We updated our Craig Photography logo, you can check it out (HERE)
I will be writing an article for the "Pictage Blog" twice a month. You can read it(HERE)
Elizabeth has written a post for "Pittsburgh Wedding Blog" you can read it (HERE)
10.11.2010
10.07.2010
Pittsburgh Boudoir Photography: Guest Post
Hola Photog peeps! Elizabeth Craig here giving a shout out to myself. ;-)
Now offering holiday specials. Contact me for more information and don’t forget to visit my site. And be sure to visit Wedding Wire’s blog, Wedding Aces! Jody Wimer, owner of Jody’s Pantry Catering, posted a collage of mine today along with a fun article about boudoir photography. ;-) Thanks Jody! You can visit Jody at her website or her Facebook page!
Now offering holiday specials. Contact me for more information and don’t forget to visit my site. And be sure to visit Wedding Wire’s blog, Wedding Aces! Jody Wimer, owner of Jody’s Pantry Catering, posted a collage of mine today along with a fun article about boudoir photography. ;-) Thanks Jody! You can visit Jody at her website or her Facebook page!
10.06.2010
10.05.2010
Unnoticeable ~ Short Story
I always awake at dawn. Looking over at my alarm clock and think, why bother to set it? Make the bed, let the dog out, open the fridge, grab the coffee and repeat everyday. This is my morning ritual. Oh yeah forgot; check e-mail, read web while coffee is brewing.
I work from home and this gives me liberties that few others have, such as working in boxers and optional showering. I can go days without seeing or talking to anyone, especially talking. I do get out. I like to walk. I like to sit in coffeehouses and write. This makes me feel like I am the last of the beatnik generation of writers. Getting all Kerouac-O-Wacky rambling on about the unnoticeable-ness of my life and how odd it is to be self-aware of my own unnoticeable-ness, well…that just makes me feel special.
It has been seven days since the last time I left the house. My days have been a fog of writing, photography and practicing the guitar. No special goal in mind. I am lucky enough that I have enough money in the bank and no schedule to answer to. So, I go into hermit mode from time to time.
The weather has changed; autumn has arrived and with that came my nightmares. Never found out why but when summer leaves and autumn arrives I get nightmares; vicious, crazy, scary nightmares of people who only look like living silhouettes and shadows.
I think this is why I awake at dawn. As soon as the night leaves, my body needs the light to free itself from the terrors that nighttime brings on.
I do what I can to keep the nightmares under control. I drink Scotch, lots and lots of Scotch whisky. God bless the distilleries of Scotland for single malt. For reasons unknown to me only Scotch can help; it is not a savior, but it helps. I think it is the slight coma that too much scotch can bring on. Red wine enhances the nightmares; beer does nothing to help and chamomile tea just pisses off the demons in my head.
Day eight, need to get out of the house. I smell from the past seven days of stale air that I sat in. Need food, make myself a tomato sandwich. Toast the bread grab the last tomato from my garden, add some fresh basil, and smear on red pepper hummus. Wash the meal down with a dark beer. It’s ok to have beer with breakfast when you are accountable to no one. Need a days worth of supplies before heading out the door. Grab my journal, laptop, two pens (deliberately leave my phone at home) and toss in a bag of cashews. Tennis shoes on, fleece pullover on and out the door on a forty-five minute walk to Uptown coffee where I can be all-judgmental-of–society while drinking black coffee.
The air is wet and I can see my breath as I walk up the hill to Bower Road. The neighborhood is quiet. Day-job-people, thank God I don’t have one of those. Surprised more people don’t go cubical than postal….I guess we all lead our own life of 9 to 5 repetition. Lucky for me pants are optional in my life of repetition.
Turn the corner at Saint Clair Hospital and I watch a bus let out.
Black silhouette shadows of people get off the bus. My heart stops, I lose my breath. I stand frozen as the black silhouette shadows move past me. Heat - they give off heat, like standing next to a coal furnace and the noise is unbearable; it is as if ten thousand conversations are happening all at the same time.
The bus pulls away and I am alone on the street. I catch my breath and panic at the same time. I sit on the curb. I question…Am I awake? This is a dream, it must be a dream? I am awake, f-ing awake, cars are moving, birds are chirping. Look left then right; no black silhouette shadows. This must be the onset of schizophrenia. Maybe I am a better writer than I thought. Pull it together, get up and walk.
