photogeek23

Danger is my Middle Name.

Exploring, Finding Solutions, Industrial Photography, Jersey City

This afternoon while walking on a stretch of Route 9 highway. I had a straight up “Stand By Me” moment. You know, the moment where they’re walking on the train tracks and come upon the bridge. Well, in my case it wasn’t train tracks or the fear of an oncoming train bearing down on me. As I passed the cemetery gates and the overpass looking down on the train yard. I suddenly came to a dead end. The rocky, gravely road I had been walking on for miles ceased to exist at what seemed like the final leg of my journey home.

Stopped in my tracks. I looked at my limited options. Already bloodied and still bleeding from a fall about a half mile back. I wiped my sun beaten brow and began to contemplate my narrow choices. Option 1; Walk just a matter of feet (Maybe a hundred or so) on the shoulder of a very busy shoulder of the road that turned onto 9 South and the Pulaski Bridge and proceed to what is known as “The Circle of Death. Option 2; Walk back about a half mile and cross at the next available signal. Having recently watched as car after car mindlessly broke for the shoulder (unfortunately for them, towards a tragic accident and in to the waiting sirens or the local police.) and how dangerous that spot tends to be. I began limping back towards the traffic light in the not so close distance. As I limped towards my destination I spotted a small break in the concrete medium and waited for my chance to bolt towards it. Lucky for me, I made it across without being hit or causing any collisions. Before long I was home wiping the blood from my leg. If there’s anything to be learned from my experience. It would be to dress appropriately. Sandals and shorts are not recommended when walking the highways or exploring local junkyard’s or industrial complexes. Two, take the high road. Life is too precious to have it end foolishly.

Documenting My Travels. Part II

Documentary, Editorial, Jersey City, Street Photography

As a certified old curmudgeon. I admittedly have a big fat stack of pet peeves. You know, those little things that get under your skin, torture your soul and make you want to shout out loud. “Get off my fucking planet.” Well, when it comes to pet peeves, eating on the train is pretty high up on the list. While public displays of gluttony and disobeying basic rules while thumbing your nose (and any boogers that might be clogging up your senses) at common sense principles might be traits some folks look for in their future soulmate. Personally, I find it disgusting. It’s something I witness on a daily basis. Something that goes beyond and race, regional, social or economic boundaries. People literally eating amongst disease carrying rats. Yuck! Okay, I know my rant won’t change a thing, but it might inspire my “Humans of New York” inspired coffee table book “Don’t eat where others shit.” Todays morning ride featured this very attractive rider who, before ripping in to her noodle salad, managed to down an entire hoagie without getting any mayonnaise stains on her blouse. My guesstimate is, she dines here regularly. I’m just glad she didn’t notice the sign before she sat down.

Karma and it’s Wonderful Chemicals

Anger Management, Drunken Buffoon, Humor

As we left the exhibition last night and began walking up the ramp towards Senate St. we slowed our pace to distance ourselves from the rather loud and obnoxious tie dyed fool just ahead of us. Knowing full well that someone wearing a Grateful Dead shirt is most likely not used to making good lifestyle choices and could go off on a Cherry Garcia rage at any moment. We brought our pace to a full “Let’s just stand here and watch the sunset.

Passing our local and somewhat private community park. We noticed the same man flicking his cigarette as he rolled around in the grass. While I was initially angered by his antics. I was quickly reminded of the wonderful thing we call Karma when we recalled an earlier notice that the entire park was sprayed with enough pesticide to kill a small child, dog or hippie. I couldn’t help but rejoice in devilish laughter. “That’s Karma your rollin’ in.” Just wait, it’ll happen.

You’s Got to Chill

Anger Management, Just Chill

While today started off on a positive note. It quickly went straight into the crapper due to a friends lateness causing me to keep a shoot waiting. A half ass job by the photo lab that wasn’t caught until I was already home and a maintenance requests that has still gone unfulfilled. It was as if I was in a steamer all day. One disappointment followed the other like a pack of raging dominos. I could have gone to the gym to let off some steam, but for whatever reason I just bathed in anger.

That’s when my wife came home. When she asked me how my day was. I decided I wasn’t going to let that negativity spread any further. I laughed about my mishaps and mentioned the little positives about the day without ever mentioning the jerk I had turned in to due to things I had no control over. It seems as if I need a constant reminder about how being pissed off all the time is never a good way to spend your time. I could have called that friend to tell him my window for waiting was quickly closing and I had other places to be. I could have rejoiced at the great job the lab did on my poster print. I could have just accepted the fact that the staff get’s busy here and getting up on a ladder to change bulbs in a loft is not always the priority of the day. I chose not to and I paid by losing an entire day to a wasted emotion. Lesson learned? I hope so. Until the next meltdown. Cheers.

