MichaelV

Cost Of War

2011-09-11T10:17:00.001-05:00

This whole week leading up to Sept. 11, every time something comes on the tube I've switched to the other channel. I can't watch the airplanes crash into the Trade Center towers, I can't stand to watch it come down one more time, or watch as those workers are covered in that killing dust. It seems to me to be an orgy of sadness that is pointless. As a country we have done nothing to curb our addiction to oil. How many lives were wasted on both side, how many trillions of dollars have we spent, how many freedoms have we given up in the name of terror. I've got to shake my head at our collective foolishness that has lead us down this path. Take a look at this and just think for yourselves what this war has cost us. Cost of war.

Oops

2011-08-29T18:37:00.003-05:00

Mean to post this one, done this spring. With my friend Vada who trusts my ideas and shares her's as well. Like the peaceful nature of this one. Thanks

Grass

2011-08-29T14:31:00.003-05:00

Hey Dr. L. good hearing from you. September is not quite as full of doctor visits as I thought. I find that getting older is not at all for sissy. It involves a lot of plain old drudge work, seeing doctors, getting test... Couple of things I like are the medical students who do my work-ups. There all very serious and business like, very likeable and so young. Then there’s the grass.... I’m staying on the right side of it! Have a good day all.

Doctor Visits

2011-08-17T15:30:00.002-05:00

As you may understand this month and the next one are going to be filled with doctor visits. When I get the chance to catch up I will. In meantime enjoy this photo.

The Eye

2011-07-30T08:37:00.003-05:00

Well I apologize once again reality has tunned this blog to health issues.

Recently I was mowing the yard at a friend’s house, being a cloudy day I didn’t wear my sunglasses, I did not wear my safety glasses either. As fate would have it a small piece of wood hit my eye, but no harm was done so I press on. The next morning I noticed that it took longer for my eye to wake up and get with the program. I put some drops in and really thought no more about it, like most men I put it out of my mind. A few day later again my eye was having trouble waking up but now I saw a haze around shiny objects. By mid-morning it would clear but I called my doctor and made an appointment.

A week later I saw my doctor, told her what had happened to my eye and wanted to know if I’d done serious damage. After the examination she told me I was right to come in there was something going on with my eye. Then for the next few minutes she let me sit there while she finished her notes. I was on pins and needles waiting for her to give me the bad news. She said that when she looked in my eye I had many tiny hemorrhages in the back of my eye. Still had 20/20 vision but I’d need to be followed by a specialist, made the appointment for the following month and gave my condition a name. Central retinal vein occlusion is one of the leading causes of blindness in older Americans. Not to worry I was told I still had perfect vision with my glasses.

The week before my appointment I had a scare and went in as an emergency patient, thought I saw bright lights and thought I had separated my retina. I hadn’t but I still needed to see the doctor specializing in CRVO, vision still 20/20. I saw her the following Tuesday, was told I was very lucky and we’d take some photos of my eye and go from there, vision still 20/20. Told it wasn’t as bad as she first though, keep taking my eye drops and come back in a month. I was very happy and went home and almost forgot about it till later in the month I was aware my vision was quite as good as it had been. On the next visit my vision was 20/30, I was told the treatment consisted of a shot in the eye. Visions of Clockwork Orange came into my head, all I could think of was this pretty lady coming at me with a needle for MY eye. Told me not to worry, we’d give it another month and see what my eye did.

Next appointment vision down to 20/40, I could no longer see clearly out of my right eye. I knew there was a car on my right side but I could no longer tell you what the license plate was. I couldn’t read with my right eye and focusing a camera you could forget about. Now we talked about the shot in earnest, she told me about a new drug that they’d just approved only drawback that it was $2000. Gulp! my Medicare would cover it, but lately I have a lot of health issues what would happen if I reached the donut hole? I decided I’d ask her the next week when I got the shot, in the meantime I turned to Google and YouTube to see what I was getting myself into. Found lots of literature on the drugs and the procedure, then saw the right way to get the shot and the wrong way. Saw what must have been an intern giving the shot, his hands we shaking so badly his assistant had to steady them. But it gave me a great overview to the procedure and answered a lot of my questions.

The following Tuesday I was ready, my vision was worse I knew and didn’t need to be told it was down to 20/50. Before I could even speak my piece about the cost of the medication she told me she was switching to the tried and true medication. I might need more shots, but the other stuff had too many side effects for her comfort to take the risk. How really nice that we were on the same page, still visions of Clockwork Orange were passing through my head seeing the instruments. After a quick check of my eyes, she prepared and disinfected my eye and gave me the shot. I couldn’t really see her stick the needle in my eye, but I saw her finger on the plunger; down, down, down it went shooting the medicine into my eye. Now I was truly blind in that eye, everything was absorbed into the haze. She cleaned my eye, gave me a prescription for drops and I was on my way.

Thank goodness I had a friend driving me, as a reward I took her to lunch at my favorite India food place. Then pick up my prescription and got home into the air conditioned coolness of my place and took a nap. My eye was driving me crazy, felt like I had eyelashes in there, as the medication to numb it wore off my eye throbbed. At lunch my eye started leaking blood and that got worse till later that afternoon I could almost feel it begin to drip. I squatted down to get something out of the crisper, something came over my eye and I almost called a cab to take me into the hospital. But after a few moments it cleared, I was ever so thankful that I had to go back for a test the next morning.

In the morning my vision began to clear slightly, I could focus with my right eye. Full of hope I went back for my appointment, the tech photographed my eye, showed me what was wrong and what they hoped I’d get. I ask if we could check the pressure in my eye, just for grins she said lets test your vision... almost back to 20/30. I could see the damn eye chart again, could read almost four lines down. I am trying to not get my hopes up too high, giving my eye a chance to rest and repair itself. Neither one is easy for me, went for a walk in the park, it was turtle day, watch as a big one glided over the creek bottom and I felt free of worry for the moment. Because of the drought I could cross the creek without getting wet, climbed the little hill I ran as a boy and explored till it got too hot and I needed to get under the air conditioner. Feel very peaceful now as I write this, I can see better not quite as well as I did before but now I have hope. Its been a really tough couple of months for me. More health issues are coming up, but I feel hopeful now that I can see better. May not last forever, but I have my friends and the people who care about me. I am a lucky man.

Ghosts

2011-06-22T06:50:00.002-05:00

My phone is infested with ghosts, long lost loves of my life calling in the middle of the night. I recognizes her voice at hello, memories came flooding back and even in my half daze sleep I knew it was her. We talked like it was last week when last we spoke, though a decade at least has passed. I can be hard on friends... though I still love them, to think they are making a major mistake. I’d thought I’d rather remember her as she was, entrapped in amber. That not how life is lived fortunately, my friend have vivid lives, dynamic ongoing lives, that what attracted me in the first place. Lives lived on the edge, thinking life might cut short, now the reality of our age and circumstance.

Like seeing yourself reflected in a mirror, this person know me, who I am, where I live no matter the address. She knows about me, the young me, the growing up me, has experienced the low me, the almost beaten me. Know the struggle I have endured, the mistake I have made, known the passion of the young, knows the successes and my failure, she being one I’ve regretted. I didn’t support her idea of marriage, going on instincts I decided I knew better than her in matters of love. No matter how it may have turned out I was wrong, I’ve regretted my mistake ever since. As I grow older I can see where I have failed my friends... now almost too late I am trying to make amends where I can, it’s my loss where I can’t.

Like a bolt out of the blue we reconnected, found her on one of those popular website’s, and made contact. But nothing beats hearing her voice, so alive, so full of memories, I hated having to catch up, tell her all the things we now share... how I now understand the losses she suffered and know the effects of life altering changes one endures. With a much greater empathy I know what she suffered, that knowledge gave me the strength to carry on while I lay paralyze in a hospital bed.

I knew her voice at hello, the half amused warm melodious tones, the compassion and love her voice held after all these years. I am truly blessed in life, to those people who I have chosen to be my friends so many years ago... even though I didn’t keep my end of the bargain. I love you all and I am truly sorry for my mistake in judgement, I know better now. Life doesn’t often give you many chances at do overs, I’m so happy to make amends where I can. Still I remember her voice.

Walking the Mall

2011-06-13T09:19:00.002-05:00

Well I’ve finally fallen into the abyss, I’ve begun walking in the local mall... no dogs, no heat, no rain... no fun. Soon I’ll be nodding hello’s to other oldsters who walk the mall with me. The thing that strike me is how empty of business it is. Store after store, acre upon acre of failed business and no one to take up the slack.

I remember this mall from my childhood, remember riding there on my bike wide eyed at the man in the rocket suit and the carnival rides. My friend Roy who insisted that I was chicken for not riding with him, green and not with envy was he. Later I remember standing in line for Rolling Stones tickets in my teenage years. I remember the name change rolled out with great fan-fair when I was hired as a photographer documenting the affair. Now it’s showing its age as am I. The stores one by one have failed, its only a shadow of its former glory, one wonders how long they can afford the upkeep.

I feel a certain kinship with this mall, stores now standing almost empty as one by one my systems start that long slide into failure. In the grander scheme of things I’m a young sixty-three, I have my health for the most part, I have a job that I enjoy. But the same drive that told me in my mid-fifties to start looking and actually reading the signs that I wouldn’t be able to do the physical part of the job were showing. So now I’m in a better position that I was six years ago, although my business has failed with the new economy, I have some skills that I can use to my advantage. Unlike the mall that is just waiting for a buyer to tear it down and use the land to make stand alone businesses. I’m learning to transition into new more prosperous realms, I am developing new skills to keep active while not letting the old skill go fallow.

In this brave new world of ours where other sixty-something’s are dropping like flies, where even fifty-year olds are having a hard time coping I’m still working. Not at the money I was making, not at the level that I was used to, but I’m getting out there, meeting new people and doing my part to keep alive. I’m working with friends, marketing a product I am proud of for clients I’m proud to be associated with.

My vision for the future looks good, 20/20 or there about’s, and on a personal level my vision does seem to be as bad as first figured. Don’t mind telling you I was scared, but there’s reason for optimism. I keep seeing those little black spots (floaters), now I’m glad to say that sometime are birds flying high up. Sometime there just spot in my hardwood floors, sometime they turn out to have legs and are bugs! Going to keep eating those carrots while keeping busy, maybe they were right about masturbation, you will go blind, and fifty-three years later I seem to, least I didn’t get hairy palms! So all in all not a bad forecast! Now after ten years if we could only bring our troops home and give them a rest they so badly need!

P.S. I’m taking GenTeal eye drops, they’re a gel formula my eye doctor recommended. Very good drops.

The Eyes Have It

2011-05-28T20:14:00.000-05:00

I know I said no more comment about health or my stroke anymore, but I’ve had a scare. About a month and a half ago I was working on a friends lawn, fool that I am I didn’t wear eye protection because the dust mask fogged my glasses. She has a very sandy lot, the dust is something fierce. A small piece of wood flew up and hit my eye, didn’t think much of it and keep going. Then the mower died and I was much more concerned about that. Later that evening I noticed a soft blur to my right eye, I figured no big deal it’ll go away by morning. Still had the blur in the morning, had things to do and I used some drop and didn’t give it a second though.

A week later I decided that it hadn’t gotten better so I made an appointment with my eye doctor which I figured was about right for my eye, probably scratched the damn thing, no big deal. Now we’re about two, three week from the injury, I noticed that I had trouble getting the eye working in the morning. I saw a haze in my right eye, hard to open the eye as well first thing upon waking. Now I’m worried, think this is a bigger deal than just a scratched eye. I go to the doctor, wait while she does her thing, puts drops in my eyes and does some test that I didn’t think I did that well. She told me I did the right thing in seeing her, that she noticed something going on in my eye.... she has my attention now. I wait... and wait, while she goes through my chart and updates it...... I wait. Finally she turns and says when she looks into my right eye she can see small hemorrhages against the retina. Says I need to see a specialist very soon, not today but the sooner the better; say’s she’ll make an appointment.

Like most men I calculate the odds as her nurse calls to make my appointment. A month out, no big deal... I should get carrots the next time I’m at the market. She copy’s the information for me, I’m concerned but not worried... I can handle this. Getting home I call the friend with the offending yard, tell her about my appointment, she asks me why so long? Now my concern goes up a couple of notches, she tells me that if it was her eyesight she’d want to be seen as soon as possible. She has a really good point! I call the specialist, they can get me in a week early, I take it. It takes me a few days to realize that in addition to the hard to open, haze around the eye when I first wake, now I see a spider-web in my right eye. Very gossamer but black, darts away when I try to focus on it. It does not go away as I wake up and get moving. I turn to Google and find that it is a sign of a detached retina along with a bright flash of light which I don’t have. Panicked I call the specialist to hurry the appointment, hell I want to get in right away. No dice, the doctor doesn’t come in until Tuesday at the earliest so I have the weekend to go.

Now I don’t know about you, but when one thing goes wrong everything seems to follow. On Friday I break my glasses. Now I am truly fucked... I have blurry vision, see spider-webs in black, I have a new word processing program that I need to learn ASAP and on top of all that I now have to find out about my glasses. To make a long story short I don’t have to new glasses, they can order the frames. I got an emergency appointment with an eye doctor, when they put the drops in to dilate my eyes the cobwebs go away and I’m told by the doctor that tortured me that I am a very lucky man. Plus my frame came in the next day... I feel blessed. Still have to go see the retinal specialist on Tuesday but I go in feeling very lucky and very blessed. Wonders never cease!

Women

2011-05-15T12:49:00.003-05:00

I’ve always had a special love of pretty women. As far back as the fifth grade, I discovered that women, no matter their age could affect me and my judgement. I got to be a school crossing guard that year, had a badge and everything. One morning while helping the other kids cross the street safely a girl I knew from the library came up to cross. I was smitten with her, the way she walked, the way she talked and she was standing there next to me Well you could smell the brain cells frying, we were talking, I heard the mamma guard whistle and I step into the street to let the little girl cross. All should have been well, I mean she talked to me, but she was in the middle of the street crossing against the what little traffic there was when I figured out what happened. Or there was the time I was chosen first base umpire also in the fifth grade. My friend had slid into first base just ahead of the ball and I called him safe as the pretty young teacher, who was head umpire called him out. She came trotting out to confer with me, as I looked into her pretty face I knew I was doing wrong, but I just couldn’t contradict her... out he was Oh it wasn’t a pretty sight to be inside my head as I grew into adolescence and the view didn’t improve as I grew older.

As a young man I could be an asshole to those I loved, I won’t pretend different. I could be difficult, opinionated and wanted my way most of the times, but I could be charming and sweet as well. I tried to live the life I’d be taught by my parents to live and they ended up divorced. Monogamy wasn’t my thing though I tried my best, I guess the grass was always greener on the other side. Finally I grew up enough to realize I could love someone in small doses, but she had to be strong enough to have her own life that was important enough to her. The best sort of relationship was to live close together, see each other most evenings, but have our own places too. When it seemed like a good idea I could be monogamous, but only if my partner was also. I was prone to long term relationships, of doing all those couple things, but having the space to do mine.

Now what you ask does this have to do with photography, not much. But I am approaching my sixty-third birthday in a few weeks and this is what you get. I’m reminiscing over my pasts as I look to the future. I’ve reach the point where I’m like a dog chasing a bus, what will I ever do if I manage to catch the damn thing. But I still have a little chase left in me and a deep appreciation for the beauty of women. Like the bus it’s not about catching it, it’s all about enjoying the chase after it

Tax Day

2011-05-05T13:17:00.003-05:00

“ The camera just helps you show other people what you see.” Greg Iles in Dead Sleep

The best tax day ever, a lovely nude model, great conversation and a home made meal to end on. Then because I shoot film I had a week of waiting, hoping the film wasn’t too out of date, that the processing would be right. Nothing short of birth could be as difficult as waiting to get that film back in my hot little hands. Now for the time I live for, the time to let my work sink in... to study every little frame and find the treasures. I can breath again The time before digital wasn’t easy, terror was a day in day out part of the job. Certainly there was polaroid to ease that terror, but until that film came back from the lab you were on tender hooks. Once you could see the contacts, once you could actually see the film to know it was alright life just wasn’t the same. Film came in different flavors too, grain you had to plan for and it was on every frame. There was a certain level of skill involved, you couldn’t “fix” that in Photoshop.

I hadn’t picked up a camera in over a year and I was plenty rusty. I hate to admit it but I had trouble know exactly how my cameras worked, which button to push in what order to get the damn thing to rewind. Then there was the lovely young woman semi-nude or nude before me waiting. Honesty is the best policy, I told her a story about the first time I shot a model. She was one of the cool girls in high-school, very blonde, very pretty and impossible beyond me. I got so nervous I almost dropped the screw in lens I had in my hand. I told her how I was thinking, considering the best lens to use with her. The model I had before me laughed, I shared a secret that somehow made us both human with all the failing of humans, made what we were trying to accomplish more real. We could relate to one another, trust one another. Made the fact that one of us was nude so much more comfortable in mind and sprit.

I love working with nude models, of getting those arms and legs just so, the get the look I want with the feel I want, to be able to share with the viewer how I
see this person before me... what I have discovered in her. I ask a lot of my model’s, I ask for there trust to get the image I see in my mind. I ask for the latitude
to try something so very personal to see how it might look, how an idea I have might translate to film. It’s a bond we share... it’s a trust that she is allowing me and my vision. All of my models are lovely young women, my age give me a different perspective on age. My most recent models are in the thirties, a few years ago the average age was early twenties. I like this age, more mature, more comfortable in their skin and they know something about life.

Then after we share a meal together, something I’ve made especially for her, time to decompress, to get back to the every day world. This young lady and I have shared something special, we’ve shared a vision... ideas that we both bring to the shoot. Is it something to change the world... probably not, but just the act of creating something that didn’t exist before feels so good.

Model: Vada

Vision

2011-04-07T14:33:00.002-05:00

I recently posted a comment on Model Mayhem about the above image, as expected I got some really nasty comments including one accusing me of having misogynistic tendency. Saying I had real problems with the female anatomy she added she was sorry for me. My comments were to the effect that I didn’t want a women who was too sensuously built, it would detracted from my vision. I maintain those views, all the focus would have been the way she was physically build. The image was for an erotic show I was in, my statement was, among other things that here was the ultimate goal of all the erotic art. I wanted a female who was almost androgynous, someone who had that compact look to her, here fleshy wouldn’t work.

Which leads me to another one of my questions, why can’t we keep a civil tone to out discussions, especially on a site that’s given over to the celebration of art. I obviously chose the wrong forum for my comments, giving people more credit for intelligence than they deserve. The site does have some of the very talented models though, but in retrospect not as many as one would hope. I also commented on how everyone it seemed shaved, that to look wasn’t special anymore, it has lost its appeal. I noted that more and more models seem to agree with me because they have gone back to a more trimmed mode. Well I’ll let you imagine how that comment was taken

I myself have taken great umbrage at comments on profession of drywall made on a fellow blogger site. As I posted, I have hung my share of drywall, it’s a great way to keep food on the table and a roof over ones head. Then I reread the comments that had raised my ire and discovered that the kid was only in his early twenty’s so excuses could be made for him. But I didn’t demean him, I took exception to his comments but not to the person who made them. I know that there are those who will see this as a backhand slap at him, but age does play an important part of our perception.

Maybe I’m just getting old and set in my ways... that could be. In my own defense the older I get the more other people get set in their ways (tongue firmly in cheek). I’m proud to say I have a number of young friend who help keep me in my place and fixed in time. It helps keeps you balance in life, keeps you from feeling left out and jealous about that age... reminds you why its good to be the age you are and not having that drama in your life again. Although I keep making the same mistake over and over again, but I find new ways to make the same mistakes. That is at least some kind of progress I imagine, proof positive that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks

Crazies

2011-03-27T15:41:00.000-05:00

Pro-English, A.C.L.J., Troops Needed on the Boarder and The Heritage Foundation... all the crazies are sending me mailing like I once got credit card application. At least with the application the was a don’t bother me page I could register on. And each of them have their own focused hatred for some special group of people, the most popular seems to be Muslims. Each group of crazies seem to have a 501-c, mailing privileges so they don’t pay squat to spew their hatred. I dutifully open each piece of shit they send, put all that shit back in their envelopes and mail it to them “postage due”.... makes me feel better at least.

Before my doctor moved her offices it was located at a medical center along with the hospital. Lots of East Indian’s work there, some wore head-scarves, some may have been Muslim as well. I didn’t know or care because I was getting the test I needed. As an added bonus I could ask where the best Eastern food was, where is the place they like to eat. I got all sorts of tips most of which I never heard of before, the India places were the best. When it comes to eating were are all one race... the human race

So imagine my utter surprise when one morning while having coffee a group of people sat down next to me, a couple of whom had head-scarves. Without even thinking about it I started checking them out looking for suspicions packages they might leave behind. Only then did I recognize the absurdity of my reactions and started laughing. These were healthcare professionals, maybe some were doctors and a few were obliviously students not bombers for heaven sake It’s a sign of the time we live in, the fear that’s generated by the media that conditions us all to think that way.

Which bring to mind Juan Williams, of his remarks that got him fired from NPR. I certainly don’t agree with the racist sentiments that regularly pass for news at FOX NEWS. But as you can see by my story above we all can make mistake in judgement. My momentary fear, my momentary lapse of judgement was a private affair, his wasn’t. So that’s the prism we all look at the world today, Muslim equals terrorist, plain and simple.... simply wrong. I feel like we target Muslims because we have been conditioned to react that way by the media. The fact that they’re so easily identified make our suspicions of them so much easier.
When Timothy Mc Veigh murdered all those people in Oklahoma we didn’t start dragging young white men with short hair off planes, we didn’t have an instinctive fear of sitting next to them at coffee shops , not cast so much as a glance in their direction. I think that we fail as human beings, we do a disservice to the whole human race by giving in to these fears. Unknowingly, without thinking about them, without questioning where our fears really reside. No one likes to think about being blown up in a building, having a plane crash into where you are innocently working. These are the acts of two or three madmen who hate the system, who hate humanity and not a whole class of people. Personally I feel that these for the most part are poor, uneducated people with no hope of a better future, no hope of a brighter tomorrow. It’s long past time that we got a handle on this idea and start working on the problems we all face.

Keep In Touch

2011-03-12T13:47:00.004-06:00

I am the most fortunate of men, I don’t collect “friends”, but I’m really blessed that most of my models keep me in mind when their address changes. One young model, she was twenty when we shot, took great umbrage at some advice I was giving her. She no longer keeps in touch, much to her determent; if I have no way of keeping in touch I can’t let you know how the images we created are being used. I’m religious about letting my model’s know when I use an image on my blog, on various sites and for any shows I enter. My feeling is we created this work together, you are an integral part of what we did, you are entitled to know (even years later) how and where your images are being displayed.
Any advice is freely given, I’m not offended if you don’t take it to heart don’t listen it’s your life not mine, my world will not stop. I really enjoy the women who pose for me, who take the time and interest to make images with me. Some work much better with my overall vison, it seems like second nature to them. I take my time to get an idea of who this person is that I am going to photograph. Usually we have coffee, I show them my book so there are no surprises when we work. An important part of the way I work is to get to know something about them, how else can I capture the essence of that person. So many of the girls that I work with are young, twenty-something. Most still think they work/live in a vacuum, that no one will look up there photos or get an opinion of their character from the images they lend themselves to.
I on the other hand have lived a goodly long time, I no longer think I’m invincible, I know that actions beget reaction no matter how private you may think those actions are. We don’t live in a bubble of our own choosing, the internet has forced us to live a very public life. I’m very conscious of the images I am posting, I want for my model's to be able to make that choice as well even though I have a release. When I am posting to Facebook I know what’s appropriate as far as they are concerned. I have learned the hard way that for my model appropriate for one venue isn’t appropriate for them. I do not wish to embarrass them in front of their family or friends.
This blog is different, here I may show the kind of work that I do unedited, but it’s not likely that any members of my models family will see the posts. Here it’s a more private setting, my friend come here to view my work and to read what I have to say. Just as you have come here to see my work and read my words/thoughts as well. Nothing gives me more pleasure then to have someone comment on my blog, or for it to spur other thought. I love that free flow of ideas and comment that are well thought out. So please keep visiting my site and by all means, keep in touch.

The Littlle Deaths

2011-03-01T08:35:00.003-06:00

My thanks to my friend Carla Johnson for her post on “La Petite Mort”, the Little Deaths as an orgasm is known is a subject long though to not be mentioned in polite company. I leave the final word to my friend, I want to talk about my photographic experience with the orgasm as seen above. I met this young lady at a modeling show I attended. She was very green and needed someone to invest the time with her and show her the ropes. Long story short we did at least six or seven shoots before she was comfortable enough with herself and me before we could shoot so intimately. When we started she was very nervous about what would happen. I took her through her first mini-orgasm, then she got more relaxed, I could see the tension go out of her body. Remember I shoot film and still had a third of a roll left when she told me to get ready. Whoa, whoa I told her to change your rhythm, let me finish this roll and then you can come. At this point I felt like I was a part of her orgasm, I was asking her to draw it out so I could get the shots I wanted. I’m not going to say I hurried, but I knew she was ready to get some release. I ask her to get comfortable, to change position slightly and to feel it building. Then I reloaded my camera, I said OK kiddo go for it. I could almost hear her thinking I wonder what he’s getting, then the pre-orgasm started and she was gone. I got close ups of her face, her body, all the important parts. I dragged the shutter, I was trying to get the beauty of the moment, but without the graphic details. I want to make it clear that she is a nice girl, not someone who masturbates for just anyone. After her release I got some nice shots of her coming down from the high of it. For minutes after that she’d shudder, those post-orgasm shudders. In a strange way I think that she was please that she’d be able to climax, so too there was a certain pleasure in getting off with someone watching. I’m really proud of the shots I got and the trust that grew out of that experience. I’ve marveled at the capacity that women have for wave after wave of pleasure and the small role I may play.

