Choices, Choices

The other day I had a photo shoot on the beach here in Portland. After completing the work I was there to do, I shot a few more images, just for fun. Play is often the best way to learn and grow as an artist. Sometimes I create portraits just to have some new images to play with, to try things on in post-processing. It's like a painter making sketches, toying with ideas and colors and lines. You refine your ideas, you test your pallette, you learn some things. And sometimes they're good.

Here are a few that I have been playing with. Sometimes it's hard to choose which ones to show, so I thought I'd show a bunch.

Not Tired of Tierra

Ever since returning from Europe I've had a dilemma: where to photograph?

Having spent time in such beautiful places as Provence, Languedoc, Paris, Yorkshire, Budapest, etc., the terrain here in Portland seems bland. The villages of Europe have such lovely texture and color--from the warm yellow stone in Languedoc, to the reddish hues of Russillon, to the castles and ruins of Slovakia--that the brick, concrete, and wood of Portland is old and uninteresting to me. So I've been racking my brain for other local locations, doing some scouting.

I've also been looking for new faces to work with. I love faces. I'm a face junkie.

Oddly enough, today I shot with a model I've worked with before, Tierra, in a location I've biked up to many times: Rocky Butte. And we did lovely work. The haze from forest fires made for nice light, too. I'm encouraged.

But I'm always open to great location ideas, so if you have some, please send them along.

Jason and Breanna

Here are a few fun images from Jason and Breanna's wedding from this past weekend, at Queen Ann Victorian Mansion, in Portland:





You just can't pass up a combination of hair and light like this.

You can view a little slideshow of the wedding photographs here.

A few new photos, weird and wonderful

A few new portrait images I've been playing around with this week. My apologies to the beautiful model for the above image; it's not terribly flattering, but I sure think it's cool.


Something tintype-ish.

I Dig the Traveling Thing

I actually just used that phrase in an email to a customer: I dig the traveling thing.

Call me a Culture Junkie. It's true.

Here are some fun numbers we came up with as we reviewed the past 3 months:

The Tally

Countries and the number of times we’ve visited them (colonies and enclaves listed separately):

• England 2x


• France 2x


• Austria 2x


• Slovakia 2x


• Hungary 1x


• Spain 3x


• Gibraltar (Britain) 1x


• Ceuta (Spain) 2x


• Morocco 1x
  

Languages Used:

• American English


• British English


• French


• Chinese


• Spanish


• German


• Slovakian


• Hungarian


• Arabic


• Italian

Modes of Transport:

• Planes


• Trains


• Automobiles


• Bus


• Underground


• Trolley


• Ferry


• Canalboat


• Bicycle


• Foot
  

Favorites:

• England: Hiking the Yorkshire Dales


• Paris: Hanging out until 2am over dinner with Parisian friends; Musee d’Orsay


• Western France: Mt St Michel


• Torremolinos, Spain: Sunshine and Birdsong in the Garden of Casa Nesca


• Slovakia: Barbecue and Home Winery Tour


• Hungary: Budapest’s Schezenyi Spa


• Languedoc, South France: Hiking the countryside, Hill Towns, Wine and Pinochle, and the All Night Bird/Frog Serenade


• Provence, South France: Hill Towns, Bories


• Algeciras, Spain: The First Communion Parade


• Morocco: Riff Mountains to Chefchaouen

Overall Favorite:
Getting to know people from all over the world (English, Welsh, Irish, Zimbabwean, Filipino, German, Dutch, Finnish, Singaporean, Chinese, French, Slovak, Hungarian, Moroccan, Nigerian, American, Canadian)

Things we missed most about America:
Plentiful public drinking fountains and free wifi

Thing that surprised us the most:
Squatty-potties in France

Thing that most annoyed us in Europe:
The exchange rate on the weak US Dollar

One thing we wish America would adopt from European culture:
The leisurely, multi-course meal, with more cheese.

