my "backyard"

Here are a few photos I took during a free moment today in the courtyard behind my dormitory. The images are of small flower and vegetable garden tended by group of children, followed by a fall foliage shot taken in Morningside Park.

ode to autumn

cannon mountain in autumn

Ode to Autumn (third stanza)

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, -
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing, and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

John Keats, 1819


franconia notch bike path

Autumn has always captivated my attention. The cooling air, the changing colors in the leaves of trees, the maturation of spring blooms and births, and the still evenings make autumn a season I cherish. I first encountered Ode to Autumn as a high school senior, and to me, no one has ever captured the beauty and splendor of autumn as Keats does in this homage. He urges us to open our eyes and ears to the sights and sounds of this season; he warns us against thinking of the songs of spring, for autumn has its own music, too.

Reading this final stanza, I can hear the wailing and mourning of the small gnats, the bleating of the full-grown lambs, the singing of the crickets, the whistling of birds, and the fluttering of wings as our avian friends gather to journey south. I picture myself lying on a grassy hillside, soaking in the retreating rays of sun of another “soft-dying day.” Red, orange, and yellow leaves fall slowly from the trees, drifting back and forth before creating a colorful quilt as they reach the earth. In the valley below, harvested farms lie, as “stubble-plains,” waiting for another planting season. Yes, autumn is a time of death, but must one necessarily see it that way? I prefer to see in autumn a spell of preparation for another birth, renewal of life and spirits that will arrive in time.



Keats’s carefully chosen words invite us on a journey to see the beauty in a time when many shun the cooling temperatures, shortening days, and shedding trees. What is it in me that finds such comfort and life in this poem? My connection to this earth and desire for its well-being certainly allow me to see nature and its beauty in all its magnificent forms. I marvel at how the earth continues to live its life, keeping time independent of all its inhabitants, and it is out of awe for this process that I seek ways to cultivate a relationship with this ultimate of all places we call home. When I read this poem, I experience myself standing alongside Keats as he breathes in the crisp fall air and searches for words – none truly suffice – to express his wonder.



This year, finding myself city-bound, Ode to Autumn takes on greater significance. I miss the endless palette of autumn colors painted across the Western Massachusetts landscape. Where are the songs of Autumn, I ask myself. Ay, where are they?

out for a ride

vain contortionists

Harlem Meer is home to two swans that certainly don't shy away from the camera. I was struck by several things as I shot these photos:

1) Swans are incredibly vain creatures. They primp, and primp, and primp! In this photo, you can see little pieces of dander floating in the air.


primping

2) Their ability to wrap their necks around their bodies is absolutely astounding.


contortionism

3) These are beautiful creatures.



For more swans and other waterfowl, click here

jim's steaks

"Daddy, look! There's another one!" Dressed in pink and snuggled warmly in her father's arms, blond hair blowing in the wind, the three-year-old girl pointed to a taxi that had just pulled up to the curb in front of Jim's. The light rain steadily picked up, yet the prospect of getting drenched did not deter any of us from standing in the line that snaked out the front door of the restaurant and wound itself around the side of the building. In fact, the line continued to lengthen despite the increased precipitation. Jim's famed steak and cheese subs may well have been Odysseus's sirens.





I don't think the little girl anticipated the food as much as the rest of us did, but she became more animated as we inched closer and closer to the door. Still pointing out taxis, her eyes darted from one face to another, soaking in the grease-induced excitement mixed with weather-induced dread. We arrived at the door, crossed its threshold, and... the line continued to snake back and forth inside, offering no immediate reassurance that we would ever have the chance to place our order. Was their food really worth the wait?



I did the only thing I could do to distract myself from the thick air reeking of grilled steak, sweet onions, and peppers: I took photos. Heath cautioned me to be ready for my turn. Know my options and what I want when I get to the counter, else incur the cook's wrath. I rehearsed my choices in my mind: steak, American cheese, peppers, onions. Little by little I moved forward, making faces at the little girl and fielding her brother's curious glances at my camera. I should have offered to let him snap a photo or two, but the thought did not cross my mind then.



