Use a tripod
Lowest ISO possible
Eat your vegetables
Exercises
Say your prayers
Keep a journal
Meditate
Repeat
3.20.2009
3.19.2009
This Stuff Can Not Be Made Up
Last night I was driving behind a mini-van on my way to the gym (of course it is always a mini-van). The driver had to come to a complete stop every time they had to use their turn signal, EVERY TIME on a two lane road.
It took me an extra 15 min to get to the gym, but no road rage at all…it was just too damn funny to get upset over.
At the gym I am swimming laps. Standing on the edge of the pool is a very large man in a tiny blue Speedo swimsuit. Yes, eye-scaring but also it was quite impressive to see how far that tiny blue Speedo fabric can stretch.
At this point I am about 15 minutes into swimming laps and the large man in the tiny blue Speedo standing on the edge of pool is starting to stretch…yoga-pose-type of stretching. I start screaming in my head “please God make it so I do not look”. My prayers were not answered. I looked and more eye-scaring images burnt into my head.
Next - large man in a tiny blue Speedo swimsuit Jr. comes out of the locker room in matching tiny blue Speedo. Now I am hearing circus music in my head. The Mini-me lad meets his Dad at the edge of the pool and they start dancing like Irish Leprechauns.
Ok – the Leprechaun part is made up but everything else happened.
It took me an extra 15 min to get to the gym, but no road rage at all…it was just too damn funny to get upset over.
At the gym I am swimming laps. Standing on the edge of the pool is a very large man in a tiny blue Speedo swimsuit. Yes, eye-scaring but also it was quite impressive to see how far that tiny blue Speedo fabric can stretch.
At this point I am about 15 minutes into swimming laps and the large man in the tiny blue Speedo standing on the edge of pool is starting to stretch…yoga-pose-type of stretching. I start screaming in my head “please God make it so I do not look”. My prayers were not answered. I looked and more eye-scaring images burnt into my head.
Next - large man in a tiny blue Speedo swimsuit Jr. comes out of the locker room in matching tiny blue Speedo. Now I am hearing circus music in my head. The Mini-me lad meets his Dad at the edge of the pool and they start dancing like Irish Leprechauns.
Ok – the Leprechaun part is made up but everything else happened.
3.18.2009
City Night Gallery
See updated gallery photos (here)
Camera: Nikon D200
Exposure: 8
Aperture: f/22.0
Focal Length: 15 mm
ISO Speed: 100
Exposure Bias: 0 EV
Flash: No Flash
Camera: Nikon D200
Exposure: 8
Aperture: f/22.0
Focal Length: 15 mm
ISO Speed: 100
Exposure Bias: 0 EV
Flash: No Flash
3.17.2009
Moment
Current Reading: The Art Instinct by Denis Dutton
Current Music: The Church: Under the Milky Way
Smells: Leftovers
Mood: Sense of connection, a communion with the creative process
Sounds: Too much noise
Temperature: 46 degrees & sunny
Thoughts: Branding yourself authentically is a personalized service of photographers today.
Current Music: The Church: Under the Milky Way
Smells: Leftovers
Mood: Sense of connection, a communion with the creative process
Sounds: Too much noise
Temperature: 46 degrees & sunny
Thoughts: Branding yourself authentically is a personalized service of photographers today.
Question - Art or the Artist
Thank you to all for answering my question yesterday. The bulk of responses is on my Facebook page. Follow the conversations over at Facebook about art or the artist… Let’s be friends….
3.16.2009
Photo of the Week
Camera: Nikon D700
Exposure: 0.067 sec (1/15)
Aperture: f/1.6
Focal Length: 50 mm
ISO Speed: 400
Exposure Bias: -1/3 EV
Flash: No Flash
3.13.2009
Joe the Ugly Art Critic - Short Story
In hindsight it is essential to look back when traveling across the country without a destination.
Its dusk, my motorcycle is hot from the day’s drive. The two water bottles strapped to the back fender are warm but drinkable.
I sit next to my friend who has lost in the DNA game of chance. No redeeming qualities to this man. He lost before his life even began.
