Seeing Poems

This blog has moved

2009-11-24T07:29:00.000-08:00

This Web address, blog, forum that I have called home for about two and a half years is now coming to a close.

With the reconstruction of my Web site, came the need to consolidate my blog with the portfolio pages. You can now find my editorial blog and portfolio under one roof at johnpaulhenry.com/site/category/editorial/

E-Commerce is fully functional for the majority of my work in the portfolio galleries, simply click on an image and follow the PhotoShelter instructions.

If you are interested in commercial, wedding or portrait photography, this work can be found through my root domain at johnpaulhenry.com

So please, follow me over to the new address, feel free to comment and provide feedback. Your kind words over the years have been invaluable.

Thank you.

- John

regarding hitchhiking

2009-09-19T17:16:00.001-07:00

(the following is an exert from an email correspondence to a good friend directly following this hike)

it took about 48 hours to hitch from salem, mass. to columbus ohio

my first night out i made it to northern connecticut by a few short rides and was eventually picked up by an older woman, very christian, and very nice. gave me an umbrella as she dropped me in the rain at an on ramp. after about 30 minutes of standing there with no luck she pulls back up and offers to take me to a truck stop about 10 minutes south. i spend the night huddled in my sleeping bag on the wet ground behind a hotel, transitioning between sweating profusely in my 20 degree bag that doesn't 'breathe at all, and opening it up and being eaten alive by mosquitos. at five in the morning i decide to head back into the truck stop, just as a turrential downpour starts.

after four hours of waiting for another trucker to take me, some bloke had offered the night before, he doesn't show up so i head out to the gas station exit and start thumbing the corner where truckers take off. i get picked up by this 65 year old trucker with the most pure southern accent, a texas raised bloke who was a hippie to the 10th degree back in the 60s. we're cruising down through lower new york and into pennsylvania. and i'm laughing and snapping photos from the big rig along the way.

several moderate rides later, about an hour or so a piece, i'm in central pennsylvania and a young college/ army rotc kid sees me with my pack at a truck stop and yells out "hey you wanna ride?" so i get in with him and he takes me to this town equivalent of herrin illinois and drops me at about 9 pm on a friday at the local gas station where all the high school kids cruise town and hang out and drink soda.

i'm sitting out front of this gas station with my bags, smoking rollie cigarettes strung out on no sleep with my cardboard sign dictating "west" and my hopes are low as the locals roll in and out of this place buying slurpies and boxes of fags. despite low hope, lack of sleep i'm in real good humor and am resigned to stay up all night sitting there smiling and waiting. before long two high school girls offer to take me to the local denny's near the interstate where maybe some passers by might catch my sight. after a couple minutes i chat up a local kid who looks kinda rock and roll in a half hour he takes me to another truck stop about 30 minutes down the highway. the place is deserted. but i'm in the smokey mountains at this point, the sky is clear, the stars are shining and the air is crisp. i unroll my blanket and bag and snuggle in for 7 hours of the best sleep in my life. interrupted every hour by the sewage pump engine in the shack i'm sleeping next two, toxic fumes seeping out and clogging my nose but i don't care the ground is dry and i'm out of sight and am happy to have a place to sleep.

the next morning i get quick rides back to back to back and my luck is great and i'm on the road to columbus and out of the western virginia type desolate atmosphere and into the midwestern plains. no more steel mills and depressing tones and into the corn fields of my childhood. back in the midwest.

Absence

2009-06-28T14:02:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the extended absence.

After exploring Morocco I arrived in Spain a bit worn. Tired.

Following a failed attempt to hitchhike through even a small part of Spain, I purchased an overnight ticket to Barcelona (eight hours working for a lift in the southern Spain sun, suck. Maybe next time with far, far, far less baggage.).

I've been extremely busy thus far, with getting settled, meeting language intercambios, working with my hosts and the whole business side of things.

Posts will be scarce for a short while longer I have feeling. Processing a lot of stuff mentally and physically.

Thanks, as always, for looking, sharing your thoughts and your support.

Hopefully we'll see each other again soon.

hello from las palmas de gran canaria

2009-05-22T11:28:00.000-07:00

I won't be accessing my blog much for the next month. I will be traveling and working in Morocco.

So I'm saying goodbye.