Cerulean Blue

I was hired by an agency in Morocco to photograph various properties and attractions for their marketing materials. The Mediterranean is such a beautiful blue, and the sky can be fantastic too. (Did you know that the name "Cerulean blue" comes from Latin caelum, which means sky?)Nonetheless, it’s been an off-and-on cloudy/rainy week, so we hit the right day for photographing here: sunny, with some interesting clouds, set off by that deep blue sky.

Morocco

We wrap up our three months of travel this weekend. Our last new country is Morocco, where we’ve been this past week. It is, of course, different from Europe, especially in terms of navigating the Muslim/Arabic culture. But there are similarities as well, due to its proximity to Europe, and its history as both a Spanish and French colony. It has not been uncommon for me to speak in four languages (Arabic, English, French, and Spanish) in the same sentence in order to communicate with people here.

My preconception of Morocco as a desert country has been rocked by the cerulean blue of the Mediterranean, the astonishing glory of the Riff Mountains, and the quilted beauty of the rural agriculture. And while it is definitely a Muslim country, it is known for being both secular and moderate. It’s not Taliban controlled Afghanistan, that’s for sure. There is a confusing variety of costume here, especially among women. I see everything from western-dressed women in pants and blouses, to the average hajib-scarfed woman, to a full eye-slit-only black burka. (However, I saw far more burkas in Hyde Park in central London in one afternoon than I’ve seen here all week.) Add to that the striped outfits of the Berbers, the tasselled-hat outfit worn by water sellers, and the variety of overcoats (kind of like burlap sacks with pointy hoods) and hats worn by men, and it's quite a fashion show. I wasn't surprised to hear that the creators of Star Wars picked up many of their costume ideas here.

We took a drive out to Chefchaouen, a famous little walled city of blue-painted buildings in the Riff Mountains, and had a lovely drive through the countryside.

First Communion Processional, Algeciras, Spain

I'm in Algeciras, at the southern tip of Spain, right across the bay from the rock of Gibraltar, and across the Mediterranean from Morocco. For a few days, I'm photographing an intercultural arts exchange here, and it already feels like I've been with these people more than the 24 hours I've been here.

At one point, while photographing, one of the gals came in from plein air painting, and told us that a procession was about to start from the Catholic church a block away. So I walked over, and discovered a visual feast, which I enjoyed for the next 45 minutes. It was a processional of the children headed to First Communion, replete with marching band, officials, and a big shiny float.

St Pantaleon, Provence, France

I read this last week in the Michelin guide to Provence:

… St-Pantaleon’s Romanesque church is built out of the living rock and consists of three naves; the central part dates back to the 5C.

Surrounding the church is a rock necropolis, most of the tombs of which are child-size. This necropolis was most likely a sanctuary of grace; there are other examples like it in Provence. Children who died before they were baptized were brought here by their parents, they revived--according to the beliefs of the period--for the duration of a mass during which they were baptized, they then died again and were buried here.

Intrigued, I visited the site twice, since it was only 4km from where I was staying. The church was small, and the first time I went, in the evening, I didn’t even see the necropolis, but only the small cemetery with large, newer tombs.

The second time, in the morning, I found the necropolis to the side and back of the building. It is as Michelin described: graves carved right into the rock, a few adult-sized, but most the size of a baby.

Bratislava, Slovakia

And now for something completely different. As I've been editing, I just noticed I hadn't finished my work from Bratislava. I found a few candid shots I liked, and thought I'd share them with you.

Gordes, France

Gordes, Provence, France, is listed as one of the most beautiful villages in France. It's too bad it's overrun by tourists during the day. Apparently, movie stars have houses here as well.

I saw a photograph today from 1904 of the village, and it was considerably different. A hundred years ago, there were more buildings, but it was also quite shabby and decrepit. Today it's interesting, to me, to explore and discover remnants of the old houses, the remains of which are carved into the sandstone cliffs and buried in the detritus of the hillside. As I looked through photographs from 100 years ago and more, I could still recognize doors and alleys and buildings that I had discovered while poking around this past week.

I've photographed it at several different times of day. This image is a favorite of the set.

The Bories, Provence

Dry stone architecture is about as old as mankind. Anywhere stone is abundant, people have built habitations with it for mellenia. So it's common the world over.