My friend’s name is Joe and Joe is ugly. Not in the typical sense of letting-himself-go type of ugly. He is ugly on a skull level and there is nothing you can do to fix that. He is not deformed or structurally damaged, it’s just that he has an odd shaped skull. Joe is a good argument for evolution stopping abruptly and skipping over the few remaining people standing in line.
Why did I ask Joe to travel with me? When you’re ugly people notice, when your job is to criticize people notice. He is an art critic who preaches about the end of modern society. “Nowhere left to go on the ladder of life when your job is to judge creation itself”, that’s his motto. Not a happy person. The essential humanness that ties us all together is void in Joe’s life. I find that interesting.
The song lyrics “I’ve been through the desert on a horse with no name” will not stop running through my head. I hate that song. Joe has insulted 32 of the last 35 people we have met. His motorcycle keeps breaking down.
“Twelve hundred touring sportsters for the traveling motorcyclist! it is the Porsche of the motorcycle world!”, he keeps yelling that at the top of his lungs every time the bike breaks down. That’s what the saleslady told him as he wrote a check of 15,000.00 dollars for this lemon on two wheels. My bike is a loaner from my cousin. I think he paid $750.00 for it eight years ago.
Joe gets off his bike and steps to the edge of the cliff that we have parked our bikes on. He looks at me and says “write this down: God used to live on this Earth. He got tried of everybody picketing outside his window. Observation is fundamental to making sense of this ever present moment of now”. Then he fell back off the cliff, ending his life.
“Hindsight is essential” is all I could to say….goodbye ugly art critic Joe.
Its dusk, my motorcycle is hot from the day’s drive. The two water bottles strapped to the back fender are warm but drinkable.
I sit next to my friend who has lost in the DNA game of chance. No redeeming qualities to this man. He lost before his life even began.
My friend’s name is Joe and Joe is ugly. Not in the typical sense of letting-himself-go type of ugly. He is ugly on a skull level and there is nothing you can do to fix that. He is not deformed or structurally damaged, it’s just that he has an odd shaped skull. Joe is a good argument for evolution stopping abruptly and skipping over the few remaining people standing in line.
Why did I ask Joe to travel with me? When you’re ugly people notice, when your job is to criticize people notice. He is an art critic who preaches about the end of modern society. “Nowhere left to go on the ladder of life when your job is to judge creation itself”, that’s his motto. Not a happy person. The essential humanness that ties us all together is void in Joe’s life. I find that interesting.
The song lyrics “I’ve been through the desert on a horse with no name” will not stop running through my head. I hate that song. Joe has insulted 32 of the last 35 people we have met. His motorcycle keeps breaking down.
“Twelve hundred touring sportsters for the traveling motorcyclist! it is the Porsche of the motorcycle world!”, he keeps yelling that at the top of his lungs every time the bike breaks down. That’s what the saleslady told him as he wrote a check of 15,000.00 dollars for this lemon on two wheels. My bike is a loaner from my cousin. I think he paid $750.00 for it eight years ago.
Joe gets off his bike and steps to the edge of the cliff that we have parked our bikes on. He looks at me and says “write this down: God used to live on this Earth. He got tried of everybody picketing outside his window. Observation is fundamental to making sense of this ever present moment of now”. Then he fell back off the cliff, ending his life.
“Hindsight is essential” is all I could to say….goodbye ugly art critic Joe.
3.12.2009
Photo of the Week
Camera: Nikon D200
Exposure: 20
Aperture: f/22.0
Focal Length: 24 mm
ISO Speed: 100
Exposure Bias: 0 EV
3.11.2009
Business Plan & Mission Statement
Priority and goals (Revision)
At this point in my career I am thinking about 10 to 20 years down the road and sustaining a business. Growing a business is the easy part; you work your ass off and then repeat.
My goal is: “Smart Growth” – building a next-generation business. The goals listed are about who I want to be rather than what I want to have. Intentions lead to outcomes.
Work with a purpose
Servants heart
Give without expectations
Undeniably good composition
Balance professional & personal lifestyle
Satisfying & educating clients
Increase earnings & contributing to the wellbeing of others
Community & environmental responsibility
At this point in my career I am thinking about 10 to 20 years down the road and sustaining a business. Growing a business is the easy part; you work your ass off and then repeat.