If you wish to reach me please e-mail me at johnhenryphoto@gmail.com

Until then,

much love.

things i am learning

2009-05-22T11:26:00.000-07:00

learning spanish is not easy

but when you find yourself talking to a beautiful spanish girl

it's much more easy

traveling can be scary

listen to your body

just relax

i like hitchhiking more than hiking

i prefer villages to camping

i'm ready to live in a city

i spend too much time in front of the computer

being a photographer is unfortunately not all about making pictures

i like the beach more than i thought

i can sit on the beach fully clothed and be perfectly content

horses are beautiful

knowing a horse is one of the most rewarding experiences of my life

i love cats

i'm still allergic to them

i am more open than i used to be

i am not open as i want to be

i need to smile more

and now i actually remind myself of this

the days preceding a large travel, i still get nervous

and i feel stupid for saying that

it's okay to be dirty

you don't have to wash your hair for six weeks if you don't want

but it's important to be in the sun

you can cut your own hair

it's super fun

i don't know what it feels like to photograph in black and white

carrying a computer around the world is stupid

i would trade it for a leica in a heartbeat

be brave

2009-05-16T12:21:00.000-07:00

for you have done the right thing

the best is yet to come

-------------

like pigeons scattering into the big blue

the residents of finca de jelica are flung back into the world

everyone following the crazy May winds

they blow our hair and ruffle our jackets

pushing us out the door

and into the dusty streets

new paths

and new choices

be open and accept

what comes your way

thank you to everyone who has touched my life in these past two months

on this island or not

your love has been felt

and i will carry it with me

new shoes

2009-05-16T12:00:00.000-07:00

my horse, giolla, getting new shoes Thursday

the smell, like perfume, bordering toxic.

i say "my" horse with a sense of gratitude and pride. for the past month we have gone from strangers to friends. she is stubborn. an outcast among the other horses. but extremely fast. and strong. and, on a good day... a dream to ride. bursting through unbeaten fields and down rocky slopes with ears up and skies blue.

i will miss her sweat, the way it permeates through my clothes. her calm stature. her broad

shoulders.

i will miss this horse more than i believe i know.

on May 21 I leave La Palma.. I will spend three days in Gran Canaria having arrived by ferry and waiting for my plane. on May 24 I will land in Marrakech, Morocco and begin a month of travel, new experiences and photography.

the journey will then take me north through the desert and back into Spain. in Barcelona another volunteer experience awaits me. i must first focus on the present. an increasingly crucial part of my life. such a simple task, yet so often overlooked... to soak up the beauty of every passing minute. a blind disregard for the flowing sands of time.

may they burn my skin and shred my clothes

Fiesta y Romería, La Palma

2009-05-10T03:27:00.000-07:00

An intense morning of hitching through the northwestern part of the island led me to La Valle de las Cruces. Green forests cover the soil, and are tucked in neatly below blanketed clouds. Occasional bursts of sun keeping everything warm, glossy.

Romería is a party in the form of a pilgrimage, usually ending at a sanctuary. The Romería de Garafía celebrated more traditional La Palma music, culture and food.

Drinking, food abound, classical guitars buzzing from every crevice. Smells of roasting meat wafting down the dirt road. Children in yellow dresses chase each other under the hot sun, waiting for the caravan to arrive.

Everyday life here is so inundated with expats, not necessarily tourists, it was pleasant to escape to a more remote part of the island, to a people catering only to themselves and enjoying family and friends. Playing music not to draw a crowd but because they want to dance, smile.

nature II

2009-05-07T14:59:00.000-07:00

nature

2009-05-07T14:34:00.000-07:00

scares me

it breathes

and shudders with me

as we watch the lights

closer

what are you doing to save the world?

2009-05-07T14:26:00.000-07:00

solamente una pregunta..

friends and music

2009-05-02T13:42:00.001-07:00

how hearing a certain band can bring you back to a person

the feelings flowing through your body when you were around her

some good

some bad

over the past few months i've been discovering amazing new music

over the past few months i've been discovering amazing new people

right now it's mûm and i'm sitting in doolin soaking wet

stuck that afternoon in a massive cold shower

wandering the foothills, lost. looking for a house that looks

exactly like every other house

i wonder what music will trigger me back to la palma

after i have gone

my shack on the mountain

2009-04-30T02:38:00.000-07:00

i feel very much at home in this simple concrete square. a dirt path cuts through cacti, down two terraces and leads to the noisy, wooden doors. a grey cat, Oliver, sometimes makes an appearance. we are slowly become friends. shoes rest on bamboo mat. a lizard freezes on the white wall, stalking some unseen spider.

paintings by nathanial hone

2009-04-29T02:01:00.000-07:00

these paintings i stumbled upon while roaming a gallery in downtown dublin a little over a month ago. the prominent horizon line is something i've noticed reoccurring in my work lately, and i think i might have been drawn to these paintings for that reason. i love the simplicity to these works, especially the first and last pieces. the formalism, geometry. the separation between the boats and that majestic cloud.. the artist's intention to step way back and let the scene breathe.

bananas

2009-04-22T16:33:00.001-07:00

checking out the banana plantations on the way down to the beach. hiked down and then back up the next day.. 700 meter drop then climb. this island is blanketed in these white, rectangular nets that protect the bananas.

the beach

2009-04-22T16:31:00.000-07:00

i couldn't help but to think of dali, standing behind these rocks

caballos

2009-04-13T13:11:00.000-07:00

helped out during a riding lesson today

Semana Santa, Santa Cruz de La Palma

2009-04-12T04:46:00.000-07:00

Caught one day of processions Friday for Holy Week here in La Palma. Stepped off the bus in Santa Cruz and followed the music straight to the first procession. Shooting was cut short though to only one day because they do not have processions on Saturday and Sunday in that city.

new number

2009-04-09T14:36:00.001-07:00

I will be in Santa Cruz de La Palma over the weekend photographing Semana Santa. My local Spanish number is 605325846. Use this number to contact me for assignment or to just catch up.

