The Next Step

I know, I know. It's been way too long since there has been a legitimate update or blog entry. It has been a very busy couple of months involving a bit of travel, a bit of organization, and a bit of decision making. But all of the above have been accomplished!

I have some exciting new developments in the works as we head into the holiday season. I don't want to reveal everything quite yet, but rest assured more details are soon to come. Let's just say I'm very excited to take this next step.

As always, feel free to message me if you're interested in sitting for headshots, need a photographer for an event, or would like to purchase a photo you've seen on my website.

Have a Happy Thanksgiving: eat too much, drink too much, and enjoy your friends and family!

Dread Scott, The Raveonettes, and Coves in "Events & Shows"

I recently shot The Raveonettes and Coves at The Music Hall of Williamsburg for Impose Magazine. Photos from that set (and additional photos that I had wanted to include but couldn't due to submission restrictions) can now be found on the "Events & Shows" page.

Also newly added to "Events & Shows" are photos I took on my iPhone of artist Dread Scott's performance "On the Impossibility of Freedom in a Country Founded on Slavery and Genocide". It was, to say the least, a powerful and moving commentary on race, culture, history, and community without a single word being spoken. I urge you to click the above links to learn about Dread Scott and this piece. I've also uploaded a slow-motion video of a portion of the performance below.

**Dread Scott faces this fireman and the blast of water coming from the hose.**

Soon I'll be off on a little trip outside of NYC, and I will hopefully bring you some fresh photos from the lands beyond Brooklyn in the next couple of weeks.

New Sets of Photos in "Events"

Ahoy-hoy, lovely readers!

I've added photos to the Events page from a sold-out show I shot for Impose Magazine earlier in September. Killer lineup that night at Union Pool--BOYTOY, The Mystery Lights, and headliner Shannon and The Clams.

It was one of the first times I had to photograph a performance while simultaneously pushing back the mosh pit. You know you're getting older when your first thought is, "GAH, PROTECT THE DELICATE PHOTOGRAPHY INVESTMENT IN MY HANDS!" instead of "HELL YEAH PUNK ROCK!"

Here are a few highlights you can click on to get to the complete galleries:

The Mystery Lights making use of mysterious lighting

BOYTOY.  Lowlight and lots of movement = blur — BOYTOY. Lowlight and lots of movement = blur

Shannon and The Clams in all of their sparkly glory.

More photos from the recent Raveonettes/Coves show at Music Hall of Williamsburg are coming soon!

I <3 NY More and More...

Click the image to go straight to the WTC Memorial Lights & Freedom Tower Gallery

A full gallery of images can now be found on the PLACES page, or you can go straight to the gallery by clicking the image above. I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed photographing this beautiful place and moment.

I <3 NY

More photos of the WTC Memorial Lights and Freedom Tower will be up soon. But let's just enjoy the view for now...

New Photos in "Events" and a Blogging Confession

I've just uploaded new photos to the Events page of bands Greys, The Dirty Nil, and Hector's Pets--all fantastic acts with a great sound. Even if you don't like looking at photos of guys in bands, check out the photos to see the Candy Crush-esque wall at Baby's All Right. I thought I was going to have a seizure at some point.

And my blogging confession? I'M TERRIBLE AT BLOGGING. Sorry about the delays between posts, I never know what to tell you. That's probably why I just take pictures instead.

Stay tuned for more images, my patient friends!

The Unsettling Nature of "A Subtlety" by Kara Walker (Part 2)

**Kara Walker's Sphinx inside of the Domino Sugar Factory in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.**

This is the second part of a two-part post about my thoughts and reactions to artist Kara Walker's "A Subtlety", which recently finished it's run at the Domino Sugar Factory in Williamsburg.

Visit the exhibit's official website here for more information and the curatorial statement.
View my photos from the exhibit here.

There she was. A combination of an iconic ancient achievement, more recent historical racist and misogynistic imagery, and Walker's artistry--a gigantic "Sphinx-turned-Mammy", laid before us between the load bearing steel beams holding up the factory.

She looked imprisoned from certain angles. Flanked by those enormous bars, it was as if this entire space was actually a cell block on display for our enjoyment, attendees gawking at this defiantly regal prisoner. It brought to mind the racist tones of the fictional King Kong, a beast chained to a stage for the audience to "Ooh" and "Ahh" at, our privileged positions as educated art lovers and socially conscious citizens convincing us that we were simply "appreciating" what's on display. However, we all could have very easily turned Walker's work into a farcical flavor of the week by falsely believing that society has moved beyond the behavior and consequences of our recent ancestors. We could have been (depending on how you want to view it) either reinforcing some sort of evil or destroying some sort of compassion.

Or I'm overthinking it. That's what was so powerful about this exhibit for me: it provoked so many feelings at once that it became difficult to separate what I was feeling and why. In that space with that exhibit at that time, everything I thought and felt became so mish-mashed that I'm still not sure if I'll ever straighten it out.

Let's be clear, though--this was a very large piece of art that required vision, craftsmanship, and planning. The fact that it could be constructed and maintained over several weeks of stifling New York City heat was amazing. Additionally, she ingeniously combined some of the most iconic and upsetting imagery in African and African-American history into a single, biting statement piece, something in which all of us could instantly recognize the powerful contradictions. I was (and still am) in awe of Walker's artistry and ability to incorporate so many visual signals into a cohesive symbol.

But then, those signals did exactly what they were supposed to do. They brought to mind the exploitation, violence, misplaced contempt, and brutality that African-Americans and other people of color have suffered throughout the history of the United States in the name of profit, superiority, and divine directive. Slavery, Jim Crow, The Trail of Tears, "Assimilation", Yellow Terror, Nativism, anti-Union, anti-Semitism, Islamophobia, etc.--people of color have never not been a target of hatred and paranoia by the majority and establishment. And it's not just "white people" (a term so vague and fluid that quotation marks are necessary) that are guilty of these acts; people of color have committed hate crimes against each other, too. We're all guilty, just some more so than others and with some attempting to make amends more than others. It's tragic. It's traumatic. It's a part of our shared history.

And it was on display before us, her white, sugary skin glimmering in the sunlight.

The Sphinx laid there, head held high, her large and exaggerated breasts resting in between her cat-like arms. Trying to figure out how to take photos of the sphinx created an uncomfortable feeling for me. Getting too close seemed disrespectful to the work, and it also put you in the temporary spotlight since most of the crowd was also keeping a decent distance away. But if I didn't get close enough, I would have missed some very interesting angles and photographs of the work. I decided to stay low to the ground and get as far in front of the group as possible without angering the volunteers from Creative Time.