But to be able to drive down the road (or dirt path), and see such structures through the brush is fascinating. And if you're doing it at dusk, it's downright spooky.

The hillsides around Gordes are covered in scrubby, rocky terrain, with olive and oak trees and underbrush. Almost everywhere you turn you see dry stone walls, some newer, most old and decrepit, marking off ancient boundary lines, sheep pens, and who know what all else. And if you look long enough, you begin to sight structures--some standing (and some impressively large), some partially collapsed, some piles of rubble.

My curiosity piqued by my own explorations at dusk and dawn, I went to the local Bories Village. In the early 1970s, this old village, abandoned at the beginning of the 19th century, was restored. Most tourist attractions in the world focus on historic locations originally reserved for the rich and powerful: palaces, mansions, grand cathedrals, political buildings, etc. This one focuses on the hardscrabble life of the common rural villager, and attracts 100,000 visitors a year. (And the odd thing is: with no souvinir shop, you can't buy a thing there.)

There isn't a lot of information about what life was like for the inhabitants of these huts, save for a few household and farming implements. But you can gather a lot from observation: the soot and creosote coating the interior walls of the houses indicate a lot of smoke, coughing, and probably lung cancer. Life expectancy couldn't be very long. Even in the hot sunshine, the interior of the buildings was very cool (and some were damp with ground seepage), so it must have been freezing in the winter, especially with the howling Mistral winds. They probably had a lot of welts on their heads from bumping them on the low doorways, and a lot of bruised or crushed fingers from laying so much stone.

As much as the silent history enclosed within these ubiquitous walls and structures, I was fascinated by their shape, the inward curve of the walls, the rugged poetry of their lines, the indelible weight of time.

Fontaine de Vaucluse

A little street shooting at Fontaine de Vaucluse, Provence, France. The texture of aged stucco and stone are part of the charm of the area (and, indeed, of any part of the world that builds with these materials). Add to that a young lady whose clothing choices match the surroundings, and a few flowers, and you've got a picture.

Roussillon and Bonnieux

The hill towns are beautiful here, perched over the Luberon Valley. The narrow streets make for some interesting driving and enjoyable exploring. Here are a few images to give you a flavor of the countryside.

Roussillon has been a protected village since the 1940s, when further development was banned. One of the most photogenic villages, and the most colorful, the streets are crowded with people taking snapshots. It is famous for its quarry of ochre and red pigments used in paints around the world.

This is Bonnieux, less famous (and thus less touristy), but also beautiful. We spent a good long while in the cemetery at the top of the hill, enjoying the breeze, the quiet, and the view.

Night Photography in Provence

One of the few places I've always wanted to go to in France was Provence. Probably inspired by of VanGogh and Matisse, their descriptions of the light and color of the region (and the sunshine and warmth) have always been at the back of my mind.

I must say, I haven't been disappointed. The landscape is an interesting mix of arid and green. It smells of pine forest and thyme. The historic hill towns and valley vistas are delightful to explore. And the mix of sunshine with a constant breeze makes for a climate (at least at this time of year) that really agrees with me.

The one drawback, in my opinion, is that it is overrun with tourists (like me). To avoid the onslaught of tour buses and souvenir shopping crouds, I like to photograph early in the morning, or later in the afternoon or evening. At those times, the towns and countryside seem almost deserted, and those who are out and about live and work here. And the light is lovely.

Here are some night shots from this past week.

A wierd photo, you say? Well, thank you very much. Isn't the moon and sky beautiful? And the light on the metal shopping carts? I couldn't pass it up, in the parking lot of a Super U. Don't ever expect to be able to shop for anything past 8pm in France. Most places close even earlier.

This is Gordes, the hill town just up the road from where we are staying. It is listed as one of the most beautiful places in France by someone or other, and they weren't lying. It's pretty impressive. My favorite parts are where you can see the remains of the rear walls of old homes, carved out of the sandstone. I love to explore.

