Textural Pleasantries Revisited

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Textural Pleasantries

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12 MP/No Flash/ISO 400 。Post Production in Photoshop

Here's To My Health

Hope that I am feeling well.

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Inverse Dilapidation

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Another Degenerate Landscape

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Landing Site

This rusty paint can sits humbled, besieged on all sides by the measured decay of wrought iron.

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Shut up shuttin' up

I’ve come to the conclusion that my massive abuse of grammar and English in general detracts from my purty pictures. So going forward, you’ll be forced to imagine my melodious voice singing about the intriguing flights of fancy and stories snug below the wool of each image.

But I expect I’ll post more often, so there’s that.

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Another Planet

I was out on my trusty steed Saturday afternoon, scouting some unfamiliar territory for shooting when I spied a shiny barrel behind a Mexican restaurant. As hoped, it was only a cosmetic façade for the eyes of the customers and just behind I found this wonderfully decayed drum, reeking of cooking grease and iron oxide. It made me wonder if one of the recently discovered planets has a landscape this lovely.

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Sky Ladder

When I finally found the Sky Ladder hidden in an urban alleyway, I immediately understood why it has become so difficult for us to ascend. The real question for me was why in the world would I want to climb now when there was still so much to see?

Surfeit Abstractions

I would love to be writing about how I brilliantly conceived, carefully planned and meticulously labored over the creation of these mixed media pieces using the uncommon medium of fertilizer runoff on cement but instead, I merely took the time to notice what was happening and opportunistically capture it.

In a local suburban center there sits an enormous, warehouse-style church with a lush, expansive lawn. The grass is impeccably manicured - presumably to attract and retain potential members of the flock. This grand tribute to God’s abundance and all-American lawn aesthetic is about ten feet above street level and held in check by a cement retaining wall which suffers gloriously from the excess of chemical fertilizers used to beautify the church grounds and ends up creating a completely unique form of beauty.

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Post-Election Day Special

A good friend recently wrote to me describing how he differentiated our two presidential candidates to his young daughters as opposing cheeks of the same ass. While philosophically I agree completely, I am aware that as objects we all have a better side and thus voted in favor of the least offensive cheek this election. I have a habit of telling people how happy I will be when our country achieves my ideal democracy, populated by not just two or even three parties but a true multi-party system whose candidates represent wildly diverse political agendas but honestly, my inability to trust anyone who craves presidential power or excels at manipulating large groups of people will ensure continued political cynicism.

This image puts me in mind of our political system: broken, ineffective and impenetrable yet strangely interesting to behold.

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Halloween Edition

In an effort to celebrate the holiday, I offer a final glimpse of ‘Old Man Jenkins Place’. Happy Halloween!

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Captivated by Corrugation

I had noticed these particular fields/pastures in passing but failed to realize there was actually several vacant houses nestled behind the trees near the back; silently waiting for the economic upturn that will kick-start subdivision and subsequent development of hideous, cookie-cutter tract homes. For now though, there are several expansive plots of land upon which sit houses, barns, sheds and outbuildings in varying states of decay and demolition and ripe for the shooting. This image was captured in a building previously used for a small-time dairy operation, with milk canisters and equipment scattered about.

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Old Man Jenkins Place

I had been eyeing this particular investment gone wrong for about three years and finally achieved the proper frame of mind to trespass and capture some of its gorgeous dilapidation. As I was wandering around shooting, a big white suburban pulled up and a blonde soccer mom in a velvet sweat suit accosted me to inquire whether or not I needed any help. “No”, I explained “I’m just shooting some pictures.” She was disappointed that I wasn’t interested in buying the place and told me how they had bought it from this wonderful old lady with the intention of subdividing and turning a cool profit but unfortunately the economy slowed, etc, etc. She proceeded to tell me how the wooden shed around back still contained the rope used to hang rabbits while they were skinned. I mentioned that sounded like some pretty serious turn-of-the-century-homesteading-stuff but she was apparently preoccupied with wondering how soon I was going to leave her property and showed no signs of hearing a word I had said.

When I recounted my sordid tale to Nicky a few minutes later, he dubbed the property “Old Man Jenkins Place” a la classic Scooby Doo episodes.

I've noticed additional ‘No Trespassing’ signs posted around the property.

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