I make it to the coffeehouse all the while questioning the onset of my crazy mind disease. My heart never slows back down. Scotch. I need scotch. Walk in the coffeehouse; no one is looking up. I go directly into the bathroom and splash water on my face. Looking into the mirror I cannot see my reflection, only a black silhouette shadow of myself. I can see everything else reflecting in the mirror. The sink, toilet, green wallpaper, the photo on the walls, but not me. It’s like looking at a photo of yourself where someone has rubbed black ink over the image. As I move, the black silhouette shadow moves; as I splash more water on my face so does the black silhouette shadow. As I turn and move so does the black silhouette shadow.
This is not real. I open the bathroom door.
The coffeehouse is filled with black silhouette shadows drinking coffee and having conversation, reading books, typing on laptops, having conversations…all this is real. I can see the books, laptops, coffee cups; I can see movement in everything. I can hear the voices, too many voices…
I am cold, so cold. I black out.
I awake later, no idea how long I was out. Nobody came to help me. I lay on the floor balled-up right out side the bathroom door in the fetal position.
My vision comes back into focus slowly. Head hurts and my mouth is dry. Looking down I notice that I can see my hands, I can see my feet, I touch my face and feel the whiskers on my chin. Rub my hands through my hair, I am alive…I am alive. I get up and go back into the bathroom, take a deep breath and look in the mirror…black silhouette shadow. The room is in the reflection but I cannot see my own face. I can look down and see my hands but only the smoke fog of my reflection can been seen in the mirror.
Leave the bathroom for a second time and walk into the coffeehouse.
The coffeehouse is empty. The black silhouette shadows are gone. I am alone.
The smells of fresh coffee and baked goods are in the air. I help myself to a blueberry muffin from behind the counter; poor a cup of coffee and sit down with a Wall Street Journal newspaper that was left sitting on the bar. Look at the date on the top of the paper: October 5th 2010. The headline reads “New CEO at Twitter”, “Stocks slump and Obama Scales Back on Legislative Plans”. This is too mediocre of a day for this to be a dream.
Take a bite of the muffin and think to myself that this is the best damn muffin I ever had. With onset of mental disease comes the blessing of clarity. I giggle out loud; a pure Zen moment during the onset of schizophrenia. The coffee is burnt.
I grab the fork on the table and stab my left forearm; blood comes out, definitely not a dream. Grab the old napkins left on the table to stop the blood.
This is a genuine experience. Odd but genuine. I can see my body, just not in the mirror.
Life is happening outside this coffeehouse, but inside I sit alone.
Alien abductions? I have been reading “The Transmigration of Timothy Archer” by Philip K. Dick. Nightmares, scotch and reading way too much Philip K. Dick could bring on my mental break.
I was recently researching government secret human experimentation, could I have stumbled onto something? Could this be a cover up by bringing on madness so I don’t go public? Probably not since I have no findings past Google conspiracy search on “human radiation experiments conducted by the U.S. government.”
I never did learn what brought on my nightmares or the black-silhouette-shadow-people of my dreams. All I do know is that they come to life every autumn and leave in the springtime.
In between wakening life of the day and haunting nightmare of the dark…
I am unnoticeable….
I work from home and this gives me liberties that few others have, such as working in boxers and optional showering. I can go days without seeing or talking to anyone, especially talking. I do get out. I like to walk. I like to sit in coffeehouses and write. This makes me feel like I am the last of the beatnik generation of writers. Getting all Kerouac-O-Wacky rambling on about the unnoticeable-ness of my life and how odd it is to be self-aware of my own unnoticeable-ness, well…that just makes me feel special.
It has been seven days since the last time I left the house. My days have been a fog of writing, photography and practicing the guitar. No special goal in mind. I am lucky enough that I have enough money in the bank and no schedule to answer to. So, I go into hermit mode from time to time.
The weather has changed; autumn has arrived and with that came my nightmares. Never found out why but when summer leaves and autumn arrives I get nightmares; vicious, crazy, scary nightmares of people who only look like living silhouettes and shadows.
I think this is why I awake at dawn. As soon as the night leaves, my body needs the light to free itself from the terrors that nighttime brings on.
I do what I can to keep the nightmares under control. I drink Scotch, lots and lots of Scotch whisky. God bless the distilleries of Scotland for single malt. For reasons unknown to me only Scotch can help; it is not a savior, but it helps. I think it is the slight coma that too much scotch can bring on. Red wine enhances the nightmares; beer does nothing to help and chamomile tea just pisses off the demons in my head.