2011-02-10T10:07:00.001-06:00

Several years ago I had a gig for an entertainment facility, had a pass that would let me go anywhere, anytime. I’d do the mundane shots of different parts of the facility, party’s they had. Sometimes they’d overlap so I’d do a heavy metal group. These groups actually filled the hall better than the more middle of the road types. So I just play, drag the shutter, play with my flash to ambient light ratio. It was so much fun to see what magic I could produce. Shot real film so I couldn’t see the results instantly.

Nipple

2011-01-15T15:58:00.004-06:00

Like shadow they gather..., grackles on the wing searching, searching..., the wings flutter down. Gathering in flocks, your negative thoughts. Squawking, noisily hostile thoughts that have no real merit, no basis in fact. Your fear stand out like two cold nipples on a warm day, longingly wishing to be touch.

14 Jan 2011

Fifth Anniversary

2011-01-01T12:37:00.003-06:00

Those of you who currently read this blog, and I’m familiar with one lovely lady out there, will know I just celebrated my fifth anniversary of my stroke. This year I won’t be writing as much about that choosing to concentrate on my art, and my writing. Like many of you last year was the worst I’ve experienced in my life-time. I don’t think I opened my camera bag once last year, sure I took some cell phone photo’s, but nothing to really satisfy my soul. In addition I closed down what business was left and for the first time in many years I filed a normal tax return. At the time it was a most painful step, logical to say the least but still....

I started working with a friend I’ve had for a long time, first started work with him in New York many years ago. We developed quite the friendship, I was invited to his house, met his wife and children, and came for all the holidays plus backyard barbeques. Long story short, he and his wife have divorced and he moved back to the Northeast. A lot of my planning involved my computer work, learning new things and just playing with the latest innovations. Another part of the equations was to find a friend who had moved on to a new business and needed a hand. Although divorce wasn’t a part of my master plan, it sure played an important part of this plan.

After he was moved out of the house he found himself broke, but with an advertising idea that looked like it could work. He had a number of high profile contacts so all that was needed was some legwork, research, and someone he could trust to share in the business. Someone who had the time to invest, had the desire to make a go of it, and who didn’t really care about the money at first. We started with one client, I took the editorial we had and made some small adjustments to it, I’d find the talent’s website’s and would make their bio information fit our needs. I proofed read everything, and I even had a hand in keeping the people who were working on the project with us stay focused.

We picked up our second account and then our third; tiny steps to be sure, but all the while we could see the economy slowly improving. So my financial health is improving, I’m making almost enough money that soon I’ll be able to shoot again. In the meantime I’m working on prints of my work. I’ve started refining a new book that features only the work I’m interested in, the kind of images I want to shoot so I can show models which direction I’m headed in and if they would like to invest their time and talent perfect. Don’t know how far I’ll get this year, baby- steps on the road to a full recovery. Along the way I’ve picked up several friend who believe as I do, who are interested in sharing the passage with me, who help fire my ideas and beliefs. Some young people who have such a zest for their art that it’s contagious. Maybe that’s all we need in life, to make it more fulfilling, sharing the spice that makes life worth living, that brings out our passions, so that we remember what it was once like to be young. This year I plan on writing about that transition, getting fire up again, and getting my butt in gear. I want to wish all you readers a wonderful new year full of the spice for life.

The Power of Can't

2010-12-20T21:04:00.003-06:00

Five years ago last month I had a massive, nasty stroke, my right half wouldn’t respond, I couldn’t think clearly and emotionally I was devastate. I spent almost a week in ICU and when I reached the general floor I thought what now. No one believed I’d be going anywhere but to a nursing care facility for the rest of my life, if I managed to survive the next few days. I on the other hand, not being privy to the general opinion, was living my life one day at a time, never thinking for a minute that I get anything but better. Each morning and evening I told myself today I’m better than I was yesterday, stronger and more connected. Every task I attempted, very call I made where I got the persons on the other end of the line to help me was another step towards my goal even if I couldn’t see where I really was.

I never let myself use the word can’t, I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t use my right side and I couldn’t think clearly yet. But never did I utter the word can’t, it’s a self-fulfilling word, though. I never thought I’d never walk, never use my right hand, never be able to type or to tie my shoes. Never touch a women, or hold her near. Never again be able to take an image I’d love, never have to think well can I. I knew I couldn’t do thing’s as I used to for now, I knew that I had a long, long road to go before I could/would do those things again. Sure I got frustrated, down for what I’d have to learn to do again. When you use the word can’t, then you give in to what’s affecting you, then in a short a time you surely can’t.

I tried to channel all the people I knew and admired, those who through no fault of their own had fallen. I remembered a friend who had a really bad accident, lost her sense of self, who she was and what she did to make up that complicated self that was so uniquely her. How she had to wear a patch over her good eye so the one that was hurt would slowly get better. Learn how to ask for help without seeming needy or somehow lesser. How I hurt for her seeing the struggles she had, what she couldn’t do and her fear that she never would again. How grateful she was to be treated as normal as I could without trying to wrap her up in bubble wrap.

Or watching as my father began that long slide into a compassionate old man instead of the son of a bitch I knew as a child. I could see the writing on the wall and was preparing for that myself. Not that I learned the compassionate part, I love the son of a bitch in me who wasn’t ready to give up yet. But at fifty seven I heard those whispery wings of old age descending upon me. I was lucky enough to be getting ready, making those step to transition to a time when I could no longer keep the pace I did. And then bang..., in the morning went I awoke I was already there in my future, unprepared and truly having to start over from square one.

Anxiety

2010-11-21T10:20:00.005-06:00

Washed the anti-anxiety medication from my system, for two weeks one tablet every other day, then two week of a half a tablet every other day till I was clean. Now I’m emoting as me, music gets to me, a good video gets to me, the class-less neighbors get to me, and friends I care about can get to me. But at least it’s me again and not some drugged person viewing my life as it unfold around me. I’ve been on medication since my stroke happened five year ago this month. Blood pressure meds, cholesterol meds, and a sleep aid. Five pills in the morning, four pills in the evening and four more before bedtime. Now one less.

I know it doesn’t sound like much, but at least my emotion are getting to be mine regardless of the stroke. I had some real problems when out for a walk, when smells would hit me and when just being me. Sitting in a restaurant I felt like I was about to die, rapid heart rate and the shaky hands and body. I though about getting out of there, but doubted could on my own power. Thought about EMS getting me out, but too much drama and embarrassment to be worth the trouble and expense. So shut my eyes and find a happy place, breath deeply until all the noise around me sounded like a bee hive of activity. Slowly, ever so slowly my heartbeat returned to normal. From the buzzing beehive thoughts of contentment, peace at last. When I returned people looked away, but I didn’t care, I’d managed to contain myself. I was almost me, but not if you get my meaning. If you’ve ever had an anxiety attack you know exactly what I was feeling, if not count yourself lucky.

Anyway two weeks now clean and basically happy, content. Trying to write again (see enclosed) and I feel almost like normal whatever that is or was. Just go with the flow when I feel emotions coming over me. It too shall pass, just trying to feel like me again, trying to be me again. Heard from a friend from my past who told me it had taken her eight to ten years to even begin to recover from her accident. The same friend who I’d thought about in the hospital when my stroke hit. I patterned so much of my recovery around the advice I’d given her. Then I was her with my brain neatly cleaved in half, with the right side of my body not responding to commands. Now I knew just what she felt, how lost she was and how mournful of her life pre-accident. Little grain of truth and hope I’d given her, not realizing how she was beginning to learn to walk again, not realizing how she couldn’t read. Oh well, just one of life big lessons, how to get back all that you’ve lost in the tenuous state of being and not being.

What a long and tortuous way to learn the value of life.

*********************************************

A tidal wash of emotion rakes over me,
tears, rage and happiness;
all emotions in-between.
Awash in feeling long suppressed, long deigned...,
drugged into the background of me.
Years since I felt as me, reacting as me I am me but not quite.
Washed from my mooring, adrift on the sea...,
home port a distant view
with twinkling lights and the sounds of me.
Adrift through the fog listening,
still straining for the sounds of home.

The Year in Review

2010-10-22T09:48:00.001-05:00

Well I’ve certainly come a long ways from last year, thanks to hard work and patients. In 2009 my business finally collapsed, just nothing coming in, I admitted that the life I had enjoyed was over. I hadn’t even pickup a camera in over a year and I was scrounging for any mean of support I could find. I’d have robbed banks if I was able to run fast enough to get away, and my right leg was a defiant no go. So I turned to the only weapon I could count on, my brain.

I call my friend network to find out what was available, how could I work out a spot for me. As luck would have it I found a friend who was in need of help restarting a business after a messy divorce. He was down to being a one man shop with only one client left but he wasn’t ready to give up yet. The only catch was it didn’t pay much but if I helped him to recover it might pay more. So at this point it’s still paying not too much, but I can pay my bills, I’m working on catching up on my rent and I have a couple of bucks to tide me over. We’ve got two clients for next year and a third just need to be sold on our services. So all in all I’m not doing so bad, the economy is improving slowly, but it beats being out on the street. So far I haven’t been able to afford to pick up that camera yet, but I’m hoping that next year will be better.

I’ve been encouraged enough to play around with PS, just sort of doodling and seeing what work and what doesn’t, what’s pleasing to the eye and what isn’t. I’m also playing around with some printing idea, off the wall kind of stuff. That with some shooting idea, poses I’d like to try and see which work and which don’t. Have to find a model who’s willing to play and create and is willing to do it for trade if I can sell the idea. I’m sort of back to being a starving artist concept for real this time, not that I wasn’t before, but now I mean it. Of course the best model’s are being paid for there work and most of the new ones want something for they’re time and effort. So do I really, but it just not there right now, and to get there I still need to call on some of my friends.

That’s the good thing about being well known in this business, having friends that you can call on for help and advice. I’m starting to finally make some headway on that score. I’m starting to feel better and more positive about where I am going. I feel like myself again, I can work and not at cutting yards or greeting someone at Wallmart. I’m finally getting myself back, getting my nerve back and being who I was again..., slower granted but it me again. I always liked myself, now I’m beginning to feel like myself again. Making friends and talking again off the cuff again like I always did. You never value something till you lose it.

Gamer

2010-04-26T15:43:00.002-05:00

I was reading Jane McGonigals blog, she is the famous gamer who writes games to empower young people to think of ways to change the global makeup of today’s problems. I’m oversimplifying her intent in the interest of space, but you can read about her here. I myself am not very interested in games, a friend of mine has an opportunity to get involved in gaming, and I’m doing some research for her. I read with great interest how in 2009 McGonigals suffered a serious concussion that left her unable to carry on with her work or her life. Feeling of hopelessness, anxiety and depression exacerbated her symptom, and left her feeling even more anxious and depressed. It turn into a vicious cycle that made it harder for her brain to heal itself. She needed a way to say “I am having the hardest time of my life, and I really need you to help me.” So she invented a healthcare game and enlisted her family and friends to play, thereby helping her to recover faster.

When I had my stroke in 2005 I was just dazed for the next two years, I didn’t know where to turn or who to turn to. I needed a longer term plan, one that relied on therapist and my friend to assist me, but deciding how to possibly get better was left in my hands. I had already decided that getting back to as normal a life as possible was my best option. When I could research stroke on the web there was painfully little information, and the hospitals were just deciding to make strokes a major issue. Even my doctor had little help to give me beyond therapy and medication. Each new achievement of mine was greeted with great amazement that I could reach that level of return, and I was soon discharged as having reach a plateau where I was capability of fending for myself.

When I began my recovery I didn’t know what to do, a friend had given me some money to tide me over so I invested in the best computer I could afford. I was interested in continuing with my photography, maybe a return to the field somehow. Or maybe I could start a business on the net, but for the present I could relearn my typing skills, I could do research on my condition and my interest. I figured that in the same way I exercised my body, I had to exercise my mind, build on its strengths and overcome its weakness. So I started out just a few hours a day, typing a few short emails, and play with some of my programs, I even attended a class in Photoshop Essentials to give me some exposure to learning again. Having been a voracious reader, I started with popular books and worked my way up to the classics, like “For Whom the Bell Tolls”. I was even convinced to start this blog, training myself to think and to organize my thought into readable prose. Now some might disagree with me on the readable point, my numbers reflect that, but that doesn’t matter to me. I write for myself and a few good virtual friends, I write for anybody who find me and finds my points of view valid.
I’ve come a long way in the last five years, I have longer still to go, a whole lifetime left to make things normal for me. I’ve managed to get my life in some semblance of order and continue the struggle. But I find I have more peace with myself, more happiness than I ever found before. Yeah there are things I’d change, who wouldn’t. I’ve come a long way, I attend a group session for fellow stroke sufferers and share the lessons I’ve learned. I have a new appreciation for friends now, I’ve learned to value them much more. I’ve gotten past my absolute fear of my future, I’m willing to live one day to its fullest, not count on another till its here. In the end that’s all we can, or should make of our lives. One day at a time.

Walk

2010-04-06T09:30:00.003-05:00

Had my walking dream again, the one where I take huge strides like I’m walking on air. Impossible in my previous reality and even harder now. I still drag my foot a little, not so you can see it but it shows up in the tip of my right shoe. Of course I’m very lucky to be able to walk at all, thinking about that the other day as my friend Cathy and I went for a stroll. When I first was able to walk around the hospital, I had to learn to look around me and not just at my feet. It was so tough to learn how to walk again after my stroke. I learned to tune everything out and just concentrate on getting my feet to move in a certain way, direction I think its called. Then there the whole hip roll thing, coordinating the legs to move and the muscles to feel the step and then to get the other foot into place, all while trying to keep your balance, and oh yeah, you’ve got to watch out for cars as well.

We were walking in a nature preserve so watching out for cars wasn’t necessary, watching out for birds and flowers was. The “trail” was a well defined concrete sidewalk that was handicapped accessible so everybody could enjoy going for a walk in nature. At one point I was looking up in the trees instead of watching my feet, marveling at how good it felt. I know for those of you who live in the north woods somewhere, you scoff at the idea of a concrete sidewalk as natural, and I agree. But I loved being out in the fresh air, watching birds, and the flowers just waiting to be found. It’s a lovely time of year, all the trees a wearing a new coat of bright green leaves and there are wildflower’s of all different color and hue, Indian Paintbrush, Bluebonnets, Evening Primrose, and Yucca too, all in reds and blue and white and yellow, just glorious colors. Acres and acre of colorful flowers good for bees and butterflies and all manner of other creatures, both winged and footed. My friend thought she spotted a fox out for a midday stroll too, but it was just a shade too quick in spotting us and returned to the bushes where it could hide.

It got warm very quickly, temperatures are in the eighties, but the sun is getting much closer this time of year. In another few months time the land and any flowers will be baked within an inch of it life. So too will we, but for now we are enjoying Mother Natures gift to us all for making it through the tough winter of our lives.

Starting Over

2010-03-08T09:57:00.001-06:00

I was talking with a friend of mine, reminding him of how we used to talk about the possibilities of going back in time and starting over with what we know now. Wouldn’t that be wonderful, a dream come true, and then it happened to the both of us; much more severely in his case. He was hit by a truck, and left for dead along side the road in the early morning hours, while I was still copping with the effects of my stroke. Like Lin says, you have to be real careful of what you wish for. My friend is slowly returning to normal after having to learn everything over again including how to walk. He still can’t seem to get his leg to work right, but he’s trying.

Me I’ve got a lazy side as they say, I drag my right foot, not so you notice but enough so that the toe of my shoe is wearing faster the my left one. My hand and arm have swept so many glasses and dishes of the counter that I’ve lost count, and I still find it hard to get my head around concepts and ideas. Now how much of this is age related and how much is stroke related I have no clue, I’m learning to just deal with the issues as best I can. But I find it fascinating just the same, the brain is really a most interesting subject. The brain is very plastic, it can and will heal itself given time, and the right treatment. So much of that return is determined by the state of mind, and your will to survive. I know that sound funny, but it’s true, based on how much you loved that life you had, and how much struggle you are willing to put in to get it back. Also how much you have to lose if you don’t, like kids and a husband or wife.

My therapist tells me that family helps, be that blood or the family that you’ve gather around you over the course of life. But I feel it that state of mind that counts the most, at least in my case it did. My psychologist friend tells a story of this older man who’d had a stroke and wouldn’t wipe himself after going to the bathroom. He had the mental and the physical where with all but chose not to, he wanted his wife to do it for him. State of mind is a funny thing, I saw lots of men who welcomed that return to childhood rather than a return to the life they had. Me I couldn’t even stand to have someone hover over watching me while I took a shower.

But that is life as they say, watch out what you wish for because you’re liable to get your dreams good or bad. Kind of like that Monkey’s Paw story I read long ago. You do get the wish you dream of, but life has some funny twists to it and you have to learn to go with those flows, good or bad. So it pays to keep the good thought in your head and heart. Easier said than done, I still have my bad days, but on the whole I like my state of mind. Not any easier to live with, but the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Chaos Behind My Eyes

2010-02-23T12:51:00.003-06:00

I’ve always been accused of having such a calm easy going demeanor, nothing could be further from the truth. People just can’t see life from my side of the eyes I look upon the world. True I project what I want them to see and feel while I try to figure out where we’re going photographically. But I am trying to get a feel for the magic of what is hopefully about to happen, giving that chemistry time and space to happen in. Whether in my tiny little apartment studio, or in a vacant house, or farm, or even some field somewhere magic works best when it is unrushed.

I’m often asked by a model what I’m shooting, and if it’s a head shot why are they are nude, that question usually come from the uniformed. I smile and say that I’m studying the way their bodies moves, but it’s so much more. It’s the angles I’m looking at, the way the light plays over the curves, and I’m giving them time to relax and get comfortable with me and themselves so that their bodies move naturally. I don’t usually see a lot of tension in them, after all they agreed to pose nude in the first place, but it takes time for that comfort to grow, and for them to become unaware of me or my camera. It take time for them to grow comfortable enough that they start talking about life, love and their body’s quirks. It take them time to grow comfortable we me, to trust me with their lives as well as their bodies.

My friend Dave has the right idea, getting to know each other for a day or two, go camping in the forest primeval, or just have them around for dinner and a fire, get to know each other as work-mates but as friend also. It pays to have an understanding wife or soul-mate, it helps to have a place way out in the middle of nowhere. But the rest of us have to do the best we can with what we have, and you can build that bond, but you can’t rush it. That bring us back to that chaos I was talking about, remember that.

So much of the chaos comes from knowing I have a lot to make happen in the time allotted me, plus I have to be right on with the technical stuff as well to get the results I want so that final print will turn out the way I want. It’s that terror, that absolute panic that I live to master, to get under control, that delicate dance I must do on the edge of a sword to get the results I want. I love real film, the unpredictably of the medium, any other way seems like cheating to me. I love the terror of it quite the way I love getting to know my models, to tell them they have a nice little tush when really, I mean it.

Dave

Mea Culpa

2010-02-07T13:24:00.003-06:00

Where to begin, first I apologize to all who missed me. I took a break from writing, and concentrated on home and hearth. My health is fine, and my sprites are as well. I’ve been going to group sessions for my stroke, passing on the information I have for people in the same position I was a few years ago. It’s kinda hard on me, being on the same floor I was, walking down the same hallways, but I’m so much better now. I’ve seen the people I’m trying to reach listening to me, taking some comfort from the things I share. The staff too seems to be happy I’m there to give their patients some hope for their future. Each month it’s a new group I interact with, sometimes there’s a hold over, or family members comes back to find help, to get some answers. I try my damnest to be honest as I can, and warn about the pitfalls as well. In the end I guess that’s all I can do to make life easier, to shed some light where everything seems so dark.

I’m making friends with the physiologists, he sometimes share his own personal pain in his life as well. It’s an easy group, almost like talking with family, but better somehow. I guess it’s because I get to go home afterward's , and don’t have to see them till the next month. But it so nice to be able to share things with them, I tell the patients that so lucky to have the services of the physiologist were as I had to figure this out all on my own. I had my stroke too early to get this help, it wasn’t until last year that they figured out that stroke was so debilitating, and that there was good money to be made as well. Funny how the profit motive comes into play, I can’t say that my hands are clean either. I have an idea for a book on my experiences, I’m looking to find out what questions get asked the most. Mea culpa indeed..., but I really can’t see making much money on my project, enough to cover the cost of printing. Fame doesn’t interest me, I’ve seen first hand how much it cost you personally. One loses a lot of their freedom, you are always on your guard in case you say or do the wrong thing when people are watching.

So as I say, life goes on, and I’m lucky to be a part of it. Obviously I didn’t really want to die, and I didn’t but there I was stuck with a mind that had betrayed me. I’ve gone though a lot to get back to almost were I was to begin with so I guess I have a story to tell as well as a life to live. I’ll update as the sprite wills, don’t hold me to a date certain. Life has taken a turn for the better now and I mean to enjoy it, as well as the people who love me.

I'm Well

2010-01-23T13:21:00.002-06:00

For all those out there who were worried, I apologize. Just been caught up with life and keeping home and hearth together. I will update soon, promise.

Mexican

2009-09-26T10:58:00.002-05:00

I was born in 1948 around the time of massive civil rights activates, too early to really do much good for me. In Texas at that time I was a second-class citizen. The real civil right came 20 years later, but by that time I’d about had given up and moved north. Years of racial bias had taken a toll on me and my spirit, it was all around me and I didn’t care for it one bit. As a child I heard a lot of unflattering comments about German, Polish, and Blacks. Out on the street I had to face the ugly comments about me, about not being smart enough, dirty and lazy, I didn’t care for that characterization either.

When I was about nine a cousin of mine and I snuck away from the family gathering we were having at a local park. We went to the swimming pool that we weren’t allowed in because we were Mexican. We stood at the chain link fence and watched all the other white kids splashing and playing in the water. That was my first real introduction to racism and exclusion. I remember standing their being kept out and not welcomed at all. A few years later when I was old enough to ride the bus and go to the movies on my own. One of my rituals was to go to The Coney Island Hot Dog stand, and get a dog or two. One day one of the counter-men asked me, in Spanish if I was Mexican or Black. I spoke little Spanish, but I told him clearly I was Mexican; I started getting the best dogs then.

Still later in high school, which started in 1963, around the time went Kennedy was murdered in Dallas, I remember going to wood-shop where we were listening to the radio about the killing. A kid there said it better not be a black man that had killed him, but he was looking at me. I was only one of a few Mexicans the school had, there was only one black guy. I got along in school pretty well but I kept my head down and made a much smaller target. I didn’t do well, the lower ¾ of my class, but I was bored not ignorant. Living up to expatiation's I guess, the only thing that most teachers figure I was good at was my hands some I was channeled into a blue-collar mentality.

Finally in 1968 civil rights came to San Antonio in a big way, the powers that be had to make a choice to get Federal Spend for their worlds fair. Suddenly things began to change even if ever so slowly. To get Federal Appropriations they were forced to treat us better, but under the surface things didn’t change that much. We won recognition for our race, for our ethnicity though the city had capalized on that for years, next best place to Mexico was their thinking. Fiesta was a big party that’s held every year in April-May. It’s origins are rooted in the bias that we endured, Mexican house-hold help was used to celebrate the Anglo’s win over Mexico in the war for independence. To the victors goes history as the saying goes, but now our history is slowly coming out.
On PBS, American Experience the other night part of the story of how our civil right were won by Carlos Cadena among other of the civil right movement. Mr. Cadena was our Thurgood Marshall although less well know, and it’s well past time that the part he played is told. “A Class Apart” is the story of that brave struggle. Had those people not won we, as a class of people would have been lost forever had the forces of prejudice won. There have been lots of shows recently on PBS celebrating Hispanic Heritage month. I just wish I had been taught in school when it was happing, I would have been prouder of myself and of my class then, it almost came too late to do much good, but the tale needed to be told.

Not Much

2009-09-12T08:58:00.000-05:00

Watch my new video:

Woodstock

2009-09-03T09:05:00.001-05:00

Toward the end of the summer in 1969 I was in the great state of Maine staying at Acadia National Park. That was the summer of Woodstock the festival of Rock and Roll, mud, and love. I however was nice and toasty warm in my little van up in Maine and the festival didn’t appeal to me because it was rainy and cool so I passed. As I was walking through camp one morning I spotted some kids my age who’s tent had gotten sopping wet because they hadn’t trenched around it and the rain had really come down the night before. They were also starving and I’d had some soup left over from the group camp for the kids that I held the night before. Over the soup they told me about Woodstock and invited me to come with them but I was really too comfortable to venture back into New York state.

Let me backup a minute and tell you I was camping out in Maine because I was on a tour of the north-east and Maine was my last stop. It had been a great tour and I was learning a lot about me and the country. It was my twenty-first year and was the longest I had ever been away from home and the furthest I’d ever been. Just bumming around and having a great time with nowhere particular to be. Just a kid on my first trip away from home, meeting people and getting used to who I might be. I had gone east from Texas all along IH-10 then up the east coast, avoiding New York City and had gone to Providence Rhode Island then my travels had taken me north. I was writing poetry, full of angst and heartbreak which was appropriate for the times, for me and the country.

I had read Steinbeck’s “Travels with Charley” the summer before and fell in love with Charley, Steinbeck and the country. I was a little unsure about the country to tell you the truth but I was willing to learn. I had learned about staying at State Park’s (the only place that was safe from being hassled) and now I was interested to learn all about National Parks. Kids, that the first and most important thing to know about the National Park System and friendly adults. On my first day in Maine I walked down to the shore-line to watch the waves crash onto the rocks. One wave was strong enough to wash pasted me and to loosen my shoes grip on the rock and I started sliding into the ocean. I had no way to stop my downward slide but a friendly hand was offered and I was saved. Another kid and his girlfriend had seen what was happening to me and he became my new best friend. A few day later I got the idea to have a cook-out and invite all the kids from around the camp to my campsite for music and food. A lot of the adults volunteered some onions, potato and stuff to cook and some beer for the older kids and we spent the day making a big pot of soup for all.

