The Golden Hour

I had the opportunity to photograph Secretary of Education Arne Duncan for Australian Financial Review. They ran the picture on the left to go with a column called "Front of Mind." It's a beautiful magazine and the picture looked great in it. It was a fun, quick shoot and Secretary Duncan was a great sport about running all over the post-apocalyptic-looking sunken courtyard outside the Dept. of Education.

Ladies and Gentlemen , I am pleased to introduce Avow Weddings.*

Colleague Robert Caplin and I have joined forces to create the ultimate wedding photography tag-team. You can read all about us and Avow on the website and check out the Avow blog to keep up with our jet-set lives of documenting true love in all its forms. Go team Avow!

*The lovely and talented Laia Prats designed our website and blog and logo and everything else.

We had what I hope was our last snow day in New York City. I walked part-way across the Manhattan Bridge and saw this from above. Everything looks better from the heavens. I envy the birds and their views.

I've been shooting a lot of portraits lately. Here's another batch from a shoot with DC-based author Peter Manseau. He was generous with his time and he had a lovely family and home. It was a pleasure of a shoot during which I depended solely upon the natural light of a winter morning in Washington D.C.

Peter gave me a copy of his new book Songs for the Butcher's Daughter which I'm reading right now. It's quite good and each time I pick it up I get lost in another world for a while. That's quite the mark of a good story, no?

I had the pleasure of photographing Steven Van Zandt for the Guardian of London the other week. You may remember him from HBO's The Sopranos as Silvio, owner of the Bada Bing. If there are any Springsteen fans in the house, you'll know him as Little Steven or Miami Steve from the E Street Band. Here are a few of my favorites from the shoot.




Good times.

Pete Kiehart and I went on a Presidents' Day photo safari to Fort Tilden in Rockaway at the end of the A line. It was a long haul to a mysterious land of abandoned spaces, ocean and sand dunes. The Fort itself was decommissioned in the 1970s, but served for a long time as a vital component in the defense of the East coast.

You might be expecting pictures of all the neat empty spaces and lonely beaches, but I kept finding that the addition of a person improved these pictures quite a bit. Since Pete was the only person around most of the time we were out there, he stood in for what was essentially a big location scouting trip for future portrait sessions.

Pete riding a tree.

Pete in front of some sweet graffiti.

Pete in an abandoned warehouse.

Pete waiting for the bus to take us home to civilization.

Civilization.

The title of the post is Fort Tilden Part 1 because I also shot some film for pretty much the first time ever. Pete decided I wasn't a proper photographer unless I had a film camera so he got me a Holga for Christmas. I took a few frames and if they turned out alright, there will be a part two.

I'd slept in my new Chinatown apartment for the first time Saturday night and found the mattress to be sub-par. I awoke to aches in places I didn't know I had.
Fast forward to the afternoon. I had planned to meet my friend Travis for Dim Sum, but seeing as it was the actual lunar new year with large parade and large crowds, dim sum was out of the question. The lines were hours long. We walked into the neighborhood a bit and I suggested a place I'd seen from a cab. With a name like Good Dumpling House, how could we possibly go wrong?
For starters, there was this gem of a menu:I think that cartoon man is about to do horrible things to that chicken.

We left with full bellies, but not from ordering the house special. Walking leisurely through Chinatown, we ran into the tail end of the parade where I saw this lovely lady:
Travis left to go bake some bread (lamest excuse to ditch out on a day ever, bro) and I continued my walk and saw some nice afternoon light.
All in all, a lovely day full of lovely people. I love my neighborhood.

I was walking through Grand Central the other night and was pleasantly surprised to see an international squash tournament taking place off to the side of the main terminal.
I came back the next night to try my hand at shooting it. The PR folks were very nice and accommodating. Really, I find that all I have to do is ask politely.
The game is fast. So fast that I was having a hard time getting my timing down and I couldn't get a ball-on racket shot for the life of me. It's a good thing that's not what I was going for.

This is Gregory Gaultier of France in the quarterfinals of the J.P. Morgan Tournament of Champions. He won this match. He also won the 2007 British Open.