**A man in a hat and shorts stands before the Sphinx, just inches away from the delicate white sugar that we were instructed to not touch.**

However, other's did not seem as shy as I was, moving toward the front of the Sphinx to take selfies or pose with friends and family for photos. Just as with the molasses statues of slave children, people were smiling and looking very happy to be in front of the giant sugar sculpture. I can't say that it was upsetting at the time; I would characterize my initial reaction as confused or puzzled. At least no one was mocking the naked figure or making obscene gestures while I was there. In retrospect, that seems like a pretty low standard of behavior to expect from adults. At best they weren't acting like juvenile racists? Hmm.

I made my way to the back of the sphinx where her prominent backside, exaggerated vulva, and almost childlike feet were positioned. The crowd in this area seemed more...scandalized? But with that giddy, middle school whisper lingering in the air. To be blunt, they were acting like they've never seen a vagina before or what comes with it. The men in particular did little to hide their snickering. One group of three men, around their mid-20s gleefully took a picture with the Sphinx's backside, their arms in the air and big grins on their faces. It clearly made some of the other attendees uncomfortable, but before any one could say anything (or could work up the courage to confront these strangers), they were finished and walking toward the exit. After they moved, a white father took a smiling photo with his black teenage daughter in the same spot the three men had just been. The daughter looked uncomfortable but dutifully posed for the picture. A Creative Time volunteer leaned against one of the steel beams, making sure no one stepped on the surrounding sugar scattered at the feet of the Sphinx. I took my photos and moved on.

The backside of the Sphinx.  A Creative Time volunteer looks at the crowd that has formed. — **The backside of the Sphinx. A Creative Time volunteer looks at the crowd that has formed.**

**A closer side-view of the Sphinx's kerchiefed head, bringing to mind the care-giving, worker Mammy stereotype.**

Focusing on her full lips.  Her blank stare still makes me uncomfortable. — **Focusing on her full lips. Her blank stare still makes me uncomfortable.**

I circled back around toward the front of the Sphinx, wanting to get a few more shots of her face. The neatly tied kerchief wrapped around her head brought to mind the character Mammy from "Gone with the Wind", played by Hattie McDaniel. McDaniel won a Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her role, the first African-American to ever win an Oscar...Scarlett O'Hara's loyal servant. On one hand, it was a major accomplishment to be recognized by the Academy. On the other hand, the recognition was because she so accurately played into the stereotype that white culture expected blacks to emulate. As a modern viewer, the irony is enhanced by presenter Fay Banter's speech that implied that McDaniel's nomination, "enables us to embrace the whole of America...and pays tribute to those who have given their best regardless of creed, race, or color." She sounds so earnest in her belief as she reads the words, that she truly believes this will change everything. What was even more moving was McDaniel's acceptance speech. It was a chance to hear the actress behind the roll speak confidently and with grace about winning the award. No Mammy kerchief, no servants clothes draping her frame, as she tells the Academy that she, "sincerely hopes that [she] will always be a credit to [her] race."

I'm not trying to take away from McDaniel's accomplishments. It's difficult to be a female person of color today, I can't imagine what she had to endure personally and professionally to become successful in her field when Jim Crow still ruled the land and Brown v. Board was still over a decade away. However, the similarities in how people have reacted to McDaniel's performance and how we have reacted to Walker's exhibit can't be ignored.

We're so proud and self-congratulatory on how much progress we've made, that things are really going to be different now because we get it. But how well have we really done if the kerchief around McDaniel's head in 1940 and the kerchief adorning the Sphinx in 2014 can both still be met with such casual acceptance, as such an easily identifiable marker of a racist caricature? If we have progressed so greatly, why can't we shake the Mammy symbolism and all that comes with it from our collective cultural iconography? Is it because we don't want to, don't care to, or don't feel the need to? How many generations will it take before someone can stand before the kerchiefed Sphinx and say, "I don't know what that means"? Or is the most crucial step the one that comes before that: when a person stands before that same image and can't bring himself to smile or pose or jovially take a photo because he both understands and empathizes with what that symbol means, appreciating the history, context, and painfully thorough degradation of human beings that the kerchief represents.

Perhaps this is the most unsettling aspect of Walker's exhibit, that she forces us to think about how far we actually have come if all of these images can still come to embody so much pain and suffering but be met with such casual indifference, or worse yet, pleasure.

They're in the process of taking apart the Sphinx and sugar slave children, it's sweet aroma undoubtedly wafting down the East River and into the bay.

The Unsettling Nature of "A Subtlety" by Kara Walker (Part 1)

**Ironically, the stoic, blank stare of Walker's "sphinx-turned-mammy" gazes into nowhere at the abandoned Domino Sugar Factory in Brooklyn as viewers could look nowhere except at her.**

This is the first part of a two-part post about my thoughts and reactions to artist Kara Walker's "A Subtlety", which recently finished it's run at the Domino Sugar Factory in Williamsburg.

Visit the exhibit's official website here for more information and the curatorial statement.
View my photos from the exhibit here.

Before I could even enter the Domino Sugar Factory building that houses Kara Walker's "A Subtlety" (or "The Marvelous Sugar Baby"), I stood in a line that ran almost 1.5 miles long, stretching along Kent Ave. in the trendy Brooklyn neighborhood of Williamsburg. Although the air did not hang as heavy with heat and moisture as it had the past week, the sun blazed high in the sky and fell hard on our shoulders. But it was the last day to view the exhibit, so we waited patiently for our chance as sweat escaped from our skin.

I had gone to the exhibit by myself. I had plenty of time while waiting in line to think about the various reactions that critics and lay persons have had to it and wonder how I would react to it. Would I cry? Would I be bored? Would I not "get it"? Would I wish there was more? Would I think she had gone too far? I tried not to speculate too much or else I would bias myself into a corner, and this was clearly an exhibit that demanded an open mind and appreciation of context.

But there was one article in particular--Nicholas Powers's "Why I Yelled at the Kara Walker Exhibit"--I couldn't shake. If you haven't already read it (and I recommend that you do), Powers describes the upsetting and disrespectful behavior of some attendees while viewing the Sphinx. I won't go into detail here because I can't do it the justice that only Powers' first hand account and reflection can give, but he bravely and correctly chastised other exhibit-goers who neither showed respect nor any appreciation of what the piece represented/could represent. Of course, artwork is subject to a variety of interpretations and reactions. However, what angered Powers was not something he viewed as a misinterpretation or differing opinion of the art, but rather a lack of effort or sincerity in trying to appreciate Walker's work as laid out in the curatorial statement or understood through Walker's comments in the numerous interviews she's done with the media. He also brings up the responsibility of the artist and the exhibit's curators to provide a historical context and informed space to assist viewers in understanding the nuance of the piece. It's very difficult (if not impossible) to defend, "a balding white father, posing with his son next to one of the boy statues, his arms folded across his chest 'gangsta' style as the mother took a photo" as thoughtful awareness or reflection of "A Subtlety"'s existence.

