Same day.

On 7.24.10, I took this random picture of a dead bird in Portland, ME. On 7.24.11 in Manchester, NH, as I was sitting and reading on my lunch break, a small bird being chased by a crow flew between my feet.  He sat there for about 20 minutes, until the coast was clear and I had shouted away the crow. I felt almost dumbfounded and found something entirely admirable in his choice.

I've been trying to think of what to do with all the photos from my cell phone, maybe it lies somewhere in correlations of dates such as this.

The perpetual backseat.

Meghan and Angela, Manchester, NH

Re-organizing history.

A couple of friends and I recently visited a flea market in rural New Hampshire. Among Italian sausages and a plethora of Nintendo paddles, we came across a box of photos which a woman had purchased from an estate sale. My instinct was to feel a tad awful at picking through some family's discarded history--one which I knew nothing of--but the inner, curious artist took over.  I chose a small collection of photographs (a blip of their history) based solely on visual aesthetics, which at first seemed an odd way to pick apart history, but then isn't that all that photography is anyway?

 

 

 

Mile Markers.

The three of us went to art school together, before we all split directions: Meghan went home to Florida, before settling in Portland; Anthony tried moving to Salt Lake City to study under a master painter, coming back home low on money, then leaving again; I ran away to documentary school as fast as I could and since then haven't sat still too long, usually only keeping in touch through postcards.

We all regrouped in Portland last winter for a few days, before Tony left again for the west. While looking at this image, I realized that the two of them have become a sort of mile marker for me. Despite my ability to disappear from contact, our friendship has become one of the main ways too trace distance, growth, and time both through my photography and life.

Anthony and Meghan, Portland, ME. 2011

Anthony, Manchester, NH. 2010

Meghan, Manchester, NH. 2009

Spring ahead.

Off of Laurel St., Manchester, NH

The process of thought.

The sun began to set somewhere in Connecticut, on a bus between Boston and New York. I'd left my camera in my side-bag, having thrown that into the overhead luggage section, with the idea of watching trees march past and bridges fly overhead in a sort of half-asleep, thoughtless state. This was during a phase where I found it hard to detach myself from my camera, often photographing too excitedly. It was near impossible to have moments where I clearly knew that I should be photographing or those when I definitely should be enjoying "personal time".

Inevitably, as the sun was just disappearing, I noticed a sort of glow within the bus illuminating everyone in a red-ish gold. I sat there for a good fifteen minutes trying to picture it as a photograph, more importantly wondering if in the grander scale it was worth it to stand up and dig for my camera. I couldn't decide if it was a reflex urge to take a picture simply because the light was beautiful or if it sincerely meant something to me. I imagined it in a contact sheet as an image I would never scan, then as something moving, not deciding between either.

I eventually stood up to get my camera, settling back in as the bus turned a corner, behind a hill with a sunless tree-line; the instant was over. Again, I sat mulling over the meaning of it at all, and as the sun would occasionally peek back through I would look through the view finder, incessantly thinking of the purpose. After a span of time that seemed like the end of the light, we turned a corner and one last brilliant, red beam shot through the aisle. The debate moved aside as that sort of higher, subconscious decision-making mechanism within reacted.

I've since resolved the argument over when I should or shouldn't be photographing, realizing to be an artist means never really separating these positions--as exhausting as that can be--though, I do at times appreciate a day without taking a picture, or thinking in photography, as much as a day full of fruitful inspiration.

Chinatown bus, somewhere in CT

Lenseless.

I recently bought the Holga WPC, in hopes of using it for my senior thesis project.  While my project is going to consist mainly of landscapes, I couldn't resist doing some test shots with people thrown in them. This is a photograph of one of Manchester's scenic parking garages and my good friend Joe King, the man who defines fashion portraiture at our college.