I wandered down to Chinatown yesterday with a strong craving for soup dumplings. Awesomely, I walked right into some New Year celebrations. I'm a sucker for feature photos of cute kids and people having a good time. It's really important for me to remember this is what life is about and I have to balance the bleakness with the joy.
I've noticed a certain aesthetic when it comes to "highbrow, serious" photojournalism. There's so much darkness and pain and if you look at any of the major photojournalism contest winners in a given year, that's all they show. It's almost as if nothing good happened that year. Nobody had a good time, nobody smiled, nobody loved.
Don't get me wrong. I know how important it is to remind folks that there is suffering and pain and disaster- but that's not all there is. Not by a long shot. I'll continue to shoot pictures of smiles and love and happiness. God forbid I forget how good life can be when I'm faced with the suck.

This kid got a face full of cotton candy.

This little dragon was roaming the streets, terrifying the locals.

Many of the local vendors were selling confetti tubes. You twisted them and they exploded into joy.
From what I can gather, silly string is an essential part of Chinese New Year festivities.

This guy got nailed in the head with street confetti. He took it in stride. It reminded me a little of Fiesta in Santa Barbara. People go around with eggs full of confetti and smash them on your head. Good times.New Year baby for sale.

I've relocated to New York City for the next three months to work on some projects. I love this city. I love the nights most of all.
My good friend Kevin moonlights as a producer of rather interesting parties. He threw a cotillion themed party Friday night with men in seersucker suits, a dixieland band and lady acrobats. It was lovely.

Expect frequent updates now that I'm here. I'm thinking every other day is a good goal. I take my camera with me every time I leave the house, so I'm always shooting and there's always something interesting to shoot.

Even though I went into it kicking and screaming, I had the great privilege to photograph the crowds on the National Mall during Barack Obama's Inauguration. I was up for 25 hours straight, and was outside in sub-freezing temperatures for 12 of those hours without a break. I sat down twice in those twelve hours for about 2 minutes each time. I walked probably about 10 miles and took over 1700 photos which I had to go through as soon as I got home so I could caption them and send them off to where they needed to go. The next morning as I write this, I felt like I'd been run over by an eighteen wheeler. Was it worth it? Check out the slideshow and you be the judge. If you want to view the pictures in thumbnail form, just click the x in the top right. Big thanks to Rapport for making me go out there, my brother who works for the Red Cross and told me how to dress to keep warm, and all the photographers whom I ran into on the Mall- y'all are good company. Biggest thanks goes to the crowd and some of the amazing people I met who had incredible stories to share and reminded me how much I love my country.

Exterminator: Hello, you've reached Beverly Hills Pest Control, how may we help you?

Beverly Hills Housewife: Yes, um... I have.... a problem. There seem to be... short men in red suits with long white beards... they're congregating behind our hedgerow. They're quite menacing. I'm not sure what to do.

Exterminator: Sounds like you have a Santa Claus infestation, ma'am. They're pretty common this time of year. We'll be right out. It's important you don't go near them in the meantime. They're surly and may bite.

Beverly Hills Housewife: My goodness! Please hurry! They're ever so unsightly and the neighbors will talk.

Exterminator: We're on our way!

I continue to be in California. This is the view from my friend Andrew's apartment in Los Angeles. It's all symmetry and crosswalks and carscapes.
Downtown LA is evolving into something wonderful. My friend used it as an example of revitalization and development in the face of hard economic times. I see it as another sign of suburban entropy. It's not like the neighborhoods of LA's bedroom communities aren't dotted with homes with foreclosure notices on the door and dead lawns.
In the face of suburban decay, oddly enough, there is urban renewal. Many of Europe's cities provide a good example of thriving inner city surrounded by suburban hellholes. High density living is just more sustainable and I'm certain we'll continue to see a trend toward urbanization.

The suburbs are dead. Long live the city.

Somewhere between love and hate, order and chaos, sanity and madness, the United States and Mexico- lies a thin line.
It maintains the dichotomies, but it is surely one of the most tempting forces known to man. It's right up there with the Red Button. It is the border.