So I prepared myself for the possibility of witnessing the same behavior, but I left all other expectations about the exhibit behind me at the end of that 1.5 mile long line.

As I walked from the main gate to the entrance of the exhibit (which I would estimate to be about 20 or 30 yards in distance), I could smell a distinct sweetness in the air. It was not the type of sweetness that radiates from an oven filled with fresh-baked chocolate cookies, nor was it a floral fragrance wafting through the air like that of jasmine in the summer--it was a sweetness in which, if breathed long enough, you could detect something foul and rotten just underneath it. It brought to mind a half eaten caramel apple with flesh that had begun it's decomposition in the hot August sun.

I had not even entered the exhibition space, and I was nauseous.

The smell only intensified upon entering the factory building, but the prospect of viewing the Sphinx-turned-Mammy up close and in person pushed aside my minor physical discomfort. The entrance is at the far opposite end from the Sphinx's location, but you could plainly see how large the piece was, even from across the gigantic room. As you look up and around the factory, you realize how massive the pieces of machinery it once housed must have been, cranking and turning and churning out the refined white commodity for decades. The factory workers must have felt like ants, scurrying and moving around the sweet piles of sugar surrounding them. The exhibit was dimly lit by artifical light (although that may have changed if I had attended later in the day as the sun fell), relying primarily on the natural light that filtered through skylights and windows located on the upper-parts of the wall, practically connected to the roof. This must have been a particularly cruel part of working at the factory: to work only hundreds of feet away from the shimmering waters of the East River with Manhattan sitting just across the way, but only seeing the idyllic view when clocking in and out for the day. Even the discolored, paned windows high above their heads couldn't provide a clear view of the blue sky.

The head of the Sphinx was positioned underneath one of the skylights, creating a very dramatic illumination of her face and breasts at high noon.

As I walked along, I saw that Walker had dotted the floor space with the life-sized sugar/molasses sculptures of slave children carrying baskets, all of them with a heartbreaking smile on their lips, as if the unbearable and literally back-breaking work that their real-life counterparts had endured could be smiled through. Looking at these sculptures, dripping with the sticky liquid of melting caramelized sugar, I felt a pang of sadness move through me. I took a photo and looked through my viewfinder. The photo staring back at me just made it all worse.

**One of the slave children sculptures at the exhibit**

The miracle of the camera lens is that it can reveal to us the details in color, shape, and form that the naked eye can often miss or is incapable of processing. As I looked at the photo of this sugar-child, I made an instant connection to photos I've seen before, photos of children suffering through adult-conjured conflict, unfairly enveloped by rains of wrath and fire so maliciously dropped upon them from the skies.

**Carrying his basket, his smile frozen in molasses.**

The sugar sculptures looked like the burn victims of Hiroshima and Nagasaki at the end of WWII, burn victims across Vietnam during the conflict that scorched their countryside. Walker explains that, "[t]he thought process had to do with molasses and the byproducts of the sugar refining process, and molasses as the byproduct of slavery." Atomic Bombs, Napalm, Sugar--in this context, all involved in the dominance and destruction of the "other" with no reprieve even for innocent children...

...smiling at us. As attendees took pictures, some smiled back.

Part Two of "The Unsettling Nature of 'A Subtlety' by Kara Walker" soon to follow, focusing on the Sphinx. Make sure to view my gallery of photos from the exhibit here.

Farewell, Kentile Floors Sign

You have been a local landmark and urban North Star, orienting lost Brooklyn visitors and residents for decades and providing a unique exclamation point to our skyline. We'll miss seeing you from the Smith St./9th St. train station and BQE, but we're glad you won't end up broken and forgotten in some landfill.

Maybe you'll turn up where we least expect to see you, maybe you'll turn up in a museum with all of your old friends. Either way, we will all miss seeing you standing tall and proud in our neighborhood. Farewell, friend.

See more photos of the sign's last illumination here.

A Parade I Actually Enjoyed

(Don't want to read my stupid thoughts? Go straight to the Mermaid Parade Gallery!)

**Easy there, sailor...See all the photos from the parade here**

While on the train to the Mermaid Parade, I had some time to plan how I wanted to photograph the event. The parade would start near the entrance of the Stillwell Ave. train stop, but I knew that the route would probably be filled in that area by the time I got there (I was right). My next area of choice was further along the route but on the more scenic and interesting Boardwalk. Success! Plenty of space and empty areas around 12:15pm when I arrived, so I posted up against a metal barrier and put my equipment together.

I only brought two lenses along because 1) I wasn't sure how much space I would have to maneuver once the parade started, and 2) I didn't feel like carrying around an extra 20lbs when I knew I would most likely rely on one lens, two at most. Good thing I know myself, because I ended up only using my 24-105mm F/4.0 for the entire time. It's reliable and has been worth the money I spent on it since day one.

Around 12:45pm, the Boardwalk started to fill up with onlookers and revelers, some dressed in outrageous and sequins drenched costumes while others opted for the simple shorts and t-shirt outfit. The closest I came to fitting into the theme of the festivities was wearing a bandana that could pass as pirate apparel. Truthfully, I just like wearing bandanas because they keep my hair back without giving me a headache like headbands or hair ties. It also helps me look tough on the subway so that creeps don't think about swiping my equipment.

It was a surprisingly nice day for a parade. After the previous days' sweltering heat, the sea breeze and sunshine felt amazing. Everyone around me seemed to be enjoying it as well, cheerfully chatting and drinking overpriced mixed drinks from comically large containers. We were happy to be there and ready to see some fun costumes (and possibly boobies!).

**These lovely young people's death wish provided great entertainment for those of us on the safe, beautiful ground.**

But then the official start time of the parade, 1:00pm, rolled around, and there was no sign that the parade had started or was close to starting. It's not a big deal and not unheard of for a parade to start late. It's difficult to get hundreds of people organized into one place! We all went on making small talk and watched the daredevil/crazy people on the Boardwalk Flight ride swing back and forth above us, but we were anxious to see some mermaids and mermen strutting their body-painted, sparkly stuff!

**It takes confidence and incredible neck strength to pull of that headdress.**

Uh-oh. It's 2pm. Where is everyone? Why haven't they started? Maybe they did but we're just really far down the route? Wait, I just checked Twitter--no one is live Tweeting photos of people parading so I don't think they've started yet. Is it just me or did the sun get stronger? This is starting to get ridiculous, why haven't they started? Oh man, I should have brought a bottle of water or something with liquid. And was this trash can behind us the whole time, because it's starting to smell funny...WAIT! THERE'S SOMETHING HAPPENING! IS THAT SOMEONE IN AN OCTOPUS HAT?