Day eight, need to get out of the house. I smell from the past seven days of stale air that I sat in. Need food, make myself a tomato sandwich. Toast the bread grab the last tomato from my garden, add some fresh basil, and smear on red pepper hummus. Wash the meal down with a dark beer. It’s ok to have beer with breakfast when you are accountable to no one. Need a days worth of supplies before heading out the door. Grab my journal, laptop, two pens (deliberately leave my phone at home) and toss in a bag of cashews. Tennis shoes on, fleece pullover on and out the door on a forty-five minute walk to Uptown coffee where I can be all-judgmental-of–society while drinking black coffee.
The air is wet and I can see my breath as I walk up the hill to Bower Road. The neighborhood is quiet. Day-job-people, thank God I don’t have one of those. Surprised more people don’t go cubical than postal….I guess we all lead our own life of 9 to 5 repetition. Lucky for me pants are optional in my life of repetition.
Turn the corner at Saint Clair Hospital and I watch a bus let out.
Black silhouette shadows of people get off the bus. My heart stops, I lose my breath. I stand frozen as the black silhouette shadows move past me. Heat - they give off heat, like standing next to a coal furnace and the noise is unbearable; it is as if ten thousand conversations are happening all at the same time.
The bus pulls away and I am alone on the street. I catch my breath and panic at the same time. I sit on the curb. I question…Am I awake? This is a dream, it must be a dream? I am awake, f-ing awake, cars are moving, birds are chirping. Look left then right; no black silhouette shadows. This must be the onset of schizophrenia. Maybe I am a better writer than I thought. Pull it together, get up and walk.
I make it to the coffeehouse all the while questioning the onset of my crazy mind disease. My heart never slows back down. Scotch. I need scotch. Walk in the coffeehouse; no one is looking up. I go directly into the bathroom and splash water on my face. Looking into the mirror I cannot see my reflection, only a black silhouette shadow of myself. I can see everything else reflecting in the mirror. The sink, toilet, green wallpaper, the photo on the walls, but not me. It’s like looking at a photo of yourself where someone has rubbed black ink over the image. As I move, the black silhouette shadow moves; as I splash more water on my face so does the black silhouette shadow. As I turn and move so does the black silhouette shadow.
This is not real. I open the bathroom door.
The coffeehouse is filled with black silhouette shadows drinking coffee and having conversation, reading books, typing on laptops, having conversations…all this is real. I can see the books, laptops, coffee cups; I can see movement in everything. I can hear the voices, too many voices…
I am cold, so cold. I black out.
I awake later, no idea how long I was out. Nobody came to help me. I lay on the floor balled-up right out side the bathroom door in the fetal position.
My vision comes back into focus slowly. Head hurts and my mouth is dry. Looking down I notice that I can see my hands, I can see my feet, I touch my face and feel the whiskers on my chin. Rub my hands through my hair, I am alive…I am alive. I get up and go back into the bathroom, take a deep breath and look in the mirror…black silhouette shadow. The room is in the reflection but I cannot see my own face. I can look down and see my hands but only the smoke fog of my reflection can been seen in the mirror.
Leave the bathroom for a second time and walk into the coffeehouse.
The coffeehouse is empty. The black silhouette shadows are gone. I am alone.
The smells of fresh coffee and baked goods are in the air. I help myself to a blueberry muffin from behind the counter; poor a cup of coffee and sit down with a Wall Street Journal newspaper that was left sitting on the bar. Look at the date on the top of the paper: October 5th 2010. The headline reads “New CEO at Twitter”, “Stocks slump and Obama Scales Back on Legislative Plans”. This is too mediocre of a day for this to be a dream.
Take a bite of the muffin and think to myself that this is the best damn muffin I ever had. With onset of mental disease comes the blessing of clarity. I giggle out loud; a pure Zen moment during the onset of schizophrenia. The coffee is burnt.
I grab the fork on the table and stab my left forearm; blood comes out, definitely not a dream. Grab the old napkins left on the table to stop the blood.
This is a genuine experience. Odd but genuine. I can see my body, just not in the mirror.
Life is happening outside this coffeehouse, but inside I sit alone.
Alien abductions? I have been reading “The Transmigration of Timothy Archer” by Philip K. Dick. Nightmares, scotch and reading way too much Philip K. Dick could bring on my mental break.
I was recently researching government secret human experimentation, could I have stumbled onto something? Could this be a cover up by bringing on madness so I don’t go public? Probably not since I have no findings past Google conspiracy search on “human radiation experiments conducted by the U.S. government.”
I never did learn what brought on my nightmares or the black-silhouette-shadow-people of my dreams. All I do know is that they come to life every autumn and leave in the springtime.