It Matters, You Should Care.

Documentary, Editorial, Graffiti, Street Photography

I was on the way to the Film Forum in the west village when I came across this simple, yet powerful statement someone had spray painted on the wall. While I’ve made it a habit to carry my camera with me at all times. However, with my sole purpose of heading in to the city for a flick with some friends. It seemed less than necessary. With my iPhone 6 being my only option. I snapped this and quickly continued my walk to the theatre. While I’m not one to usually support public vandalism. The message itself felt important, vital and timely. My message here, if any, is to document your surroundings, your travels and your experiences. They’ll change over time. That snapshot might come in handy one day.

Painting with Words

Finding Solutions, Happiness, Philosophy

Last week I had a representative from a local painting company over to get an estimate on our loft foyer area. In the hour or so he was here, we went over ideas about color schemes, wallpaper removal and the stripping of a concrete column located at the left end of the room. It was apparent that the company had worked in the building in the past. As he began to leave, he asked curiously about the extensive damage in the lobby and common areas. I took my time explaining how the pipes had frozen causing a flood while putting the building on an all day fire alert. I told him about the alarm and sirens that wailed for hours and how the inescapable flashing lights in the loft and hallways triggered my first seizure in years. He stood there in a frozen state, captured by my story, asking questions along the way. I had no intention of keeping him longer than I had. Nor did I have any motive in sharing my history with seizures. It wasn’t until he told me about his beautiful sister’s long history with grand mal seizures and depression that I did. He told me how witnessing his sisters seizures unfold as a young teen terrified him. How, to this day, those memories still haunt him.

I shared my experiences with him on how I eventually got off the medication roller coaster after years of them adding miserable side effects to my somewhat manageable seizures. Taking more holistic path with diet and more spiritual approaches such as meditation. How both doctors and my own family were less than supportive of my choice. And ultimately, how I went from having three to five seizures a week to about a half dozen in the twenty years since.

As for depression, while I have yet to find any cure (Believe me, I’m no rocket scientist.) I told him that, in my own experience. Knowing that you are not, in any way, alone is key. It’s also important to understand that, no matter how I might feel at the moment. I’m always able to convince myself that I will most likely feel a lot better in a few hours, days or weeks later. My regiment depends on staying busy and creative whenever possible. Fresh air and even the most brief exchanges can change the course of a day. The smile on his face said it all and I think the amount of time he spent lingering in my doorway was more than enough evidence that even the smallest exchanges can change someone’s outlook on things. In closing, I can’t emphasize enough how important it is to share our experiences and history with one another. We are all connected to one another on one level or another. Large or small, every word we speak can go a long way while carrying a heavy load.

A Slice of Philly

Happiness, Philadelphia, Street Photography

When my wife asked me what I was in the mood for. I knew I had to think quick on my feet. Being that we had such a long winter. I’ve been continuously biting at the idea of getting out of my every day, break from the norm and put the pedal to the metal. All cliques aside. I’ve just grown tired of the weekly trips to Costco, Trader Joe’s and other places that magically turn “Getting Milk” a five hour endeavor. Quickly, I blurted out “Philly” “Pizza in Philly”. Knowing it was getting late in the morning and my wive’s strange, yet ritualistic battle cry “Isn’t it a little late to drive that far?” I scrambled for a list of the best pizza in Philly on my phone while demanding action. After stopping at RT. 9’s Wonder Bagels we were south bound and with a little luck and 80 + miles per hour speed, we arrived in the city of brotherly love. Knowing full well that the term is pure bullshit we went hard on our destination and arrived just as lunch was starting to brew. As we sat down at Slice’s

South Street location located near the heart of the famous Italian Market our eyes widened as our mouth watered in anticipation. With our belly’s still satisfied by the egg and cheese bagels we feasted on during the trip.
We decided to each order a slice as opposed to gorging on an entire pie. To say that “SLICE” delivered the best slice I’ve had since my Hell’s Kitchen days (93-2001) would be an understatement. From the first bite to the last I found myself plotting my next trip. Fresh ingredients, delicious sauce and a distinctly crispy crust that would satisfy the most misshapen pizza snob. Add to that, a friendly server who went out of his way to not make us feel like annoying tourists. From there we walked the walk. Enjoying the Italian Market, South Street and Phillly’s Chinatown. While Philadelphia will never be my favorite destination on the map. It’s close, offers a ton of things and even if you don’t manage to grope a cheesesteak. You can still make it home claiming victory and good time had.