Just like that, everyone began to smile and cheer again, our enthusiasm growing with each new costume. The people in the parade were fantastic, interacting with the crowd and actively encouraging us to join in the fun. And that's the key word for this parade: fun. It wasn't rowdy like the St. Patrick's Day Parade, it wasn't so jam-packed that you could barely breath like the Puerto Rican Day Parade, and it wasn't corporate and sterile like the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. The Mermaid Parade is still new and young enough to still have the enthusiasm and quirkiness that it's founders wanted. This was a parade where you could be comfortable being yourself, play dress up, and not worry about other people judging you. This parade was sincere.

**Working it for the crowd, enjoying the sunshine.**

People make a big deal about the nudity, but it's not nearly as salacious as the media makes it out to be. The women that chose to go topless were so comfortable in their skin that you almost forgot they weren't wearing a bra. The crowd was very respectful of all of the participants, no matter what their shape or orientation. I don't think I heard any lewd comments or inappropriate exclamations from anyone around me. In fact, the "rowdiest" group of people across the way from me were mostly shouting funny ocean related one-liners and complimenting the parade participants on their costumes. There were many children involved in the parade, too, and almost none of them seemed to notice or mind the nudity. They were having too much fun waving at the crowd as we "Aww"-ed at their adorable mermaid/pirate/sea creature costumes.

This was probably the most wholesome and enjoyable parade I've attended in New York City. I'll be honest, I didn't stay for the entire parade because I had a baby to get back home to and my left foot was starting to go numb from the awkward position I was standing in to take pictures. Otherwise, I would have gladly stayed longer and partied with all the lovely sea creatures I saw that day.

Will I go again next year? Most likely. And I'll probably bring my toddler dressed as some sort of shellfish.

He blue himself for the Mermaid Parade.  That's dedication. — **He blue himself for the Mermaid Parade. That's dedication.**

See the rest of my photos from the Mermaid Parade here!

INTERVIEW: Meet Clare Herbert

Clare Herbert, Writer & Entrepreneur.  Click here for the full gallery from our shoot! — **Clare Herbert, Writer & Entrepreneur. Click here for the full gallery from our shoot!**

Being a writer doesn't mean you have to go through life struggling, suffering, and broke (or that your work will only be appreciated posthumously). Just ask Clare Herbert. She's an Irish writer and entrepreneur currently living in Brooklyn. Clare has a passion not only for cultivating her own skills as a wordsmith but also for helping other writers discover how their passion can translate into full-time, sustainable self-employment.

I recently took photos of Clare (click here to view the gallery) at a local neighborhood restaurant, Olivier Bistro. She was gracious enough to chat with me over lunch before the shoot and share some of her thoughts on the challenges (both internal and external) that presently face creatives, how thinking like an entrepreneur is important to getting your work in front of an audience, and how writers can take that next step toward making a living doing what they love.

When did you first realize that you loved writing?

I think I've always loved it, even when I was very small. I remember getting a stamp set when I was about four years old and making my own newspaper with these teeny-tiny stamps. I adored it, and I played with it for ages. I think [writing] was the first thing I wanted to do.

When I was in my late teens, I took a trip to Zambia. That really ignited an interest in the non-profit world. I kind of wandered off my path. I was always writing, but I really focused my career on non-profit work. I worked internationally: India, Africa, the United States. It's only really within the last two years that I've accepted that writing is what I love to do, and it's my natural inclination. A lot of my non-profit work was good, and I enjoyed it; but it was kind of driven from the idea that you have to "earn your place on earth". I've come to realize that what I create--and I'm still growing into this--is valuable and important too. To just do that is also valid. I love it.

Why do you think so many creatives struggle with that conflict? Many people I've met have said the same thing: that deep down inside, they had wanted to be an artist, writer, etc. but they took a different career path. Why do you think they struggle with that so much?

**"I've come to realize that what I create--and I'm still growing into this--is valuable and important, too."**

I think that there's probably an internal struggle. For me, writing comes so easily (not to say I enjoy it every single day), you're almost waiting for the other shoe to drop. You think, "It can't possibly be this easy. I was three when I decided I wanted to do this!"

There's an external tension as well. If you go to a party and say, "I'm a writer!" and people say, "Oh..." it's very different from when you say, "Well, I work for a non-profit," and they say, "That's amazing!" You can get hooked on that high. Also, you have bills to pay and the industry is very changeable. You really have to be an entrepreneur if you want to make it work as a creative these days.

But when you know, you know. At the right time, I think people listen to that knowledge and take their true path.

What is the most common question or comment you get from other writers and entrepreneurs that seek your advice?

"How do I make money writing?" and "How do I make money writing about the things I want to write about?"

People want to find work that feeds their soul and also pays the rent. Maybe it won't pay 100% of your rent today, but to be on that path working toward that is the overall goal.

It can be really difficult, but I advise writers to also develop their entrepreneurial skills and test their ideas, to make offerings to people, to try and find ways to build an entrepreneurial slant into their work.

What have you found is the most difficult entrepreneurial skill for people to effectively execute?

Probably going back to what we were talking about with the acceptance of being a writer and [acknowledging] that it's a valid career. Marketing is a challenge because you need to claim some space and say, "My ideas are important. What I think is important. You, as a reader who has 50 million options, should give me five minutes of your time to read my version or idea." I think that really feeds into how money amplifies your art, that if you inject money into the equation, it raises the bar. So that tension between marketing something and making money from it but also being creatively honest and fulfilled--that's a really tricky sandwich.

What has been the biggest obstacle in your own personal journey as a writer, and what do you think you next biggest challenge will be?

My biggest obstacle so far has been what I've mentioned--that idea of claiming space and saying, "This is my idea. This is important and worth reading."

I'm at an interesting point. I make some money writing, some money doing strategy sessions with other writers on improving their skills, but I'm not making a full-time income. So for me, I'm balancing my own creative expression with helping other people to develop their entrepreneurial interpretation of their work. It's that money versus art tension.

I'm interested in fiction, journalism, memoir style, I'd love to write a script...that's just four projects I've named! I have unlimited creative bandwidth. There's a lot of ideas, but there also needs to be a bit of acceptance that this is where I am right now. This is what I'm making today, this is what I made today, and that's going to be enough for me to keep going. And who knows where that's going to take me?

What does your ideal work situation look like?

What I would love in the next couple of years is to be full time writing, strategizing, workshop speaking--to make that my full-time thing. That's as much an entrepreneurial struggle as it is a writing one. That's the next step before I can see where I can go beyond that.