Stars rising

2009-04-07T12:57:00.000-07:00

as night settles in over the mountain.

Warm light from below peaks in and smiles

to the hedges and cacti, a world onto themselves.

Mysterious. Fantastic. Looming.

new friends

2009-03-30T11:46:00.001-07:00

I was welcomed into this new household by a host of nationalities and experiences. The woman who owns the home and land, my wwoofing host, Marie Louise, is Sweedish. Also is Tuve, another wwoofer. A German family lives in the connected house, which is rented, and there is also a Canadian wwoofer. It seems Siri, Marie Louise's daughter, the child in the below pictures, took to Tuve right away as they speak Sweedish. Making friends has been easy so far. There must be something in the air. Or maybe the soil, as the locals attribute the island's energy to the volcano on which we are living.

La Palma

2009-03-30T11:18:00.000-07:00

I stepped off the plane Thursday wearing thermal boots and a backpack full of wool socks and three different types of jackets. While the weather in Ireland was looking up, the cold, damp and grey climate could chill you to shivers easily. A sea of green palm and banana trees waved to me as I made my way from the plane to the terminal. My first item of business in Spain was to buy a pair of flip flops.

The language is coming back more each day. But, it's going to take some dedication and practice if I'm going to improve significantly, which is the goal.

I had forgotten how pleasant this country really is. The people, language, the energy in the air. Everything seems to radiate, and maybe especially on this island. I'm living about 700 meters on the side of the mountain, which is the island. From the edge of the beach or even straight into the Atlantic, volcanic rock shoots straight up to an eventual height of 2,400 meters. A German tourist who picked me up yesterday said that the island, according to height and surface area, is the steepest island in the world. The only really flat space here is the beach, which is slightly rough, and black, coming from volcanic rock. Other spaces have been plowed flat and terraced off and are reserved for rows upon rows of banana orchards.

The west half of the island seems less touristy than the east. What there are a lot of here is Germans. They seem to flock and relocate to this place as an escape from whatever there seems to be a need to escape from. They, and many other people, buy or rent space along the jagged mountainside, live off the land, which produces an abundance of produce, and trade or sell items at a farmers market in Los Llanos on Sundays. Afterwards you see many of the same faces enjoying the sun and a beer, maybe playing guitar along the beach boardwalk. The below snap I took while walking along that boardwalk in Tazacorte.

2009-03-23T03:55:00.000-07:00

seaside mornings

2009-03-23T03:50:00.001-07:00

i drive myself to distraction

when i find the peace, i don't know how to handle it

scared to put my words down on paper

because then they will be real, mine

and i will have to claim ownership

the winds of

2009-03-23T03:31:00.000-07:00

three months have passed and i find myself on the same couch, in the same flat of the same seedy Dublin neighborhood. i feel changed, refreshed, more established and with forward momentum embracing the future.

looking back at how i felt when i first walked into this apartment i see gaps in differences in my personality, bravery, even accomplishments. and it's strange, and rewarding, to know that i'm not the same person i was three months ago when i sat here, something has changed. i have that vague feeling of having learned some visceral thing, so real i can smell it in my clothes, the funny sun-bleached color of my beard, the shunned feelings of exhaustion.

i am beginning to wonder what will happen in the next three months, six, twelve. it's not advisable to speculate too much, after all. who will be sitting at this computer? uploading pictures and words to this forum? is the you of five years ago the you of today?

it is nauseating, exciting, to think about. faint aromas of overwhelming carried in on the winds of adventure.

status

2009-03-19T14:12:00.000-07:00

hey there people.. i'm still kicking it by the sea in county clare. not much internet availability but i should get some by monday and tuesday as i'll be back in dublin. spring is finally here and it really is beautiful. actually got a bit of a sunburn today, dirt still engraved in the wrinkles of my skin. i love it

Cliffs of Moher

2009-03-11T09:21:00.000-07:00

Music of Doolin, Sunhild and the accordion

2009-03-11T07:56:00.000-07:00

Sunhild hosted me for two days in Doolin where she was cat-sitting in a cottage overlooking the Aran Islands, the Cliffs of Moher and the Burren.

Between farms still but enjoying my time living out of a couple rucksacks and using my thumb and feet as main modes of transportation. Sunhild introduced me to a farmer in Miltown Malbay, who she met through hitchhiking. I'll be headed to this new farm along the coast of County Clare in a couple days to live out the remaining time I have here in Ireland.