I visited this line in the sand today. Most international borders are invisible, but we've put a skirt along America's southern bits. There is a physical fence designed to deter those desiring to travel to better circumstances.

I visited its westernmost incarnation which used to extend well out into the water, but time and tide saw fit to break it down. Mexicans can dance to and fro, taunting the border patrol on the hill above as they cartwheel along the sand onto another nation's sovereign territory.

I watched this couple as they slowly made their way to the line of demarcation, stopping to touch the pillars and then walking beyond into the sea.

I figured it was time for a photo update of my Niece. The last time I posted pictures of her, she was much smaller and far less cute. She's turned into a beautiful baby and at 11 months, she's started walking and babbling. This makes her more fun to hang out with than anyone else I know. Almost makes me want one of my own. Almost.

Well, folks- American democracy worked beautifully the other day and we had another bloodless coup. It's a truly magical thing to see the electorate turn out to exercise their ultimate right as citizens. The election of Barack Obama is a wonderful, historic milestone in the nation's evolution. I'm sure the founding fathers are nodding approvingly in their graves.

The picture above was from a stakeout at Obama's office in the Hart building before he was scheduled to fly into DC to vote on the bailout bill.

I waited patiently for 3 hours only to have him sneak in the back way. His office is on the 7th floor, but he can get in through the 8th floor and chose to do so that day. When some other photographers and I realized the elevator wasn't stopping at 7, we sprinted up the stairs. We arrived on the landing to see Obama was already ahead of us so we sprinted ahead. I was trying not to run into anyone, so I was pretty much shooting from the hip while I ran, praying I'd get something usable. Obama turns to me and with a huge smile on his face says "What are you doing? Are you shooting pictures of my torso or something?"

He came out the same way, but this time I was ready and I was the only photographer there. He smiled, walked straight toward me, and with a serious expression, reached out and grabbed the front of my camera and gave it a good shake. "You're killing me, Senator!" I said, and he laughed and I laughed, and we all laughed.

This was the picture I shot of him as he reached for my camera. Nothing is in focus and there's nothing good about the picture, technically but I get a good feeling from it. Fundamentally, I think the best pictures aren't about technical perfection, but about visceral reactions. Obama elicits visceral reactions of all types from all sorts of people. He photographs well. The next four years will be interesting to watch unfold. Don't think for a moment though that I think the press should cut him any slack, though. He needs to be held just as accountable as any leader. I hope to do my part and document this interesting new presidency.

My week in the Twin Cities was all work and no play. I didn't get to bed most nights before 4 a.m. because I had to select, tone, caption and transmit so many photos. I was credentialed for the Republican National Convention, so instead of being outside with all the zany protesters, I was inside rubbing elbows with Republican bigwigs. The protests were a lot more exciting at the RNC, but I'd been burned out on them in Denver, so I was happy to stay inside and avoid the teargas, mace, and concussion bombs.

McCain makes an entrance on the final night. Surprisingly, he accepted the nomination. I thought he was going to pass it off to Palin.

Governor Sarah Palin peers out into the abyss with this look of wonder. It's kind of beautifully child-like. It reminds me of when the goonies first see the pirate ship. She's seeing the pirate ship.
Lady McCain watches the proceedings from the VIP area.

Fred Thompson's tie is dwarfed by a much larger, redder tie.

Sen. Joe Lieberman continues to bewilder folks on both sides of the aisle. I love this picture because every time I see it, I hear him making a funny sound in my head.

I got real up close and personal with Turd Blossom, aka Karl Rove. He was wandering the floor like a rockstar. An aging rockstar with old-lady groupies.
This delegate from Missouri is Abraham Lincoln incarnate- if Lincoln came back with totally unrecognizable politics.

This is John McCain waving to the crowd. He can only lift his arms as high as you see in this picture due to injuries sustained while a POW. I actually feel for him a little. I took my shoulders for granted my whole life until I tore my rotator cuff and couldn't lift my arm any higher than John McCain's. It was terrible.

