As someone who’s always been in love with photography. I often find myself enamored with the styles and techniques I myself have yet to learn. With long exposures and night photography being a long time personal inspiration of mine. I felt extremely thankful when a friend and fellow photographer shared some easily applicable information with me. Being one who tends to crave the company of others as well as subjects to photograph. Time has taught me that time alone, solitude and the peace it often provides offer me more time to learn and grow. Something that almost immediately presents itself when working with long exposures Having only experimented with the concept on occasion over the last couple of weeks. I quickly realized the therapeutic rewards of these rare moments. As I stood there. The only time I really felt the least bit uneasy was when friendly neighbors stopped for a moment to say hello or if you’d believe it, to talk shop about gear. That hour or so where it was just me, my Canon 5D Mark III and my tripod was all the meditation one could ask for.
Journal Square is, by far, the strangest area I’ve ever lived in. Just within reach of my own home. Neighbors let trash sit in their yards for months at a time. Homeowners who never bother to take a broom to their sidewalks or curbs. At times, the streets smell like a stable of horses with a bad case of diarrhea are running amok on Tonnelle and Newark Ave.. And while this element of shame is luckily confined to a small area. It’s still eludes any connection to common sense. So when I came across a front yard that still had it’s Christmas decorations displayed in June. It made me smile, thinking “At least it’s not a fucking toilet.” Merry Christmas Journal Square.
It was a beautiful Sunday. So my wife and I decided to get out early and head to Manhattan for some vegetarian Dim Sum. It was the first 60 degree day we’ve experienced in what’s felt like years and there was no way it was going to be misspent. Our usual walk to the Journal Square PATH train involves my complaining about how the neighboring homes take little to no effort to maintain their homes or follow even the most basic sanitation standards. (Par for the course when you’re an old curmudgeon like me.) As we turned the corner on to Newark Ave. We both lamented the fact that it had been so long since we took advantage of the areas bountiful Indian cuisine. Promising, “This Summer we’ll sample each and every one of restaurants offered to us.” As the long, punishing and somewhat endless Winter has finally shown signs of old age. Seeing colors, anything not gray for that matter, seems promising. So when I saw this display adorning one of the local restaurants. I knew I had to stop and document it. Like Alexander Pope said, “Hope Springs Eternal.”