My goal is: “Smart Growth” – building a next-generation business. The goals listed are about who I want to be rather than what I want to have. Intentions lead to outcomes.
Work with a purpose
Servants heart
Give without expectations
Undeniably good composition
Balance professional & personal lifestyle
Satisfying & educating clients
Increase earnings & contributing to the wellbeing of others
Community & environmental responsibility
3.10.2009
CREATIVE PHOTO SHOOT CONTEST WINNER
Hello Everyone! We are excited to announce that JESSICA WHIPPLE is our Creative Photo Shoot Contest Winner! Jessica had an awesome idea--she has 2 photographs of her grandparents on their honeymoon--one of each grandparent taking a picture of the other grandparent while sitting in a booth at a restaurant. The pictures are so nostalgic and lovely. Jessica would like to re-create the photos with her husband and hang all 4 in her home.
"These are my favorite two photos of my late grandparents because I can really sense the excitement and love they had for each other. This is how I want to remember them." Thanks Jessica for such a great idea! The shoot will take place on March 21st and we'll be posting the pictures shortly after.
CONGRATULATIONS JESSICA!
3.09.2009
Moment
Current Reading: Seven Days in the Art World by Sarah Thornton
Current Music: No Line on the Horizon by U2
Smells: Strawberries & coffee
Sounds: Silence
Temperature: 43 degrees & cloudy
Thoughts: Art is purposefully limitless or endless possibilities???
Current Music: No Line on the Horizon by U2
Smells: Strawberries & coffee
Sounds: Silence
Temperature: 43 degrees & cloudy
Thoughts: Art is purposefully limitless or endless possibilities???
3.06.2009
3.05.2009
We're in Whirl Magazine!
Hi Everyone,
I'm so pleased to tell you that a few of our photos from a recent wedding got published in Whirl Magazine! Check IT out!!
Scroll to Sue Carris & Jason Mazzoccoli.
3.04.2009
3.03.2009
Rooftop Sanctuary – Short Story
Not again…fighting, screaming, yelling…why can’t they do this when I’m not home?
Crawl out my window onto the fire escape and I go up to my rooftop sanctuary to numb myself from this noise. At the age of 12 I shouldn’t even know what the word sanctuary means, nonetheless need one.
My sanctuary is nice. It sits atop the city skyline that overlooks traffic, Point Park and in the distance I can see the river. A grass rooftop, real grass, real dirt, Mother Nature three stories up in the city sky. I have a Chesapeake chaise lounge chair, again something else I should not know the proper name for but my mother is sure to remind me to refer to the furniture by its correct name. The lounge chair is placed underneath solar panels so there is always good shade for me to relax in. Wind chime, bird feeders and an herb garden; the sustainabley-eco-friendly trifecta of a sanctuary. I even get internet up here.
A glass of lemonade, laptop, ipod, headphones and I can forget about the sounds of my parents’ lives falling apart underneath my feet.
What and why of all of this: My father had an 8-month affair with his sectary. How unoriginal, I like him less for being typical. He blames the affair on my mother’s crazy eyes and her constant neglect of his opinion. Not that bad of an excuse, truth be told.
Two parents with only three things left in common; stuff, how to get more stuff and most importantly how are we going to pay for all this stuff.
The stuff part works out ok for me. I am 12 with a rooftop sanctuary that gets internet. I want for nothing. I ask for everything. As long as I can live with the dysfunction beneath my grassy feet everything will be ok. I hope.
Crawl out my window onto the fire escape and I go up to my rooftop sanctuary to numb myself from this noise. At the age of 12 I shouldn’t even know what the word sanctuary means, nonetheless need one.
My sanctuary is nice. It sits atop the city skyline that overlooks traffic, Point Park and in the distance I can see the river. A grass rooftop, real grass, real dirt, Mother Nature three stories up in the city sky. I have a Chesapeake chaise lounge chair, again something else I should not know the proper name for but my mother is sure to remind me to refer to the furniture by its correct name. The lounge chair is placed underneath solar panels so there is always good shade for me to relax in. Wind chime, bird feeders and an herb garden; the sustainabley-eco-friendly trifecta of a sanctuary. I even get internet up here.
A glass of lemonade, laptop, ipod, headphones and I can forget about the sounds of my parents’ lives falling apart underneath my feet.