Some days I think I want to go to Hollywood and write movies. Some days I think I want to open a writer's retreat and work with them there. Sometimes I think I want to be the editor of a big newspaper or start my own magazine. But the next big goal is to be a full-time, 100% self employed entrepreneur/writer/speaker/workshop leader.

That's interesting because some people frame their goal as "I want the apartment on Park Ave" and that's when they know they've made it. And other people, like yourself, speak more about the opportunities.

I had read that the greatest dream of all is the ability to dream. I really believe that. The opportunity to be able to dream and do what I want--that's gold. I have that today, and I hope to have that more in the next couple of years.

What's the best piece of advice you've ever been given? Conversely, what's the worst piece of advice you've ever been given?

"This is what I'm making today, this is what I made today, and that's going to be enough for me to keep going.  And who knows where that's going to take me?" — **"This is what I'm making today, this is what I made today, and that's going to be enough for me to keep going. And who knows where that's going to take me?"**

Let's start with the worst: the idea that if you just work hard enough, it will get you there. I don't think that's accurate anymore. I think that you need to be smart and strategic. Your network is important. Your own sense of self, how you talk about yourself, and your work is important. I'm a hard worker, and I had really clung to that idea. Hard work is a big component to success, but it's not everything.

The best advice I ever heard--there's an Irish woman who invented a substance called sugru (which is like the 21st century version of Blu-tac), and her motto as she was creating this was, "Start small and make it good." So even if you can't do everything today, start small and make it high quality. Word spreads, you get a bit of traction, and you have a sense of pride in your work. I have that tacked up on my wall.

What's been the most surprising thing about being an entrepreneur?

When I started as an entrepreneur, I knew that it would be challenging to juggle my money, get clients, and perform for clients. But I underestimated how difficult it would be emotionally to have that kind of permanent uncertainty about my life: income, which projects were important, which clients I should take, etc. That type of emotional uncertainty exhausted me. That's why in the last year I've taken a full-time job that enables me to save up my creative bandwidth for my other projects.

Sometimes there's this mentality that if you have a day job, you're somehow failing in your other work. I don't think that's true at all. It can enable you to do quality work and to have a life! It's very difficult to be creative if you're stressed.

What's you're favorite thing about New York City?

There's something for everyone in New York City. Anyone can come here and find a place to fit and belong. Even if it's on your own, you can say, "This is my little corner, I fit here." I love that.

Many thanks to the gracious management and staff of Olivier Bistro for accommodating us during our shoot, and I encourage anyone that happens to be in the Park Slope area to try their delicious fare! Olivier Bistro, 469 4th Ave, Brooklyn, NY 11215

Wine Country

Porter Family Wine Caves.  Kind of like the Bat Cave, but instead of being filled with military grade weapons, it's filled with barrels of wine.  See more photos of Napa here! — Porter Family Wine Caves. Kind of like the Bat Cave, but instead of being filled with military grade weapons, it's filled with barrels of wine. See more photos of Napa here!

I recently visited my parents and family in San Francisco for Easter. Even though I grew up in the Bay Area, I had never really explored Napa. I was excited to plan a trip to showcase the area to Matt and my father-in-law, and I was surprised by how much I had enjoyed it myself. Although, I'm not sure why I was surprised--wine, food, and not having to drive? That's a recipe for success nine times out of ten.

I knew that Napa was beautiful, but I didn't realize it was that beautiful: rolling hills of vines, mountains outlining the valley, wide open spaces. The area has done an extraordinary job of maintaining a "small town" feel despite being a globally recognized center of quality viticulture.

It also helps that the wineries and other businesses centered around the industry know their jobs and do them well. All of these places could easily turn their noses up at tourists and newcomers, but everyone we encountered was relaxed, inviting, and just plain nice. It must be all of that California sunshine...and wine. Bottles and bottles of wine.

I won't lie, I felt like a fancy schmancy some body riding around in our private car, being the only people on our private tour doing our private tastings. Privacy is a luxury that's hard to come by in NYC. I generally don't like to vacation like that because you can miss local flavors if you're always inside of a bubble. However, having a driver that knew the area and brought us to places that fit our desired itinerary saved us from drunkenly wandering from random winery to random winery, unsure if we actually liked what we tasted or if we were just salvaging our experience.

I don't drink much nowadays since I usually have to remain sober enough to make sure my toddler isn't hanging out of a window or sticking his finger into an outlet, so I knew I had to pace myself during the tastings. I knew that, but I'm not sure I can say that I did that.

I blame my parents. They taught me not to waste food and get the most bang for my buck. Who am I throw away this delicious product that dozens of men and women toiled over for months? What do you mean people spit it into that little bucket? Why wouldn't you just drink this beautiful alcoholic beverage you're paying for?

Oh. Because you're visiting 4+ wineries today, and you don't want to pass out by the third one? And you like to keep your dignity intact? Hmm. I suppose those are acceptable answers.

Bottom line: If you like wine, visit Napa. If you don't like wine but like beautiful scenery, visit Napa. If you don't like wine or beautiful scenery but like good food, visit Napa. If you don't like any of those things, I don't care what you visit as long as I never have to meet you.

All the beautiful wine ducks, lined up in a row.

Check out more photos from Napa here!

Washington Square Park at Night

Washington Arch.  The starbursts of light are cars and stoplights on 5th Ave. — Washington Arch. The starbursts of light are cars and stoplights on 5th Ave.

More hot Arch action with a bonus starburst peaking through.

Even though Spring allegedly started on March 20th, someone forgot to tell Mother Nature. There is still enough of a chill in the air to deter most from lingering outdoors too late into the evening, which is why I was surprised to see people sitting around the large, currently empty fountain at Washington Square Park and scattered amongst its benches well after the sun had set. I don't blame them for trying to make this 40 degree weather (practically sweltering!) work, we're all sick of this long and unrelenting winter. I even saw a man wearing shorts with black knee-high socks and sandals on my late night train ride home. Fight the good fight, sir, however unfashionable your weapons may be!

I originally went out that night with my good friend Rich Hackman (click on his name right now, his work is top notch) to break in my new Rokinon 8mm f/3.5 fisheye lens by photographing the architecture and streets, knowing that the various lines and light sources would compliment the odd angles an ultra-wide lens produces. Fifth Ave. starts on the north end of the park, and beautiful streaks of light from cars turning left & right can be captured if you set your exposure and shutter speed correctly. The Washington Arch, also at the north end of the park, is lit dramatically from below, giving the marble structure a rich and clean glow.

Cars making left and right turns at the foot of Fifth Ave., with The Empire State Building in the distance.