After all the kids had went home (back to camp) one father came and chased his kids home and sat and talked for hours it seemed. He’s brought some beer and we sat there until the early hours talking about life, having kids and the responsibilities of adulthood. He was the first of many men who told me that their lives and dreams were over once the kids arrived, they sounded so sad and lonely. I was the first chance they had to tell the stories of what they’d lost in their hurry to grow-up and to be adults. That had a profound effect on me and I took their story’s of lose to heart. The dad and I became friends for the time we had and I was invited on day trips and became the recipient of their left over food when they left. In fact I became such a regular feature of the park and the campfires that I really didn’t have to worry about food for the remainder of my stay. I was living a charmed existence except for not calling home to check in and my mother was getting frantic. But I was twenty-one and I was having the time of my life and couldn’t be bothered.

Death Panel

2009-08-27T08:42:00.003-05:00

I’m not about to get into the end of life debate now roiling the country. Instead I’ll tell you about my plans and the way one person feels. I want to have that talk with my doctor, in fact I’ve already signed a living will. I’m not willing to saddle anyone else with that responsibility or to leave it up to anyone to decide for me. If there’s not a shred of hope for my recovery I want to be made as comfortable as possible and let me get on to the next phase. Personally I feel that we have the responsibility to make room for other’s yet to come. Like an actor on the stage we owe it to ourselves to know the time to make a graceful exit.

I am sixty-one years of age, still young and vital, still with dreams and desires yet to fulfill. Though my time is running short there is no end to my drive to make this as full a life as possible. I feel as though I survived my stroke for a reason and I’d like to share my story with as many people who will listen. I’d like to bring some comfort and some hope to the people who share my illness. There seems to be no end to my art as well, I still have the desire to express myself and there are still some image I want to create. I still have that urge to communicate though my photographs, to tell stories of love and loss; the fleetingness of time and beauty. There are many thing I have left to share while there is still time and the space in my heart.

I came into this world with my own mind-set and no one could change that even though they tried. Like mercury you could push me into a corner but somehow I’d slip out around your fingers. I had my way of doing things and living my life by my rules when I could and even when I couldn’t I’d find a way. I was always looking to be a character when I grew up and I guess I’ve realized that goal. I’m very satisfied with my life up until now and I see no reasons to change in mid-stride. There are those who think I’m too old to be creative, too old to be of use as well. But as long as I have my mind, I can function and feel of use I intent to survive as long as I want. That’s the key to me, wanting to survive. When I feel the time is ripe and life holds no further interest for me I’ll take my marbles with me and play no more. That’s my right as well as my duty as I see it

I watched my father as he ran to the doctor’s every time he sneeze or felt an ache or pain. Of course it was a social occasion as well to access those who had survived in his circle of friends. I’ve seen other people who’s life has been long and they come to their doctor to complain and are surprised when they get pills. Doctors are supposed to do something to try and ease pain or discomfort, that’s their nature and their duty. If you don’t complain you don’t get pills is the way I see it. I don’t even want medication for sexual dysfunction, I’m not dying for an orgasm. I figure that at the age I am it’s a normal part of life, especially after surviving a stroke so I’m content to be my age. For me it’s a quality of life issue rather than the quantity of that life. I see no reason to have my life extended if I don’t get any quality. There are now expensive options to extend your life an extra six months or nine months but where’s the quality in that? If you’re young enough to have children or there maybe a cure fine but why put off the inevitable. All this talk of “death panels” simply clouds the issues, how to exit this life with dignity and grace. I do not wish to suffer and drag my existence out longer than I have to, it’s not right for the people I love and care about. I remind you that this is just my perceptive, some may agree with me and some will not. It’s simply my decision.

Hot Air

2009-08-17T09:05:00.004-05:00

From my mid-thirty’s to my early fifties I was really involved in Hot Air Ballooning, both as crew-chief and as a beginning pilot. I was lucky enough to travel from the one end Florida on interstate 10 clear though to the California end. I was very in demand as a crew-chief getting not only the prettiest but the smartest crew I could find. I traveled with different commercial ballooning outfits to events countrywide making the pilots look good in front of their clients and the general public. At one event in California for a major brokerage house once we had the balloon set up I organized the crowds into a manageable line helping the women get in the balloon without worrying about the fact that they were wearing skirts. Because I was working freelance I could generally get the time free and it was one of the way’s I could make good money and could perfect my competitive skills as well.

Once I helped crew for the Disney Balloon Team and their “Mickey Mouse” balloon. Most of the balloon people in San Antonio were there and it was a big deal to crew for the balloon. I and my friend George Maxfield made up one team the idea of which was to follow the balloon as it made it’s way over town and then to be the first team to be on site as the balloon landed and help with the deflation. George and I followed that balloon with me as the spotter and George driving, we followed that balloon through town and out to countryside were it was beginning it’s descent. Because I knew the area pretty well I knew that the pilot was having to make quick decisions on the best place to land a thee-story balloon. I though that this looked like the likeliest place but all the other teams decide to go on further. I screamed for George to turn in here and my heart was in my throat at the thought of being wrong but as we rounded a corner I was so happy to see the balloon beginning to lay over and we were the only team there to help them. I got a major kick out of that moment of pride as we watched the other teams drive up moments later, but we were number one and all without benefit of a radio! Bye the way, did I mention that I’m very competitive.

George and I traveled together sometime and we became great friend’s, it didn’t matter to me that he was older and had a son my age. Chasing after a balloon early in the morning brings you closer to someone and traveling together make you tight. I had about four pilots who were giving me lessons on piloting a balloon, each had a special skill that they brought to flying. George was my favorite and he was nice enough to give me more time in the balloon than anyone. One morning after we had gotten the balloon inflated I was pilot in command and it was my job to take off and land. It was a great morning and I had a great launch, we even flew close enough to pick leaves out of the tops of trees as we made our accent. We were about twenty minutes into our flight and everything was going so smoothly then I spotted an airfield and decided to try a touch and go. I checked with George and he said give it a shot. Now a touch and go is really that, you bring the balloon down, touch the airfield and go off again. To have any control over the balloon you heat the air to rise and let some air out to bring it down. Sounds simple but it take great finesse to do the job right.

So I let some air out of the balloon and countered with a short blast of heated air to begin my descent, the airfield was still a ways away and I was right on course and we were descending well. I let out some more air, bringing the balloon to within about thirty feet of the ground then I felt a cool breeze in my face and we began to drop like a rock. Just as I began to burn George yelled burn which meant to put hot air in the balloon. We kept dropping like a rock, George yelled burn again two more times and we kept dropping. As we fell to with in feet of the ground I turned to George and told him how sorry I was as he yelled burn aging. We got down to within inches of the ground before the heat reached to top of the balloon and we started to rise. Let me make two points here, an older balloon is more porous than a newer balloon. It leaks more air so it can take longer for the heat to cause the balloon to rise. Also the joy of ballooning is there is no sensation of air around you because you move with the wind, so feeling cool air is very unusual. I immediately turned over command to my friend George because I realized that this was very tricky air we were in and I was really spooked. So on we flew looking for a good place to land.

Exactly the same thing happen at least two more times as we tried to land, we’d get a cool breeze in our face’s and the balloon would drop again and we hit hard then the heat would get to the top of the balloon and we’d rise again. Once went we hit hard enough that the balloon went over far enough to touch the ground and drag us a few yards and as it rose I saw a tree dead ahead. Well we hit that tree about two third of the way up and then the heat in the envelope lifted or ripped us up through the tree limbs and George yelled to get down. I ducked to the bottom of the basket as my friend laid over me but he was looking up at the balloon to see if it was getting ripped to shreds. And then we hit the ground again as George said fuck it we’re down and pulled to top out of the balloon so we stayed on the ground. As we crawled out of the basket and surveyed the groove we plowed into the field George told me he had to pee and I told him that I already had. Then we had to walk about a mile to the road to find our chase-crew to cart the balloon out. By happenstance that ended up being the last time I was pilot in command. I went on to fly many more times, even in Colorado at Thanksgivings before ballooning lost it’s draw for me. I meet a lot of terrific people and got to know them well and I’m grateful for their companionship so early in the morning.

Cutting Room Floor

2009-08-12T09:49:00.004-05:00

My grand debut was not to be, I sort of ended up on the cutting room floor but not quite. I’m still supposed to be on the website and You Tube so my plan was kind of derailed unfortunately. However the presentation went on with Jill Bolte Taylor as the keynote speaker and it turned out to be a wonderful event. Ms. Taylor is a very dramatic speaker and is so very knowledgeable about the human brain. So much of her talk I felt was aimed at me and helped me to understand what exactly happen to me although we had different types of strokes. Her’s was a bleeder caused by a malformation whereas mine was a blockage, a piece of plaque broke lose and caused my damage.

She spent a lot of time on the brain’s anatomy and brain function, she gave a tour of the brain and how each hemisphere works in relation to the other. Too much information to pass on here so I’ll just pass on the things at struck me as important. First the brain is very plastic in it’s ability to heal, to find different pathway around the obstruction. The brain is very social in it’s inner reactions, it loves to communicate. It’s this communication between each individual parts of the brain and with each sphere that makes up the sum total of who we are and the way we think and act. It is the very essence of who we are and what we are as unique individuals in this universe of ours. When we have a stroke or any brain injury one of the hemisphere of our brain ceases to function, our conversation with ourselves fall silent and as a result we are lost in our own brain’s.

None of this I knew before my stroke, only vague ideas that I was able to develop after the event and as I went along in the dark. I knew that I wasn’t happy in my present condition. I had a life that I loved and a lifestyle that was full of promise. I wasn’t willing to just give that up without a fight. I wasn’t content to become handicapped and live out the rest of my life that way. Instinctively I knew that returning to the life I knew was what I needed, to get back into the routine of my every day life. I had built over the years a pattern to my life that was a once familiar and comfortable to me. I had my friend, business acquaintance and a career that I enjoyed and got great pleasure in. I just couldn’t give that life up without trying my best to get it back. You know what they say, you never miss anything till it’s gone.

So that’s what I concentrated on, the patterns of life, my routines of life I had developed over decades. Jill Bolte Taylor invested my idea’s of those routines with value and explained the physiology of what I accomplished. She gave me depth to my experiences with my brain and allowed me to follow the rational explanation of the how’s and why’s of what I did. The brain is a very interesting organ, it’s ability to heal, it’s ability to communicate, it’s very ability to interpret who we are as a human being is as unique as we are. Everyone of us is a unique individual in the universe and should be respected.

Cutting Room Floor

2009-08-02T09:48:00.002-05:00

I sort of ended up on the cutting room floor, not really but it feels that way. My segment got cut from the show and they’re using a man who went through the whole process with them. This is the one year anniversary and they want to showcase someone who was a success in their program. I’ll still be on there website and I get a page on YouTube, I’m still invited to the festivities with Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor. She is the woman who was doing research on the human brain and had a stroke and now she does lectures on her visions of god among other thing having to do with the brain. She even gave a talk on Ted.com that you should listen to.

My other news is more positive because it has to do with my future. The lady I’ve been telling you about has had it with the company and is now ready to go out on her own. She had given them until August to buckle down and get something accomplished but nothing positive has happened. She now sees what I’ve been telling her about the partners and there lack of vision and hard work. They’d rather follow unproductive paths than stick to the project at hand. Along with no vision they have no money and can’t generate the confidence to get any. Of course I had to tell her that my vision of the company had to be seen through the filter of my not have being pay yet for my expenses. I also told her that the company was being foolish by my having access to all the images that no patent has been filed for yet. If I wanted to I could steal the idea right out from under them and all for a hundred dollars.

So now that she is getting her business started and I’m going to give her the portions of film that shows her in meeting and holding discussions. Since I’m not getting paid I chose to use my talents to help her get a website going and help her get established. No real money right now but further down the line it should be well worth my time. Everyone I know is in some form of dire circumstances, either they have lost their jobs and are looking for new opportunities. The whole landscape has changed and not for the better in some ways. That’s the way it is in a new world we are facing, survive and change or don’t. The world doesn’t give a damn it just’s keeps turning on and on. That’s what I was talking about in last post with my talk of gumption. Life doesn’t stand still for no one and only the strongest survive. You have to go out there and make a new life and reinvent yourself for the age you find yourself in.

I’m facing a number of obstacles from some of the choices I made in my life. Many are the consequences of my stroke and the lingering effect of it. I don’t feel I am able to hold down a full time job, I haven’t the stamina for it. But I can play the game and give advice that might helpful and surly won’t hurt. I’ve been asked to sit on her board once she has set that part of her business. In the meantime I can help with the website, I can photograph her rise in business and be a trusted advisor. I aim to reinvent myself and to make myself a new life that I can work at until I am able to work no more for real. I don’t aim to be a dinosaur till the very end of my creative life and that’s somewhere in the dim future.

Gumption

2009-07-29T08:56:00.002-05:00

Today I’d like to talk about gumption, as you know the definition is shrewd initiative and resourcefulness . Like my project I need gumption to make this project work, if one way fails, try another and see how that goes. That’s the first lesson that I learned in dealing with my stroke by the way but more on that later. The lady I’m dealing with certainly has the gumption to get this project moving in the right direction. She’s consumed with the passion of her arguments and a desire to move mountains in her drive to reach the goals she has set, no doubt in my mind about that. She doesn’t need steering in any way, shape or form; she needs ideas to try on and see how they fit and she can use my contacts. It’s a good fit for me to be a sounding-board for her to bounce ideas and frustrations off of. This Friday is the deadline she set for things to improve and to get rolling in the right direction and if not then she’s open to my suggestions.

August 04 is the first anniversary for the Stoke Center of San Antonio, and my testimonial is set to debut. I’m really looking forwards to this event and I’m going to try to parlay that into opportunities for me as well. I don’t know yet how I’ll work that magic but I’ll just take the event as it happens and see. I’m eager to help people who’ve had a stroke or a brain injury to get started on the path to whatever recovery is possible for them. I understand that many are injured beyond repair but I feel all can be helped. You know that school yard chant that it take one to know one, I know that by being their in their shoes I can bring them some comfort and some hope. Whether they take that help or not is up to them but if they’re willing to get better I can show them what they can accomplish with hard work and the proper mind-set. The opportunities are there for the taking if you want them it only lack the shrewd initiative and the resourcefulness to bring them to fruition.

This is a chance to reset my career goals into something that will bring me joy and will help a number of people to benefit from my knowledge and experiences. I’ll still be able to use my photography skills and maybe even a book in the works. But the idea is to be of help or comfort a maximum number of people possible. When you have a life changing event and you are really at a loss for what to do it helps if you have some guidance for what to expect and what your chances are. Again, I realize that there are many people unable or unwilling to get better. Too many find the exercises too hard or too silly to make the effort to recover. Or they find the attention they’re getting too irresistible and willingly give in instead of fighting for their future and the freedom of movement. There’s no comfort for them, I’m only willing to help the fighters to survive and to get well or better. Whatever they’re capable of I’m willing to help in they’re time of need but you have to be willing to get well yourself before anyone can help you.
This is my goal for the foreseeable future, I’m not willing to give up yet or to be stuck in a dead in job, it’s no way to live out my life even if I’m over sixty. I’ve got a lot of years left in me and I’m very positive about life and making the best of the years I have left.

Vada

2009-07-23T08:56:00.002-05:00

I forgot to mention Vada in my post the other day. She is a terrific model very positive and playful. I enjoy working with her and I've got to get her back in front of my camera soon. If you're in the College Station area give her a chance, she's a very nice girl.

Twenty One

2009-07-20T10:59:00.002-05:00

Forty years ago tonight men landed on the moon. Forty years ago I was a twenty-one year old kid touring around the North-East briefly staying in Newport Rhode Island for the Folk Festival. It was the event of my lifetime, Joan Baez, Rambling Jack Elliot and Doug Kershaw were among the performers I saw in person. The moon landing was just part of the show as far as I was concerned, another young kid was perched atop a VW Micro Bus holding an umbrella over a B&W television broadcasting the moon-walk live. I remember like it was yesterday, in fact it was a yesterday long ago.

Milling through the crowd of other young people, making friend for as long as the show lasted, sharing cigarettes and all manner of mind altering stuff like reality. After the show I’d drove my own Micro Bus back to the campground I was staying at, really a State Park that didn’t allow overnight visitors. I’d made friends with the park caretaker over coffee one morning and he told the State Trooper I was OK and the deal was set. My only other night time companions were some other kids like me but with camping equipment. That night I returned to find some bikers having a party a few tables away from me. They had an interest in my bus and the person that was staying inside and I decided to grab the bull by the horns and went over to visit.

They got very tense as I walked up and introduced myself and told them about the State Trooper that came through to check on me and my van. I told them that they could have the party but it was way better to have it away from me down in the corner where the trooper didn’t check. They were so happy to have avoided any type of confrontation with me and to be warned of the cop that they gave me some beers and thanked me. As I got back into my van, thinking how nice they turned out to be I saw the lights from the trooper car. I had a nice quiet night enjoying my beers and the peace and quiet of the night and the night entertainment. Not the least of which was the trooper protect me.

I could tell you of the whole week I spent in Rode Island, the girl I met along the seawall or the lovely night she spent with me or the romantic predawn swim we had in the fresh ocean’s water. But I want to tell you about coffee instead, coffee is the great equalizer to the traveler. Every morning I’d get up and put a pot of coffee on to brew. People seldom bother a man waiting for his morning brew no matter how officious they are. And offering a cup of fresh brewed is the way to anyone’s heart and their companionship. Life unfold over coffee and it’s somehow wrong to tell a lie so early in the morning. And of course being a young fresh face kid on an adventure helped my cause immensely. Never once did I realize how impossibly young and naive I was that summer. I was involved in the adventure of my still young lifetime and nothing would deter me from my quest.

Project

2009-07-14T08:28:00.001-05:00

Life is that which happens to us while we are busy planning our futures. My project is taking a lot longer than I had expected, in fact it might not ever get off the ground. The problem is the management team is floundering around from project to project letting there attention get scatter like so many leaves in the wind. The main man has a perfectly good project under wraps but lacks the vision to bring his project to fruition and that is so sad. It’s not like this is rocket science, he’s done the hardest part and that to think up the idea and build a prototype. But he lacks the vison to see his project through and has filled his life with people who also lack the vision or experience to guide him beyond their own selfish needs. So the whole project is going to fall by the wayside for lack of direction.

I wouldn’t mind so much but this is a green project that will help a lot of people in their moment of need and beyond. Emergency Housing in a new a different way that FEMA is in dire need of done in a new a different way. None of the Formaldehyde fumes and a pop-together wall structure that can be put together in different configurations quickly and can be shipped by air or rail. Now a woman involved with the project is a real go getter and really sharp, she got my attention very quickly and has potential. She has the vision and see’s the potential that the other lack but I fear she is getting discouraged by the lack of control at the top. I’d like to be part of her team if she has the gumption to put one together and take over the hard work on getting the grants, doing the governments paperwork and all the headache involved with getting a new project off the ground. As I say she has experience and I think has the drive. Certainly her background in solar work and knowledge of the working of the government give her a leg-up so we’ll see. Stay tuned as the adventure continues and see if this can be part of my new life. Only time will tell.

On the other hand I went to the Second Saturday Art festivities the other night and had a blasts. All sort of wonderful art on display with all the artist in attendance to talk up their work and give it depth. Really got my creative juices flowing to get back into the game but I don’t know if it’s really time yet. No one seems to be buying art or anything else right now and the gallery owner isn’t doing any cartwheels as of late. But it gave me a feel for the life again and maybe soon the timing will be right for a return. But it was a young crowd and I didn’t see any buyer type there only people looking to have a good time and maybe that’s what it’s all about now. Everybody is crying the blues but still people are shooting and models are working and traveling so things can’t be that bad can they now.

Crotch Shot

2009-07-09T09:21:00.002-05:00

I’d like to thank Dr. Lightness for her informative post on taboos and the crotch shots. I want to say a word or two about the crotch shot and my conflicted views on them also. I think they can be an invasion of privacy and should be used in an artistic and limited way. Plus as a man they call for an amazing amount of trust by the ladies involved. I have posted one of my shots here on my blog but you can’t see who she is and I would never tell, again I think it’s a matter of keeping her privacy intact. As I said in my blog I wanted for my model to be almost androgynous rather than a female who was built more sensuously. I had a statement that I want to make and I didn’t want to take away from that message. As you can see by the image posted here I got the shot I wanted for the Gallery Lombardi Erotica Show and it got a goodly viewing. I invited my model to show her how the work was shown and in what context because it was her first time to be in a show.

Another shot I did with a girl, and I do mean girl as she was twenty when we shot, I asked her permission to have her squat. I explained how the sun was positioned and how the shadows would fall and I ask her if I could shoot a polaroid first. Then I explained how I wasn’t sure how much detail I was going to get in the final print but I told her how I would protect her privacy. She allowed me to shoot and you’ll have to take my word it was a wonderful image. Because you can see who she is I’ll never post it again to protect her privacy. I feel I owe that to my models.

Let me say a word here about my models, at a minimum they are eighteen, my preference is for them to be at least in their mid-twenty’s or older. I believe you need some age to prepare yourself to model nude . In your early to mid-twenties you’ve had so time to live and get some experience under you’re belt. You have a better idea of who you are and where your place is. Your brain is more mature and you make better decisions mostly. One model I worked with was eighteen and I noticed her because her had a portfolio that was all nudes and not very good one at that. So by agreeing to work with me I was able to provide a little common sense to her attitude to modeling.

This is the way I prefer to work, it may seem a little convoluted but considering how I sometimes work with very young models who haven’t considered the ramifications of shooting nudes yet. I feel I owe them the respect they show to me and my artistic endeavors. Have I always felt that way, no but I too am a work in progress and I do learn from my mistakes and I try to do better. I’m not the same person I was before my stroke, I have slowed down and had a chance to think about things and a better way to relate to my subjects now. There was a time that I was caught up in that drive to make my mark and to get attention as an artist no matter what the cost. But my stroke gave me a chance to get my feet firmly underneath me and to consider my limits and my priorities. Now I’m ready to begin the hunt anew with a more generous spirit and revised goals. I’ve learned to live in my skin a little better and I’ve learned to be more loving.

So a convoluted way of shooting and thinking. yes but a much fairer way of thinking. I have many shots I can’t use because of my models sensibilities. But I have many more shots that are equally special because of the level of trust that my models and I share and you can’t beat that.

Shower

2009-06-27T08:06:00.003-05:00

There were fun times in my therapy, I had to make them happen to keep myself sane. My therapists made an easy target because I worked with them everyday and we built up quite a rapport . I’d been on the main floor about a week, my catheter had been taken out and I was getting used to the wheelchair. I was beginning to get comfortable, maybe a little too comfortable with my situation and I was beginning to smell. You’d think that that would be the least of my problems but you’d be wrong. One weekend while waiting for breakfast to be distributed I was wheeling myself down the hall looking for the linen closet. When at last I found it I quickly grabbed some towels and took them back to my room. Then I waited until rounds had been done, breakfast trays had been collected and the nurses had settled into their morning routine. Then I close my door, collected my towels and wheeled myself into the bathroom.

I’d spent the day before checking out the shower, how it worked and how the bench fold ed down from the wall. The only thing left was to get myself maneuvered from the wheelchair onto the shower bench. Never for a moment did I think of removing the side of my wheelchair to make things easier, instead I locked the chair down and lifted myself onto the edge of the bench and then maneuvered, with only one hand working, I got myself onto the middle of the bench. When the water was just right I began my wonderful shower, maybe the best shower of my adult life and soaped myself well. With that one hand I got every part I could reach and then some. Then I took the time to dry myself and then I was stuck. With only one side of my body working and that side towards the inside corner of the shower stall I really had to figure my way out and without tipping over. But somehow I managed to get back into my wheelchair and I felt so good for having accomplish the task of getting myself clean. The next day the nurse asked me if I wanted to have a shower and I though why not and promptly got into trouble. This time I couldn’t stop myself from tipping over onto my bad side and almost fell off the bench and to the floor. I was shocked into realizing how precarious my state was and now I was very leery of taking a shower at all.

A few day later it was posted on my wall that I’d be learning the next day how to get into the shower stall and could finally take a shower but I’d be accompanied by a therapist. Somehow the idea of being “accompanied” by a twenty-four old therapist didn’t sound attractive in the least. My therapist was a lovely girl I’d come to rely on to help me with my exercises and we’d gotten close. So dressed she showed me how to pull up the side of my wheelchair and how best to maneuver myself to the bench. I practiced two or three time til I had the thing down pat and then we were ready for my shower. It wasn’t the way I’d envisioned at all but boy was it intimate; I had to strip bare ass naked under her too watchful gaze and get myself situated and she pointed out what I was doing right and wrong. She was so concerned that I’d topple over and she didn’t want that to happen to me. I was grateful but I was resentful too that I had to have her watch me while I took my shower like a child but hey, when you’re in the condition I was in you take all the help you can get.

But..., but I was determined to get back at her somehow and I got my chance when my friend Lorri came to take me home from the hospital. She had to go through training with me so she’d know the right way to handle me, to learn what I knew but had a tendency to forget. So when Lorri show up I introduced her to my therapist as the girl who watched me shower! And then I sat back and laughed as my therapist blushed and explained the how’s and wherefore before Lorri told her she was a nurse too and had seen so many bare assess that she couldn’t count. It was almost as good as the shower.

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My friend Traci

Exercises

2009-06-21T06:24:00.001-05:00

After my formal therapy was over I was at a loss for what exercises I could do. For the past eighteen months I had a set routine that I executed every other day, now I was unsure what to do. I really felt a type of rejection and a emptiness in my soul and in my life. I had a nice graduation from therapy and a even nicer certificate to commemorate my having survived hours of every know torture to humans, some they had to work at thinking up. I decided that since I was going off to visit my friend in the northeast I’d let myself rest and catchup on myself. After all that therapy I needed the time to think and get organize for my trip. I had a full list of exercises I could and was supposed to do but I couldn’t get interested in them for some reason, they just didn’t feel right.