A stone wall and gite. The stone walls here are almost as impressive as in the Yorkshire Dales. (The Yorkshire Dales? Enough about the Dales already!)

A borie (actually a replica). These abound in the hills where we are staying, and visited at night by moonlight are fascinating and spooky. I hope to explore more; you can read about them here.

The pool and garden at our little hotel.

And another strange image from our hotel.

Malaga, Spain

We were in Malaga, Spain, a few weeks ago. Here's an odd shot from the visitor's center at the Castilla there.

People Watching at Carcasonne Castle

Some images from the walled city of Carcasonne, France.

It seemed pretty odd to me that this kid, sitting in an oversized wheelchair, would be intentionally sticking his head into a plastic bag. Had his parents never taught him to never stick his head into a plastic bag for fear of suffocating? Was he suicidal? That's how it appeared. Until I noticed a little later that inside the bag is a 2 liter bottle of soda pop.

Me and the Pyrenees

A self-portrait in Languedoc, south France, with the Pyrenees behind me.

Imrich, the Winemaker

In Bratislava we stayed with an amateur winemaker named Imrich. When he had his house built in the Little Carpathian Mountains, an ancient wine-growing region (with its beginnings in Roman times) near Bratislava, he designed a small wine-making cellar as well. An engineer by day, and a jazz musician by night for many years, he loves his wine.

As he gave us a tour in a mix of Slovak and English, he pulled out a folder and opened it up. Inside he kept poems, songs, and stories about wine. He read one to us, interpreted by his daughter Monika, comparing wine to a woman. What a delight to spend time with a man of such good humor, who loves his craft not just for its end product, but for its poetry as well.

Peter

One of our hosts in Spain is this gentleman, Peter. He is a sweet man, softspoken, always smiling when he greets you. His wife says he looks Greek here, which makes sense, since his parents were Greek and English. He hasn’t lived in the UK for over 35 years, and yet his favorite memory of his time there was a holiday he took in the Yorkshire Dales. His wife groans whenever we mention our time in the Dales, and says with her Dutch accent, “Not the Yorkshire Dales! Three or four times a year Peter tells me this story about his holiday in the Yorkshire Dales. Always the Dales!” And he smiles.

Mt St Michel

I mentioned earlier that the Eiffel Tower was even more impressive in person than I’d imagined, and that it lived up to its reputation as an icon, and did not disappoint. I would have to say this of two other things I’ve seen so far on this trip: the paintings of VanGogh, and the island citadel of Mt St Michel. VanGogh’s paintings are far better in person, the colors much richer and brighter than their reproductions, and stumbling upon them in the Musee d’Orsay was a delight that brought tears to my eyes.

Then there’s Mt St Michel. I’d heard of it before, but knew nothing more of it than that it was an abbey/cathedral situated on a rock off the French coast. And that Michael Kenna had been given special access to the place and created incredible images there.

When we saw the spire of Mt St Michel from a distance of several miles, this dark, spiky lump on the horizon, it immediately was impressive. So unexpected was it that we all let out exclamations in the car. As we drove toward it, it slowly began to tower over the cow and sheep pastures and bay (and parking lot) that surrounded it.

The tour was well worth the time, as we were able to see the insides of the abbey, cathedral, the village, the columns and arches that undergird the abbey, etc. The light inside the buildings was fantastic, as well, making me wish I could orchestrate a portrait session of some sort there.

Like so many places we’ve visited, it only makes me want to read up more on my European history. We were told that, during the 100 Years’ War between England and France, Mt St Michel was the only part of northern France that did not fall into the hands of the English, in spite of a 30 year siege.

It is, somewhat like the Cimitierre Perre Lechez, a place right out of a fantasy novel or sci-fi flick. Its similarities to Edoras and Minis Tirith in The Lord of the Rings was unmistakable.

St Malo, France

We're in Spain at the moment, spending some quiet time catching up on things. I'm doing a lot of editing from our time in France, and even some from England.