There were a couple of performers hanging around the park that night, playing to those who cared to listen and hoping to score a few dollars in the process. Performers at WSqP in the Spring and Summer are incredible to watch because the size of the park forces them to compete more vigorously for the attention of the crowds, luring you with promises of standing flips or improvised saxophone jazz riffs late into the night. But that night, the sound of two guitars struggled to fill the wide open space while another woman on the other side of the fountain just stood there making large bubbles for kids. She looked tired, but the kids loved it and protested very loudly when their parents struggled to bring them home. There were also some young people (wow, did I just type that?) hanging out and skateboarding, but I didn't feel like setting up flashes and coaxing them to let me photograph them at the moment. I definitely need practice with my Speedlite, but that wasn't my goal for the night.

The Bubble Lady, surrounded by the soapy remnants of her performance

I wanted to become better acquainted with my new tripod (Vanguard Alta 263AB 100 Aluminum Tripod with SBH-100 Ball Head) and my new lens. I felt like this trip yielded some pretty good results. The tripod was sturdy yet light and much easier to adjust than I had expected. I never felt like my camera was in danger of crashing to the ground while it was attached, even in the vertical position.

Like many of the reviews for the Rokinon 8mm mentioned, it's a manual lens that forces you to go back to the basics that beginners too often bypass because of the Auto-Focus mode. There's nothing wrong with AF, but learning how to handle manual settings and understanding that AF isn't necessary all the time (and can sometimes make getting the shot you want more difficult) gives you more options as a photographer. For this particular lens, you have to find its sweet spot by tinkering and adjusting and tinkering even more, which means you will have to endure some terrible shots in the process. Because this brand is so cost-effective ($280 v. a Canon or Nikon's $1000+ price tag), you pay in other ways. Some of the lens' calibration can be slightly off, which means your best results may not be on the exact same settings as another person with the same lens. It's not that big of a deal, just something to consider when comparing experiences. And for goodness' sake, if you're an amateur trying to transition to a professional, you just saved about $700 on this fun little lens! When it's just right, you will be rewarded with some really interesting images. That's learning and adapting, right?

Two men playing "Sweet Child O' Mine" , trying to earn a buck on a chilly Spring night.  I had to stand almost right in front of him to get this photo. — Two men playing "Sweet Child O' Mine" , trying to earn a buck on a chilly Spring night. I had to stand almost right in front of him to get this photo.

I'm excited to try a few more ideas with this lens, focusing more on it's ability as an ultra-wide to really show the size and reach of a space as opposed to merely exaggerating the lines and proportions of a space. Look's like I have more homework and my next assignment!

See the rest of the shots from that night here.

Colors of Childhood

"Play", featuring my son's play desk and a few of the many toys he chews/bangs/rolls/stacks/sorts.

My favorite toy growing up as a small child was a large, stuffed, neon-green frog from the Hello Kitty cavalcade of stars: Keroppi. As with many childhood moments reflected upon in adulthood, the reasons I had for choosing him over the dozens of characters HK offered isn't quite clear to me but probably made sense under kid-logic at the time: green was my favorite color, he was cartoonishly disproportionate, and he bore bright neon colors. My mom did her best to try and persuade me that the more "gender appropriate" choice was Hello Kitty, but something about the way all of HK's merchandise was so red bothered me. The red felt so obviously...girly? Keroppi's green felt fun and alive without being overwhelming.

Hello Kitty merchandise is not cheap, and I'm still not sure how my normally frugal mom managed to pull out her wallet and buy these knick-knacks and toys for me without losing her mind. Backpacks, pencils, notebooks, stationary paper, keychains (what keys could a seven year-old possibly have?), stickers (oh, the glorious stickers), and even bubble gum. I was Keroppi mad.

Of all of my merchandise, my 2-foot plush Keroppi held a special place in my heart. The outside was made of that polyester/nylon material that older women's tracksuits usually have, giving him that wrinkly but iridescent quality. His insides were the squishy type of polyester fiberfil, not the firm stuffing that rebuffs your childhood embrace. There are red stains around his "mouth" line from the time I slathered him with cherry Chapstick. When my older brother was mean to me (i.e., not letting me win at Nintendo or not allowing me to eat ice cream for lunch), I would scream and cry into Keroppi's oversized white eyeball. There are still traces of my aged and yellow tear stains on that eyeball, as if it's this beloved inanimate object's way of saying, "I remember."

My walls and sanity are thankful that these are washable crayons.

Now that parenthood of my own toddler son has driven me to an appropriate and required level of insanity, I find myself obsessing over the purchase of each new toy with the following thought process:

Is it educational?
Is it too complicated?
Will it stimulate him enough?
Will it stimulate him too much?
Am I overemphasizing one developmental area over another to his detriment?
Am I supporting a local business?
Have I just contributed to inhuman slave labor overseas by buying this colorful set of blocks?

I'm 100% sure that this is my son's thought process upon receiving toys:

COLOR!
BRIGHT!
THROW!
ROARRRRRRR!!!

Even though I know his play area (featured above) is full of his toys, I enjoy the way they brighten up the room. They just look fun to stack, organize, and sort. The rainbow-like quality of his play space makes it easy to want to sit down with him to draw circles and triangles using his box of 24 Crayolas.

As he gets older, he'll land on his own favorite color and demand that everything he wears and plays with revolve around it. I'll be sad the day our rainbow-laden play area gives way to 50 shades of red or blue or green, but I'm comforted by the fact that this color will help to inspire fond and vivid memories for years to come.

Inspiration: Annie Leibovitz

Annie Leibovitz's famous portrait of Keith Richards (1977)

Legendary photographer Annie Leibovitz took photos of some of the most iconic people and moments of our time. From rockstars to movie stars to the brightest thinkers of the 20th Century to Heads of State, she has been behind the lens and instructing some of the most powerful people in the world to tilt their chin and look into the camera. Can you imagine telling the Queen of England you need her to step to the right, stop smirking, or relax her shoulders? I don't even like correcting the Starbucks baristas when they get my name wrong on the cup.

I read her autobiography, "At Work", a few years ago while searching for more inspiration. It was impossible not to know who she was if you had ever used your eyes to look at a cover of Vanity Fair, Vogue, Rolling Stone, and other major publications; but I didn't know much about her as a person or how she got started. Pulling back the curtain on your heroes is a coin toss: you can be disappointed to find that she is nothing like what you thought or hoped, or you can be delighted to discover that her story is far more accessible and familiar than you realized. Luckily, I had the latter experience.