What and why of all of this: My father had an 8-month affair with his sectary. How unoriginal, I like him less for being typical. He blames the affair on my mother’s crazy eyes and her constant neglect of his opinion. Not that bad of an excuse, truth be told.
Two parents with only three things left in common; stuff, how to get more stuff and most importantly how are we going to pay for all this stuff.
The stuff part works out ok for me. I am 12 with a rooftop sanctuary that gets internet. I want for nothing. I ask for everything. As long as I can live with the dysfunction beneath my grassy feet everything will be ok. I hope.
3.02.2009
Moment
Current Reading: Sum:Tales from the Afterlives by David Eagleman
Current Music: Virginia Creeper by Grant Lee Phillips
Smells: Apples & coffee
Sounds: Typing key and background noise
Temperature: 12 degrees with Flurries
Thoughts: Intimate series by Elizabeth, is great work.
2.27.2009
Updates
City Night Gallery – See updates here
My blog was down on Thursday – Read yesterday post here (p.s. it’s a good one)
Camera: Nikon D200
Exposure: 7.1
Aperture: f/22.0
Focal Length: 22 mm
ISO Speed: 100
Exposure Bias: 0 EV
Flash: No Flash
My blog was down on Thursday – Read yesterday post here (p.s. it’s a good one)
Camera: Nikon D200
Exposure: 7.1
Aperture: f/22.0
Focal Length: 22 mm
ISO Speed: 100
Exposure Bias: 0 EV
Flash: No Flash
2.26.2009
Afterlife would look like this - Short Story
I never thought the afterlife would look like this. Day three of sitting on this terracotta roof with this boy pointing a toy gun at my head. The shingles are pinching at my bum. Sally just peed herself, again. I am staring at three crufixes with four men standing in front of them. One man has a Che Guevara shirt on, that must mean something. The air smells of alpaca dung and will somebody for the love of God turn down that flamingo music?? Why is that boy holding on to cow guts pulled out of a bucket? How did I get this scar?
Pop, pop, pop, a man with a camera walks up to me and says, “You can’t have simplicity until you know confusion. Say cheese”. Pop, pop, pop the flash blinds me for an instant. The cameraman yell outs “bang, bang, my baby shot me down…this is way beyond funny, sonny”, and then he walks away.
I’ve been to Planet Hollywood, have not been to the mountaintop, I should have danced more often. I wish I had updated my style of clothing, as this is what I am going to wear for eternity in the afterlife. My cell phone rings, “Hello?” A woman’s voice speaks, “interdependence, interconnectedness, systemic risk, moral hazard, this used to hurt”, she hangs up…”OK.”, I respond. I turn left and see what?
Four men wearing black facemasks with pom-poms and tassels on top of their heads. The man in the middle is holding onto a chalkboard that has a message scribbled in Spanish: “I feel stupid”. My white stuffed puppy dog from my childhood is on the floor next to my giant silver platform heals from my disco dancing days. I think, “How did the McMafa get my shoes and stuffed puppy dog?”
Pop, pop, pop, the cameramen takes my photo again. “Never thought the afterlife would look like this”, he says to me. “STOP THAT!” I yell at him, the flash is blinding me. “That’s the bright lights of heaven’s gate…and you must wait”, the cameraman says to me.
Pop, pop, pop, a man with a camera walks up to me and says, “You can’t have simplicity until you know confusion. Say cheese”. Pop, pop, pop the flash blinds me for an instant. The cameraman yell outs “bang, bang, my baby shot me down…this is way beyond funny, sonny”, and then he walks away.
I’ve been to Planet Hollywood, have not been to the mountaintop, I should have danced more often. I wish I had updated my style of clothing, as this is what I am going to wear for eternity in the afterlife. My cell phone rings, “Hello?” A woman’s voice speaks, “interdependence, interconnectedness, systemic risk, moral hazard, this used to hurt”, she hangs up…”OK.”, I respond. I turn left and see what?
Four men wearing black facemasks with pom-poms and tassels on top of their heads. The man in the middle is holding onto a chalkboard that has a message scribbled in Spanish: “I feel stupid”. My white stuffed puppy dog from my childhood is on the floor next to my giant silver platform heals from my disco dancing days. I think, “How did the McMafa get my shoes and stuffed puppy dog?”
