Portraits from the Fair

More images from the Perry County Fair.

I photographed many of the same people I had in the previous two years, most of whom (re)introduced themselves and said hello.

How Much?

While at Nemo's farm, I happened to look up and see something that reminded me of a famous photo by William Eggleston, titled "Greenwood, Mississippi, 1974". Here's the kicker, Eggleston's photo sold at auction not long ago for $84,000. You can have mine signed and numbered for $84. A savings of $83, 916.

Happy Birthday to my wonderful sister Margie. Sorry I let it slip by; I lost track of the date and was extremely busy yesterday... but that's no excuse.

The $84,000 Eggleston.

A Rural County Fair

Last Thursday I headed for the Perry County Fair in rural PA. I arrived at my friend Nemo's home and he immediately tossed me the keys to his Range Rover and I was off to the fairgrounds. I've gone the last two years and couldn't wait to start shooting. Especially fearing the hurricane that was bearing down on the East Coast.

I shot many portraits of the annual tractor parade. These farmers are quite proud of their restored old tractors. From there I moved on to shoot the carnival workers and attendees of the fair. I shot for three days and had a great time. Sadly, I discovered (again) that "fair food" is horrible. I had a barbecued chicken that was dry as dirt, ate two soft serve ice cream cones and drank too many lemonades and sodas. But I refrained from other sweets, cotton candy and funnel cakes.

Nemo and his lovely wife Carol put up with my coming and going, getting in after midnight, using their car, eating their food and basically disrupting their home. But what are friends for? I appreciate their friendship very very much. I was also able to establish my place as "Uncle Steve" with their three-year-old sons Ellis and Aiden.

All trains back to NYC were canceled due to hurricane flooding (I'm sure to everyone's dismay) so I stayed an extra day.

The night air was cool and crisp at their farm in Elliottsburg. Late one night I looked up and saw stars like I haven't seen in many many years....

Funny

Old Things

Walking around Sunday, completely uninspired, I came across a large metal structure that was rotting away. Studying the amazing textures, I aimed my camera at various sections and snapped some images. After downloading, I was surprised at the outcome. The layers of rust and decay were far more beautiful than I would have ever imagined. I'm sure most people pass by without so much as a glance.

At the Met, a hunched little man examines a sculpture's description. The sculpture appears bored.

Simple snaps and pondering

Two simple photos taken from the elevated subway tracks, coming from the Bronx.

Today's thought...

After losing both my mother and Mario in the past few years I often (constantly) find myself pondering the existence of God, the authenticity of Christianity, Buddhism, reincarnation and atheism. So far I still haven't read or heard anything that REMOTELY sounds feasible or plausible.

I found this definition of religion: The belief in and worship of superhuman controlling power, esp. a personal God or Gods.

Today while reading a blog written by a photojournalist and war correspondent I came upon this quote: "Do you believe in a personal, loving God who really cares about us mortals down here? Go to a few war zones and famine areas and watch all those innocent children die, then answer this question...."

Scratch Christianity. For now, I continue to be agnostic (which loosely means I don't have any idea, nor belief, in whom or what may be running the cosmos).

The search continues....

Lovely

Nice scene around the corner from my apartment. Small basketball hoop fastened with wire to the fence of a vacant trash filled lot with a rat poison warning. Lovely.

High Line sunset. Would make a nice song title.

From the High Line

Pigeon at subway stop in the Bronx. I "sneaked" up on him...("snuck" is incorrect, I checked)

A Day of Art

Interesting large scale Robert Adams photo on a billboard, seen as you're walking the High Line. One of my favorite strolls in the city.

Beautiful pink cloud at sunset as seen from the High Line.

Lovely afternoon spent at Moma. People watching in the sculpture garden is great. Who naps like this? Public place, no shoes and lying across three chairs. Who does that?

This piece was actually a "void space" where the drywall was taken away instead of an actual piece of art hanging. Seems the lack of art is now considered art I suppose. (cough...bullshit...cough)

This was a lovely piece. Brilliant "artiste" takes a white can of paint, points it at the ground and sprays out the contents. Calls it something like "40 seconds of aerosol paint pointed at ground". (cough...bullshit....cough....) There were enough shoe prints on it to say people didn't understand it was actually the art.

Seriously, what has the art world come to? Such bullshit!

Mouser and odd symbols

There's a bodega (NYC-speak for small convenience store) on the corner of 6th Ave. and Watts Street that has a very handsome cat who occasionally walks out and greets me when I walk past. He's the sweetest guy with the disposition of a kitten but the owner just informed me he is 13 years old. Unlike most cats, he never bites or claws after having had enough of stroking. He loves affection and will lie there on the sidewalk as long as you offer it.

As I stood up to leave he looked at me bewildered as if to say "Hey, where are you going?"

Last night while waiting for my friend Tatiana to meet me I noticed this odd symbol drawn into the chipped edge of the building. Very very small. (Reminder: you can click on images to enlarge.)
I glanced at the other side and found a symbol with a V, also very small. I wondered what these symbols meant, who may have put them there and why? So curious.

Many things...