By the time I left I was ready for a change of scenery and a change to my lifestyle too; I was ready for some togetherness. We started by taking long drives in the country to acquaint myself with the territory, north and south, east and west; where I was in relation to where I was now living. Long lovely drives into the countryside seeing places I never been before but would see again. I was so happy to be away from the heat of Texas and away from therapy and my doctors and the routine of my life. Letting my friend show me her part of the world, the little wonders she’d know for a lifetime and could now share them with me, the little nooks and crannies of her hometown and beyond. But my aliments followed me and tortured me just the same.

Just walking up the stairs exacerbated the pain in my hip, my buttock to be precise. I went for therapeutic massage and that did relieve my pain but it was climbing the two flight of stairs each day that really helped. I started helping my friend around her garden at first, nothing major just emptying each pail as she filled them with weeds and cuttings. Then we got to mulching dragging each bag out of the car and back to they were needed. Little by little I was getting more in toned so then I began taking longer walks. By the time fall came I was ready to try raking, just yards at a time then sit and rest, then rake a bit and rest again, I only finished the side yard but I felt like I accomplished something. I so very slowly was getting stronger and more toned, I was walking better and longer. Little by little each household chore that I did built up my strength. Balance continued to be an issue over uneven territory but a walking stick helped. Now I was learning a new routine to my day, a routine that I could follow when I returned home and for the rest of my life really. I could feel myself getting better and it was long after the eighteen months that my doctor had warn me against.
Walking at home presented a problem at first, too many loose dogs in the neighborhood. Too much stress for me to cope with on top of an already stressed system, so I stopped. At least in the neighborhood, I started walking in the park where there weren’t any dogs. The I started taking bags along on my walks and started picking up trash. Don’t laugh it was excellent exercise bending and walking, I’d do three bags each time I walk and it cleaned up the park too. I started cleaning up my apartment too, dusting the floors and washing them. It like to kill me at first but it kept me in shape and worked my muscle too. I even learned to work my arm in cleaning the mirrors in the bathroom and cleaning the tub. Worked every muscle in my body little by little..., and I never had to pay a gym either or a cleaning lady for that matter.

I’m sharing some tips I learned the hard way, never but never give up. Keep inventing ways to work out that you can learn at your own pace that mean something valuable in your life. Instead of learning to type with two fingers try to type as always, so it’s not easy, so what. Learn to push yourself to do things to try to get back to where you were before your stroke or head injury. I feel that my stroke was a landslide in my brain, all the pathways I knew over a lifetime were blocked. It wasn’t my hand or leg that was injured it was my brain. I had to relearn all those pathways I knew so well. Even if you can’t make the connection I feel the road to recovery begins with the will to survive. Each step to normalcy, each little step that you can accomplish leads to bigger steps and those steps will lead you somewhere you need to be.

B-Roll

2009-06-13T08:19:00.001-05:00

Next week or two I’m supposed to do the B-roll of my testimonial, my fifteen minutes of fame is still two months away but I want to be ready. So I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to say and why. After I had my stroke I couldn’t think, things just came to me with no preconceive notions. By the time I was able to take my cooking class I got angry about it but didn’t quite know why. I just knew that my way out was though my strength and not by learning to be handicapped. I supposed that I knew instinctively that my muscles still worked, my hand, arm and leg weren’t damage the control for them wasn’t working correctly.

I always maintained that I had a landslide in my brain, as in any landslide the mountain that was me had collapsed and the pathway to “me” were blocked. I had to find a way to reestablish those connections again to make myself move as I used to. I needed to find a new path to me and to make that path(s) as smooth as possible; I was a child again learning to tie my shoes. The doctors weren’t much help either, the doctor is like a weather forecaster, he could tell me from his experience with others what my chances were but he couldn’t be sure one hundred percent. Nobody would know for sure until I did or did not recover. I had a lot to lose and I wasn’t prepared for that, I didn’t know any better so I just figured that I’d recover. Make no mistake it wasn’t easy or painless but it was either recover or live in a nursing home for the rest of my life. I chose recovery and I guess my stubbornness came to my rescue. I can be an obstinate son of a bitch, I want to do things the right way, my way.

So that’s what I did, I was more than willing to have help and guidance in my quest for me. But the more that I worked to get my strength back the more I knew I was on the right track for me. There were milestones along the way, markers for the progress that I was making. As each slid past I’d make up a new milestone, one’s that my therapist had to invent for me. I was a challenge for them, I forced them to think up new ways to help me and we both took pride in my progress along the way, my way back to me. Even as my progress took me past the eighteen month barrier that they had told me about I could see progress. I didn’t realize it at the time, several month would pass before I realize that I was still progressing. After almost two years and I started back to reading, my joy and pleasure was back and even my laugh was getting better but not the way I remember it. I still can’t sing, those who know me best say I never could but who know, I am hopeful.

And that’s what one desperately need hope, for the future and for the past. To get back to the old/real you. A you that you remember and are comfortable with, a you that fits your memories of you. A you you can be proud of, that you can say you made this happen. OK, so you had a stroke, a car accident, what ever it was that gave you the brain injury, you and you alone made it better, made it back to the old you. Never give up, work until it hurts and work some more. You are unique, you are the only you on the planet, there are no substitutes, know this and live life to it’s fullest. Did I mention never give up?

Birthday

2009-06-01T14:48:00.002-05:00

Today I am officially sixty one years old and I don’t feel it. Yes I have ache and pains mostly from my stroke but I’m doing pretty well for a man my age. I must say I kinda surprised to be here, having escaped most of my follies relatively unscathed. In my youth, like all people I felt bulletproof and there weren’t many thing I didn’t try. I was really fearless or stupid, whatever you want to call it about my future. I didn’t feel the need to plan for my welfare or my health, I though I’d figure that out when I was ready. Well I’m ready now to find my way again and I have a hope for my future.

Last week I took a ride down to the sight of the new project that just fell into my lap. I was really impressed with the caliber of the people involved and with their drive and passion. They have a prototype built that has solar, wind and water build right in. Next month they plan a trip to Mexico to look at a site and make their plans to build a self-sustainable community. Very impressive in their scope and will bring a new quality of life to the local inhabitants. A totally green environment that will produce water for their crops and will recycle everything else they need. A very exciting project to be involved with. We even have on board someone to test the soil and suggest native plants that are apropos to the environment.

Of course this has tremendous commercial applications as well, they are in the process of getting the grants and funding that they need to make the technology work. That’s the point were I come into the project to document and to record there progress. I was down to photograph the prototype and the detail’s of how it was built. I shot the most important features of the construction as well as a general overview of the prototype and what features come with this particular product. Not exciting kind of shooting but eventually it should pay my bills. I’m looking for it to pay more than my bills really. I want to get back to shooting my model and creating my art. I have to find some way to sustain my art until it gets rolling and I get some regular clients. This was my plan for the future at the time I had the stroke but that event took up all the air in the room.

I was smart enough to see my age creeping up on me and at age fifty-seven I was starting to shift my work into the more artistic avenues. I could envision the time when I wouldn’t be able to keep up physically with working eight to ten hours a day at event photography. I was planning an orderly transition in life and the focus of my work. But my stroke changed my thinking overnight, I was left battling for my life instead. So many people have told me that I’m inspirational to anyone fighting my situation. Some have call my action heroic but I don’t feel that way at all. I had no choice in my fight, it was either sink or swim really. I could lay there in bed doing nothing or I could put one foot in front of another and get back the life I was used to living. The chose was stark, take it or leave it. I chose life and the pursuit of happiness. A couple of weeks ago I managed to get my testimonial recorded and in it I found a voice to speak to everyone who finds themselves in my condition. I found it important to give people hope and remind them that the doctors never know exactly what there patients are capable of overcoming in their desire to live a full and useful life again. Of course not everyone is as lucky as I am; some never recover and are left crippled for life. But that the way I feel actually, lucky. I am very lucky indeed.

Ready For My Close-up

2009-05-24T10:10:00.003-05:00

A star is born, not really my fifteen minutes of fame have yet to start. I went the other day for my on camera testimonial and it was a fun experience. Because I have experienced the camera before and had a story to tell I was calm and relaxed. I listen to the things the editor wanted and I gave her my story from beginning to end. She was really pleased with me and the way I carried myself and the story I had to tell. I got to tell people the warning signs and not to repeat my error in waiting for so long to get help. I made sure that everyone knew that economics played a part and that I was not depressed. But I was content to let my fate be decided by nature rather than me. I have sleep apnea and I was hoping that would decide my fate and that I go quietly in my sleep. But I lived to find out there are worse fates results than death.

I awoke twice in the night and tried to go to the bathroom and fell down both times. The last time I almost went through the window then down a floor to certain death. But I would have been cut up pretty bad on my way down; I still had a desire to save myself. I guess that carried me through the whole ordeal. At least the retelling of the story wasn’t as traumatic as the event, I got a certain relief out of it. I could tell it made an impression on the woman I was telling my tale to and my description of the pre-stroke event was something she hadn’t heard before. She was so pleased that we decide to do a B-roll later of me walking in the park. For those of you who don’t know a B-roll refers to filler material so the producer can fluff out the story. It’s an interesting process and I’ll post the final result when I get a copy. So my fifteen minutes of fame hasn’t started yet and I can look forward to it with relish.

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On another note today is Memorial Day. A day of remembrance for the people who have given their lives for the freedoms we enjoy. We can debate the cause of the war, any wars for that matter. But we all should remember the men and women who have had their lives taken from them. We should remember to make the sacrifice for very good reasons and not to waste it. Remember too that we should live and let live and not force our views on one another. Too many people have given the ultimate sacrifice so we can enjoy this day. Let’s enjoy today and accept some different view to celebrate.

Happy

2009-05-19T11:33:00.008-05:00

I’d like to break out in a chorus of “Happy Days Are Here Again” but I’ve learned better by now. The meeting went well, better than well I’d even rate it a good. I’m cautiously optimistic, seems that I’ll at least get some work out of it that I can handle. You’ll have to understand that I can’t speak of the meeting in particular, too many pieces need to come into place yet. But I can speak of what my fears were going into it besides failure on my part. I was really afraid that I wouldn’t be able to keep up or to understand the concepts that were floating around. That I wouldn’t be able to add my opinions and feeling. But the old thrill of making a difference came back to me as never before.

I was able to visualize the project and the ideas as well as I ever could and was able to make coherent comments and suggestions. Best of all I could follow ideas as they came one after another. It was thrilling to be part of the action and the actors. It was almost better than sex with none of the perspiration and trouble. I remember back when I was forty-five and working for New York Telephone and doing the Emmy’s. I had a lot of work to organize and get accomplished in a short time. I was on the phone a lot and traveling all over New York state and to Chicago where the Emmy’s are made. One of the broadcasters I was covering was WNET, the local affiliate of PBS. I almost worked out a deal at the end of my shoot that would take me to Dallas to get one of the principals. I came that close to shooting her and getting my travel paid so I could visit home but just missed out. Better that sex

So my meeting yesterday wasn’t as climatic but it did make me feel oh so good. It’s been a long time coming to reach this point where I feel comfortable with myself. A long time getting to the point where I feel able to cope with ideas and those ideas generated my own suggestions like before. I was able to forget about me and lose myself in the work and planning. I was excited by the nature of the project, the idea that it’s green technology at it’s finest and will add quality of life for a number of people. I’m ready to get started and lend my skills to this nascent project and see it grow into something I can be proud of. I haven’t lost sight of the commercial possibilities of the project either, I stand to make some good money as well. But the saying is “Catch the wave” and I meant to catch it and get a good ride out of it for as long as I can.

Economy

2009-05-09T16:06:00.001-05:00

Well it would seem like the economy is improving, at least mine is slowly showing improving signs. At least some of my contacts are back and want to talk about things. The Dow went up and money seems to flow a little easier. Barring any new outbreaks I think it’s safe to say we’re hitting bottom at last. Don’t get too excited because it will be a long time till things are actually good again, if ever. But at least I’m seeing signs that things have stopped sliding and may just level off if the bankers don’t get their way and go back to risky investments again. I had to get on a do not contact list to stop the credit-cards offers from coming, I’d get a half dozen in a month. You know the world isn’t right when you’ve lost your business because of health issues and there still trying to sell you a credit card.

I feel like the banking institutions got themselves into trouble and brought us all along for the downhill ride. Ditto for the wall-street types with their huge rewards all for taking risk’s and having we taxpayers to save their butts. We small business types take risks each and every day we operate, we take the risks of failure as a given. But there is no one to save us from our own follies we’re just allowed to fail and it’s left to us to pick up the pieces and start again, if we can. No kindly uncle is there to pat us on the back and shake his head and say try again little one and don’t be sad. I could have used someone like that, instead my friends pitched in to help me recover for the first year and a half when I truly was going under. It was the little people who helped me and saved me from the streets.

At least that’s my take on thing and only my opinion, I am not an economist or a writer of the economy. Lin can give you a much broader picture of the economy and who when wrong and where. I’m just telling you what I see and feel going on around me. First I had to stop by the post office to buy stamps and the clerk asked me how long ago I had my picture taken on my driver-license. He told me I looked younger somehow and that compliment started my day. Then I hadn’t seen one of my friends for about a year, he was very complimentary about how I looked and remarked on how profession I seemed. Then I got the meeting I wanted with my two friends that have gotten a project into the planning stage and want to include me. So it was a good day for my ego and a better day for pocketbook issues. Now I can actually see myself getting back to shooting professionally and getting back to having models again. I have miss that part of my life so much words fail me.

So things look pretty strong in my little piece of the forest, things are getting settled and pieces of the sky aren’t crashing all around me for now. People are actually breathing easier and have things to look forward to. An improvement in people’s piece of mind’s and attitude as the dust begins to settle. I know without a doubt that the pain is going to linger awhile and lots more people are going to get hurt and I feel for them. I just thank my lucky stars that I have some good contacts, good friends that want to see me succeed with them. That I have a good reputation that people know and trust. I know that without a doubt that my friends were the key to my survival and that only the people who knew me were going to give me a chance to get back into the game.

This Old House

2009-05-05T13:21:00.002-05:00

This is one of my early works created in 1968 or there about. I was twenty and so was the young lady. She was an early muse who’d let me try different things with her photographically. We did a lot of fashion and worked in a lot of abandoned building. We were attending college and became friend’s through a mutual acquaints. Actually another model I was working with who was more conservative. Mary was more laid back, she like us all at the time was striving to find herself and got a joy out of being photographed. So between classes and on weekends we’d find out of the way spots to do our work.

I could talk her into trying a number of different poses and tried different lighting with her most of which were available lighting. Without a reflector I might add because they hadn’t been invented yet. We were all working with flashbulbs and they were so erratic and expensive. This shot is about the only one I have left because when I left town to go explore the country I gave the shots back to her. I was such a fool then but I didn’t know better.

We were working in an old house along the river that was a favorite spot of mine. Out by the mission’s on what at that time was a pretty lonely stretch of nowhere. I was able to tempt a couple of girls out there to have them all to myself and my ideas. I look back on it now as an adult and I think how dangerous, without any means of contacting anyone. But I was young and bulletproof and so were the girls and nothing happened anyway. I got some good shots that way, working alone with the girl’s and getting a chance to know them. Thinking about it now it took a lot of trust on their part so I guess I was trustworthy then as now. But I never put the hit on my models, it was always about the work. Same as my poetry, I never use my poetry to get myself laid, after was another story altogether.

Anyway, this shot brings back a lot of memories of a time a place in my life. Almost at the beginning of my photographic life how much I’ve learned and how much I have left to learn. I wonder who I’ll have become when I’ve finished living my life.

Women

2009-04-30T09:12:00.005-05:00

Women are wondrous creatures, they seem to have figured out the way to deal with there feeling that men never have. Even so august a woman as Margaret Thatcher is said to have needed a good cry then got on with the business of sending men to war. Women will cry when their happy, women will cry when their sad or frustrated and worst of all, women will cry when they are angry. Unlike men they don’t hold their feeling in for long and once it reach’s that teary stage be prepared for anything. I’m not making light of this ability, it’s one that I respect in it’s effect on the male population. Men have no natural defense against it and usually fail to understand it complexity but we all understand it’s effectiveness. Men through training or because of our nature tend to hold things in and hold grudges until death, our death.

I needed to get in touch with my more feminine side when I had my stroke. I needed to mourn what I had lost. I felt so alone in the hospital so completely vulnerable and broken that I had only instinct to lead me. I had to keep trying to put one foot in front of another, keep trying to move my arm so that I would have a chance at a life again. No matter how much I wanted there was no room for the sorrow I felt for me. Somehow I needed to make that time and space for me to greave. One day in speech therapy I was so frustrated by the lesson that I broke down and cry my eyes out, after I felt so relieved. My therapist let me have the time I needed and then came back to my room with me and made sure I was all right. She even changed the sheets on my bed and wished me a good evening. A small comfort but a comfort none the less.

Then during my long convalesce I started feeling so down and out, feeling of worthlessness washed over me in wave after wave. I felt like a rudderless ship bobbing in the sea. There were movies that got to me, manipulated me so ruthlessly that I couldn’t hold back my emotions. I spoke to one doctor about it and my feelings because after all the hard work I was doing I didn’t feel like I was making the progress that I wanted. I needed to feel like I was living a productive life again or at least the hope that I ever would. I was trying to walk around my neighborhood to build up my strength and to build coordination. But my anxiety and the dogs soon put a stop to that permanently so of course the answer was anti-anxiety medications. But my body and mind were on different pages, nothing I could do was working and that separation was hindering my recovery.

A couple of years into my recovery I was sitting in a café waiting for a my friend to show up for breakfast. I started sweating and I could feel my heart beating in my chest too fast. It felt like I had the flu, my legs and arms felt so heavy and I thought that I needed to get to the hospital quick. But I didn’t know how I’d get out of the café short of calling EMS to haul me out and that was just too public. So I close my eyes, breathed deeply and repeat..., slowly inhale deeply and exhale..., repeat. Ever so slowly I could feel my heart slow, the crowd noises made a pleasant hmm, slowly I went to a happy place. Not a destination or a real place but somewhere deep in my mind where I could control things..., I felt better. The heaviness I felt in arms and then my legs lifted. My heart slow and I didn’t feel so clammy, I smiled knowing I was getting this under control. I felt like the Buddha sitting in my little Mexican Café smiling, with eyes closed and in full control of what was going on in me. As I resurfaced I felt refreshed and calm, the happiness that filled me was so new and fresh. By the time my friend arrived I could tell her about my experience and I was relaxed and calm. I often use this technique to fall asleep though I enjoy the help of a sleeping pill to make sure I get the rest I need. Never let anyone fool you, we are in control of our body and minds.

Pills, lots and lots of pills

2009-04-26T10:44:00.003-05:00

I’ve finally learned to take a pill, lots and lots of pills. I was fifty-nine when I learned to take them by the handful. I’ve also learned that there is a direct correlation between what I ingest and my health or lack thereof. Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. I’m coming to this realization late I confess so don’t get mad at me. I learn a lot of things at a glacial pace and I realize it and readily confess; I maybe slow but I’m certainly not very fast. The stroke had a lot to do with my current knowledge. I’m working with my doctor to fine tune my health so I certainly cannot speaking for the masses by any means.

The first thing I learned is that doctors do not know what your real condition will be. Like the weather they can only tell you what the prognosis is according to what the majority of patient have done. You are unique to them and your ability’s and desires will take you where your body decides. The doctors and nurses figured I’d never walk again, that is if I survived the stroke in the first place. I fooled them and that gave me no end of pleasure. My recovery was a test of wills, mind over body to get the results I wanted. Not to say that it was easy or pleasant, a lot of hard work and sweat went into my recovery and it surprised a number of people not only me. I was blessed with the desire to recover and I had the muscle mass and the brain power to get the job done.

When I had the stroke it felt like my arm was dislocated from the shoulder socket from just hanging there. My arm had recovered remarkably well and I felt it was finally healing. But my arm was going bad on me, a lot of pain when I moved it and reaching the mouse on the computer was excruciatingly painful. So I saw my doctor and a physical therapist and they made pronunciation on me and my arm. But that didn’t seem right to me and I kept looking for answers that would satisfy me and let me get to work on them. The therapist said something about hyper-extending and recommended therapy but to me that sounded like something I was doing and therefor was curable if only I could find out what. So I bought a wireless mouse and the pain in my arm finally cleared. Not rocket science granted but knowing my body saved me the expense and therapy.

More recently I was having a bad time with my G.I. system and even had some bleeding as a result. I asked my doctor about it, she asked me about food and if I could have had some bad water; sounded like I was living under third world conditions. She recommended a series of test beginning with my blood and ending up in a colonoscopy which I wasn’t too thrilled about. I told her I didn’t “feel” like I’d eaten something bad. But I kept looking and kept a record of when it affected me. Sure enough one day I was making coffee and I refilled the jug I keep my filter water in, I though it looked a little odd. There was a slight discoloration that turned out to be a kind of mold and the filter itself had gone way to long without replacement. I corrected that problem and my G.I. problems cleared up in about a week or so. Turns out I was living like a third world person and was being poison by my water.

Remember that you are unique and your body is unique. Know what’s going on with your body, for your sake keep records of your treatments and the problems you are having. I can’t recommend keeping a log of your blood-pressures enough. I have the utmost regards for my doctor and her abilities and I trust her with my life. But in these days of doctors being under such pressure to deliver I want mine to be a part of my health. I keep mine updated on what I think is going on with my body because I know it best. If something doesn’t feel right then it’s not. I’ve realized that my body is a high performance machine and I need to make sure it’s running as well as it can.

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From my New York Phase, I loved playing with the light

Writers

2009-04-23T13:42:00.001-05:00

I have a new appreciation for my friends who write columns and what they go through on a week to week basis. Coming up with one story line after another is a hard way to make a living. I can see why some scan the blogs and Twitter for ideas. I recently pitch an idea about my stroke to a friend and she was so happy. At least it took the pressure off her for one more story and this one fell into her lap. I feel like it’s time to tell my story to a larger audience so I’m trying to take my story to the media. I’m talking to some interviewers for the television stations locally and see if their interested. May is National Stroke Month and my story needs to be told to give some people the hope for a more normal life. I think that by being open an honest about what happened to me and talking about what I’m able to do now will ease people’s fears. I hope to give them some answers they need to hear. At least that’s the reason I started this blog.

I stare at a blank screen with a solid blinking slash just waiting for words to pour forth. The last few days I’ve had a problem spelling words and thinking clearly. Not to worry, I’ve had the problem before and will again but it does give one pause. Like Lin I have trouble writing with a pen. Unlike her I can use the keyboard fairly well but my thinking sometimes goes astray. Words look funny to me and I’m not sure if there spelled right. I check the dictionary often and the thesaurus is my friend. I discovered that trick when I was recovering from my stroke and was learning to type again. I’d often spell the word so wrong or couldn’t think how to begin to spell it, I was lost. Rather than use a simple word I wanted to use the word I liked, nothing else would do. But how does one think of a word when one isn’t thinking clearly.

Often this blog writes itself but gets hijacked, I start off with one paragraph then I write another one that starts a chain of though that has nothing to do with the first paragraph. My last blog was like that, it didn’t quite write itself but I was thinking of things and they just came out. I’m reading Jean Auel’s series “Clan of the Cave Bear”, I’m on the forth book of the series “Plains of Passage”. The heroine remind’s me of a girlfriend I once had. The hair color and the straight forward manner, no she wasn’t a cave-women but she was strong. So when I read the book I can see her or at least I see enough of her that it take’s me back. One of my comments asked why I had written that particular piece. It dovetailed with what Dr. Lightness was thinking about another subject all together. That’s the magic in what we write and the viewer read, thought’s dovetail and mesh together. When that happens you feel a kind of cosmic rush and an overflow of magic.

Of course there the hell of writing first. You know what they say “writing is easy, you just look at the blank sheet of paper till the drops of blood break out on your forehead”. Or that’s the hell of writing for a deadline, tick tick tick. Every second, every blink of the cursor is another second lost or if your lucky gained in the quest to write the perfect piece. A piece that will touch each reader somewhere, whether it asking questions. Or amplify’s what the reader is already thinking about. I love when that cosmic connection is made and two minds meet and think alike. My blog has been the bridge that carries me far away to distant lands and minds. And somehow we meet and shake hand’s and say I know what you mean.

Women

2009-04-14T12:11:00.002-05:00

In my younger years I could usually get the last word on any subject, except with women that is. It was a blessing when I learned that even if I won I’d really lost. That was a hard one to learn and accept with grace and good humor. But I did learn to hand them a glass of wine and apologize for being wrong, it saved a lot of time. Sting was famous for saying that he and his wife had Tantric sex for eight hours. Then when he got a little older he admitted that six hours was spent begging..., I like that one. But life goes better when you learn that whatever you did was wrong and get the apology over. Even if you don’t mean it! I’m being frivolous of course but really it’s easier and life is too short already.

Once I was traveling with my girlfriend and she had come down with a really bad cold and wouldn’t take anything for it. We finally arrived at the town were we going and to the theater. We’d barely managed to avoid a huge argument on the way down and I had decided that the best course of action was to ignore her mood and carry on. I introduced her to my friend who’s play it was and she just basically stood there and said little. I told my friend about her cold and told him his wasn’t really feeling her best and he understood. Later at the hotel when we were getting ready for bed I told my girlfriend that I though it was much better to cut our mini-vacation short as she wasn’t feeling well. That I felt bad for her because I knew she was miserable and couldn’t enjoy herself. Leaving out the part where she was making me feel miserable too. She decided to take a minimum of medication instead of trying to power through and we had a nice time after all. I think the best part of any minor illness is to be able to rub Vicks on their chest. At least it make me feel better!