Queen Elizabeth II by Annie Leibovitz (2007)

At Work does a great job of reviewing key moments in her portfolio and highlighting pieces chronologically so that the reader can see how her work and style evolved over time. Leibovitz supplements the images with anecdotes and explanations of not only how she decided to compose an image but where she was personally as a photographer. When someone is considered a Master in the present, it is easy to forget that at one time they, too, were a Rookie. She talks about the lessons she learned on the job, the ability to accept constructive criticism while rejecting empty criticism, and how she learned to balance her technical skills with her creative impulses. She discusses all of the insecurities and shortcomings she had early on, but she follows up each failure with what she took away and continues to keep as a part of her education as a professional.

I think my favorite anecdote was about a photo she took of Marvin Gaye that was set to run in a newspaper in Japan. She was so excited to be able to work with him, and she had an idea to frame the shot with a beautiful orange/purple sunset behind him. She was pleased with how her initial shots turned out and sent them off to be published. She was horrified to find that the type of ink and printing style the newspaper used was different than the process in the United States, and it created a terrible effect on the photo, blurring out details in Marvin Gaye's face and strange color bleeding around him. She finishes the story by offering advice about being conscious that there is more that goes into a finished product than just you, your camera, and the subject. There is an amount of planning and homework that is required to have the greatest chance of success. It was one of those lessons that was so incredibly obvious but still made me go, "Wow, I never thought of it that way." There can be so much glorification of skill and natural ability in the art world that we forget the role preparation and professionalism plays.

Logically, we all know that the best and brightest in their field were not born that way (with a few exceptions, of course. Damn you, Mozart!). Perhaps they had a talent or ability more in-tune than the average population. but it struck me that for Leibovitz, she was aware that she had plenty to learn and continues to learn on the job. The Masters acknowledge that their talent alone does not get them where they are or want to be, and that at some point, they too were fumbling around with proper exposures and utilization of natural light.

It seems so trite and simplistic that I'm so enthusiastic about the "they're just like us" argument when it comes to Leibovitz, but I can't deny that she gives me hope that I can learn and grow despite/because of the many failures I will assuredly experience on the road to achieving success as a photographer.

Public Displays of Affection

A couple gets frisky at New York City's Highline Park while a Hasidic family attempts to walk past them.  The man's hands must be very cold, how gracious of her to let him warm them in her jeans! — A couple gets frisky at New York City's Highline Park while a Hasidic family attempts to walk past them. The man's hands must be very cold, how gracious of her to let him warm them in her jeans!

I vacillate between "Eww" and "Aww" when it comes to public displays of affection (aka PDA). It's one of those situations you really can't judge until you see it happen, and your reaction is usually heavily influenced by whatever mood/stage of life you're living at the moment.

In a new relationship? "Aww, look at that cute couple smooching under the bridge!"

Bad break-up? "Eww, look at those morons making fools of themselves under the bridge. UGH."

Recently married? "Aww, isn't love lovely? LOVE FOR EVERYONE!"

Recently separated? "Idiots. WHERE'S THE WHISKEY?"

There's something about New York City in particular that encourages (or, at the very least, doesn't discourage) couples from being very affectionate to each other in public, no matter what their age or relationship status might be. It's not just teenagers and twenty-somethings making out on the L train on; I've definitely witnessed women with salt & pepper hair perched on their balding significant other's lap making goo-goo eyes at each other. For all I know, that woman may be the CEO of her own company, and that man could be the head of recruiting at a large law firm in Midtown. But there they are, giggling and whispering like a couple of high schoolers behind the bleachers of a football game. Except they're not in high school, and it's the middle of Bryant Park. And now her tongue is in his ear! GAH! LOOK AWAY!

A young couple embracing at the top of Montjuic in Barcelona, SP.  This man's hands must also be cold. — A young couple embracing at the top of Montjuic in Barcelona, SP. This man's hands must also be cold.

Ironically, the density of New York City's population allows for a comfortable anonymity for most residents. You would experience a painful sensory overload if you really tried to take in all of the sights, sounds, people, commotion, etc. that flood every street and every avenue, every minute of every hour of every day. So we all walk around with blinders at 50% opacity, filtering out what we don't need but paying attention to the more curious or out of place when we see it.

PDA always makes it through my filter because, in a city that's always moving, PDA requires stillness from its participants. You have to plant yourself in one place for more than a few seconds. You have to focus on one person. You have to put your blinders on 100% opacity to the rest of the world. You have to be willing to act like a bit of a fool because very personal love--the kind that moves you to make a public display of affection--many times looks like foolishness to others. And that's fine! I'm glad that you find such joy in your relationship! But please try to remember that love isn't all goo-goo eyes and kisses under the bridge. PDA can be demure and quiet and just as lovely. A caress of the cheek, a squeeze of the hand, the wink of an eye. Classy and non-gag reflex inducing. Everyone's a winner!

But if you can't help yourself, make good use of your $1750/mo studio apartment in the West Village and leave the rest of us to fall asleep quietly on our train ride home.

Inspiration: Key Moments for This Amateur

"Alicante" by Henri Cartier-Bresson, taken in 1933.

When I first decided to take photography more seriously, I went to a local Barnes & Noble and picked up four books:

"Total Digital Photography" by Chris George
"Light Science & Magic: An Introduction to Photographic Lighting" by Steven Biver, Paul Fuqua, and Fil Hunter
"Icons of Photography: The 20th Century" by Peter Stepan
"Photos that Changed the World" by Peter Stepan

The first two books were intended to help me understand my camera, the science behind how images are captured and recorded, and become familiar with terminology. Before I read these books, I had no idea what aperture or depth of field meant. I was clueless about what all the different sized lenses implied or in what situations each would be best used. I groaned outloud when I saw the diagrams for proper lighting. Angles? Distances? Speed of light? Refraction? It was all Greek to me; and some of it actually was in Greek (damn you, mathematical equations and sigma symbols!).

It can be overwhelming picking up a camera, seeing all the different settings, not knowing your camera's full potential. If you know me personally, you know that I can't stand not having at least a grasp of what I'm doing. Even little bits of knowledge about the different modes you can shoot in helped me feel less lost.

The second set of books I purchased were for inspiration. I had an appreciation for art in general, but I was even less knowledgable about the history of images, style, composition, etc. than I was about the technical aspects. I'm a big political and social history fan, and those two books give me a nice, linear understanding of how modern photography has evolved and grown over the last 100 years. It was really eye-opening understanding the importance of the first few images that were meant to appear candid but were actually staged (the equipment at the time just would not allow for the same type of quick shots we take for granted today). Prestel Publishing does a fantastic job with these compilation books, picking and curating key pieces throughout history. It was wonderful seeing what elements different photographers throughout time decided to play with and eventually become masters of.

