A sense of place. A mood. Unique perspectives. Hidden details. Intimate connections. All of these come to me when I travel to new locations and immerse myself in their essence. Capturing that essence in camera brings the world to me.
Whether it’s the soft, wavy flow of a hidden river in Oregon or a trolley stop in the Boston subway, each moment is an image that carries so much potential and expectation. You want to see what’s beyond, what comes next, where is this going?
Where this is going, in this instance, is a collection of new works, a page of my most recent photography. New works takes you on the road with us as we develop this blog to include images taken from coast to coast…and the stories behind them. Here’s one, with more to come:
Traveling the east coast in November, 2014, we spent some time in my old stomping grounds in Boston. I had many fond and not-so-fond memories of traveling the T subway (known as the MTA in my day) into town from neighboring Brookline. But no matter why I was going into the big city, I always loved the subways as a kid: standing by the yellow line, craning my neck to see as far as I could down the blackened tube of the train tunnel, polka-dotted with various colored signal lights, until I could hear the sound of the train heading for me.
There, off in the distance, you see the headlights coming closer and closer and feel the air pressure change as the train speeds toward you. Suddenly it roars into the station with a long woooosh, before squealing to a stop to regurgitate some passengers and swallow up newcomers.
I remember the creosote smells of the timber wafting into the stations from the black beyond, mingled with the mixed smells of humanity, from stale old stogies to overdone perfume to an ever-present mustiness that reminded you that you were underground. In some stations you’d find little shops that sold lottery tickets, cigarettes and bottled Cokes. People used to huddle near these little stores, reading the Boston Globe or the Herald, or sometimes the Racing Form. Now, they just look down at their cell phones, rarely making eye contact with their traveling brethren.
Coming back to this 50 years later was both a massive taste of nostalgia and a dose of wonder at the changes — and lack of changes — in my old home town. You can, indeed, go home again.
Stop in and take a look at my New Works photography page. There’s some very nice wall art available for purchase. I donate 20 percent of everything I sell to the Idaho Foodbank.
Photos are updated frequently. Stay tuned.