It's amazing what can happen if you just stick your thumb in the air and smile. Who you'll meet. What conversations will come. The where's you'll see passing by the window.

Starting March 26 I'll be located on the island Santa Cruz de las Palmas, of the Canary Islands. Again, I'll be WWOOFing. From there I have no plans as of yet, but they always formulate. I will continue to pursue stories and poems. And I will be available for assignment.

yo

2009-03-04T05:31:00.000-08:00

by Natasha Smith

dublin oldie

2009-03-04T05:29:00.001-08:00

A snap from one of many aimless walks in the East Wall neighborhood of Dublin during my first week in Ireland.

fog II

2009-03-04T05:27:00.000-08:00

a throwback to the days at tullyboy farm

reporting in

2009-03-04T05:12:00.001-08:00

so there have been a few changes on this forum.

the color: it might change again. i just felt like brightening it up, loosing up a little.

the name: an exert from some seriously inspiring talks from a certain week in september.

the general idea is the same, just aiming to keep things simple.

The snow is falling hard now in Galway. Big, fat, unexpected flakes heave from the grey sky. With my hoodie up and cup of tea at my side, I don't dare venture downtown just now. I have come and gone from a farm in County Clare since my last post. It was, in the end, a sour experience for everyone, but one that was better off to end sooner than later. I won't get into details, but sometimes personalities just don't work well together. And this was a big case of just that.

I've got roughly three weeks left in this country and exactly no plans as of Monday. I think some heavy hitchhiking and couchsurfing are in store. The Cliffs of Moher and Cork are still on my to-do list.

wtf? snowing in ireland?

building seaside momentum

2009-02-20T04:04:00.000-08:00

blurred horizontal lines in a sea of lines. moving side to side. waning light as we pass over the flat earth. thumbing our way through the connemara space, each encounter, experience, more meaningful than the next, or less. all the same,

each, resonating in the memory, occupying equal space. a beautiful day, staring out the back window of a stranger's car.

county clare and the new farm

2009-02-17T09:38:00.001-08:00

A quick snap of Lieke this morning at our new farm before setting off thumbing my way through the west coast. In Galway now for a couple days, then moving over to the Aran Islands for a little R&R, hostel style, and more work on the Irish Fishing story. And just maybe a traditional music festival in Doolin over the weekend.

red

2009-02-12T13:51:00.000-08:00

fog

2009-02-11T01:14:00.000-08:00

mobile pix 2, farm business

2009-02-05T08:47:00.000-08:00

for those of you curious what exactly it is i do during my days on the farm, here's a little imagery. yesterday, for example, i tilled a garden and built a stone path.

mobile pix 1

2009-02-05T08:24:00.000-08:00

i don't always have my camera with me, but i often have my iphone, which is functioning as an ipod right now, and occasionally a camera.

unexpected little joy

2009-02-03T10:07:00.000-08:00

A little later in the day our guide, Amie, took us to another formation. Three smaller stones created a small sitting space under and enormous larger stone. It's use isn't certain. It was in a field not far from a hotel complex. After a few minutes of walking from the hotel we came across this very unnatural pine forest that threw me for a loop. I lost what I was saying, jaw dropping.

entering a cave

2009-02-03T10:01:00.000-08:00

Looking down into the mouth of a small cave while skirting through some small mountains Sunday near Boyle, Roscommon.

Carrow's Tomb

2009-02-03T09:55:00.000-08:00

One windy afternoon. One new Irish friend. One Portuguese. Three dogs. Several tombs. An Aero candy bar. Muddy gloves. Wind burned face. A tourist attraction only locals visit.

a tree

2009-01-31T06:19:00.001-08:00

have a beautiful day everyone

day trip, sligo

2009-01-30T12:10:00.000-08:00

Some snaps from a day trip to the west coast city of Sligo, Ireland.

writing

2009-01-25T03:52:00.000-08:00

i've found that when inspiration to write hits, i'm often not sitting in front of my computer. so i've decided to include some writing from my travel journal.

lieke and the connemara at tullyboy farm

2009-01-24T10:09:00.000-08:00

feeding the pigs

2009-01-22T11:51:00.000-08:00

Lieke and I have been laughing at these videos for a couple days now. To the point of tears. This is me and Lieke feeding expired cheese and yogurt to two pigs at Tullyboy Farm.

The laughing you hear in the background is me filming.

Fellow WWOOFer, Natasha

2009-01-19T13:43:00.000-08:00

Natasha, from Philadelphia, arrived at the farm yesterday. Here on her first day of work.

Lough Key forest

2009-01-18T01:31:00.000-08:00

With my point and shoot after getting scared my 5D was getting water damage.