Pop, pop, pop, the cameramen takes my photo again. “Never thought the afterlife would look like this”, he says to me. “STOP THAT!” I yell at him, the flash is blinding me. “That’s the bright lights of heaven’s gate…and you must wait”, the cameraman says to me.
2.25.2009
2.24.2009
2.23.2009
Moment
Current Reading: America the Beautiful by Moon Zappa
Current Music: The Best of Rusted Root
Smells: Oatmeal and coffee
Sounds: Humming
Temperature: 18 degrees, cloudy
Thoughts: My favorite item of clothing is a single sock.
Current Music: The Best of Rusted Root
Smells: Oatmeal and coffee
Sounds: Humming
Temperature: 18 degrees, cloudy
Thoughts: My favorite item of clothing is a single sock.
2.20.2009
The letter “P” must die
The predicament with having a purpose in life is that it has to be attached to a problem for the purpose to be purposeful. What is practical about having a purpose if the only purpose is to point out a problem?
Answer: To persuade people to your perspective on the problem actually having a purposeful point in solving.
Sounds political so far, are you perplexed at this particular point?
My personal puzzlement is that I like pizza. If you want to eat pizza with pepperoni, pigs got to die. In principal I prefer things not to have to pass away to get on my dinner plate.
The purpose in solving my problem is; is it practical to kill all “P” to persuade you that my perspective is correct on getting pepperoni on my plate?
The letter “P” must die –goodbye to
Paris, Poinsettias, Poppies, Pasta, Peanut Butter, Pontiac, Porsche, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Peru, Poland, Pakistan, Palestine, Pens, pencils ….plea your case if you want me to ponder this predicament while I eat this plate that has been properly placed in front of face.
2.19.2009
Living Room Series
Camera: Nikon D700
Exposure: 0.04 sec (1/25)
Aperture: f/1.4
Focal Length: 50 mm
ISO Speed: 1250
Exposure Bias: +1 EV
2.18.2009
RANT
America is waking up again as every generation has an opportunity to change the world, yet again.
“If there is a hard, high wall and an egg that breaks against it, no matter how right the wall or how wrong the egg, I will stand on the side of the egg.” - Haruki Murakami
As I write this there is a crowd gathered that is picketing and protesting the legalization of gay marriage, women rights to choose and other random thing that should be left to the individual to select... 2,103 verses in the bible on serving the poor and less fortunate and they pick the 4 vague sentences to stage a protest.
Wonder how many homeless people they passed on their way to the protest.
Simplification postponed due to instability issues…
“If there is a hard, high wall and an egg that breaks against it, no matter how right the wall or how wrong the egg, I will stand on the side of the egg.” - Haruki Murakami
As I write this there is a crowd gathered that is picketing and protesting the legalization of gay marriage, women rights to choose and other random thing that should be left to the individual to select... 2,103 verses in the bible on serving the poor and less fortunate and they pick the 4 vague sentences to stage a protest.
Wonder how many homeless people they passed on their way to the protest.
Simplification postponed due to instability issues…
2.17.2009
I Dream of Heaven - Short Story
Hung on a wall with a nail and black string is a photograph that nobody has looked at. There is no reason for people to walk down this corridor that leads to nowhere, void of light and purpose in the far back corner of a church hallway. Odd place for a photograph, empty space is your audience.
Me, I am a Catholic brother for St. Michael’s church. Life as a Catholic brother means that I have no holy orders, no sacramental blessing to dispose. I’ve taken a vow of living a life of no money, no honey, and I answer to a boss. In my case, my boss is Father Dougherty and let me tell you answering to God is easier than reporting to Father Dougherty. My day is spent counseling parishioners, mopping floors or whatever undertaking that Father Dougherty and the congregation need of me.
I spent the last two years walking by this empty hallway that lead to nowhere. For no particular reason this day I decided to sit down in front of this photograph and give it the viewing that it deserves. Sitting on this cold, slate hallway floor with my Bible and my journal I stare at this photo.
There is no background, no ambient quality to this photograph, only a subject of four people whose story is told by the expression on their faces.