By far, my biggest inspiration is Henri Cartier-Bresson. He is probably one of the most well-known, well-regarded photographers of the modern age. He is considered the father of street style photography and photojournalism. His images are timeless and classic, both familiar but uniquely his. The photo above, "Alicante", was in the Icons of Photography collection, and it was immediately a favorite of mine. That single image taught me that my subjects didn't need dramatic lighting, dramatic poses, layers of makeup, or a traditional model's appearance in order to be beautiful, moving, and interesting. Cartier-Bresson's work is about the moment, the coming together of the subjects existence and the click of your camera. He explained it best:

"To take photographs means to recognize--simultaneously and within a fraction of a second--both the fact itself and the rigorous organization of visually perceived forms that give it meaning. It is putting one's head, one's eye, and one's heart on the same axis."

There you have it. I'm just one of the many fans of Cartier-Bresson, and I'm also a fan of others. But he will always be the one I point to when people ask me how and why I developed my style.

International Travel Level: Greenhorn & La Sagrada Familia

A stained glass window inside of La Sagrada Familia.

Before taking our belated honeymoon this past September, I had never stepped foot outside the continent of North America. I had been to Mexico as a kid, I had been to Canada as an adult. I had travelled to Hawaii, Puerto Rico, Alaska, the freaking Yukon, a smattering of states between Maine and California.

But until September of 2013, I couldn't claim to have visited any country outside of North America.

This fact seemed to puzzle many of my friends. They had all assumed that I had travelled to Europe or Asia at some point in my life. Nope. Summers were spent interning/working/finishing my degree/studying for LSATs or the Bar, etc.. The excuses went on and on. I could have travelled. I should have travelled as an early 20-something, when it's far more acceptable to be reckless and the cramped space of a 10 hour flight in coach is more tolerable with your best friends in tow. But I really can't complain about my first adventure on foreign soil. Matt is a fantastic traveller and planner. He did just enough planning that we weren't randomly wandering around but not so much that we were over-scheduled and stressed about our time there. For a newbie traveller, it was just right.

We visited Barcelona in the second half of the trip, and I instantly fell in love with the city. Dubrovnik is beautiful because of it's dramatic seasides and views, but Barcelona had the palpable pulse that only a few major metropolitan cities can claim. There were pieces of history at every corner, architecture that I had only seen in books, even the way the streets and avenues were planned--it felt different in a re-energizing type of way.

The photo I have featured at the top of this post was taken from inside La Sagrada Familia (click the link to see the full album). If you're not familiar with its story, here's an abridged version: The famous Catalan architect Antonin Gaudi designed the Catholic cathedral, beginning work on the structure in 1883. By the time Gaudi passed away in 1926, only about 15% of the project was completed. 15% in 43 years. Once you see the intricacy of the design and attention to detail in each stone, you can understand why. After Gaudi died, a variety of different architects have been at the creative helm, creating some very distinct differences in aesthetic that still somehow manages to come together. The projected completion date of La Sagrada Familia is 2026--the centennial of Gaudi's death and over 143 years after he began the project.

Standing inside of La Sagrada Familia is like standing inside of God's Art Museum. It is a grand combination of both the natural and the manmade. As a photographer, I made the mistake of bringing my telephoto lens (to this day, I still have no idea why I did that) instead of a wide-angle lens. I was able to take clear photos of the details that struck me, but I wish I had taken my wide angle lens to capture the enormity of the structure. Each component was so beautifully and masterfully accomplished, but each part together as a whole was breathtaking. I couldn't stop looking up with my mouth open in awe.

A portion of the ceiling overhead in the main part of the cathedral

We paid extra on our ticket to be able to tour the spires that flank the church. The spiraling staircase hundreds of feet in the air had occasional platforms and balconies that gave you sweeping views of Barcelona. I forced myself to ignore my massive fear of heights in order to enjoy the view. It was a struggle, but I did it and it was worth it. At one point toward the bottom of the spire (but still relatively high up, maybe 3 or 4 floors), the inner wall of the staircase disappears and you are left to make sure you don't accidentally fall into the abyss. My knees were already shaky from the adrenaline rush of standing on a balcony three-quarters up the spire. When we made it to the ground floor, I think I may have fallen to my knees in relief. It's really a miracle I didn't trip over my feet or drop my camera at any point. But I guess the miracle shouldn't be all that surprising, considering where I was.

One of the spires still under construction

I hope to up my International Travel Level from "Greenhorn" to "Adventurer" soon. I've been dying to see the Blue Lagoon in Iceland. But maybe we should check out parts of Asia on the second go 'round?

And If you have any fun travel stories or tips to share, please do in the comments!

Winter, The Friend That's Trying Too Hard

Get out of the way, Winter.  You're blocking my shot.Click on the image to see more photos of snow covered Brooklyn. — Get out of the way, Winter. You're blocking my shot.
*Click on the image to see more photos of snow covered Brooklyn.*

Oh, Winter. I usually love you...but...it's really hard to want to hang out with you after you've invaded every moment of my life like this. "Hey guys, where are you going?" "Guys, wanna hang out? No? Whatever, I'm here, let's party!" "Guys, does this snow make me look fat?" And whenever we hang out, you don't even pick up after yourself. You either leave your slippery ice patches around for us to fall and break a hip or that gross, grey slushy crap that some manages to seep through our waterproof boots.

Not cool, Winter 2014. Not cool.

But when you're decent and kind, you create some really special moments that we appreciate. So let's keep them special by keeping them few and far between.

Love,

Nicole (and the other 90% of the U.S.)

Words to go with Pictures

Welcome to the blog for NOWPhotographyNYC.com, a website featuring the photography of me, Nicole O. Whelan.

I picked the name NOWPhotography because I couldn't ignore the fact that my initials are kind of badass. Nicole O. Whelan--how could I not take advantage of that?

But the name also points to my style and photography philosophy in general. I am not a huge fan of 100% posed and staged photos that are made to appear spur of the moment; why not just let a scene play out and let your subjects feel as comfortable as possible? Obviously, if someone is sitting for a portrait or headshot, I will ask them to stand a certain place or look at the camera. But I want all of my subjects to be themselves in front of the camera. What's the point of trying to look the same as someone else? My best shots are from when we're laughing about some random joke or having a discussion where we're both engaged. Photography is the practice of recording human interaction, right? Well, for me it is.

That's enough waxing poetic. This blog will mainly be where I showcase my most recent photos and photos that don't quite fit into a particular set on the site. I'll also be posing questions/challenges to you, talking about how this little venture is going, and occasionally begging you to employ me. I will try to keep things as funny and interesting as possible.

And if I'm failing at being funny and interesting, I will borrow funny and interesting things from other people. And with that:

(Don't want to read my stupid thoughts? Go straight to the Mermaid Parade Gallery!)

See the rest of my photos from the Mermaid Parade here!

"Art is either plagiarism or revolution."--Paul Gaugin