Ferrara. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thomas A. Ferrara. Show all posts
Sunday, April 1, 2007
"R2-D2 Where are you?"
Thomas A. Ferrara
For all those who were wondering how the post office would compete with E-mail.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Thursday, March 8, 2007
Winterland
Thomas A. Ferrara
Not all of us could make it to Florida, or California, or the Bahamas... some of us were stuck here, left behind in the snow!!! Thanks guys! :-)
Not all of us could make it to Florida, or California, or the Bahamas... some of us were stuck here, left behind in the snow!!! Thanks guys! :-)
Thursday, March 1, 2007
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.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
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.
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?
Thursday, February 1, 2007
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.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Beginnings
Thomas A. Ferrara
I'm starting this endeavor with an old photograph. Although I made this image seven years ago, it still feels like a beginning to me. It was shot from the stern of the Schooner Roseway, A one hundred and twelve foot, wooden, sailing vessel at anchor in Penobscot Bay, off the coast of Maine. The most beautiful place on earth. The reason why this image feels like a beginning to me is entirely personal. For one week in the early autumn of 2000, my Father and I set sail on board this ship. It was like no other experience I had ever encountered. And it turned out to be the very first of many fantastic journeys I have undertaken with my father in my adult life.
-Fair Winds,
Tom
I'm starting this endeavor with an old photograph. Although I made this image seven years ago, it still feels like a beginning to me. It was shot from the stern of the Schooner Roseway, A one hundred and twelve foot, wooden, sailing vessel at anchor in Penobscot Bay, off the coast of Maine. The most beautiful place on earth. The reason why this image feels like a beginning to me is entirely personal. For one week in the early autumn of 2000, my Father and I set sail on board this ship. It was like no other experience I had ever encountered. And it turned out to be the very first of many fantastic journeys I have undertaken with my father in my adult life.
-Fair Winds,
Tom
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