The point is I made my concern for her plain and as a result I got to feel better and the trip was saved because of it. This young lady didn’t like western medicine and didn’t like taking pills. So I went along with her wishes and when they weren’t working I suggested a way to resolve the problem, I work with her instead of against her. For every problem there is a way around it if your willing to look hard enough to find it. Most times you need time to work out the problems so take some time to work out the problems. But most of the problems are something you said in haste or in anger. And most things can be solved by taking the time to discuss them and the willingness to consider both side of an argument and to be willing to talk about them.

Of course I live alone and have for the last decade, I find that it the best lifestyle for me especially as I age. I can work anytime that I feel like it and just being alone can calm me and the silence is golden. I love my music when it’s appropriate but I love silence as well. I get a great peace of mind that comes over me when I’m writing or working on ideas. A great deal of my time is spent communicating with friends and colleagues. When I’m actually shooting I have to spend a lot of time talking to people, giving directions and inter-reacting with them and I need this space of mine. It’s not the best lifestyle for all but for me it seems to make the difference I need. I spend a lot of time working out different problems I have and coming up with ideas for my shoots, different story lines that might work.

Speaking of work I seem to have gotten back into the groove. I’ve contacted my clients about work and I’ve gotten some positive results. I needed to let some time pass before I could approach them about new images. I’m also trying some new thing to help supplement my income. But it’s daunting to pitch different ideas, not something I’m use to now and it does take skill to do it well. But it’s lovely to feel in control of my future again and to have a direction that seems positive at last. In every economy some little grains of compromise seem to happen and we need to nurture them and take the time to listen to that inner voice and work with them and not against them.

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From Fiesta, The King William Fair my title is "Thinking of You"

Storm Palms

2009-04-10T12:52:00.004-05:00

I’ve been working on my resume to get it up to date so I can look for work. My usual contact have been very helpful and have given some ideas to try. I’ve never seen the economy this bad in all my years in business. It’s a real struggle for every one in business right now. Tourism, hotels and the convention business are all suffering with the downturn. This isn’t just my personal business mind you, from everything I hear and read the downturn is very well spread out affecting everyone worldwide. I would hate to be a young college student starting out looking for a career right now. Something about an old curse about living in interesting times; well the times are very interesting right about now.

I had good news today that one of my clients is still interested in updating their website. So I may get some work in my chosen profession but I’m not counting my chickens yet. What I’m trying to do is spread my net a little further and incorporate more of my talents and skills. Hence the update of my resume, so much different from my professional one. But I think the skills translate well and with a balance of the two I should be able to survive and get back to shooting my nude series again. Then get some prints made and begin to search for galleries to show my work. At least that’s the long term plan that I had been working on before I had my stroke. It feels good to finally get back into the groove and it’ll be even better to get back to work again. I’ve had a slow couple of month and that’s affected my thinking and my game plan really. I’m in so much better a place now that I have some hope for the future. That’s critical to my thinking and to my survival.

Worldwide people are suffering and wondering what to do or where to go now. These are not normal times, this is the beginning of a new order of thing worldwide. I don’t think that people have a handle on the way things are going quite yet but the old order is fighting tooth and nail to stay on top. The automobile, energy both coal and oil are digging in there heels and saying keep the statue quo for the foreseeable future. I think that the old ways, the tried and true ways are changing whether we like it or not. In my own business conventions are down, people are telecommuting to save on costs while budgets are tight. Adverting has been hit, budget are strained if not completely cut. Hotel rooms are going empty and it’s lets make a deal time.

So when times are tough, the tough get going. You’ve probably heard that ad nauseam. But it is so true that it bears repeating, get going and make something happen in your life for your future. Just like it past time in this country that we need to make thing that people will buy. It’s time we all take a hint and try making something of ourselves that people will buy. In my own business life I belong to several groups that happen to send out newsletters with special events. I’ve been reading them monthly and I’ve finally found something to wrap up and sell. It’s a new look and feel to an old business interest of mine. I’m not ready to give up yet. To get back to the original point I was making, I’d hate to be young and getting ready to graduate from college now. Times are hard and I’ve learned to survive in hard time, I know what it like. Most student don’t they’ve been sheltered from life’s worst aspect and don’t know anything but the academic world. I wish them much luck in getting their feet firmly planted in the world’s new order of things. Remember that the best of times are still ahead, there are a few obstacles to pilot around first but we can all do it.

2009-04-09T20:26:00.000-05:00

Age

2009-04-07T15:22:00.002-05:00

For those of us who make it, age is a wondrous adventure. It’s a time of rediscovery and a time to take stock of our lives. It’s a time where we know what we want if not how to get it. It’s also a time to be honest about our lives, what got us to this point. What are our strength and weakness, where do we begin this next chapter of out lives. How to make the best of these years so that we can go out with dignity and some sense of order. I look and listen as around me people die from the accumulated lives the have lived, some good and some less so. All those things we did in our youth come back to haunt us, to point a finger at us. I’ve gotten off pretty easy so far, I hope to continue living a charmed life for awhile yet.

Now the hard part begins, the dirty day to day part, the hard slogging part. Life is mine to reinvent, to make of it what I will if I only have the strength and courage to make it a reality. The stroke has left my self-confidence shaken to it’s very core. I worry everyday over the smallest of details and those details threaten to consumed me. I fear that I’ve lost a part of myself that was essential to living my life as I knew it. I’m struggling to get that part of me that was so confident and self-assured back into place. I know it didn’t disappear into space, I hope I can recapture that vital part of my thinking. It’s been a long recovery and it’s not quite over yet. A brain injury takes three years to show any real improvement, the first two years are spent healing. Getting back the functions that one takes for granted, like breathing and moving. Those are skills learned in childhood and refined over a lifetime of practice. You don’t just get those skills back you have to relearn them and that take’s time.

I’ve been using my tourism group to help me practice all of my skills especially meeting people and carrying on a conversation. Because of my mental stutter I’m more comfortable around people I know and know about my stroke. It’s much harder to meet people cold and to be searching around for words to fill the vacuum. When I have the camera it deflects a lot of the communicating, I can hide behind the camera and my work instead of talking. With the economy there’s
no reason to bring the camera so I have to invent another reason for being there. I’ve always sat and watched the group for my shots, for people of interest but that’s not communicating that’s telling a story. I have to get back the art of meeting people. Being able to glad hand someone and to make it seem effortless. That’s a real skill and it doesn’t come easily to me or for most people. It take’s confidence and self-assurance and an easy way of speaking. I have a new appreciation for people with a speech impediment. I also understand people with handicaps much better that I used to. When I was taking therapy there were some days I’d feel so down and lost. Then I’d look around and see the people who were hurt much worse than I and I’d feel blessed again.

Life is so much harder on some than others. Life is a difficult struggle, only the strong survive. As we age we are lulled into a complacency, to think that we are above the struggle because of our age, our life span. I guess that’s because people start holding the doors for us or people are kind to us and make allowances for us. Without noticing it we take that kindness for granted. Believe me the economy is the great leveler in out lives, it put’s each of us on a level playing field again. And when you are unsure of yourself that add to your burden.

Farewell

2009-04-03T18:44:00.002-05:00

I went to a party last night for a friend of mine who was laid off earlier this year. It came without warning and surprised the community. It seems like three of the head people were laid off in the same period, three top earners in the company gone. Now we’re left with a hole in the tourism community and her parting will be missed. There were at least two others who were well connected with city projects who were also let go. We’ve always been well insulated in this state of ours as we do a lot of tourism business. But the time are hard and we’re not immune from the downturn. Our community also has a strong military base and in recent years that too has been affected. Now the life’s blood of our community is undergoing a new phase of development, the rules have changed and no one seems to know what they are.

I used to make a pretty decent living off tourism and the film industry in the days went they were humming. But now all bets are off and only the agile will survive. Everyone is left scrambling for a job the will give them some cash and hoping they can recover that lost income. But the days of easy money are over and we must all learn new ways of doing business. I’m thinking that the world of business has been shook up pretty good and that better day’s are ahead but we’re in for some rough times until then. I also feel that this is for the long term good of the world’s economy. We have to change out ways of doing business, get back to making things and not finances that no one can figure out. Blue collar, decent hard working people the world over have been hurt. Their share of the pie has been squandered and they have been left holding the empty bag. There is nothing wrong with labor and hard work, it’s been devalued for far too long. When my father was a young man he worked with his hands. He was a glass blower in his younger days and put in some really hard days. His handy work can still be seen in a few signs around town.

I think it also time that we as a country learn to grow up and start paying our own way. For too long our leader’s have been putting off the present by expecting the younger generation to foot the bills that we’re too cheap to pay. Everyone wants their cake and to be able to eat it too. More and more but let’s not bring up how much it’s costing, we’ll leave that to the future. We have to be willing to pay more in taxes to cover health cost. We have to be willing to pay more for gas to promote energy efficient cars and policies that make sense going forward. For a long time Republicans and Democrats have been playing a game of smoke and mirrors with us. We need to pay a more realistic cost to cover that expense. No one wants their taxes raised but we all want more services. We have to pay for them now and not put our expenses on the backs of the children. Europe has the right idea, they pay more in taxes and pay more for gas. Gasoline has been undervalued for so long that we have been cushion for years and years. That hasn’t meant that we haven’t been paying, it just’s come out of a different pocket. The government has been subsidizing a part of each gas purchase so we don’t know how much gas really costs. Smoke and mirrors, concentrate on the small stuff and watch the public divide.

I don’t know if the government plans will work out, I hope so with all my heart. We’re off to a good start but good start still means you have to run the race. We all have to pitch in and do what’s right for our country; Europe has one idea, Germany another and France yet another. Let’s hope they all succeed no one has an edge on the truth or know’s what to really do. But it’s time we level with the people who have the most to gain, the hard working people.

Assistant

2009-03-30T09:16:00.003-05:00

In my assistant days I used to work with some very creative and high strung guys and some girls. The guys outnumbered the girls by a huge percentage because the guys seem to love the challenge. Not just the creative challenge but the inherent fiscal nature of risks. This is a really tough business to make a living off of. The risks are tremendous and the reward not all that great especially now. I used to have a lots of clients who were out-of-town shooters. They found me through word of mouth or referrals. When the economy turns down only a big client base will keep you going and I had the best.
One of my shooter’s was a guy from California, he was a food shooter for Bon Appetit. His studio manager booked me over the phone and we agreed on a price and the ground rules for the shoot. It was out in the hill-country, a bed and breakfast that they had heard about and were doing a story on. When I met the photographer on the set he took exception to my day-rate, he was willing to pay but only if he liked my work. I told him that I’d never received any complaints and that if he wasn’t satisfied he wouldn’t have to pay me at all. My confidence sort of rocked him and that was the beginning of a long and profitable relationship that took me to some interesting places. The editor was from New York and she was quite the challenge also. In a lull during the shoot I got busy prepping the table we were shooting, she ask me what I thought I was doing. I told her that I was dressing the napkins, showing the smooth side rater than the fold. My photographer smiled and I knew I’d get paid what I wanted.

I also worked for a guy from Detroit, he was a car shooter from a the Big Three. I was referred by the guy who was working the shoot locally. He had taken the photographer location scouting and really didn’t know his way around the city or the country side. The photographer told me on the first meeting that he hoped I was better than the guy helping him. They had apparently had a fruitless day of searching and he wasn’t in a mood for a repeat. I was confident that I knew the places that he wanted but first I had to know exactly what it was that he was looking for first. Then we started our search from the farthest location and worked our way back into town. The local guy told me that he was glad it was me in the car with the photographer and not him. But the photographer was fine just under a tremendous amount of pressure to shoot and had bad mood swings. I helped tame that by knowing not only some great locations but my knowledge of restaurants helped.

I say all this not because I think that I know everything or that I’m a perfect worker. But I have gotten to know a thing or two about physiology and how the mind works. First the best defense is a good offense. Take control of the situation and don’t show any fear. People and animals know fear when they sense it and that is the worst way to start working. Next make your mind up and don’t back down unless you have to. As Admiral Grace said, “it’s easier to ask forgiveness than it is to ask permission”. I take that to mean to know your stuff and act accordingly. Finally know your enemy, take your time and study them well. Get to understand there weakness and learn to out maneuver them. It’s so much better when you get people to work with you than against you. And how much better when people get used to working the way you’re going to work anyways.

Medication

2009-03-26T06:27:00.001-05:00

I’m taking a lot of medication in a day, too much actually but it’s doing the job. It’s second nature to me when I wake up, after the evening news and when I go to bed. It’s become a ritual of medication and supplement (CoQ 10, Fish Oil, etc.), it vary’s in types and numbers, I’ve become pretty good at spotting the difference it makes in me. I’ve been under a lot of stress recently and my blood pressure has risen as a result. I very faithfully keep a log of my blood pressures and bring it along to the doctor to support what I’m feeling. When I noticed my BP rising I brought it to my doctors attention and she raised one of my prescriptions. That same log shown that the medication wasn’t working effectively. So I reviewed my list of medications that I also keep faithfully and tracked down a previous regime that gave me better results. I then switched my medication and got the results I wanted but rest assured that I consulted with my doctor by email.

I would like to point out that I have no medical training what so ever but I do have a feel for my body. I’ve been on the medications long enough that I have an idea what they do for me. I have read about the medications and the effects of each drug. While I’m not qualified at all to prescribe for others I feel confident to make minor adjustments in my own. And I do consult with my doctor frequently and never try to do her job for her. It’s all a part of being proactive with my doctor in trying to do what right for me. As I’ve mentioned I have to go once a month for regular test of my blood with pretty good results. I managed to eat my green leafy vegetables and keep my medication under control. I can usually report that I have no problems, no complaints. And that’s good for me and my wallet

I think that the reason I survived my stroke so well was exercise and diet, sad as it was. I tried to eat as well as I could, limit my red meat consumption and drink plenty of red wine. That was my downfall really, I loved red wine. But I had plenty of vegetables and fruit, whole grains were a must. I tried to feed my body good healthy food to sustain it for the hard work I require of it. My stroke was one of those come to god moments they describe. It really got my attention and got me interested in what I eat and what I feel. Though my friend Lorraine I learned to keep a BP log and a list of medications. I keep that medication log with me wherever I go without fail. If something happens to me I hope they’ll find it. On my cell phone I have my emergency number and my doctors number listed. I’ve already given my doctor a patient directive in case thing don’t go well but I don’t see it as negative in anyway. How else would anyone know what I want in the event that I shouldn’t be able to speak. I’ve talked with my friends and they all know my wishes. It’s all a part of being proactive about my life and my death. Nothing negative about it, all positive and all planned.

Let me stress again the importance of a blood pressure log, it’s the best way to support you with your doctor. It is the easiest way for you and your doctor to know what’s going on with your heart and it’s pressure. The added bonus is it show anyone that you care enough to be a active participant in your healthcare. In this day of unwanted tests and rising prices it helps to support your desires and your right. Make a list of questions you may have for your doctor, in my case any changes to my medication can be listed on my log. Be as active in your healthcare as possible, any life you save could be your own.

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Latina Angle from our first shoot. Such a pretty young lady and such a chip on her lovely shoulder.

Failure

2009-03-23T06:31:00.003-05:00

After getting my life back in order somewhat I felt like such a failure in life. It was part of the stroke I know now but that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. I’m going to go slow and easy on this post because I haven’t quite worked it out yet so bear with me. I am a competitive personality type, I hate for people to be driving ahead of me and I hate standing in lines. I’m not so bad that I keep switching lines or lanes but I do watch to see who wins. When it comes to work I am there with the best but I do know my role in the shoot. When I assisted I often had people under me but I was very sharing about my knowledge and the way things were done. I would let people fail when it wasn’t important but a good opportunity for them to learn. I’m a big proponent of the teaching moment as the only way we learn.

So when I had my stroke it was one grand teaching moment after another, it was madding to me as a person. At first I could only concentrate on the things I’d lost, that took up pretty much the first year. I was devastated by not being able to think, write and have limited function of my limbs. I was afraid of everything around me. Suddenly my life as I knew it was cut off from me and I was rudderless. I lost friends and acquaintances as though I had some major disease or was terminally ill. My circle of friends suddenly grew smaller and though it was traumatic to me it was really for the best. I just couldn’t cope with all those people and personality types. But unfortunately I lost my business contact as well and that proved to be a bigger problem for me and my personal economy. When your business contacts dry up your business does too.

Dealing with people is the hardest thing I must learn to do, I’ve lost that ability of easy communication. I no longer have that ability for the rapid back and forth of ideas, I’m left with a mental sort of stutter. I can process the information that I’m getting but not as fast, certainly not fast enough to keep up my end of the conversation. It is most pronounced when I feel under pressure to perform. We all perform in some sense or another all the time when you consider it. Even sitting and chatting with a business friend over coffee. No one seems to notice but me and I’m acutely aware of my problem. I tend to let the other person carry the conversation, I can keep up sort of but I get frustrated to be so slow. There’s a time lag in my head that keeps me off balanced or just a second too slow. Writing is not as hard because I can think at my own pace and no one is looking over my shoulder.

So now the hard part of the equation, how do I make my money now? I had a basic game plan for my life and I was busy living it. Then everything and I mean everything stopped for two years while I had to regroup. In the meantime life and technology have passed me by and I’m left further behind than I was to start. It’s easy to see life as a failure, my share of life in the pasted tense, my productive years behind me. But I can’t afford to survey my life in such negative terms for my own state of mind or health. I need to view life as a continuum, as evolving to something better and newer despite my afflictions. I need to see my life as having meaning and value. That the things I have done since my recovery as a on going commitment to the continuation of life. I need to remember that my goals are only postponed not ended, that I have to push even harder to make them a reality.

I am using this format to help me learn and grow in my technical knowledge. Though this blog I’m hoping to introduce my art and my mind to people and to get validation. In the six months I have been writing I’ve met some fabulous people who’d I’d have never met any other way. Slowly people are getting to know me and value me and I’m so pleased. I watch as my readers grow and the time that they are spending reading grows. One could not hope for a greater beginning.

Terror

2009-03-18T20:56:00.004-05:00

After living my life for the past three years in terror of dying any moment I’ve reach a certain peace. I’m able to read about my stroke and my medications. I don’t know whether it’s a certain fatalism or trust that I’m doing the right things. I’m unsure if I’ve decided to be positive or if I’m resigned to my fate; I don’t really care at this point I’m happy to have survived. When I had my stroke living was the number one priority besides getting to a better point in life. It also dawned on me exactly how hard it is to kill a human being. I had to concentrate on getting into a much different fame of mind as far as my health went. That I needed to get back my strength was obvious but my mental state was just as precarious. I knew that getting back to where I could think clearly was going to take at a minimum three to four years. After that I’d be as healed as I was likely to get given my age and former lifestyle.

I’ve started by taking a good look at my medications and what they do for me and to me. I realize that I’m taking some heavy duty stuff with lot of consequences. They affect everything from the growth of my nails, to my balance and my libido. Everything is clouded by these medications and the frequency with which I take them. Morning, evening and bedtime are a ritual of pills including one which helps me to sleep. One is for anxiety which was known to me but from which I never suffer too badly or at least I had my mechanisms to cope. Did I mention that booze is not longer among the mechanism I can employ. Probably for the best but the jury is still out. If I should contract a major illness all bets are off but for now I’ll be good. I am trying to cope with the medications, the limits on my thinking and on my abilities. It’s time to develop new strategy’s to cope with changes in my life and times.

I feel that I am now getting to the point in my recovery where I can make informed decisions in life. No I’m not able to think as clearly or as fast as I once took for granted. Gone is any desire to return to the competitive work that I once knew. Gone too is any ability to keep up with the punishing lifestyle of a commercial photographer. So obviously some changes in strategy are in order. I have to decided what the values are in my life, what’s important as I go forward. Frankly how will I be able to survive in this new world I find myself in. I’ve got to prioritize my desires and my realities and assign a real value to each of them. No longer do the old values have the meaning they once held for me and my future. I have been trying a new endeavors that have long term possibility along with my photography but it’s the short term I’m worried about. That worry seem to be a common denominator in today’s world and will be for some time to come. But we can’t be held back by our fears of the world and what it may bring. After all I could step off a curb and be hit by a truck tomorrow. Then where would all my worry have gotten me.

My Girls

2009-03-15T21:08:00.004-05:00

I’ve gotten some complains about my use of the term girls when I refer to my models. In particular the term my girls sets some people off. The wife of a photographer friend was particularly incensed at my use of the term. Then after meeting me she realized my meaning of the way I feel about my girls. I do not mean it in a proprietary sense but a protective sense. I think of "my girls" as a group of young women who chose to work with me and I have a responsibility to them. A responsibility to treat them right and to protect their reputation from harm both in the present and the future. Many people go through a period of their lives with blinders on. They do not have a sense of the future and how their acts today could harm future prospects. It’s almost like their sealed in amber and they can’t conceive of a future different than the present.

Cocooned in their innocents and blinded by the thought that they are invincible. They haven’t learned that the world can be a cruel and unforgiving place. That the acts that they engage in can and do have horrible repercussions in the real world. I think of so many of the girls I’ve know who willing followed me out to the middle of nowhere to do my photographs. I consider too those girls who haven’t chosen so well and haven’t made it back. I feel so sadden for those girls who were just following their dream and how those dreams turned into a nightmare for them. As I say I have a responsibility for and to my girls to make sure that they have a good and a safe time. That the adventure of shooting with me is a positive experience. That their adventure with me, their faith in me never harms their futures lives.

I think I pick girls for their independence and their joy of life and sense of adventure. I instinctively know that the odd are that they will make something of their lives. They’re not going to be limited by what they appear to be today. My girls are intelligent and thoughtful and have a well developed sense of themselves and a drive in life. Some turn out to be teachers, business owners and mothers all are wonderful women. I have no other agenda for them except photographic. I want nothing more than to be given the opportunity to capture them at this moment in their lives. To record this period in their lives and to help them understand their lives better. Maybe to be more comfortable in their skins and to be more confident in life. Nothing pleases me more to see that look of confidence in their eyes and to know I had a part to play. As a older man in these young women lives I have done the right thing by them and I have play fair by them. It is and remains a great responsibility and one that I treasure greatly.

Comic Relief

2009-03-12T21:01:00.004-05:00

Not everything I shoot is sexy and dramatic, some is just comic relief. It’s hard work shooting nudes that are personality based as I do. Sometimes my models have to blow of a little steam and be themselves. I find that I often love these shots more that the money shots that we do because they show the absurdity of life. The models personality comes out and the good time that we are having. The trust too come shining through as well as the confidence that we share. I love these shots for the spontaneous nature of them, the sheer joy in them. I’ve had girls acting down right silly, that is a part of their charm. That is a part of them that I cherish and try my damnest to capture.

It’s that sense of play that fascinates me, that sense of self that I want to evoke and try to capture. That’s why I choose nudes to work with rather than clothed model. I don’t want anything to get in the way of the real person, the essence of her self. Once you have clothes you make a judgement on her style, the period of time and her sense of wealth. Many subtitle habit come into play for the viewer especially a sense of time. I want my models to be as timeless as possible but not ageless. A small distinction to some but of great importance to me. I want my models to represent themselves as the age they are but I encourage them to those ageless qualities that I find so important. In all other aspects of life they are required to “act your age”. With me I want them to just play, use their minds and be the age they feel at that particular moment in time and place. That’s what I’m trying to capture on film, that discovery of self. Those periods of timelessness of the person with the backgrounds not providing a distraction.

I want for my backgrounds to provide a complement to the overall construction of my image. Whether it’s a barn or churchyard or a plain wall in my home I want it to fade from thought. I want for the model to take center stage to play the major part in my image. And for the focus to be on her, what she thinks and feels and who she is. That’s the role of my model, that’s the focus of my images. I want for nothing else to distract from that moment that we are trying to capturing, nothing. I want for my model to be as unaware of me as possible too. For me to fade into the periphery of their consciousness as a minor distraction. So they can imagine and play the roles that they envisions in they’re minds.

It’s that ability to hide in plain sight that I value in my shooting as well. In the event photography it’s an invaluable assets. To be able to blend into the background so perfectly that I’m not really noticed. It’s a lot harder when you’re working with a model and it’s just the two of you. That why I seldom use music to set a mood, I want my model to create her reality. That’s a big part of what I value in a model, that ability to create a mood and a sense of who she is to give my creations life. I want them to feel able to just let go and be who they are and to try on different personalities to see how each fits. Women are so wonderful at playing; I guess it’s a hold over from childhood and playing dress-up. You can’t fake this ability, you either have it or you don’t. In my work that’s what sets the really good model apart from the mediocre. To forget herself so completely that’s she’s operating on sheer instinct and a really endearing side is shown. No matter what I’ve asked of my model in this context it’s that ability to ignore what I’m up to and concentrate on the self. It’s that ability that allows me to create my vision of them for a moment in time. I too need that ability to forget about the mechanics of what I’m doing to create the space for magic to lend a hand and let us create something of beauty and grace. I can’t thank my models enough for this opportunity to be creative. To place themselves and their trust in me and my abilities as a photographer.

Trust

2009-03-08T20:27:00.010-05:00

There been some talk lately about how you can’t trust photographers once they have taken nude photos of you. I resent that kind of take as untrue, I have many models I am protecting from harm. I think it’s part and parcel of being a nude photographer and working with such young models. I prefer models who have some life experience and are at an age where they can make responsible decision. Never the less it take age to bring home decisions we all make as young adults. The things we’ve all done take on a different responsibility once we get into our thirties.

I would certainly hate to be judged by the decisions I made in my early twenties. I always felt that at age twenty-four I was just becoming an adult. It took me another six years to feel that I’d grown into myself. To feel that I finally had some responsibility for myself and others. I couldn’t denied it any longer..., I was an adult. In my twenties I was still experimenting with myself, getting used to the way the world worked. I was trying on different personalities, different lifestyles to see which ones fit and which ones still needed to be tweaked. I see young people making decisions that affect the rest of their lives and having to live with the consequences. And in some cases having to die for the consequences so I’m willing to cut some slack to my models.