Lough Key

2009-01-17T14:00:00.000-08:00

Spent a rainy, wet afternoon strolling by a local lake with fellow wwoofer, Lieke, of Holland. Relaxing, cold, wet.

up at my window

2009-01-13T10:41:00.001-08:00

pounding cups of tea cut with milk this evening. haven't had a decent cup of coffee since I left the states. no bother though, probably better that I get off that stuff.

back hurting from what I'm guessing is two days of putting in fence at the farm in Boyle.

the sun really is amazing this time of year in Ireland. it doesn't really stay out long, granted, but when it is out, wow. It never really rises above the trees, dawn breaks lazily at about 8:30 a.m. then it's a constant morning/evening light until night creeps in at about 4 p.m.

took a stroll yesterday evening with the other wwoofer here, lieke, from holland, and I was laughing as I told her how much this part of Ireland looks like western kentucky, save for the stone houses and the occasional niche Irish novelty. funny really.

new digs

2009-01-12T15:57:00.000-08:00

Settling in to a temporary location near Boyle, Ireland, where I'm WWOOFing with some very gracious hosts on a 200 year old farm.

Neighborhood

2009-01-09T10:07:00.000-08:00

found

2009-01-07T11:01:00.000-08:00

more from the Catherine Alice

2009-01-06T12:41:00.000-08:00

The Irish Sea

2009-01-05T03:08:00.001-08:00

It was my second full day in Ireland. I decided to take a train to fairly touristy fishing village of Howth, just north of Dublin. I met up with a German traveler and walked the streets with him, chatting for a few hours. The town, it being late December, was desolate. He decided to take the train back to Dublin.

I wanted to go down to the docks and meet some sailors.

Before long an Irish fellow waiting for his crew saw me photographing and called me over. After a few minutes of chatting, he called his skipper and arranged for me to go out with them on their fishing trip. So in two hours I hop a train back to Dublin, grab my equipment and some clothes, ride back to Howth and board the ship.

The Catherine Alice, a 27 meter Icelandic fishing boat, sat waiting for me when I walked back into Howth with my few bags. Mark, the skipper, knelt welding on the deck. Weld, one of two Egyptian sailors of the crew, caught my eye and notified Mark I had arrived. Within moments we left the port.

As night set in and we headed south, the Irish coast began to disappear. The Catherine Alice was out for prawns. She scoured the Irish sea for them day and night. The tides weren't quite right and she caught sand dogs more than anything, a bottom-feeding fish that resembles a sad looking shark. These, the crew dumped back into the sea. Most everything else they kept. But prawns were scarce.

Times are difficult in recent years for Irish fishermen. The change to the Euro has hurt fish values. Since Ireland joined the European Union, its waters were carved up and distributed to countries with larger fishing fleets. France. Spain. These countries now freely fish once Irish waters, under less-strict regulations to which the Irish are adhered.

The skipper tells me regulations governing the Irish fishing industry are the most strict in Europe. When other nations receive a slap on the wrist, an Irish fisherman is heavily fined, even receiving a criminal charges at times.

These effects trickle inland. They effect old fishing villages. Markets and families dependent on the sailor's dollar are no longer getting the same money. And the world-wide economic crisis only furthers the burden.

This is a start to an essay examining the Irish fishing industry. Soon I plan to visit more traditional fishing villages, less dependent on tourism and more on fishing, to see how the industry-dependent shops are dealing.

Gone fishing

2008-12-30T06:03:00.001-08:00

Will be away from Dublin for upwards to a week. Got invited to go on a large fishing boat for about a week. Will be stopping in Galway, then out west into the Atlantic and back.

An Baile Bocht

2008-12-29T12:49:00.000-08:00

Went for a stroll today through a neighborhood known as An Baile Bocht, in Irish. The English translation is the poor town. I was politely informed of this bar by a pub patron who caught site of my camera as I passed by. A good guy who tipped me towards a seaside town, Howth. I'll head that way by train tomorrow. The plan is to wake early. For now, signs and empty parks.

red

2008-12-29T12:45:00.001-08:00

in flight

2008-12-28T15:03:00.000-08:00

I opened my eyes this morning to a sunrise like never before. Irish mountains peaked in the distance. Golden clouds played below me. Looking out the window I saw my new home.

Outside night falls on a city I do not know, but will spend time soon beating the streets. Youth clamor arm-in-arm down a narrow road, asking me for a cigarette. Painted doors. Accents. An urban bustle that is not familiar, nor is it foreign.

I sat at the tourist central, O'Connell Sreet, surrounded by my bags, a green one, red one, camera, old guitar case. They spilled around me in ease as I stretched my legs. The anxiety left me. Ireland surrounded me. Though, the rush of past travels wasn't present. I wasn't in a hurry to drain drinks at the pub. See the sites. No pressure. That's the beauty of relocation, versus travel.

new web site

2008-12-25T01:52:00.001-08:00

johnpaulhenry.com is back up and running. check it out. pass it along. will be updating regularly with projects once settled in Ireland. prints, images and rights can be bought by clicking on an image, which will take you to a photoshelter page.

