Monthly Archives: January 2010

Elements of “Feature” Photography:

Look for elements others don’t see.

 Watch the edges? (look beyond the obvious)

Watch for a simple slice of life.

View something special, out of the ordinary.



You don’t have to be tall…


-African Proverb-

Hopewell Junction, New York


The Softer it Falls:

“Advice is like snow; the softer it falls, the longer it dwells upon, and the deeper it sinks into the mind.”

-Samuel Taylor Coleridge-

Air Angel:

“It is a curious thought, but it is only when you see people looking ridiculous that you realize just how much you love them.”

-Agatha Christie-

Thousands of Candles:

“Thousands of candles can be lit from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened.  Happiness never decreases by being shared.”  


Chuang Yen Monastery


“If something does not need to be in the photograph, it shouldn’t be there!”

Remember the work of Charles Moore:

As we remember the challenges of Reverend King and those struggles that we still face today in reaching equality for all men and women, also remember those who documented the fight.

Few photographers in the history of documentary photography have made such an impact on the world with his images as those of Charles Moore while covering the Civil Rights Movement during the early 1960’s.

Take the time to review the photographer’s heart and passion.


 Via Kodak:

Wood, wire and nails to hold life:

The Chicken Coop

The Coop

 The weathered planks are colorless, a pasty gray if you had to assign them color.

The cold handle is flaked with brownish-red rust running from metal to wood.

The wire fence is much the same.

Both freezing to the fingers touch with winter’s whips of death.

The enclosure is of no use without something live to hold.

The place of small hearts beating with no room to run brings sadness.

With each crashing swing of the sledge, I feel lighter with faith.

The Rails and Bufflehead Stew:

There is something about a train that seems to bring young boys and old men to their knees at just the sight of the cold standard gage parallel rails.  The wonderment of a massive iron locomotive once propelled by steam and now by massive diesel-electric engines dragging rolling stock seems to make their knees quiver.

My father is such a man and I’ve run into them on every social and economic level.

Men that would leave their first born at the opportunity to become an engineer, brakeman, or conductor of their own N, HO, O or G gage line.  Endless days and evenings spent molding mountains; gluing trees, rail beds and small plastic communities for small plastic people.

“Grab the coupler, but watch the crank pin; no not that one it’s bad order! Good lord you are acting like a deadhead now check the backside as we’re moving into dark territory.”… now, looking back some of the best hours spent.

Historic Hyde Park Rail Station

I believe that my first ride on a train was during a field trip with my boy scout troop just before they kicked me out after a fight with the den mother’s son.  Just another lesson in life, never pick a fight with the den mother’s son!

The trip was from Klamath Falls to Dorris, California a total of about thirty miles.  As I remember it was uneventful and most of the excursion was spent running up and down through the passenger car yelling, screaming and tossing bits of our lunch.  I attribute this to the poor child supervision by the den mother.

My best time riding the rail came when childhood friend, Bruce, and I would take a break from shooing ducks on the ponds near the Klamath switching yards.

We loved duck hunting and best of all helping out the bums (they weren’t homeless in those days) who made living quarters by salvaging any wood metal they could find and build a cover over the many ditches near the tracks.

Bruce and I supplied them with ducks for their bufflehead stew which was made from anything they could eat found in the Safeway dumpster, add, one plucked and dressed bufflehead to snowmelt.

If you know anything about waterfowl, you know that a bufflehead may not be the best bird to build your meal around.

While waiting for the bird to boil it was a assured that you could talk one of the switching engineers to give you a ride around the yard as long as you abided by two rules.

One, keep your head down so the supervisor or bull didn’t see you. Two, keep your  hands off the window ledge.

I managed one out of two when the jolt of slamming into the rear of the boxcar slid the sliding glass window back over my fingers.

With blood gushing and wrapped in a Kleenex we were quickly ushered away with “Just don’t tell anyone how it happened!” 

Ahhhhh, just in time, the bufflehead stew was almost boiling.

Ice on the Hudson:

As temperatures hover at six degrees, ice covers the Hudson River at Cold Springs, NY.

And miles to go before I sleep:

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

by Robert Frost (1923)

Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

The forest makes a claim among men’s hearts:


It is not so much for its beauty that the forest makes a claim upon men’s hearts, as for that subtle something, that quality of air that emanation from old trees, that so wonderfully changes and renews a weary spirit.

-Robert Louis Stevenson-

Where does the white go when the snow melts?


A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.

-Maya Angelou-

Bad weather always looks worse through a window.

  -Author Unknown-