My ideal model is age twenty-four but I will shoot with a girl as young as eighteen if the circumstances are correct. I feel if a girl has started modeling or dancing then she is entitled to the best photographer she can interest in her. For these young women I feel a real protective streak in me. I want to help shape their careers and life choices. A few time I have run afoul of their growing experiences and of the age that they are. A few models have pointedly said that they already have a father but if that’s the worst they can say about me I’ll live with that. I forget that some battles are timeless and well fought out. But some girls don’t have an effective father figure or adviser who can help steer them. A few girls are left to flounder and to fend for themselves as best they can. Life can be a hard scrabble for them and a steady influence is welcome.

I feel as though I owe them that chance at their dream or the vision that drives them. I am honest and fair with them, I shoot a polaroid of every setup I shoot and encourage them to ask for one if their unsure what I’m getting. I’m asking for their trust in me and my vision, I show them contact sheets for their approval first before I ever ask them to sign anything. I have some models who I work without a release, asking their permission before I publish anything. With some girls I ask them for a particular shot and if their not happy with it I won’t use it. I’m asking them to allow my vision free range and we’ll deal with the appropriateness later after we’ve had a chance to view the final work. Trust is of paramount importance to me and for my models. I have the responsibility to hold that trust and it’s a responsibility I value.

Thea

Blood

2009-03-06T06:13:00.002-06:00

Six vials of blood, three painful sticks, including one butterfly and a hour and a half later I find out my platelet’s are normal. Lord I hate getting blood drawn and this was the hematologist no less. I did tell him that I was beginning to feel like a pin cushion though, then he used the butterfly in my hand. But after enduring him digging for a vein and not finding one I’d had enough. All in all he wasn’t too bad and didn’t hurt me much. I’ve learned to be relaxed and cool no matter what happens. You never want the person drawing your blood to get flustered or to lose their cool, you’re the one who suffers. But it’s taken a lot of blood to get the process down so my pain is usually minimal.

When I started getting blood drawn regularly I made it my business to be friendly and courteous. I made sure to get on a first name basis with everyone and I soon learned who was especially good. Then one day there came a guy who was new and who asked me as I sat down why I was so nervous. I hadn’t been up until that point and told him so. He continued to prepare my arm and told me how much it would hurt if I didn’t relax. I realize that he was messing with me and I told him no way I was going to let him stick me period. Then he tried to play nice, I told him it was too late for that and that I wanted another lab tech. So I guy I knew well came over and did it for me. I found out the guy was giving everybody a hard time but I was the only person who spoke up.

When I was in the hospital was the worst, not the every day people but the ones on night shift. To them I was just another stick before they were back in the lab and didn’t have to hurt anyone. I’m probably giving them too much credit but they were the most inconsiderate people I had to deal with. They couldn’t even shut my door or turn off the lights when they left. I had to scream bloody murder to get them to come back and do the right thing. It may seem like a small point but remember I was paralyzed on my right side and getting into the wheelchair was a big production. Not to mentioned that some of them left me with a numb left arm. I managed to channel all my frustrations and anger into that yell and it got results.

Now it’s tolerable, I get regular sticks and though I never learn the people names I generally get good sticks. There are on occasion the excellent people who never hurt you at all. But it’s all in your attitude and luck I find. Because I’m on Coumadin I need to go for blood test every month without fail. I paid a high price once by letting it slide because I was busy. I came home from assisting and felt a bone deep ache in my muscles. I wanted to soak in the tub which is unusual for me. Before I could I had to call a friend to watch over me in case I couldn’t get out. While laying there I started to feel unwell and moved to leverage myself out of the tub. I had my arms bracing me and I suddenly felt something let go and I watched as my lower arm filled with blood. Panicked I got out of the tub and tried to dry off but felt too weak and went to the bed to sit-down. By the time I could explain to my friend my leg too had filled with blood and was beginning to change colors.
I had to make arrangements for someone to cover for me the next day and then spent the rest of the night worrying. The next day I turned up at the lab with a leg that had turned black and an arm to match. I was told to have a vitamin K shot and for god sake not hit my head. Then I was sent home and left to my own devices. My personal doctor who I went to for the shot was outraged and called the clinic to tell them about my treatment.

Now after having a stroke I’m much more conscious of my health and my blood. I take good care with my medications, eat the right foods or at least I try and for the most part have given up drink. I also keep a log of my blood pressures to know what there doing. I’m much more a willing partner in my health care and I’m a better patient for it. I feel much more in control and able to make decisions in regards to my life and that’s a good feeling.

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Women In Art Have a look.

Economy

2009-03-02T09:32:00.002-06:00

My personal economy has hit me pretty hard this year, I’ve had to put my plans on hold for now. The first of the year a good client I’d been counting on was let go to find a new job. We had been planning a series of shoots that would have carried me well into the new year. I’ve been working with her for over 5 year now and it was a great working relationship. I’ve been giving the person who replace her a chance to settle in before I contact them. Then another client gave me word that his budget has been scaled back by 15%, that was where my money was to be found. Again another 5 year relationship that had worked well gone in a heartbeat. So now I’m left scrambling and trying to make other contact’s work and I’ve had to scale back as a result.

It’s a tough life being a free-lancer, everyone seem to think that it’s great that you can work as you please. The reality is you work when you can and the other time is spent trying to get work. I had a friend come to visit and I told her I just needed a couple of minutes on the phone then we’d go for breakfast. Three hours later I was ready and she was starved.. Funny life not knowing where your next paycheck is coming from or when it will arrive. In the pasts I’ve had my share of fallow periods, feast or famine. Period of where I’ve had to move to find work and then needed the time to start over and build up contacts. But I’m too old for that now and I have setup roots.

The stroke is another determining factor I no longer have that ability to scramble like I use to. Now I think and move slower and I don’t process things and quickly as I should. Hell maybe it’s my age, I don’t know anymore but I still care as if were yesterday. I’m working with a number of friends trying new things and the tried and true things. But nothing is happening fast enough to suit me or my creditors. I know that given enough time I can pull through, I’ve got a whole history build upon that, I’m just impatient. Now there is a lot more competition and their a lot younger and not as much opportunities to go around. It’s survival of the fittest in it’s finest tradition and I have to get used to my place. But damn it’s hard when your used to being number one in the food-chain. I’m not ready yet to seed my place in the line but I may not have the choice any longer.

So gone is my small buffer for future work for the time being. I have to concentrate on the immediate future instead of investing in a longer range plans for now. I’ve taken the last year to sort of retool my thinking and my skills to make a better match for the new demands. Change is hard, it never was easy but we all have to confront it head on or be pushed aside. I keep thinking of all those nature show of wolf packs. Snow flying everywhere trying to catch their prey and the older wolf falling behind and not being able to catch-up. Wolves don’t have a very good retirement plan only sharp teeth..., and the teeth that get there first are the only one’s that eat.

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My friend Esperanza, she came down for a quick shoot by the glass wall and had such a good time she called in sick and spent the afternoon.

Creative Genus

2009-02-27T06:37:00.002-06:00

" I think I know what it is like to be God"
Pablo Picasso

There’s a really wonderful talk on Ted.com with Elizabeth Gilbert who wrote "eat, pray, love". It’s about the creative genus and the way we approach it in our thinking as a society. How it relates to us all in different ways and what pressure it can place on us as individuals. In my own experience with this force, which I refer to as magic, it has a charm that can’t be controlled or summoned on a whim. It’s a force as free as the wind and as complex as the relationship between two creative people. When it happens you know it and when it doesn’t you know it only too well.

We photographers try to harness that magic each time we pick up a camera and aim it at a subject. Sometimes we succeed in creating an image that’s spectacular and some times it’s somewhat less. It’s that magic, I was afraid I’d lost when I had my stroke. Along with the other crutches that most creative people cultivate, I had a great fear that my life was now changed beyond measure. It took me a long time to be able to even hold my camera and the thought of creating were immense. Did I have the mental acuity to be able to summon that magic and manipulate it for my art. I only knew that I was lost and it was going to be a long time getting into the groove of things before I could even try.

I started shooting my events first and that went slowly but well thank the gods. That’s how I make money and that was important in it’s own right but it’s not the only thing that’s important. What about the thing that feeds my soul and brings joy to my very being. I could only wait and wonder for a long time before I felt able to cope. My first subject was a model friend who I’d known for some time, she was comfortable with me and knew my situation. I was filled with trepidation about the actual mechanics of the shoot, there are so many things to remember. Would I be able to concentrate on the model and the feel I was getting and still keep the actual functions of the camera clear in my mind. When you are shooting available light you need to keep reflectors in mind and to be able to see what they’re giving you. One misplaced reflector and your shot is only lit from one direction and the mood changes. And mood is everything when photographing the nude.

I’m happy to say all went well and as I progressed I got more and more confident and relaxed, secure in my knowledge and that I could hold up my end of the bargain. It was more than showed up for work and trying, the magic was with me. I wasn’t forcing it to work for me I was content to let it happen on it’s own and direct our shoot. My second model was a new girl who had been recommended to me. Because I knew what I could do I wasn’t as fearful as the first time. Because of a timing mixup we got a late start, we used this time as a test of each other and how we worked together. The magic still flowed and we got some nice work. But the point of all this is you can’t force magic, it will happen or it won’t. Being ready and secure in your knowledge is key to enticing the magic to shine upon you and your endeavors. You can’t and don’t want to force each situation to conform to your beliefs that you are all powerful and you alone are a creative genus. That way lies madness and a sad end to your talents.

Oscar's

2009-02-23T06:36:00.001-06:00

I used to watch the Oscar’s and wait up for the announcement of who won for Best Picture. Not anymore, I really don’t care who wins for what and what that award means to their future. I haven’t seen one of this years movies just like I haven’t seen last years. I’ll watch for a bit, can’t miss the red carpet now can we. But it doesn’t mean the same anymore. It’s about a big a waste of time as watching who got beat-up by whom or if Paris is wearing panties and with what outfit. Just a real time waster and I’d rather read a good book.

In my childhood those award meant something, the stars were bigger and the light they cast was much brighter. The roles they assumed were much bigger as well, in real life and at the movies. I was to small to get the roles they played except for John Wayne who was larger than life. But even he was a character in life as surely as he was a character in the movies. But I was impressed with his bravado and simple code of justice. It wasn’t till I was a teen that I saw The Duke in all his drunken glamor and realized that he was just a man and has his demon’s like every other man. It was much later that I realized that his simple code of justice was fatally flawed as well. But he had a presence that made him a movie star none the less.
Today’s movie stars seem vapid by comparison, one dimensional characters too caught up in their own lives. Like singer who are one hit wonders and who continue to sing the same songs with only a slight change in lyrics. Still looking for that magic that eludes them they have no imagination, no creative drive that sustains them. They are content with their one dimensional stick figures and approach each job not as a challenge but as simply a paycheck. There are exceptions of course but not many rise to the level of truly creative artist. Too often we are bathed in gore or treated to special effects to create a wow factor that’s supposed to make up for the lack of talent or script. In this country at least we rely on the celebrities to carry the film and to bring that box office success like it makes up for a film that’s devoid of intelligent characters or plot.

So I’ll sit this one out, I found a good book or two that should provide entertainment for the evening and go to bed at a reasonable time. In the morning I’ll listen to the winner I missed like their movies. In the end I won’t really remember who won or lost or what the best picture was. And I won’t care not an inch. I’ll save my late night for a talk with good friends or stargazing or maybe New Years evening, at least there fireworks to see.

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Esperanza from another time and place. She is my muse and friend who I haven’t seen in a long, long time.

Yashica

2009-02-20T06:26:00.001-06:00

My first camera was a Yashica 35mm with screw in lens. I had a wide angle, normal lens, a medium telephoto and only an idea what it could do. My first roll of film was a complete disaster. I’d done some photos of a party we were having and I got the chemicals mixed up. But from failure we learn no matter how slowly. I started shooting trains and other landmarks around the city to varying degree of success. But slowly I was learning what to do and how to handle the camera. When I began shooting girls I thought I’d die and gone to heaven.

I started with a girl name Marsha who I knew from high-school and she was a babe. Long blonde hair and a figure graced by the heavens. That first shoot I was so nervous I almost dropped the damn lens as I was screwing it in. I pause to let my nerves collect and to cover I made out that I was thinking. I got to take Marsha to two or three sites including a grave yard and an abandoned house. All told we spent about three or four hours together and I got to know her pretty well not that we were great friends or anything. But I was learning to deal with personalities and how to work with her to get something I was proud of. It was only later when I was in the darkroom and got my first print that I realized how pretty she was. I found out much later that she had married her high-school sweetheart and had tragically die in a car accident.

I also shot with a girl named Michael Ann, boy was I smitten with her. We shot roll after roll one afternoon at an abandoned hotel from the twenty’s. A spiral staircase and some little house’s on the property. I look at some of the shots now and they have such a dated look and feel. No nude of course, the sexual revolution hadn’t happened yet just really lovely innocent stuff . I loved that background I was using, an old hotel that was limestone with many small rooms and big corridors. I had shown my mother where I was working and she found out who the property owner was and I got permission to use the place. That really helped because when the police came to check I was allowed to be there. I use the ground for all they were worth and I spent a lot of time and film there.

But working with these girls I found my calling, I found my passion to create beautiful representations of each girl. To be able to craft each young women into a two dimensional work of art that captured their personalities, hopes and dreams. And in retrospect I was laying the ground work for the me I was to become as a man and photographer. I was learning a lot about me working with these girls. I used that knowledge to bridge the gap between photographer and subject. To be able to draw the best out of them and then coaxes it onto paper and have people wonder if they knew the person. That’s what I love the gratification of the viewer to be able to connect with the person I photographed. It’s a skill that involves so many talents and so much time to develop. I don’t feel just because your camera allows you to get a perfectly exposed image that your job is done.

It’s that joy that I get working with a subject in all their imperfections with all their follies and foibles on display. Getting that subject to relax and to begin to have some trust in my skill and me as a person. To get that person to open up literally and figuratively speaking, to flower as a human being. Then I have to have the skills to capture that moment in time to perfection and to reproduce it in print. That is the talent of the photographer, to record that personality so that you feel that you’d like to know the subject better. The real skill is being able to do it so seamlessly it seems like play and not the hard work that it is. It’s that ability that allows the model the room to create and add to the image you both create.

Grumpy

2009-02-16T09:02:00.003-06:00

This blog was inspired by my friend Dave and his recent post on the same, being grumpy. I too suffer from this ailment, I guess it come from getting older and having less patients with people. I’ve never suffer fools lightly and I really get upset when people seem to refuse to use that gray matter. I’m used to working with people who are as intelligent as I am or maybe smarter than me but not by much. In most of my business life I’ve worked among equals and we’ve worked together for a common good. I just don’t understand the concepts that don’t require one to think just for a moment and do something right the first time.

I recently took a friend to lunch in a nice restaurant and we were seated out-doors on a wonderful afternoon. The service started out uneven and steadily got worse, the lunch arrived after a interminable wait and lukewarm at best. Our waitress had too many tables in her section to do a good job and should have handed us off to another of the wait-staff but didn’t. I did complain to the manager and told him she had too many tables and he did offer us dessert with his excuses. But the damage was already done to our wonderful afternoon and to his reputation. There was even a mistake in our bill but as it was in our favor we decided to not make an issue out of it.

My other pet peeve is dog owners who don’t have the consideration to restrain their pets. I’ve had to give up my walks through the neighborhood because every two or three blocks I get rush by dogs that are not confined to there yards. Ever since my stroke I’ve suffered from anxiety attacks that come on from out of nowhere when I least expect them. What made me stop walking is when two big dogs I didn’t recognized came from behind a house and would have attacked but I had my walking stick and that stopped them. But they got close enough that I was panicked and thoroughly frighted out of my mind. I just didn’t know what to do and I just watched it happen before me. In my case the dogs have won and I now confine my walks through the parks where it is safer and there are fewer conflicts.

My other big peeve is people who insists on talking loudly on their cell phones. It can ruin a perfectly good day to be forced to listen as people gab on their phones with not a care in the world to stop them. I recently had two women who sat at a table near me and proceeded to take out their cell phones and make call after call instead of talking to each other. Why on earth they went for coffee together and then didn’t talk to each other is beyond me. Or the business man who has other tables to choose from but he has to sit besides me and conduct call after call while I’m trying to enjoy reading my book in peace and quiet. I just can’t figure out the thinking of some people I really can’t.

I’m not sure whether it’s age or the effects of my stroke that lead me to a greater intolerance of the stupidity of some people. I do know I struggle mightily with this problem. Like Dave maybe I should live out in the backwoods where peace and quiet of the forest surround me. Somewhere I can commune with the birds and nature where the stress of life can’t find me. But then whatever would I do without my Starbucks.

Obama

2009-02-13T06:49:00.002-06:00

It’s so comforting to finally have a president for whom English isn’t a second language. Bright and articulate, at times a little more information that I wanted but at least we have someone I believe is leveling with us. This hole we’ve all gotten ourselves into with plenty of help from the bankers and mortgage makers not to mention the wall-street types who mortgages our future on risky bets. Now we’re having to pay a price and some of us are screaming NO like a two year old with his/her first word. The price were having to pay is just the down-payment on the financial disaster our country and the world is facing. Is it the right plan at the right time.., who knows. But past experiences is obviously not the way to go, it’s the way we got here in the first place.

A lot of what’s going on is posturing and trying to test a new president, playing a game of chicken with our fate. The outrage from Wallstreet is from a disbelief that there a no hard and fast plans that lay out the impossible task that is facing our country. We know that the old ways of doing business don’t work and the new way hasn’t been figured out or implemented yet. There is uncertainty in the future and that uncertainty drives Wallstreet mad. I think the president has the right approach for now, slow and cautious see what the results are and then make bolder moves as needed. This is an awful lot of money he’s betting on the future but I think it has all the earmarks of a better future for our kids who will inherit that future.

From everything I read and hear from both liberal and conservatives writers they seems to be in agreement. Make no mistakes, I don’t have a dog in this fight; I own no stocks and I haven’t got a house or business right now. I only have the hope that these things will help use to recover sooner or later. I’m stuck in the same boat as a lot of older Americans, I chose to be self-employed rather that work for a company; I’ll be fending for myself for a lot of years to come. Most of my peers are in the same shape as I am, they’ll be working till they die. Retirement is a long lost concept along with loyalty. Gone are the days we can retire to the country and live the good life. The reality is that most people can’t afford to retire and have to keep up an income so they can live. There’s no more making a place for the young to get a foothold on life, it’s every man/woman for themselves.

I keep looking at my young friends spending ever last dime that they make on upgrades to their lifestyles. And I want to warn them but what good would it do, I didn’t listen or care. I had plenty of time to figure that out later, well later is now and what am I going to do. I have a good history of finding work, I’ve never been unemployed for more than a few weeks or so. But now the paradigms have shifted, because of my stroke I’m left searching for something different to do with what’s left of my life. Something that will help other people so that is why I’ve started this blog. In the process of writing something will make itself know to me. My job’s it to figure out the what’s and the wherefor’s of the plan that will make my life whole again. Not easy task I know but I know my life was given back to me for a purpose and a reason. I was allowed for my life to continue to give back to others, to help them to understand their injuries or afflictions and to give them hope. I know that just as I sure of who I am.

Beautiful

2009-02-09T06:38:00.004-06:00

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, how many time have we heard this refrain. Beauty encompasses so many traits that it defies easy definition. Beauty is the sum of it’s parts and is not limited by physical manifestations. To me beauty includes the mind and the willingness to share a life no matter the challenges. Beauty include the imagination to perceive a life beyond today, the right now, the mundane; in sickness and health. Real beauty lies beyond the excitement of youth, the beginnings of a mature love made for the long haul. People are molded by their surroundings and by nature, by their families and it shapes their character and the ways they view the world about them.
I have know women who have been terribly scarred by their past lives. At the hands of stranger and worse by the hands of those who were supposed to love them. Yet their character shine through the suffering they’ve endured. It’s these traits, the sum total of the history they carry with them in their day to day lives and how they interact with that history that’s fascinating. Some take a lifetime to heal and to find peace in their lives at last. That is a difficult history to over-write and it takes a loving kind of friend to bring out trust again. To work with them to learn to live with that pain and those memories.

Then too there are the women who have been scarred physically who have suffered the ravages of a life threatening disease and medication. These women are the hardest to heal because the attack is so fresh and the wounds so deep. Consider that women want to feel pretty and youthful, almost beautiful though few will admit to this. It begins around thirty, the wolf whistles that come too infrequently, the admiring glances as they enter a room, the dreaded Ma’am from young men. It’s hard for a woman to adjust to the reality of advancing age, that youth is fleeting by it’s very nature. Couple that with a devastating illness that prematurely forces a young woman to see her life as possibly cut short. Many of us suffer from these afflictions but we men don’t have to feel pretty and feminine.
When I had my stroke I knew that a real dividing line had been pasted, that I was firmly on the other side now. But I had a chance to prepare for advancing age, I could see all the signs around me of diminished youth and vigor. Not to make myself older than I am but no one was holding doors for me yet. But after I passed that line it all changed in an instant. First I reasoned that I was handicapped and all could see, the truth took awhile to settle. But again I was in my late fifty’s and one could see the writing on the walls. My self-esteem took a direct hit, my self-confidence too. But no one was expecting me to feel pretty and youthful and flirty, a girly girl. I was allowed to be my age, cankerous and sometimes petty it all came with the territory.

Medication is not my friend, I am on a lot of drugs and not the good kind. Medication alters my moods and most days of my life it sets them. I’m on a anti-anxiety medication, there are times I don’t feel I need it, then I try to get off. Or times that I leave my refills too late and I can’t get them and I see how my blood-pressure rises or I’m angry about something. I no longer feel I am in control of my life, that the day to day business of my life is controlled by something beyond me. That control is something that I’ve ceded in order to prolong the quality of my survival. I’m not particularly happy about that but the medication overrides any concerns. But at least no one expects me to be pretty.

This is dedicated to my beautiful friend Lin von B.

If my feet could fly

2009-02-06T08:46:00.002-06:00

I had a dream last night where I was flying, not in the sky but down the stairs. Effortlessly, I lightly touch each step on my way down and I could move each foot in quick succession. I no longer dream of wild sexual situations anymore but I covet my dreams of moving as I used to again. Sad I know but par for my age and that time in my life. A change is going to come no matter what we do, for some it will come with grace and wit. For some it will come with anger and resentment, take your pick. In the end it will come with a certain resignation and with diminished mobility. But until then we can always dream before our lives are one endless dream.

I often dream of the way thing were before the change that overcame me. I rarely ran but I think back on the way I moved and talked and how I took that for granted. I used to take great pride in running up stairs two at a time. My favorite walk was downtown along the Riverwalk and a grand staircase that was some twenty to thirty feet high. I almost loose my breath on the way up but it was a thrill for me to conquer. Every once in a while a person would be sitting at the top and I’d say hello with my last breath and continue on my way. Not a great feat but none the less I got something out of it. Now I’m lucky to be able to walk up the same flight of stairs without tripping over my feet or the stairs themselves.

In reality I’m lucky to be moving as well as I am or to even walk at all. When I spent that four weeks in a wheelchair I’d have given anything to be able to walk even to the bathroom let alone around the hospital. It must be the human condition to always concentrate on that we can’t do rather than on the things we can. When I recall that time in my life I wonder how I ever managed to overcome my paralysis. How did I find the strength to do the things I needed to find my way back. Because I had to is the short answer, I simply had no other option. Life it seems is for the living and living well is the best option, I don’t know about revenge.

Now that I’m entering that age where elder-speak happens and with people hold the doors for me it’s hard to understand that I’m reaching that age. I still think young and I’m not beyond acting childish that’s for sure. These lovely young women at Starbucks call me sweetie and even bring my coffee to me. I thank them very much and regret that I’m no longer a threat to them, I no longer count except as the nice old guy who reads books and borrows the newspaper. There was a time..., but now I can only look at them and remember.

Censorship

2009-02-02T06:40:00.003-06:00

A new/old wave of censorship is sweeping the world like a blight. Art blogs that feature photographers who don’t conform to this harsh standard are under attack from the Taliban's of our country. From John Ashcroft who covered the statue Spirit of Justice because of her exposed breast. To the beaches of Australia where topless sunbathing is under assault by a new prudishness is sweeping the world. But it’s far too late to put that genie back in the bottle even if everyone wanted to.
Our culture is build on the selling of sexual promises real or unspoken, that what’s advertising is all about the promise. We are inundated with provocative images some of them tasteful and some of them not quite. Blogs too are filled with the work of some very fine photographers but also includes lots of wanna be’s. No one is pushing this stuff on you however you have to go looking if you’re interested in finding it. It’s not like some porn purveyors are loading this into your or your children computer while you are surfing for something else.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so it is with porn what you seek is what you’ll find. Child pornography is not the primary issue here it is a question of finding art that suits your creative needs. The issue of child pornography is a red herring thrown up as justification for the repression of nude photography in general. It’s a repression of the people and the lifestyles of people who offend those puritanical amongst us. It is the Taliban's way of dealing with the realities of life, if thy eye offends thee pluck it out. That is not the way a truly free society operates in this day and age. People are dying for the freedom to live and let live, the freedom to pursue our way of life unimpeded by the repression of tyrants. Unfortunately in a free society we have to put up with the malcontents and the misfits. That’s what make our society free, a willingness to let two consenting adults do what pleases them as long as no one is hurt or damaged in the process.

The pursuit of happiness is a long cherished right of free men and women everywhere. The pursuit of glorious art bring happiness and joy to the soul of the beholder. For generations artist have been pursuing that elusive quality of nudity that bring joy to the eye and hearts of many. For generations too artist have been persecuted for their art, for their visions and their freedom. That freedom to create come at a high cost for us all. Now we are being called to once more defend the rights of our fellow artist and to stand with them and be counted. It is a right worth defending. It is a freedom too precious to loose to those who wish us to cower in silence. Stand up for your rights and your art before it too late.