Correct

2008-12-25T01:39:00.000-08:00

Much coffee at Waffle House tonight.

What? Why isn't this post from Ireland, you say? Well I got terribly ill and decided it would be better to catch another flight. Ha ha. Anyway, I pocketed the loss and will be flying out of KC on Saturday.

last days

2008-12-16T20:38:00.000-08:00

My time in this country is now very limited. I'm completely exhausted, will be leaving for Ireland in 12 hours and haven't started packing. I don't think I'll sleep much tonight.

The stress level has been running kind of high lately, with saying all these goodbyes. The errands are constant and preparation is ongoing. Making promotion materials is balanced with trying to memorize a Tom Petty song. Or bettering a song by the Smiths.

I've been constantly humbled by everyones love, well wishes and talks. I love you all, appreciate the hugs. You will be missed.

Thank you.

Hunting with my father

2008-12-08T14:42:00.001-08:00

Spending time back in southern Illinois and western Kentucky with my family before the move. It's hunting season and, as always, my dad is spending his weekends in the Illinois woods. I was never much for hunting, but I was happy to spend some cold afternoons with my dad this week. I would call it quality time.

on dreaming

2008-12-02T02:14:00.001-08:00

new beginnings

2008-12-01T00:17:00.001-08:00

these are always times of uncertainty. fear. joy. happiness. new beginnings are happening around us all the time, some to lesser degrees and some greater. i have a new beginning in a desire to learn a bon iver song as i drink this coffee and write for the first time in a long time. this music haunts me.

my last day at the lawrence journal-world was friday. on dec. 17 i will board a plane in kansas city and in a matter of hours will be flying over the atlantic ocean to dublin, ireland, where i will begin a journey long-anticipated. to start off i will participate in an organic farming exchange program, www.wwoof.org. this is an excellent tool for those wanting to travel or relocate and who are willing to put in manual labor. i will couchsurf with people never met, live in the irish countryside, ride horses, make stories of my own and pursue a photography i have yet to discover. or build upon the photography brewing inside of me. and when the time is right, continue. elsewhere.

my departure from the newspaper industry comes at an interesting time. a time when paid jobs are treasured, in the face of a faltering system. but i can no longer ignore the urge to make pictures that are my own and set out into the world again.

Humbling

2008-11-20T08:17:00.000-08:00

My string of portraits yesterday was capped off with the honor of sitting down with Lou Frydman, a Polish Holocaust survivor. He was first imprisoned at 12-years-old in April, 1943. Both his mother and father were murdered, along with the rest of his family numbering up to 40 people, save for one brother. Now, a retired KU professor, Lou continues to account his experiences in Germany to classrooms and lectures.

Oh Celia

2008-11-20T08:09:00.000-08:00

How you make me long for the arid Andalucía coast. Celia Smith paints acrylic landscapes and interpretive scenes of her home region of Málaga, Spain.

Sorry

2008-11-20T08:05:00.000-08:00

No New Post November. Wow. Sorry everyone, I fell off the map for awhile. There are some major changes happening in my life. Most of you probably already know, but it's taking up a huge portion of my time in planning and preparation. As things unfold and solidify I'll continue to post and keep everyone updated.

Invisible Scars

2008-11-11T15:59:00.000-08:00

a multimedia story published today about an Iraq veteran with PTSD.

Check it here, please.

Scary Larry

2008-11-02T22:27:00.001-08:00

The start of a friend's fixie bike race on Friday.

signs

2008-11-02T22:05:00.000-08:00

Bjork - Pagan Poetry

2008-10-27T23:32:00.000-07:00

the salt mines

2008-10-26T22:28:00.001-07:00

bats

2008-10-26T22:24:00.000-07:00

equipment

2008-10-26T21:42:00.000-07:00

I always thought these photos were slightly ridiculous but strangely entertaining... so here is a detail of my ragtag equipment for spelunking on Thursday. My backpack now has guano on it.

the self

2008-10-24T21:16:00.000-07:00

returning from a two day trip to southern kansas to work on a story involving a series of caves and and a salt mine. this is outside our vehicle after evaluating a cave and returning to equip with the necessary gear.