A widowed grandfather, a happy and observant man, quiet most days is seated back center of the composition. The grandfather watches his two daughters playing a game of dominos. The daughter to his left is divorced, keeps herself occupied by reading and taking care of her father. Her father is not in ill health but the company is good for both of them.
His second daughter, Marie, the younger of the two is seated to his right, gazing outwardly, lost in thought. Marie has made bad life choices and lives with her anger, placing blame on no one for her place in this world. The source of her redemptive pride is her daughter, the grandfather’s only grandchild, Ella, stands behind her mother.
The two sisters sit face to face at this small card table playing their game. This time spent is a social responsibility to the family. Obliged by tradition, not of connection. Small amounts of coins, one ashtray clean and unused, a lighter, but no cigarettes, is on the table.
The granddaughter, pretty, twenty-something and well educated stands behind her mother leaning on her left shoulder. She understands the sacrifices that her mother has made for her. Like her mother and her aunt she is accountable for keeping the family together, although she would rather be elsewhere.
Ella stands behind her mother metaphorically and in body pondering her decision.
Carman, stay or go with him? Can Carman remaining faithfully to be after breaking his commitment? Should I leave my family and go away with him. I love him…I think. Will my mother be able to cope without me? Should I ask or tell or just go? Does Carman make me happy? I think so…most days. Independence without obligation, that’s what I want…I know it’s selfish. The gift of sharing my self whose life has ben given to another. If I leave will my family will they want me back? Yes. Look at my Papa…that is my dream.
The grandfather holds a small chalkboard pressed to his chest. In his own handwriting he scribbles “I miss Heaven”. That is what he called his wife…Heaven.
“Carman”, Father Dougherty calls out to me…yes Father, I’m coming.
Me, I am a Catholic brother for St. Michael’s church. Life as a Catholic brother means that I have no holy orders, no sacramental blessing to dispose. I’ve taken a vow of living a life of no money, no honey, and I answer to a boss. In my case, my boss is Father Dougherty and let me tell you answering to God is easier than reporting to Father Dougherty. My day is spent counseling parishioners, mopping floors or whatever undertaking that Father Dougherty and the congregation need of me.
I spent the last two years walking by this empty hallway that lead to nowhere. For no particular reason this day I decided to sit down in front of this photograph and give it the viewing that it deserves. Sitting on this cold, slate hallway floor with my Bible and my journal I stare at this photo.
There is no background, no ambient quality to this photograph, only a subject of four people whose story is told by the expression on their faces.
A widowed grandfather, a happy and observant man, quiet most days is seated back center of the composition. The grandfather watches his two daughters playing a game of dominos. The daughter to his left is divorced, keeps herself occupied by reading and taking care of her father. Her father is not in ill health but the company is good for both of them.
His second daughter, Marie, the younger of the two is seated to his right, gazing outwardly, lost in thought. Marie has made bad life choices and lives with her anger, placing blame on no one for her place in this world. The source of her redemptive pride is her daughter, the grandfather’s only grandchild, Ella, stands behind her mother.
The two sisters sit face to face at this small card table playing their game. This time spent is a social responsibility to the family. Obliged by tradition, not of connection. Small amounts of coins, one ashtray clean and unused, a lighter, but no cigarettes, is on the table.
The granddaughter, pretty, twenty-something and well educated stands behind her mother leaning on her left shoulder. She understands the sacrifices that her mother has made for her. Like her mother and her aunt she is accountable for keeping the family together, although she would rather be elsewhere.
Ella stands behind her mother metaphorically and in body pondering her decision.
Carman, stay or go with him? Can Carman remaining faithfully to be after breaking his commitment? Should I leave my family and go away with him. I love him…I think. Will my mother be able to cope without me? Should I ask or tell or just go? Does Carman make me happy? I think so…most days. Independence without obligation, that’s what I want…I know it’s selfish. The gift of sharing my self whose life has ben given to another. If I leave will my family will they want me back? Yes. Look at my Papa…that is my dream.
The grandfather holds a small chalkboard pressed to his chest. In his own handwriting he scribbles “I miss Heaven”. That is what he called his wife…Heaven.
“Carman”, Father Dougherty calls out to me…yes Father, I’m coming.
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