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

For an artistic read see my friend Chris at his blog: Univers d Artistes

Wondrous Creatures

2009-01-30T08:59:00.002-06:00

I was thinking the other day about the wondrous creatures I’ve know over the course of my life. From the neighborhood little girls I played with to my first love in grade school, to the teacher I was head over heels with; big or tall I’ve loved them all. When I was beginning my photographic career I combine it with my love of women and my respect for them. Never one to just look for beauty I found the most interesting who’s personality had a special shine. If they happened to be beautiful too I consider it a bonus and a nice exterior I was doubly blessed . After all even beautiful girl need love too and who better than me.

As I matured I found I was welcomed to the world of women and found myself being able to learn from them. That didn’t prepare me to deal with them any better that the next man but it at least gave me a chance to try to understand them better. The women in my life have taught me a lot about themselves and about the ways they see the world. They’re complicated and maddening, we desire them and hate them, sometimes in equal measure. But above these things we love and covet them and we truly care for them in all there complexities. Remember back to the last argument you got into with the one you love and you’ll know what I mean.

I once got into a disagreement with one I loved (well, more than once) over something I can’t remember and she turned and walked away. Just shut me out, I was so infuriated that I too just turned and walked away in anger and confusion. I spent the afternoon at a friends house that I had the keys for. Later that night she called and apologize and she said she didn’t know why she’d reacted that way. It was only when she saw me walking away in anger that it dawned on her. Mind you I should have gone after her and that didn’t absolved me for that but she understood why I had reacted to her that way. She was so calm about things and forgave me, I was confused and put off guard I didn’t know how to react. That I think is a part of their defense, do the unexpected and keep you off balance. Effective strategy and one I learned to adapt for my own uses.

She was my first relationship as a mature male and it was a great learning experience for the both of us. We went on trips together and were together most night but we had our own separate places for those nights we wanted some peace and quiet. She was a lot younger than me and needed time and space to experience life and to grow into the woman she was meant to become. I was all too happy to share lives together and apart, we both separated for a year and went our own ways but still we kept in touch. Then we both came back to the town we lived and were together again, for a few years we even had a exclusive relationship. Time is said heals old wounds and I guess that’s true to some extent. But we both got itchy feet and I came back to Texas and though we saw each other from time to time it wasn’t mean to be. We both got caught up in our lives and our dreams so we went our separate lives. Pity, I sometimes wonder if I had stayed what kind of life would I have now. Surely much different but better..., I don’t know.

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

The ever lovely Vada

Generation’s

2009-01-25T16:18:00.002-06:00

When I was a little boy Eisenhower was president and life was simple then. As a youngster I realized I was a second class citizen in my own land, the land of my father. I knew that I was welcome by some and tolerated by other, hated by a few. The color of my skin was the determining factor that set me apart, my history would not be accepted by others. The history that was taught in school had nothing to do with my history and nothing positive was told about that story. If you’re white your right, black get back and brown stick around was a saying that I was all to familiar. Rev. Joseph Lowery benediction at Obama’s swearing in ceremony brought that to mind.

Although too young to understand the hatred my race engendered I couldn’t help but understand that it was aimed at people like me. From our neighbor who grew roses to the disdain of the little red head who lived across the street who sent me home from her birthday party. I knew that I wasn’t welcomed just anywhere and learned I had to be careful to approach certain kinds of people. My cousin and I walked from the park our families were having a picnic to the swimming pool up the road. We weren’t allowed in that pool because of our skin color but we could stand at the fence and watch what we were missing. Or the excitement of riding the bus for the first time on my own and my mother looking worried and asking the bus driver if I could ride in front so I’d know when to get off.

Fast forward to my adulthood and a christmas party I attended with some friends. Someone should have told the hostess I was a guest of my friends because she confronted me in the kitchen and looked at me as though I had wander in off the street and wasn’t welcome. So much for southern hospitality, I have a much different view. This was brought to mind by the outrage generated by Jeremiah Wright in the recent election. Dr. Wright is a well educated man and served his country well. He was on the medical team who cared for President Johnson after his heart surgery. Jeremiah Wright has a right to his opinion, by his service to this country he has earned that right.

The experience of Dr. Wright and me for that matter did not have the experience of the "average" American born in this country in the 1940's. We and many millions of others did not experience the American Dream as others. We came from the same cloth that spawned Martin Luther King and others in the struggle for equal rights. The experience of that other American, the dream of the big house and the white picket fence and the well kept yard was not our dream or our reality. We had to fight for what was right and what was just, we had to struggle for those rights every day of our live and I can’t blame Dr. Wright for being bitter or for being misquoted. President Obama explained it best when he placed his views in a historic and sociological context. It was the times they were for people of color, that was the reality of the day and we must not look the other way but face them squarely and admit the truth of his statements no matter how unpleasant or harsh they are.

But we must face the reality that the time are a changing, generations of today aren’t swept up in the bitterness of the past. The young don’t know or care for the times of the past and the bitterness some people hold on to. I was raised as a different creature and I grew up with equals where I was judged by the content of my mind not just the color of my skin. Though make no mistake skin color was important to some but they couldn’t overlook my mind or my soul. Once while riding the streetcar to work I spotted a lady that I knew and said hello in passing. She came over to sit by me and blurted out that looking at me one wouldn’t think that I could even speak English. Never but never judge a book by it’s cover!

Lady Liberty

2009-01-23T08:58:00.002-06:00

The majesty of our style of government was on display the other day as the regime changed in this country. It was a shift not only in the style and substance of governance but in generations as well. A new generation of leaders is ready to take control and lead us through our perilous time. As Barack said it’s going to be a long hard struggle, many sacrifices are yet to be asked of us and it will be difficult. But as a nation we can and will triumph over adversity once again. His call for self-sacrifice and service rang a bell with me and many other people. Let’s see if his words have any meaning to those who govern us.

It’s no only time, it’s pass time to do what right for our country and to put partisanship aside and work together. Time for our Congress to set aside differences and work together for a change to solve the very real problems that we face. For too long have the money-changers had control of our finances and live’s. For too long has our leadership fixated over inconsequential instead of facing the very real prospects of bankruptcy. Now we face no other choice than the hard work of fixing our economy and living within our means. The American public has faced that reality and has quit shopping and using credit to buy things they really don’t need. I believe the American public is outraged over bailing out the back because they have created there own problems. By giving away free money in the form of easy credit they have sow the seeds of there own destruction. Ditto for easy mortgages and loans for grandiose housing projects. This I believe was spawned by the bankruptcy laws recently enacted that favored the banks.

We live under the poisonous cloud of greed, an uncontrollable greed that has
bankrupt our nation of morals, spirit and a sense of values. The very foundation of our future and that of our children is at stake. That’s why I believe in the principle of service, to our elders, to our children and to our community. We own it to them not to fail in our attempts of right some very basic wrongs in our society. In my old neighborhood there was a man about my age who I met walking everyday. As he went along he’d pick-up trash that he found in the streets and alleys of our neighborhood. When I saw him coming up my street I’d wait for him to get close then I’d take the trash and recyclables and deposit to the various cans. Now I’ve stolen the idea from him and in my walks though the park I pick up the trash I find. One maybe two bags and dispose of them in the waste can, I figure it’s one or two bags less that won’t find it’s way into the river. No big deal, it’s good exercise bending and picking and putting the trash where it belongs. I don’t feel noble or like I’m saving the world or anything like that. I love the park and it makes me feel good to show my appreciation in some way. Little signs of affection can do wonderful things if you want to try.

Double Standard

2009-01-19T09:11:00.001-06:00

As many of you have heard nude’s of Madonna just sold for quite a hefty sum at Christie’s. They were shot by Lee Friedlander and taken when M. was twenty and broke. I vaguely remember when Playboy published them some years ago and I think they were very nice photos from what I remember. I think she posed with a kitten in one of them and they weren’t the least bit raunchy. Indeed they were a capture of a young woman at the beginning of her sexual prime.
They’ve been branded as "explicit" in the articles about them but I don’t feel that way. First of all the word "explicit" gives one the feeling of something dirty and almost pornographic. Friedlander is a recognize artist of some merit who’s work has been shown at the International Museum of Photography. His work include some of the world best known Jazz musicians of his era. He was working primarily in 35MM B&W and featured his work of social landscapes. He is not your everyday pornographer though his work with Madonna was featured in Playboy.
As Madonna herself said, so what when she was asked about them. It’s not like Madonna didn’t use her sexuality to sell her art. Dare I say it, it’s not like she was some kind of virgin to begin with..., well maybe a long time ago. It isn’t like she was exploiting herself she was using her assets to help make a name of herself first as a dancer then a singer. It’s not like Vanessa Williams who was exploited by an unscrupulous photographer who sold her images to Bob Guccione and ruined her status as the first black Miss America. I fail to see any double standard here.
Although the situation was almost the same, two young struggling kids who needed some cash it isn’t the same to me. Vanessa’s career was derailed by those photos and real harm was done to her. Though her images were vastly more "explicit" they were tame by today’s standards. Much was made of the lesbian quality of them and they were exploited by a magazine for profit. Here was a young woman who was struggling to pull herself up by her bootstraps. A life lesson for all the young people out there, photo’s last forever. Be very careful who photographs you in a compromising positions. I know that a lot of kids these days figure what the hell, if Paris can do them a make a fortune why not?
Ms. Hilton come from a background of riches, her grandfather created his wealth in the hotel business and his heirs have lacked for nothing except good sense and class. It is so dangerous these days for young people, here we’ve glamorized the Paris’s and the Brittany’s so now the very young are posting nude shots of themselves or their friends on cell-phones and bringing the wrath of the authorities on themselves and playing around with being branded a sex criminal. We’ve created a monster of outrage and disapproval while condoning the very behavior that we are attempting to stamp out. We have created this ourselves by not having the honesty to explain to our children how human beings work and what may work best for them. Kids will be kids and explore their sexuality whether we like it or not, whether we understand it or not. People change as they grow older but now the cost are so high for that life lesson to sink in.

Esperanza

2009-01-16T08:48:00.002-06:00

I’ve been working with this young lady since she was twenty-two years old and it’s been a rewarding experience. We’re friends of sorts and I get to see her about every five years or so. In this image she was the ripe old age of thirty-five and she was still a ball of fire. I’m not sure that the life she had planned is the one she ended up with but then that true for all of us.
She got in touch with me that first time, a mutual friend had told her about my work. She needed someone that she could trust and have a good time with. She’s a very private person at times but she’s always lived her life large. In her younger days she was thinking of a modeling career and maybe film so she needed to experience the medium. She began to trust me and over several sessions I could shoot what I like and she didn’t even want to see what we’d shot just the finished prints. She gave me a blanket release but I’ve always checked with her for permission and I have no problem abiding by that. Which brings me to the reason(s) I object to the provisions of 2257a.
With a lot of my model we have mutual friends who get very curious as to what we up to photographically. They don’t see why I shouldn’t show them the work we do. I take the approach that it’s not unlike a doctor / patient relationship and how would they like having there personal information out there for all to see. I like getting permission and seeing if my model has any objections to the use of images that we have produced. I promise each model anonymity and that I will keep her identity private no if’s and’s or but’s. But now we are being forced to post that information on each and every image we produce under penalty of law.
In this age of Google people are being hurt by that free flow of information. Consider that the Department of Motor Vehicles will not give you information just from the licence plate without a court order. The idea is to protect people from the very real threat of stalkers. Yet photographers are to leave vulnerable their models and friend to a whole range of discrimination not to mention stalkers. Where is the basic justice in this law. Anyone with knowledge of how to do a search will have access to there very private information. Anyone who doesn’t post that information is libel to a hefty fine and a period of incarceration.
Doesn’t the Department of Justice have more urgent priories than the prosecution of poor photographer’s and their models trying to produce art and trying to make a few bucks. No matter how distasteful it may seem to others, if it’s a willing contract between consenting adults it’s no one else’s business. I can understand the aim of the law is to protect minors from getting involved with shady characters who’ll post there images for profit on some girly site. But that’s not what’s happening here, it’s the wholesale invasion of privacy issue and it affects us all. Models and photographers don’t want their private information posted for all the world to see. I have no problems with the collecting of Driver Licenses as proof of adulthood but I have a real problem with the wholesale collection of information that I have no control of. As a matter of preference I prefer to work with women who have reached an age of reason because my photos last forever. I think eighteen year old models don’t have any business entering into to an adult contract that might harm their future. However if that girl is trying to get into the business or has chosen to dance as a way to survive then they have a right to get them best photographer they can manage.
In the end we can’t protect everyone from themselves, right now teenagers are sending very adult images of themselves to each other by phone. We have a group of very young people who’s live have been destroyed by the very laws that are meant to protect them. Their branded for life as sexual deviants for send images and harmless touching of each other. Where does this end?

Me

2009-01-11T11:49:00.004-06:00

Let me say from the outset that I am not as svelte as my friend Dave and you’ll never see me nude on my blog but I do have more hair. I recently update my photo on my blog to represent the person I am today and the results are kind of shocking. I have a lot of grey hair and my salt and pepper beard has gone mostly to salt. This is the person that people see when they look at me, when they hold doors for me or talk in elder-speak when I go to Starbucks. Were did he come from this new me that has taken over my body.
I don’t see myself this way when I look in the mirror in the morning. I mean I see him but my mind is much kinder when he registers. Of course I see the baggy eyes and the character line, the beard looks familiar but is that really who I’ve become. I still see myself as robust and full of life and lust, well OK I know that’s not realistic but I think about it. I notice a lot of young women and older one’s smile at me and I finally figured out that’s it’s because I have reached that safe age. I no longer represent a theat to them and their safety. One of my models was over and decided to show me how she and her boyfriend work out together. I realized how physically strong this young woman was. Made me think back a few years ago when I was in to ballooning and I was running out into a field with a young woman and I was pleased she was keeping up with me. Then she very smoothly pulled ahead of me to get to the basket effortlessly and I remember being surprised.
Looking at the photos yesterday I have a new appreciation for turning sixty and my limitations. I have a certain sense of style in dress and carry myself well but now it in a different mode. It’s more an elder statesman, a representative of the older person’s type of role. I remember years ago being at a party among friends I’d known for years. We men were gathered to ourselves in a group chatting amicable. I suddenly perceived our group as bull elephants gather together in a herd with the young bulls prowling at the edges. Maybe it was the smoke, they say it will get in your eyes. The girlfriend of a young man I’d known since he was a child came up to talk with me and someone snapped a photo. Take another one as I had my arm around this young lady. She relaxed against me totally trusting and secure in my honor as a older man. Damn I miss not being a threat anymore.

i saw a girl today
one i’d met
or only seen
some years ago
youth came
flooding back
like memories
in an old man’s mind

i hadn’t realized
how many years
i’d lived
and how old
i’d grown
in oh so
short
a time

for elaine b.
and me
14 december 1973 / 2009

Around

2009-01-09T06:32:00.002-06:00

Well..., I had a really nice post for you today but I somehow deleted it yesterday. I don’t know what happened but it’s gone, my apologies. Instead I’ll leave you with some poetry of mine written in the seventy’s sometime. It’s amazing how full of myself I was but there you have it. I was in my mid-twenty and life was sweet though I didn’t know it, what I’d give to know then what I know now. But anyways I used to write quite a bit and I even sent my stuff to several publishers to see if there was any interest. I got two books back with some polite notes except one book kept me hanging for months it seemed like. Finally it was returned with a lovely letter explaining that they didn’t publish poetry but they had hung on to it for so long so everybody had a chance to read it. That was the first of only a few of the nicest rejection letters I received. Enjoy it for what it’s worth.

Around I looked
and you
had gone
left me wondering
who
why
and what
had been
street-sides
and parks
empty
a part of
my life
empty
Around I looked
though
I’d been warned
and You
had gone

All right reserved
Michael Vasquez

Writing

2009-01-05T06:05:00.002-06:00

I’m really pleased with the way my handwriting has come along. From an undecipherable scrawl to something almost passable. My arm has gone from absolutely flaccid and lifeless by my side to a useful appendage at last. But the metamorphous didn’t come easy or painlessly. Through endless exercise to just using it, I worked until I’m getting some good return and I can type again at long last, with dropped letter or added but I have learn to type again.
I had to learn to reprogram my mind first and then to rework the pathways in my brain. That’s where all the damage was done in the first’s place. There was nothing physically wrong with my hand, arm or leg; it was all in my mind as they say. But the longer it hung at my side the more useless it was becoming, the more atrophied it became from un-use. Use it or lose it as the old saw goes, I had lost the use of it and now I had to learn use it again or the loss was permanent. So I started from scratch and learned again how to move my arm, hand and leg.

I remember being so proud and getting some confidence back when I raised my hand up to my face early on. I couldn’t keep it there and it certainly took for ever to raise it but the point was I did it. I proved to myself that I could do it and with just a little will power I would learn to walk again too. But the process seemed endless and at time unrewarding. Keeping my spirits high was a prime goal of mine. That’s easier said that done the reality of my paralysis was at times over whelming. Though it got easier to do the exercises I didn’t feel there was a choice left to me that didn’t leave me worse off than I was. I was religious about my exercises and did them everyday. On my days off I tried to cook as normal, wash the car (only once was enough) and get back to showering as normal. It’s easy to forget how to do something that’s as normal as breathing. Normal as closing your eyes and lathering your head or washing your legs.
Balance was the challenge for me, how to balanced and moved at the same time. How to come to a full stop and write a check as I went through the checkout line. One day I felt myself going over and I couldn’t feel anything to keep me from falling. Now this is going to be embarrassing as I tipped further and further. At the last possible moment I found something to grab and I stayed upright thankfully but it was mighty close. I was all too aware that reaching out to ease my fall could cause a broken bone or worst if I hit my head. I lived in terror of some little kid bumping into me as children are want to do through no fault of their own or mine. The result would be the same for me though.
Then as I slowly recovered I started trying to write checks for the things I had purchased . I always made out the check at home and filled in the amounts only at the store. I learned a new appreciation for older people who are under tremendous pressure to do things faster because people are waiting. I also became aware of the process of writing the check, the ways you have to balance your body to physically write the check. I’ve found myself gripping with my toes for balance and stability to be able to perform the act of writing. It’s very complicated process writing and standing at the same time. And mine you I’m talking about printing not the smooth style of writing that I was used to.
But as I say I’m pretty pleased with the way I’m printing these days. I can look back at my check registry and notice the improvements. Through my blood-pressure log I can chart my progress day by day, week by week as the months turn into the years of my recovery that I’ve conquered.

Help

2009-01-02T06:27:00.001-06:00

Sometimes I just smash into a brick-wall with my limitations, I’m just stopped cold with an overload of information. Like with my medical billing information, I’ve been trying to decided what plan is best for me in my circumstances. Might as well throw a dart as to decide and today it’s too late to figure it out. That’s the frustrating thing about being mentally challenge, there’s no one to help you figure out your way through the maze of rules. You’re left to fend for yourself and make the best decision you can and if you screw-up, well tough.
You wouldn’t believe the strange machinations I have to go through to write this blog. Spelling, thank god for spell check but how do you get it to work when you can’t spell in the first place or think of the word you want. So I look for a word that similar in meaning and try thesaurus and hopefully find the word I wanted in the first place. Next I have my trust Doubleday Dictionary but there are so many words I get confused about spelling and which word I wanted to use in the first place. Then if all else fails I use a different word than I wanted and hope I’ll think of the word I wanted in the first place. But good luck with that, I’ve been trying to think up the name of a singer for weeks now and I remember once and promptly forgot.
I get frustrated by my inability to choose, whether it’s a direction in life or in medical care. The list goes on and on, what’s more frustrating is to not be able to remember whether I did it better in the past or I care more now. I know for certain that I can’t talk or laugh or sing like I did in the past. I never was a great singer but I loved to sing along with my favorites and was once told I had a lovely voice. These are things I can put my finger on because there physical and I no longer have that ability. But for tasks that are more nebulous, that are not a physical manifestation I have no answers. I can see a disability in my hand as I type, I can also feel a disability in my mind as I strive to find words or thought or that damn singer name. Is it the product of an older mind or one that is partially disabled. Am I condemned to struggle with this disability or is it one that will clear in time or is time no longer my friend? Where or to whom do I turn for help or guidance with my questions? No one seems to have the answers I need or want answered.
So I turn to my writing to find some answers, to seek some relief from the questions I have. Maybe my blog will bring me the assistance I’m seeking, maybe some kindred souls will help me out of the fog. To be sure I have found friends, people who have come close to my heart and mind. As scary as this forum is I have found friends who are compassionate and warm and loving. In finding out about their struggles I find some answers coming along with more questions. In putting my mind out there, in putting me out there I’m taking a risk that some unfriendly mind will answer, that’s a risk that I’m will to chance. But I’m finding the rewards well worth the risk.

On a personal note I have to thank Lin and Christian for being so supportive and helpful in my continuing quest to find myself. I couldn’t have asked for better friends or more help than I’ve gotten from these two, thank you both.

End of the Year’s Madness

2008-12-29T07:55:00.004-06:00

Well it that time of the year when we look back at this year and thank god that’s we survived another one. Survival has been on all our minds this year to a greater extent than any other year before. Even the year of my stroke though I didn’t comprehend how I knew I’d survived and the rest was easy. But last year everything changed for us all in the great economic downturn. The basics of all knew to be true turned out to be true and the fix was in to overturn those basics.
Banks, mortgage company, insurance companies and the auto industry collapsed into a pit of there own shady practices. No it wasn’t the end of the world, those companies deemed "to big to fail" were bailed out by a congress that was ripe with it’s own corruption. The world didn’t end with a bang nor a whimper but a new alinement of power and control over our destinies. In the words of that old Dylan song the times they are a changing. We common men and women are left to pick up the pieces of our lives as best we can and trudge on. It’ll be a long cold hard slog but we can make it if we’re smart enough and determined enough to figure out our way. We must ban together in our communities of like minded souls and protect and defend those we love and care for. We must protect the work we do and the people who work with us against the forces massed against us. This will not be easy or pleasant but we have the power to make it fun.
When I moved to New York I had to lean a new way of thinking, a new way of survival. It too wasn’t easy or pleasant but I made the chore of starting over fun and explored different ways to accomplish my goals. I learned to explore the parameters of my new world and all the wonderful things about it. When I learned to correct myself from going the wrong way for my goals I found satisfaction in the learning. As I learned the physical difference of North and South, East and West I had accomplished something useful. From that one skill I learn to orientate myself to my new environment and the rest was easier to deal with.
For one I’m challenged by the landscape of this new world of our’s and I think it will provide new ways to succeed in life. Only the strongest and most agile of people will find the way to success, that’s the way it’s been forever. The basics haven’t changed that much although we are certainly not at the center of the universe anymore. There are more and bigger challenges facing us, facing our children too but the chances of success outweigh the negatives if you ask me. That’s the way I’m facing the New Year, with hope in the future based on my history of success in the past. We all must be up to the challenges ahead of us and to keep that sense of optimism intact and a sense of humor will help as well. It always seems darker just before the light go out but we can all light a match of hope.

Thea Marie

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Check out http://www.universdartistes.com/ he's written an article about me. Thanks Chris.

The Pleasures of Youth

2008-12-26T08:14:00.003-06:00

My model was eighteen at the time these images were taken, a bit younger than I like. I like my model to be of an age that they have a bit better perspective on where there are going and where they’ve been. I feel like the teenage years are spent sowing a lot of wild oats and just finding out who you are let alone getting down to the business of running your life. People this age have a tendency to feel bullet proof and will live forever at least I did. Anyway I found her on line portfolio and we made a connection and eventually we became friends and I care about her very much. She’s currently the ripe old age of twenty three and will be having her first child in just under two months. She looks back on this time of her life with bitter-sweet memories and calls them crazy times.
I had my own crazy times so many years ago when the world was different, less pressure and less knowledge. I worked for a photographer in a one person shop and he started me on my way. The movie "Blow Up" had just come out it was based on the life of David Bailey an English photographer who lived a charmed life. I expected hot and cold running models to come through the studio at any moment. The first month I figured it was a slow month and by the time I figured out that they probably weren’t coming at all I figured out the photographer was going to get them if they did. I maybe slow but I’m not very fast became my mantra from then on.
But it was a good gig for an eighteen year old, I learned to develop E-6 and to print and more importantly I learned to dry prints to a mirror finish. I also learned to clean and to polish the big drum dryer that we had. I also had the run of the studio weekends and night and I used it but sparingly. We had hot-lights at that time and it just got too hot to try anything besides I was interested in life and how it functioned to spend much time in the studio. I was an outdoor shooter and the city was getting involved in HemisFair, the worlds fair that came to our town that year. I was able to get a press pass for the grounds as I was a working photographer at the time. My friend and I both had press passes and we roamed the ground almost at will shooting everything we found of interest. I focused on the people and my friend was more interested in abstracts involving people but not as the focal point.
The added bonus of the press card is that it got us into the Falstaff House where we were able to buy beer. Not being of legal age yet we made use of this privilege on a regular basis. We didn’t abuse that privilege but we use it for all it was worth and then some. There was also a city press club that we got into at night and the bartender was a fabulous lady who liked my friend and me very much and would let us drink undisturbed. One night we brought our lady friends for some drinks and to chat, it was our lucky night and no one was there at the time. The bartender decided to help us along and made the drinks extra strong and the girl I was with got quite tipsy and then I had to get her home and her mother was waiting for us. Not exactly the night I was planning but I got out unscathed.
Like I said it was a unique time of out lives, unspoiled and innocent and the only danger was the usual dangers of youth. I didn’t drink much then and I wasn’t much into the drug scene much either, I was too busy with life. I worked for the local newspaper by then and had a car that was the envy of all who saw it. My company car had flashing lights, police and fire radios and people would get out of the way when I was on the move. The only draw back was people almost certainly had to die so I could get my work on the front page. That was the saddest part of my job, I’d chase accident scenes and plane crashes and then I could count on the front page. If the bleeds it lead was the saying to old timers though a riot was good for space too. I soon learned I wasn’t cut out to be a newspaper man, I had no stomach for death and dismemberment. But I sure loved that car!