Seeing Gardens

2008-10-20T20:45:00.000-07:00

"Often we are far from the garden of our dreams, but nearby may be a reminder of it, waiting to be seen." -- Sam Abell

of friends and film 2

2008-10-16T21:02:00.000-07:00

i made this frame of brian and his mother back in july. we were having dinner the day before he moved to springfield, missouri. as we took our seat i noticed a tension between them, or maybe a tension in brian. anyway, i felt compelled to take this photograph then.

of friends and film

2008-10-16T20:53:00.000-07:00

on my last day in Missouri I didn't really have much to do shooting-wise, but I did spend a little time with Angie at her grape stand. ended up making a couple holga frames for myself. the second frame in this post is an idea proposed by my faculty to push me to try to approach the scene in different ways. this is her stand from the drivers seat of my jeep while driving. the idea seemed interested at the time, but the photo didn't really speak to me until tonight. it seems extremely sad.

pink

2008-10-12T13:00:00.000-07:00

morning run

2008-10-11T10:33:00.001-07:00

I enjoy shooting cross country because I feel like part of the action on some sort of level, running from location to location, zig-zagging across this runners' battlefield.

friday night lights

2008-10-10T20:25:00.000-07:00

more from mpw

2008-10-09T15:03:00.000-07:00

Here are a few outtakes from my week in St. James. Maybe a couple more to come.. also have some 120 film to pick up..

thrift wars

2008-10-08T20:32:00.000-07:00

so i've been unlawfully dragged into a thrift war with a fellow max bittle who resides in washington. the war started here.

basically the laws are this: has to be bought in either a thrift or vintage store, or free. and i think free is where i'm going to pull out the victor in this battle... because basically, free should be worth more points. and in the housing cooperative in which i live, there is a pile of stuff located in the commons area conveniently called "the free pile." a few days ago i found this umbrella in the free pile. i also got a haircut, which was, ahem, free.

something to celebrate

2008-10-06T08:06:00.000-07:00

This is Sid, a 26-year-old Iraq war veteran who has served three tours. The most recent tour he volunteered to take the place of his close friend, who was expecting a child. Here, he greets his mother, Tammy, who threw a welcome home party for him at the VFW. Sid is now serving in Abilene, Texas, where my good friend Skyler served in the Air Force for several years. When Sid walked in the reception area, he gave out hugs and handshakes while working his way over to his mother and father. He walked right up to me and shook my hand. "Welcome back," is about all I could say while shaking his hand and looking him in the eye. I could have been anyone and he certainly didn't know me. But here I was, mixed in with his family, many of whom were seeing this man for the first time in years.

Welcome back, Sid.

Angie

2008-10-02T13:08:00.001-07:00

It's been a strange 10 days but I know my time at the Missouri Photo Workshop changed my life in ways I won't even realize for some time to come. I do know it has changed, or better yet, reaffirmed some of my beliefs about documentary photography. This belief being that, while pure storytelling images are important, another route to reach people exists. And this is poetry, or mood. This is the ability to reach people through the feeling of a photograph, rather than the tangible objects or people shown in the photograph. I'm not saying this story is a success in that realm... but I think the time I spent in St. James, with Angie, Eugene, Danny, Rita, Liz and others will prove as a road to deeper thinking and storytelling.

These 10 images are the end result of seven days of nonstop overstimulation, coffee, waking up early, talking, listening and more listening.

I met Angie on a whim after following a string of leads the first day of story hunting. I was driving a few miles east of St. James to a ranch to follow a lead about a mother and daughter who started a horse stables together. On the way out I saw Angie and Eugene's grape stand and clocked it away in the back of my mind. After meeting the stable owners and photographing for a short time I knew my heart wasn't in their story. They had a nice story but it just wasn't for me. On the way back by chance I didn't take the highway, but a small side road which runs along side highway 44. I passed by the grape stand a second time but this time something clicked and I pulled a u-turn and went back. After receiving a nasty look from a semi driver who almost broadsided me I walked up to Angie who was selling grapes and introduced myself. From that moment on I knew I wanted to photograph her. She exuded life, from her talkative attitude right down to her grape-stained fingernails and tanned skin. For about an hour I sat and listened to her story. At 81-years-old she runs a 3 acre vineyard by herself. Her husband, Eugene, can no longer help much because his kidneys are failing. The vineyard has been in her family since the 1920's, which was planted by her parents, who both immigrated to the states from Italy.

It really was the American dream fading away right in front of me. Yet, she was upbeat. She had a mission. And for five days she and Eugene let me into their lives and allowed me to photograph them. I am grateful to have met them. I hope they find suitable owners for the vineyard once it comes time to sell.

On the last day of the workshop I stopped by her grape stand for the last time. It was mid afternoon and I had just come from the gallery, which showcased the 40 photographers work on 20 inch prints. For most photographers there were a few extra prints which had small errors or didn't make the final edit. Those we were allowed to take. When I went to grab the prints to take to Angie who sat under the green canopy next to her stand, one print broke my heart. It was the 9th frame in this post, where she stood defiant over her grapes. I suddenly didn't want to give it to her. I aspire to be as strong as the person in that photograph. And I knew then I needed to give it to her, so I did. And said my goodbyes.

endless

2008-09-30T22:10:00.000-07:00

or so it seems while laying on my back on the sandy concrete. fish splash in the cooling lake as autumn takes its first bite out of our summer. i see one shooting star fly by, so close, no need for another.

decompression

2008-09-30T01:56:00.000-07:00

sitting around the house last night, relaxing a bit.. i've been on such an edge the past week having down time is strange

find of the day: Hello McFly

2008-09-26T11:11:00.000-07:00

Okay so I was a bad kid today and snuck into the St. James thrift store... I couldn't resist. I scored this orange vest and a badass brown, pinstriped blazer for a grand total of $2. Today was a slow day, I swear. It wasn't like I was supposed to be shooting. At least now I have something remotely presentable to wear tomorrow for the gallery show.