Extra’s From This Weekend’s Trip to Philly

Exploring, Philadelphia, Street Photography

In years past each of my trips to the city of Philadelphia involved a number of defined moments and fulfilling ‘must do’ lists. Tony Luke’s Cheesesteaks, Pat’s King of Steaks, Gino’s Steaks and The Reading Market. With one particular trip fondly named “The Great Cheesesteak Chase”, where me managed to chow down at each of the three cheesesteak landmarks in one fateful day. All great memories considering the amount of consumption and downright gluttony involved. Becoming a vegetarian some years back served as a change of plans as well as destination.

While I sometimes miss the idea of wrapping my hands around a juicy steak and cheese with flavorful onions. Passing up these long time favorites has allowed me the opportunity to spend that time exploring in order to take home a few worth while images. Not having a belly full of meat to weigh me down has inspired me to walk more and perhaps walk the lesser travelled streets in search of an eye catching image to put on my wall or share on my blog.

I do my best not to block the sidewalk, be intrusive or act like a clueless, self involved tourist. Photographing the things that draw my eye as well as my imagination. Cautiously recalling my last predawn trip to Philly’s Chinatown when, while photographing the alleyways of the area. I was greeted by a naked Chinese man having a smoke in one of the doorways. My goal being to document my travels without turning each one into a documentary. Ultimately, a person can often learn a lot about where he’s going when he can look back where he’s been.

Sculpture Day at Jersey City’s Mana Contemporary.

Art Exhibition, Group Exhibition, Jersey City Arts, Opening Reception, Sculpture

This past Friday I had the pleasure of attending the opening of Sculpture Day at Jersey City’s home of the arts Mana Contemporary. Since moving in next door in August I’ve had the pleasure of visiting numerous times. Most notably, the Open Studio Tour and this particular opening. While I’ve been a part of many shows and exhibits as a photographer. Art has always had a way of leaving me both speechless and humbled. Being able to see how someone else interprets art and beauty is one of life’s greatest gifts. Listening intently while holding back your own words and endless array of questions while an artist describes his or her art and the things that make them so passionate about taking that emotion out for a creative walk is what I’d consider a life skill.

As I entered the building and observed some of the sculptures. I was greeted by Carole A. Feuerman. I was asked “Are you the photographer?” before being ushered on to the elevator and towards her 4th floor studio. Her work, as well as the work of other artists were breathtaking and real. Along the way, I made friends with a fellow photographer who shared the same given names as well as interests. I really appreciated Carole’s energy, warmth and courtesy. I broached the idea of doing an interview with her for this blog when she returned from Italy. She seemed open to the idea, but I won’t push the issue. I can’t begin to describe the benefits of having such an abundant amount of energy and creativity thriving right next door to me. It’s a constant inspiration, as well as a reminder to stay creative and live an artful life.In the end art is community and community is art. Plant the seeds and let it grow.

http://www.manafinearts.com/

Back to the Beach

Editorial, Family, Finding your Zen

This Saturday April 18th marked a celebratory return to the beach for my family and me. It also marked one of the first times since I was a child that I walked the shores with my Father. While there were childhood trips to the Vegas Strip and post teen jaunts to Lake George. The beach is something my Dad and I rarely shared. However, on this particular Saturday a visit to my Dad’s new home in Toms River included a trip to the nearby shore os Sunset Heights. In those hours we had our share talked, walked and bonded over things both old and new.

It wasn’t until the ride back to Toms River when my Dad asked “Do you remember when we used to go to the beach with Jack?” “Yeah!” I replied excitedly. As deeply receded as that memory might have been. It came back to me so quickly that I could recreate an image crisper than a new pair of Martha Stewart bed sheets. By now, if you’re actually still reading this. You might be asking yourself who or what was Jack? Jack, for lack of my father’s imagination when naming people, places or animals was our first dog and only pet in our family history with any staying power. A beautiful and independent spirit. Jack was a very rare breed, being a saluki. Saluki’s were know as a Persian Greyhound or Royal dog of Egypt. Jack, much like his greyhound cousin could race at speeds up to around fifty miles an hour. Letting Jack off the leash in a park, lot or beach was like an event. To watch him stretch out as he raced gracefully from point A to point B was something that I wish everyone could experience daily, if not but JimII once in their life. Trying to get him to return or get him back on the leash was something I would only wish on my worst enemy. As we returned to my Father’s place. He revealed the secret of his success in getting Jack back on the leash and back into the car. While I’ve seen many a greyhound and whippet since. The Saluki, just like Jack himself has yet to be spotted since. My guess is he’s still running along the shore somewhere. And while my trips to the shore will certainly become more and more common in the coming weeks and months. A memory as deeply recited as this one is a sure rarity.