Awakening’s

2008-12-22T06:22:00.003-06:00

At a stroke
life changed for me.
Gone,
from me was my confidence
my self-reliant nature...,
my life
and in it’s place
questions.
Life began anew
life changed beyond comprehension
though I comprehended only the
arrogance of the un-infirmed
Learning life’s lesson once again
learning to walk
to eat and feed myself
to brush teeth and
learning to wipe myself...
Learning life’s lessons again
who would I be
what would I be
would I like the new me.

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I wrote these words long months into my recovery when Lorraine and I had gone to the coast for a holiday. I didn’t want her trip to be all about my stroke, she remember a strong and independent fellow and it’s was important that she didn’t remember me sick. I admit it was unimportant to her but it meant everything to me. I was still lost in myself trapped in the aftermath of the stroke that had just about ended my life. I was struggling to find myself and trying to figure out who I’d be when I fully recovered, if I fully recovered.
I feel like that question has been answered for me at last, I rather like the new and improved me. The me who’s more relaxed and not quite in as much of a hurry as I once was. The me who has a tolerance set higher than it use to be and is no longer quick to anger or find fault. I’ve grow since my stroke and find a new peace with life and my mortality. Yes there are things I’d change, horizons I’ll no longer strive for, barriers I’ll no longer challenge. I guess in way I’ve passed the torch to a new generation as I chart a new direction for my life and my passions. It’s hard to take that step as much as it seems inevitable, a step many of us face some with more grace than others.
I refuse to act my age however, I’ll keep being my youthful playful self though others may not readily see that side of me. I’ll keep my love of life and my love for women intact and operational. I’ll still capture the beauty and special grace of my subjects and attempt to show their humanity. I "will not go gentle into that good night".
Dylan Thomas

I shot Santa..,

2008-12-19T06:46:00.003-06:00

repeatedly, the elves were harder to get because they were kids! Last night I was shooting a Christmas party for my clients and there were a lot of kids of all ages. One tiny little girl was all freaked out because her mom stepped away for a moment and Frosty and a Gingerbread Man were too much for her to handle by herself. She decided to hide behind me which kind of freaked me out but I was saved by a pretty little elf who started talking with her about her dress and how pretty it was. I was pretty impressed by the elf and her boundless energy and the way she interacted with each of the kids no matter their age or sex.
It was a fun party for the employees of a major tourist destination here in the city, they work hard all year round and this was a thank you for all their hard work. It was a family affair complete with a buffet, cheese and cold cuts and a open bar for all to enjoy. And then there was Santa and Mrs. Claus and several of their best elves to guide thing along. We had Santa for an hour and the line-up was tremendous. The kids and their parents line the walls after the big rush by to kids to mob Santa until Mrs. Claus got everyone to line-up sort of in order. But kids are kids and they’ll go anywhere they please while I was trying to compose and shoot who was in Santa lap giving him their wish-list of goodies.
In short it was a real mob scene with parents and their cousins trying to take picture as I was fighting to get the kids attention while the parents were snapping away. Finally I just wait patiently while the parents got their shots then I could do mine and not have the kids looking anywhere but at the camera. Santa became my friend and I gave him the thumbs-up when I got my shot or I’d give him the thumbs-up when he rearrange his hat or beard. We got to be a pretty good team and I rewarded him by getting pretty young girls to sit in his lap too. By the time the rush was over the elves had things pretty much under control except for the kids who wander back into the shot or adult who didn’t know what to do and I got them in the shot as well. Then we got to the silly part were the adults wanted their picture with Santa as well. But by that time I knew we were getting close to the end and Santa was trying to escape.
Now remember, I’m a traditionalist, I still shoot real film and get it scanned to disk from the negatives. So I’m trying to keep a eye on the film count and watching the action to see when it best to reload. I also had a helper who was taking names and I had to give her a count of what roll I was on so she’d have a idea who was who when she was doing the prints. Yes I could have had the prints made when I got the film developed but I didn’t because I didn’t have the budget and I had gotten overall shots of the festivities for there records. I expect to see my shots turn up on the web next year sometime.
I know my client real well and know what she looking for and the shots she might need and I keep that in the back of my head when I’m shooting for her. We’ve had a working relationship for about five years now. I photographed her kid when she was about three or four and I feel like I’m part of the family now. Her girl is a precocious eight years old and is a real reader. I’m encouraging her by giving her books for her birthdays which I’m invited to. That’s one of the pleasures of my work getting to know people so well that I blend in and mesh with them real well. That’s the way I’ve survived since my stroke by having good friends who haven’t forgotten about me and are willing to give me work when they can. They also tell me about other work that I can go after and use them as a connection and a reference. It’s so nice to have friends who are well connected when you are in my position and trying to get back on your feet again. These people saw me limping about on my cane and they didn’t count me out. It’s a hard business to get people to remember your name for three week not to mention the three years I’ve been out of the business. People count in this business and people remember who did them favors and remember who was kind to them or there kids.

Am I Blue

2008-12-15T06:20:00.006-06:00

I went for a drive down memory lane, I went to the old neighborhood that I can first remember as being mine. Like everyone taking this trip the hills aren’t as big, the street not as long, the schools not as spacious as remembered in the minds eye. But the memories are still bigger than life and still cause as much remembered pain as they once did. Remembered is a much different and colorful landscape than the drab appearance of the one before me. I can understand what make me the unique individual I am now, I can see where I got it from. I could see my history unfold before me, see my life pass before me as I drove the streets I once walked as a child.

I can see my parent as the people they were with all their flaws and imperfection intact, with all their hopes and dreams and their disappointments too. In the end we are just people trying to do the best we can for ourselves and for our children. But a real life hangs in the balance of the reality of the two adults, a budding reality. Life doesn’t often turn out the way we want but the way it will. A child moves through these reality’s buffeted by the environment around that child.

I could give you all the gory details of love deigned by a father in name only or a mother with too much zeal for a better life. But why bother it’s a life that’s not unique in the least. What is unique is the way(s) I responded to the challenges of my reality. I became a chameleon changing colors or temperaments as required depending on the prevailing emotional winds. I was raised to be a polite child to do unto to other as I would like them to do unto me. Needless to say I was raised a Catholic and I’m still trying to recover. Although never abused by the church I was never the less inflicted by their own realities. I went to church and confession regularly and had so few sins I had to borrow from my classmates. Early on I learn the rules and what the caveats were, a sin was only a sin if you enjoyed yourself. Or that the lay teachers could be deranged as anyone with their punishments. In grade five I found out that heaven was only for Catholics, there was no saving a good Jew or Baptist. Or that punishment held it’s effectiveness only if you let it, if I was going to be punished for any infractions anyway’s why do the punishment at all. There was always the library and the wonderful books that led me to a world I could escape into.
That was also the year my parents decided to divorce and I had to leave school anyway, you couldn’t be the son of a fallen woman. But I didn’t realize any of that I just knew that it meant a new school and new friends and a new library to explore. Coincidentally it meant that my grade would improve because I was challenged to learn more and was given much greater latitude in that learning. In the new school I also fell in love for the first time and my warped little mind was so confused that I couldn’t think straight. It wasn’t the last time either I’m pleased to say there were many times I couldn’t think straight as I grew into me.

I’ve always loved women and all the different facets of them. As a child I was always the friend, the best buddy to whom they could speak to as an equal. Not the leading man but the supporting actor who could be relied upon for that support and understanding. As much as I resented it as a young male I also learned to treasure my special relationship with the female gender. I learned from my experiences the intricacies of the female mind and their thought processes. Though hardly an expert I cultivated my role and approached the more interesting females around me and that led me naturally into photography. Notice I said the more interesting and not the most beautiful or sought after but the most unique females I could find. Girls who had a personality that intrigued me that challenged me to find out more about them and how they saw the world around them. And for better or worse that’s part of what makes Me.

The point to all of this it that this marks three years since I was released from the hospital after my stroke. My stroke has cause me to do a lot of introspection, examinations of my life for purpose and history. To see where all the skeletons are buried and to exhume them and find peace with them..., or try to. It’s passed time for this introspection, for this too shall pass moment in my life. I am really grateful for the life given to me and I hold it precious. While I wish my history were better and me a better person I’m content to be where I am now. I look forward to facing the challenges that face me, that face us all in these economic times. Here’s to the future, may it be as bright as our dreams.

Bodyscape

2008-12-12T06:35:00.003-06:00

I absolute love shooting bodyscapes of my models. I love the contours, the hills and valleys in landscapes. I find through my lens a wonder world of shapes and gentle curves. Often when I’m working with a model she asks what I’m shooting, I’ll say a portrait then she’ll ask way an I nude? And I explain I’m studying her body, seeing the way it moves, the way it tenses up and then relaxes. I usually save the bodyscapes for the last then I give my models a glass of wine and I start to play.
Watching the way their body moves during the shoot is key to my methods. I’ll sit back when were shooting and some pose will seem awkward or forced, give me something new I’ll say. I won’t say what then I get the chance to watch them create a new look or feel and the body will move. I watch the play of light over them and maybe if I’m lucky I’ll find something worth a visit later. I’m not doing it as a voyeur and they know this by now. Instead I’m looking as an artist trying to figure out what there is to find.
Once an old girlfriend of mine was against my shoot nude of other girls. I had some film that I wanted to try out and see what it would give me. I told her it would be that about fifteen/twenty minutes and she got nude really fast. I was finished two hours later and as she was getting dressed she told me I could shoot all the nude I wanted. Not wanting to look a gift-horse in the mouth I asked her why. Because you weren’t look at me as a woman she replied. I started thinking and I told her no I was looking at how the light was falling on you and shape and angles. Yeah she replied you can shoot all the nude you want.
Yes that’s what I look for the light and shape and angles and sometimes what a lucky young man I am. Other time I don’t see it until I look at the finished work and then I realize how lucky I am to do what I do. There’s not really anything sexual in what my model and I create. It’s not hum-drum work mind you but we get to laughing sometime at the absurdity of it all. We’re busy creating an illusion, a fantasy of the woman and we’re having a great time playing at that fantasy. That’s the most fun I’ve had since sex people have told me, no muss or fuss. That is the way it suppose to be, you’re both there to create some beautiful art and to build up some trust so you can have a better time next time.
Some people get all caught up in the sexual nature of the beast and that’s not good or even fair. When a model places herself in that position it’s because she trust you. She trust you to create beautiful work that she has invested in with her time, body and talent. It’s hard for some men to see that and to respect that kind of commitment and not to think that something must have happened. From what I hear it’s hard for some photographer to not take advantage of the power that willingly place in there hands. I’ve always thought of it kind of like Stockholm Syndrom where someone does things that are so out of character for them because they are under the influence of the magic. And it seems magical to me, to have the model so relaxed and comfortable that she can start talking about anything that comes into her mind while I’m shooting and exploring her. While I’m allow to chart the territory that is her physical space and state of mind.

Dove

2008-12-08T09:23:00.003-06:00

There has been some talk recently about the virtues of photoshop and the idea of manipulating images. The buzz is that the Dove campaign was doctored by a photoshop expert to smooth out the lumps some models had. The point being that Dove’s real women weren’t really real. Then there’s the case of Jamie Lee Curtis being photographed in glorious reality with all her flaws and imperfections on display. Also Katie Couric and the controversy of her doctored images CBS put out in a promo piece her. I’m wondering what the implications are on our young women and their self-esteem.
Looking back on the young women I’ve photographed over the course of my lifetime the ideas of beauty have changed dramatically. The women I shot were never consider Rubenesque but healthy and full of life. There is such pressure on young women today to meet some concept of beauty and health that are unbelievable. I believe that photoshop has added to that pressure and the unobtainable concepts that were forcing our young and not so young women.
Models in there thirties are telling me that they feel old and fat and that no one refers to them as cute anymore. These are healthy young women who are not over weight or have beer bellies. They’re just women who are growing into maturity and have maturing bodies and minds. They is a big difference between humans of twenty and thirty year of age. At twenty were are still a work in progress, we have boundless energy and stamina on our side and little else. At thirty we are far from old but we have a better idea of who we are and time has worked on those hard edges of ours. Looking back on my own life I feel as though I hadn’t yet grown into the man I’ve become. At thirty-five I began to have a idea of what I wanted for the long term, what I would and wouldn’t put up with to get there. It was a time of rebirth or refocus for me..., I finally had a concept of myself as me.
So back to the point which is what are we doing to young people these days? What incredible impossible ideas and values are we forcing the young to grow up with and believe in. We have young people today who are literally dying for our
idea’s of perfection that our photo’s help to create. Don’t we own the responsibility for our images of perfection that won’t abide wrinkles and stretch marks and the occasional blemish or other imperfection that make use beautiful to ourselves and other. I don’t know about anyone else but me and I’m proud when I look in the mirror and see myself in all my imperfect glory and wonder which wrinkle I got from too much partying and which came from too much worrying. I look at the road-map of my face and I see all the hard work it took to get me to this age and all the lumps I had to take to get here and to stay here. I see the life well lived and the love and losses I’ve suffered that make me..., me.

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This image is of a healthy thirty-something year old I finally got into my bed. No I wasn’t with her at the same time but it got your attention. This is from my bodyscapes series and is no pshop work beside my copyright. If she has stretch marks or any other imperfections I’m perfectly fine with them.

The Belt

2008-12-05T08:46:00.002-06:00

OK, OK, I know that the belt thing has been shot to death now. In my defense the last time I played with this theme was 2004 or there about’s. I use it to make a point with my image and not for some easy ploy. It was used in part to provide a modesty shield for my model and to provide a jumping off point for the eye. By using the belt the buckle draws your eye’s into the image, then down the belt to the fingers that hide or shield a greater treasure. At least that’s my story and I’m going to stick to it.
Notice the way the finger curve in a protective way and the well manicured patch of pubic hair all add to the tension of the shot. Leave you wanting more.., more information about the model and just what’s hiding behind those curved fingers. That’s IMO the aim of erotic photography, the hint of the treasure and the story line that goes with it. I mean that’s my opinion and people are free to disagree with me and I know a lot will. To my way of thinking there’s nothing to those graphic shots that are wide open and every pore is exposed to our view. Erotic photography like writing should be filled with nuance and should let your imagination run wild. Come to think of it that the mark of great cinema too, your imagination should be given a chance to fill in the details and create your own story. Again, that just my opinion, that and fifty cents will buy me a newspaper unless it’s Sunday.
The story behind this image is the model who posed for me had finally developed trust in me and my images. This was our second shoot together and this one was way out in the middle of nowhere. I had asked her permission to focus on this area and that really took a lot of trust on her end of things. I was kneeling down and shooting and I asked her to bend these finger like so and when she didn’t get it I reached out and touched her fingers. Well she liked to jump a mile because she wasn’t sure who was touching her but she sure as hell knew someone did. Still kneeling there I looked up at her and told her I would never touch her like that and that I only touched her fingers to get those three curved. Of course she relaxed and let me shoot some more and listened to instructions better.
I then ask her to squat down with me and she got really ify with me. I asked her to at least let me shoot a polaroid of what I wanted and explained how the lighting was working. The sun was low on the horizon and I knew her leg would cause a shadow to fall over her pubic area. When I showed her the polaroid she smiled and said OK. I explained that I wasn’t sure what I was getting, we’d only know for sure when we got film back and she was OK with that. Long story short when I got the contacts back that area was a touch too light and I darkened it down in the printing. And I told her so when I gave her prints and got the model release signed.
The moral of this story is it shows how closely model and photographer work and trust is a big issue. I live and work by the golden rule of respecting my models and never betraying that trust. I always keep in mind that they are there to do a job and I’m there to do a job as well. Never but never touch a model without asking permission and talk is not cheap but goes a long way toward building that trust that is so important. In all my years of working with young women I’ve never had a complaint or any problems arising from the way I shoot. I’ve always treated my models to the gold standard in shooting and I’ve never regretted it. Lot’s of people have asked me over the years aren’t you afraid of a sexual harassment charge. I’ve got to say no, all my girls know of each other and have the emails for each other. They create my safety net and my best defense against’s any miss understandings.

Larry

2008-12-01T08:51:00.002-06:00

My friend Larry Rothwell passed away after a battle with liver cancer Saturday night. Larry was a singer/songwriter in Austin and loved the life he live. A life long bachelor until almost the end on Sunday he married in spirit his love Phebe . Larry’s latest CD was Sack O Songs and he was busy working on a new CD when cancer interrupted his plans. Originally from Colorado he moved to Austin and continued playing in a variety of bands and was passionate about his music. His music and his presence will be missed around the farm where he lived out his life.

Once I had a young model out at the farm and we’d been doing sone nude at the milk barn and then down at the family cemetery. I told her I wasn’t sure how many people were going to be there but not to worry in that case she wouldn’t be getting nude. There was no way I was having her put on a show for anybody and if there was anybody around we’d have something to eat then try again another day. But no one was outside and we had a lovely shoot and used quite a lot of the background that the farm has. After we finished we came up to the complex of housing that make up the farm. Larry and his friend Chuck had been into some very nice "white lightning" they’d gotten from some where’s and they were feeling very joyful. When I introduced them to my model they were very gentlemanly, almost courtly. They could appreciate having a pretty, young coed around the property.

We’ve all lost a very good friend and a very decent man. I love you very much Larry and I’ll miss your company.

New York II

2008-11-28T08:20:00.002-06:00

My other life long friend I met in NYC was John Osborne and his wonderful family. John worked for New York Telephone and had such wonderful budgets and was able to send me around New York state to cover conventions for him. He also was responsible for putting on charity event around the state and in the city. I was lucky enough to visit with some great kids that he was investing in programs for their schools. One such program was high school artists who were having their art shown it the lobby of his building in Manhattan. These kids were from disadvantaged schools in the Burroughs of New York.
When I walked in they were wide eyed at the attention they were getting for the art they had created. Of course as teenagers they were wary of showing how pleased they were, they didn’t want to seem uncool. I of course told them to act normal and to go about their art work as they normally would while I took their pictures. Then I set about capturing them and interacting with them and playing with some until they relaxed and I could shoot them without notice. This was one of the great joys of working with John, he gave me the opportunity of seeing real New Yorkers in their habitat. Going about their daily lives and to capture small vignettes it for shows we did in the lobby.
I also had the great opportunity to drive the back roads of New York state going about my business and I could stop if I saw something of interest. This image is a small churchyard on the way to Cooperstown for a convention at the Otesaga Hotel which is on landmark registry. I had shot a clown we used and we had life sized cutouts made to guide the convention guests to the various event. It was wonderful see my work being enjoyed in the venue it was created for.
I was also lucky enough to be considered a member of the family and was invited for all the holidays and some evenings of social fun and dinner. It was the closest I came to having a family while in New York. I got to know and enjoy their two kids very well and I loved talking with them and watching them grow up. They became part of my extended family and I grew to love them very much. The kids (a boy and a girl) were involved with the usual school plays and were getting voice lessons as well and took the work very seriously. They began to be concerned with what plays and singing competitions they were getting into and that gave me pause.
These children were getting involved at a young age in the rat-race that was New York. Involved with the same rat-race that I was in looking at with a growing dismay. I saw in them the same struggles and issues that had begun to dominate my life. New York is a very expensive city to live in, you need to know where your next paycheck is coming from and how soon. It consumes your every waking moment and you’re always’s on the hustle for new opportunities. I wasn’t sure it was worth the struggles anymore nor the toll it was taking in my personal life.
When John mentioned he was taking a buy-out offered by the company I saw my time in New York at an end. I went about making plans to return home and to use all the skill I had learned over the past five years. John and I have remained close friends and still work together on different shoots that crop up and he still has wonderful budgets.

New York

2008-11-24T06:15:00.002-06:00

I was forty years old when I moved to The City. It was in response to a long and frustrating year for me. Excruciatingly slow, all my contacts had just gone quiet and there was no work. My private life was in turmoil as well and I just didn’t know which way to turn. So I packed my life away and faced the great unknowns of New York City and began the greatest adventure of my life.
Luckily I had a place to stay for three week and in those weeks I had to find employment and a place to call home. I had a contact with Pete Turners studio who’d show me the ropes and would help in finding jobs for me. But the onuses was on me and my fondness for survival. That first year in the City I wore out three pairs of running shoes looking for work. Work was much easier to find than a place to live but both were in short supply. Eventually fate led me to James McLoughlin who had a beautiful studio on West 24th Street.
Jim is an extraordinary photographer and a friend who really helped me make my way through the complex ways of business and the art of photography. He was a hard man at times but generous with his knowledge and equipment. He encouraged all his assistants to use the studio and his equipment to the fullest extent to get the benefit of their time with him. I learn a great deal from working with him and sharing my images with him. The greatest compliment any photographer can get is to have a mentor say he wished he’d shot that and I received that compliment with pride.
In his studio I learned to use reflectors and gobos for there maximum effect. I learned to sculpt my light to where it was needed and to take it from where it was not. All the tricks I had learn combined to give my work a finished look and then some. I had a chance to experiment and to invite people to play and have a good time and learn something in the bargain. I had the chance to earn good money and to impress a lot of people with the studio. I am forever grateful for that opportunity and the man who made that all possible.
I had a summer of Danish girls who came to pose for me. They were very open with me and treated their body’s like extensions of themselves. I remember waiting while a polaroid developed and watching one girl pressing her clothes while wearing just her panties. I told myself she’s just a girl with beautiful breast, you’ve seen breast before. Which was true but it had been a long time since I’d seen someone build on such a grand scale and I was very impressed. But the reality was we were there to do a job and not for my personal enjoyment. She was so open because of her upbringing and her trust in me. And that trust was something I couldn’t and wouldn’t violate but that didn’t preclude me from enjoying myself.
This is Susannah also from my Danish Summer who wasn’t quite as open but she sure put up with a lot. She had a pretty severe look, very Germanic and hard but a joy to work with. I softened her look believe it or not but I never could get her to smile on camera. She drove the hardest bargain when we got to dividing up the film at the end but I was pleased with the way she turned out. I feel like she’s a great example of my lighting and my skill as a photographer.

Play

2008-11-21T09:55:00.002-06:00

I like to bring a sense of play and adventure to my shoots. I give my models a basic outline of what I’m considering shooting but I stress that my shooting is personality based. I think I’m good at that and that’s why I can occasional get that perfectly spontaneous look and feel to my shoots. Working with a nude the first time is such a grab bag of possibilities. I like for my models to feel free to experiment with different looks and emotions. It’s important to me that they feel comfortable and safe to just down right play and get silly if they want. Like I say, my photography is so keenly aware of the models personality and her moods. I like that. Some people disagree and want there models as props in the shoot. I think it depends on the personality of the photographer and where his or her mind is at.
I also don’t mind too much when my model is running late and that’s a big change for me. I used to get really upset with models for being late as I didn’t figure it showed the proper respect for me or the shoot. Since my stroke I’ve become more aware of how much I depend on them to share their time with me that I’m easy now. My friend Rachel was pretty late for our shoot, she did call and tell me that she and her boyfriend were hanging a door and that she would be late but she’d be there. So I patiently waited for her and played on the computer for awhile until she came. I kept in my mind that she wasn’t getting paid for the shoot she was interested enough to volunteer her time and interest. True I had wine and some food for her after and a percentage of any sales. But there was nothing of a monetary reward for her for giving up her afternoon.
So you have to be reasonable about things, people get busy and people have there lives to live and I’m just a small part of that life. I think back to the New York phase of my life and how I was. I was always rushing about trying to get things done in as efficient a manner as possible. I guess I got caught up in the rat race that is part and parcel of living in the city. But once the girl got there I was calm and relaxed and a pleasure to work with. I mean here I was in the big city in a gorgeous studio with a live girl posing for me. It was the realization of a dream, my dream and I had all the tool necessary for me to do a competent job. The knowledge too, I had the knowledge to realize what I was doing with my lights and reflectors and my black card sto sculpture my light. It was everything I had dreamed about, how far I’ve come now from those times.
I work by natural light now with the help of reflectors and my trusty light meter. I’ve stripped away all of the hardware now and it’s like flying by the seat of my pants. The look has changed or rather evolved to a different me now. Less complex and more accommodating to time and circumstance. Though I don’t make the money I’m use to I’m happier now building a new career for me. One day I expect to get back to an easier time of it but for now I’m so content and you can’t buy that contentment.

Man Against the Elements

2008-11-17T06:33:00.002-06:00

Today is the third anniversary of my stroke and marks my semi-return to life as I knew it. Not quite like my life before but it’s closer than was expected of me considering how badly the stroke affected me. My right side still has some lingering effects of paralysis and is worst when I’m tried or stressed. In the middle of the night or in the dark really my hand curls up in that palsied state that I knew only too well. My typing has improved as well as my stamina but I still find it hard to hold my hand up off the keys so I type a lot of JJJJJJJJJJJJ’s and KKKKKKKKKK’s with the occasional LLLLLLLLLL’s to lighten up the load. Thank god for Spell Check and Thesaurus to help me out. I continue to search my mind for the words I want to use and the meaning of some words. So the Thesaurus is especially helpful as well as the Dictionary to check out those difficult words I like to use. Never could spell them and had to look them up but you know I can’t help to feel blessed.
My life now is not as complicated as before, I’ve managed to find a new peace with my life and with my demons. I’m not in a hurry as much and have a new tolerance for people that was lacking in the old me. Never one to tolerate stupidity in anyone I’ve come to view it differently. In many cases it’s the result of an injury to the brain, connections that don’t work quite as well as mine. And in many cases it’s just that they have a congenital defect that isn’t working. I’ve realized that many people don’t have the same drive that I do or the same sense of adventure that has served me so well in my life. It seems that I’ve been preparing for some disaster to befall me and I’ve squirreled away knowledge like some juicy nut.
At any rate I am content with my life, there are things I want but don’t have but I can work towards them. I have my health and my mind and that’s the best of all worlds. I can turn my attention towards a better life for me and the people I know and trust. I don’t have a lot of extraneous friends but that means a cleaner landscape for the one’s I do. I am basically content and how many people can say that!