Now I'm going to take a few minutes to nap under a tree before jumping into about 12 hours of editing.

Getting out there

2008-09-25T12:37:00.000-07:00

I had some down time today as my subjects were out of town for the morning and I'm trying to give them a little space. Danny saw that I wasn't shooting and sent me back out to make features for Saturday's gallery. Now I'm headed back out to the vineyard to continue working on my story... hopefully will get into Angie and Eugene's house in the morning for a final few hours of shooting before the noon deadline on Friday. The nerves are starting to rise yet again as I don't have the level of intimacy in my pictures I want to have and believe that this married couple shares.

Sun...rise?

2008-09-24T15:37:00.001-07:00

It's a very strange phenomenon but I've witnessed actual sunrises while working here too, like, everyday.

Sleep is a daydream I have between making photographs.

Intensely

2008-09-24T14:50:00.001-07:00

chaotic. Stressful. Tired. Whatever.

That past few days have been so intense. I arrived Sunday afternoon in St. James, Missouri for the 60th Missouri Photo Workshop. The workshop premise is that participants converge on one small town in Missouri, this year it's St. James, to rake through the town, find a photo story to pursue, and then make it happen. All in about four days, if you're lucky.

I was lucky and my editors Rita Reed and Danny Wilcox Frazier accepted my proposal and my first couple days of shooting went well. But last night I ran into some problems when my subject got spooked by having me around so much. But after hours of talking and thinking, being consulted by my mentors, I met back up with my subject, Angie, and her husband, Eugene, spoke with them honestly about why I want to be in their lives and why it's important. I also brought them a couple prints to help show what I'm actually doing.

Final day of shooting is Friday morning and cards are due by noon. Then the workshop is capped off by a gallery of all 40 photographers stories on display at a school in town, and I'm guessing there might be a party afterwards... just maybe.

I'll post the story when it's finished. But until then here are some singles from the first morning of beating around town looking for something intriguing.

Jack

2008-09-17T21:25:00.000-07:00

I had the pleasure today of meeting a hero. This is Jack. He's 88 and navigated B-17 bombers in World War II. After sitting and listening to him tell stories about WWII, Korea and Vietnam, he showed me pictures of damaged bombers. Planes that were hit by shrapnel, showing gaping holes and missing wings that somehow made it back to the Allied base. He told me how his crew would watch out their windows during bombing raids to count parachutes of neighboring planes that were crashing to record how many soldiers survived the initial attack. It sent chills down my spine. I can't imagine being on either side of the fight in World War II. On Friday Jack will be the keynote speaker at the VFW recognition of POWs - MIAs.

tornado damage

2008-09-13T18:41:00.001-07:00

a little football fo ya

2008-09-11T08:06:00.000-07:00

Some KU action and a prep hit, the third is Memorial Stadium on a record-breaking attendance night.

some changes

2008-09-02T22:26:00.001-07:00

-- words haven't been coming lately. I'm not sure why they come when they do, or if it matters but I feel like I should be making an effort to write... something. Again, not sure why but yesterday I canceled my membership to APhotoADay... or put it on hold rather. For the past two years APAD has been my lifeline to feedback and inspiration.. never more so than when I was in Craig... But, I want to make some changes in my day to day life about what images I'm looking at for inspiration and how many. And why even. Why am I looking at the images I'm looking at? Maybe looking at fewer but a varied flavor... I plan to branch out to study different types of contemporary photography, mixed media.. any facet of photography that can be molded or blended into a reportage or documentary-type manner.

please, if you have any know of any fresh media websites, blogs or publications do post them. and likewise, I'll probably be passing along whatever i'm looking at for inspiration.

a partially sunny hallway

2008-09-02T22:02:00.000-07:00

with a slight chance of nudity, a plume of cigarette smoke and lazy tunes on the stereo as body parts cram into a hallway, tight with anticipation of fall and frowning falling leaves, broken hearts and high ambitions... daydreaming about the present as we ceiling gaze

2008-08-29T19:23:00.000-07:00

BuskerFest

2008-08-26T18:52:00.000-07:00

Boredom

2008-08-22T09:48:00.000-07:00

A flatmate entertaining herself on a Etch-A-Sketch at my housing cooperative, the Sunflower House.