Today's post includes a few images from St Malo, a 'pirate city' on the west coast of France. We spent an afternoon there with our friends the Drouets, walking the walled city, watching the rapidly rising tide, ducking the rain. Above, an image of the little castle on the rocks off the shore of the main city. This little archipeligo of rocks and castle was accessible by foot when we arrived, and within no time, the water rose and everyone made their way up on the walls of the fortified city. I ran rather quickly back to a vantage point and shot swiftly when I saw this little patch of sun highlight the fort.

An image with clear Cartier Bresson undertones. Or overtones. I don't know which.

The Eiffel Tower

The Eiffel Tower is, of course, the icon of Paris, and perhaps of all of France. More often than not, icons of that sort don't really stand up to much scrutiny in person. However, I must say, the Eiffel Tower is actually quite impressive in person. Its graceful and massive lines, especially the base arches, are quite lovely. And when the sun goes down, and the lights go on, well, you can't help but kiss the person next to you.

Cimetiere Pere Lachaise

Paris has a famous cemetery, the Cimetiere Pere Lachaise, known primarily for its famous residents, such as Jim Morrison and Oscar Wilde.

We went there on the recommendation of my friend Ben Poundstone, who visits France whenever he can get away. So we headed out to the cemetery, only to discover that it is one of the most fascinating places in Paris. At least for me. In fact, it was the one place that I found truly inspiring and interesting as an artist.

As we explored, I photographed, and am just now working with the images to realize the vision I had for them. The gravestones are little shrines, either for families or individuals, right out of a Tim Burton movie. Shannon and I were postulating that we could imagine the residents of this cemetery coming out of their fantastic little houses at night, after the gates are closed and locked, gathering together for potlucks, getting cranky with each other, returning home before daybreak.


As I’ve worked on the images the past couple days, meditating on them, there are other themes emerging about death and life, light and darkness, mortality and immortality, the temporary and the final.

A sample image from the set:

The Dada Children

We just had a whirlwind tour of Britagne with family friends of Shannon's, the Drouets. I took a lot of stock photography, and also some nice portraits of their daughter and grandchildren. Like England, the light has mostly been flat and gray and cloudy, but the last couple days the light was fantastic, especially in the evening. And it stays light here until 9:00pm, when we eat dinner. And yes, it's a big, late meal, replete with wine, cheese, and dessert. Good times. We're exhausted.

Trash the Dress in the Columbian

The Vancouver, Washington newspaper The Columbian just published an article on the Trash the Dress phenomenon, and included an image and quotes from me. You can read the article online. It's a lot of fun to photograph people doing something crazy with their wedding or prom dress (or any dress, for that matter), and also fun to be interviewed about the process by the local press.

Paris

We’ve been in Paris for almost a week now, and are finally feeling acclimated to the place, culture, and language. The expense and exchange rate I’m still not accustomed to, but I’ll get over it. We’re in Paris, for heaven’s sake. The food is wonderful, and I’m enjoying that and the people we’ve met as much as I’m enjoying the sights. In fact, there’s so much to do here, that I have whittled down my expectations: see a few major sights, enjoy the street life, and leave the rest for next time. And that’s sufficient. With so many major museums and tourist attractions here, it can be overwhelming. I’m finding sufficient pleasure in walking the streets, watching the people, and sampling the goodies at the patisserie on every street.

The parks here are the other wonder we’ve enjoyed immensely. Tuileries, Luxembourg, Versailles. The enormity of Versailles is staggering, and we didn’t even go inside the buildings. We’ve read that King Louis XIV had Versailles built to showcase the splendor of the French kingdom. He moved his court from Paris to newly constructed Versailles, including his retinue of 6000 people. You can begin to see why the French Revolution occurred. Considering that none of these lavish parks were publicly accessible, I’d have been pissed if this is what my taxes were paying for, and I couldn’t even go see it.

Here are some things I have seen. I’ve been shooting stock images, and now and then something personally interesting comes along:

Not the most flattering image, but I like it.

In Versailles.

A couple images on the Metro.

This is the courtyard in which our little apartment is located.

The Winter Olympics...

Look what I just woke up to! I don't believe it. I'm supposed to be out in London tapi