Wednesday night my very good friend Mike Breen called from Virginia and told he had just seen a band called The Eric Tessmer Band at Payne's Biker Bar the previous night in Leesburg and suggested I check them out. They were playing at a bar called Stout on W. 33rd Street. I had just finished dinner with Nemo who was in town for work and the bar was just a few blocks away so I went. As I walked in I could already hear the band who was downstairs. Mike had warned me they were extremely loud. There was a sparse crowd which surprised me being a Thursday night in the city. The guitar player, Eric Tessmer, is obviously a huge Stevie Ray Vaughan fan and had down most of his licks/bends/technique and sound. Being very dark in the bar I decided to take some snaps and make them artsy--long shutter speeds, blurs using high ISO.

He was a pretty good guitar player and quite the showman.

What's better than hearing a good band, sipping Magners cider and taking photos? Not much! A fun night.

Hat seller on Prince Street today in Soho.

Couples on a bench on Carmine St. Someone should've introduced the "bookends" to each other.

Shot today on Greenwich Ave. The tiles (and shadows of) that memorialize the WTC. So many fall and break as the years pass.

Random Pics

I still have a slight "knee-jerk" reaction of anxiety when I look up and see a plane flying up Fifth Ave.

Reflection of me in the ceiling at the Met.

You have to wonder why these homeless people who collect cans and bottles never turn them in for cash. This is one major bottle/can/shopping cart train on Waverly. The guy is probably a millionaire (slight exaggeration) and doesn't realize it.

Just found this snap from the last time I went to the Met. I had never walked around the Met's Arms and Armor exhibit. It is truly incredible. The fine inscribed detail in the armor is amazing.

A Quiet End

A few days ago I downloaded all of the photos from my last trip to Virginia. On the flash card I found pictures I had taken the day we buried my mother's ashes. I was torn whether or not to write about it, thinking people don't really want or need to read about the sad events in my life.

It was sunny, extremely humid and hovering around 100 degrees on the Friday morning we buried my mother's ashes. We had a small family service at Fairfax Methodist Church and then drove a short distance to the cemetery for a few words at her grave site. Afterwards I felt the need to stay after everyone had gone and waited while the cemetery worker placed the urn in the ground and replaced the dirt and sod. I found a sense of comfort sitting there alone arranging the flowers on her grave. I couldn't help but think that it seemed like a modest end to everything that had transpired since her illness was diagnosed in early May. All of us hyper-focusing on her illness, keeping her comfortable, getting medications and supplies, hospice and caregivers. All ending suddenly by placing a small wooden box in a shallow hole in the ground and a few short words.

Cremation definitely takes most of the grandeur from the funeral tradition. No big shiny casket, no hearse, no vault, no railings around the coffin, no pallbearers. Definitely a simpler, less traumatic, more efficient way to pass on to whatever the universe has in store for us (in my opinion).

The next day I passed the cemetery while running errands and strained to see the flowers from the road. Late the following afternoon I pulled into the cemetery and walked over to her grave. After just two days of temperatures over 100 degrees the flowers were completely dried out and brittle. I felt I should buy some new ones but never did, knowing that in two more days the outcome would be the same. And plastic? No.

Back in New York (nice to be home)

Back from Virginia. A somber and sweltering week. We buried my mother's ashes last Friday. It was 102 degrees at her grave site.

A sudden downpour started while sitting in traffic. I hesitated turning on the wipers because everything looked more surreal through the rain-battered windshield.

A second shower as I made a u-turn on my parents street. Again waiting to turn on the wipers.

Walking past a BP gas station I glanced up to see these vents against the blue sky.

Walking along Hudson Street last week I spotted this gentleman wearing a straw hat peeking through the trees.

New York street at dusk.

To Be, or Not to Be (tranquil)?

How does one resume a blog based mainly on goofy snapshots, biased opinions and a warped sense of humor after such a sad previous post? It's a true dilemma... Do I post some nice landscapes that offer quiet tranquility? Would that be more appropriate? Do I gently lead into a lighter tone over a period of time? Do I wait a month, or three months, before adding a non-serious image? I truly don't know.

I'm going to Virginia tomorrow and may not blog again for a week or so...

Here's a pretty sunset photo taken from the High Line tonight.

I've been toying with bailing on the hat and going for a new look. I'm kind of digging the Jimi Hendrix/Don Was look (Don Was is a big-time music producer). Thoughts and opinions are welcome.

My Wonderful Mother

It's been almost 2 months since my last post. I've gotten many calls and emails from friends asking why I haven't blogged. The truth of the matter is, I've been in Virginia for the past 3 weeks. My earlier post regarding my mother's illness came to a sad conclusion. My beautiful mother passed away on July 3rd. If there's any good side to this it's that she died at home in bed, in her sleep. Sadly, few people have the opportunity and time to tell their loved ones how much they loved them. My family and I were lucky in the sense that we had over a month to lie in bed with her, tell her how much we loved her and hug and hold her. Her illness was so rapid and ravenous on her body that we were all amazed and shocked at how quickly cancer took her. She became weaker and weaker until her last days were spent quietly in bed mostly sleeping. We're so thankful that she didn't suffer for very long. The emotional roller coaster we all endured was sometimes overwhelming. Knowing the end was getting closer each day, you become hyper aware of every cough, sniff and sigh. You are tormented with the fear of witnessing the end of her life. At 5:00am Sunday morning the healthcare woman knocked at my door and asked me to come upstairs.... My beautiful mother was gone.