When it came my turn to order, the slow-motion of the long wait fast-forwarded to a pace that I did not anticipate. I panicked and forgot my order! Fearing the embarrassment that the cook would lay upon me, I said the first thing that came to mind: provolone. I stuttered the rest, forcing "peppers and onions" from my airless lungs, and as I watched the cook slap several round slices of cheese onto the bun, I quickly realized my mistake: I wanted square cheese.



...more photos of Jim's Steaks and my trip to Philadelphia here

city living

My first week of seeking beauty in the city has resulted in some photos I like, but it has not yet changed my assessment of the city.

I thought I might embark on a project photographing taxis, but this was not very unique; I saw plenty of people doing the same thing over the weekend. So Plan B is to photograph people in the act of eating. With all the streetside vendors in the city, this should be a fun assignment.

Below is a sampling of photos from recent weeks. Click on the album title to see the full collection.

NYC: Cityscape





NYC: Beyond the Urban Walls



Project Eat (in development)

guest photographer

If Bonster's interest in cycling were to rival mine, she just might give Graham Watson a run for his money. She shot this photo in the Conservatory Garden, Central Park, New York City.


photo credit: Bonnie

seeking beauty

Moving to the city has presented some real challenges for me. I struggle to fall asleep at night, and the endless barrage of noises tear me out of delicate slumber in the mornings. The perpetual stream of people coming at me from all directions, not to mention the cars that accelerate by, only to come to a screeching halt at the next intersection, demand every ounce of attention my graduate-school-taxed brain can muster. The cacophany of sirens, horns, and alarms jolt my senses with every step I take. My sympathetic nervous system, regulator of "fight or flight," eagerly awaits those moments when I escape the streets of New York and enter the safer havens of the classroom or residence hall.

I hate the city for those reasons and more. And my photography reflects it, as I seek out subjects that remind me of more pastoral settings. Even those images that do not involve trees or flowers strive to eliminate any indication that the bustling city exists outside their frames.



But if I expect to survive in this place, I need to force myself to embrace the city. I need not love it, but I can certainly accept it for what it is. Was it not Aristotle who argued that through practice, one can develop new habits?

And so I have set a new goal for myself: Photograph the city. Actively seek out elements of the urban setting that hold beauty. Through the lens of my camera, perhaps I can begin to see the city with new eyes, in ways that allow me to develop a relationship of harmony with this place.

My first step toward meeting this challenge:


dunce caps

imagination

(click to enlarge in new window)

There's something magical about envisioning a world devoid of color. It forces me to see the patterns, textures, and lights and shadows in my surroundings. Without color, I notice the rough grooves in bark, giving life, personality, and age to the trees they cover; I notice the veins in leaves, running like rivers across a landscape; I notice the hard edge of a ship's mast against a cloudless sky, piercing the stillness as it stands at attention. In people, I feel as if I can see farther into their souls, their deep emotions swirling through my blood. Removing color strips away the protective layers, allowing us to get closer to the source of what gives everything life. It's a different exercise in seeing the world, an exercise that too often we neglect.

I love looking at black and white photos and imagining what colors might inhabit the scene. I start with the probable: green leaves, blue skies, puffy white clouds. But stare at the photograph long enough and new possibilities come to mind. What about a green stop sign, purple swans, and orange sails. Yellow skies, a pink lighthouse, and a flashing blue light at the intersection. My brain stretches in all sorts of directions as I envision a world that doesn't, but certainly could, exist.

It makes me think that we spend too much of our lives rushing to get from one place to the next. We don't stop to see the beauty inherent in the things around us. Having seen something in passing, we rarely stop to examine it. And how often do any of us revisit a setting with the intent of seeing something new in the same subjects?

More photos to follow...

mystic, ct

photos from a recent trip to mystic, ct
see full album here