This was my first balloon drop. I count it in the top ten tactile experiences of my life. If I had to pick a way to die, being smothered by tens of thousands of balloons would be ok with me.
The Republicans have fancy confetti. I took some home.

It's been over a month since my last post. I really must make some attempt to remain consistent. At least I'm remaining chronological. Here are some scenes from the Democratic National Convention. I covered it from the streets and was surprised at the vitriol of some of the protests in the face of the unity message the Democratic party is currently preaching. Of course, the protesters reserved their strongest words for the RNC, but that's another post. It was my first trip to Denver and I stayed with some lovely people, ate lovely food, drank lovely microbrews and had an all around good time.

The state of the Constitution.

One of the louder protesters in Denver. There was a group called "Recreate '68" because violence is swell and all.

Mounted police protected the Denver Mint during a protest with the specific intent to levitate the mint through meditation and positive thoughts to shake all the money out. If only it had worked... Darn mounted police.
More protesters.
Anarchists don't like their picture taken. They're against the two party system, but they don't offer any alternatives... probably because they're anarchists.

Lots of graffiti and anti-authority ugliness. The cops were, for the most part, surprisingly chill.

This was the scene at the entrance to the Pepsi Center where the DNC festivities took place. Rage Against the Machine played a show earlier that day and 8,000 people marched the 3 or 4 miles from the Denver Coliseum to this spot. The cops were outnumbered, but did look intimidating as hell. Tensions were high and I later learned that we were herded into a canyon of sorts (dead end with high walls- no way out) where we were to be gassed. The order was rescinded at the last minute, but I was pretty angry since the police led the peaceful protest into the canyon and the first casualties would have been every member of the press that had been keeping ahead of the group, including yours truly. The situation diffused after a member of Obama's crew agreed to meet with a liaison from the anti-war group Iraq Veterans Against the War, who wanted to air some grievances and deliver a letter. If the campaign had not agreed to meet with them, a shit storm of epic proportions would have ensued. These were my favorite people all week. Two adorable sisters begging with all their hearts for tickets to see Obama at Invesco Field. I don't think they got in. People were scalping the tickets for megabucks.I shot a watch party in downtown Denver.

The Youth of America turned out to watch Obama's acceptance speech.

Right after I got home from Grandfather Mountain, I got a phone call from the Red Cross asking me if I could head down to Florida to shoot Tropical Storm Fay. I'm not one to turn down travel, so I spent the day packing and was on a flight out that evening. The storm hit Florida 4 times and it was the soggiest week of my life.

The primary damage was from flooding. Crazy people like this guy and me attempted to drive through the flooded roads. I do not recommend this.

I have another picture to add to my "Mailbox Disasters of America" series.

This resident of one of the most severely flooded areas in the state watched us go by as we passed in what I can only describe as a monster truck-boat.

This is a parking lot at Target. They blocked off a flooded area with shopping carts. It was strangely beautiful.

This dummy decided to play in the floodwaters. Floodwaters in Florida mean gators, snakes and sewage. It made for a good picture, though.

There was some tornado damage at, you guessed it, a trailer park. There are actually scientists studying why tornadoes tend to hit trailer parks more than anything else. Something about negative ions...
This was my favorite couple from one of the Red Cross shelters. They were newlyweds who were flooded out of their home. They met on the internet.

I've been seriously neglecting this blog, so sorry to all my adoring fans. All two of you.

The past month was pretty intense. I went from North Carolina to Florida to Colorado to Minnesota to DC to New York and I'm just catching my breath now. I'll make separate blog posts for each stop, starting with North Carolina.

I was asked by my favorite boss of all time, the Macon Telegraph's Woody Marshall, to speak at the Grandfather Mountain Camera Clinic. I was honored to accept and I drove down to NC's mountainous west for a weekend of camera talk.

At the end of the first day, we drove to the top of Grandfather mountain to shoot the sunset. The mountain, which is privately owned, is the tallest peak in the entire Appalachian chain. The view was lovely, but I, being the voyeur that I am, got more of a kick out of the other photographers shooting the sunset.