In between wakening life of the day and haunting nightmare of the dark…
I am unnoticeable….
10.04.2010
Moment
Current Reading: Ghost Tree by Bill Deasy
Current Music: A Hard Day’s Night by The Beatles
Mood: Good, very good
Smells: Coffee & books
Sounds: Hum of a heater
Temperature: 55 degrees
Thoughts: Writing next e-book, working title "Create, Connect & Grow"
Current Music: A Hard Day’s Night by The Beatles
Mood: Good, very good
Smells: Coffee & books
Sounds: Hum of a heater
Temperature: 55 degrees
Thoughts: Writing next e-book, working title "Create, Connect & Grow"
9.30.2010
9.28.2010
Barefoot & Half Naked
The weather has changed in Pittsburgh. Autumn has arrived, the nights are cold, the mornings are misty and damp and the light is late to wake up. Seasonal changes in Pittsburgh are not brought in by the calendar as much as it is brought in by a dramatic storm.
Couple days ago we lost power in our home; first time in four years in our new home. A microburst storm blew through our community ripping down trees and power lines. The storm took only about twenty minutes to end summer and bring in autumn.
During the storm I was driving home from the store. I watched a tree fall across the road in front of me blocking the roadway. An older man and I get out of our cars and start trying to pull a tree out of the road during the middle of the storm; two strangers meeting in the street.
This is when I realized how happy my life is…
I am standing in this street with no shoes on and no shirt on. Why? Because moments before I was running out of the grocery store to my car and I got soaked, completely drench. The temperature dropped from high eighties to low sixties. I was freezing. So I took off my shirt, ripped off my shoes (5 fingers are not good in a rain storm, at all) turned up the heat and drive home in the storm. One of the things that I hate about driving in a storm is that you cannot enjoy music in your car no matter how loud you turn it up.
Loud music, even louder storm and then a crashing tree in front of me; the odd thing was there was no sound. It was like watching a scary movie when they play classical music in the middle of a crazy Freddy Krueger scene. I watched the tree fall, roots ripped out of the soil. No sound, eerie…
Next the old man and I struggle with the tree with no luck. Then he notices the barefoot half naked man working alongside of him.
This moment was one of those moments of clarity. Like one of those moments at the last ten minutes of any TV mystery show. The camera pans in on the lead character, s/he looks up at the sky and at that moment you know that they have the answer (typical scenes like these have classical music playing during the epiphany…just an fyi).
As this man is staring at me half naked and barefoot I tell him I’m in my work clothes. He laughs, we struggle with the tree, and he says to me in his drenched suit, "Wish I had a job like yours."
I am free.
Photography provides me with a life of work on my on terms (most days).
Couple days ago we lost power in our home; first time in four years in our new home. A microburst storm blew through our community ripping down trees and power lines. The storm took only about twenty minutes to end summer and bring in autumn.
During the storm I was driving home from the store. I watched a tree fall across the road in front of me blocking the roadway. An older man and I get out of our cars and start trying to pull a tree out of the road during the middle of the storm; two strangers meeting in the street.
This is when I realized how happy my life is…
I am standing in this street with no shoes on and no shirt on. Why? Because moments before I was running out of the grocery store to my car and I got soaked, completely drench. The temperature dropped from high eighties to low sixties. I was freezing. So I took off my shirt, ripped off my shoes (5 fingers are not good in a rain storm, at all) turned up the heat and drive home in the storm. One of the things that I hate about driving in a storm is that you cannot enjoy music in your car no matter how loud you turn it up.
Loud music, even louder storm and then a crashing tree in front of me; the odd thing was there was no sound. It was like watching a scary movie when they play classical music in the middle of a crazy Freddy Krueger scene. I watched the tree fall, roots ripped out of the soil. No sound, eerie…
Next the old man and I struggle with the tree with no luck. Then he notices the barefoot half naked man working alongside of him.
This moment was one of those moments of clarity. Like one of those moments at the last ten minutes of any TV mystery show. The camera pans in on the lead character, s/he looks up at the sky and at that moment you know that they have the answer (typical scenes like these have classical music playing during the epiphany…just an fyi).
As this man is staring at me half naked and barefoot I tell him I’m in my work clothes. He laughs, we struggle with the tree, and he says to me in his drenched suit, "Wish I had a job like yours."
I am free.
Photography provides me with a life of work on my on terms (most days).
9.26.2010
How to Avoid Social Media Homework
Tips on how-to-avoid social media as homework…
One of the things I am finding interesting lately is how professional photographers view social media in terms of marketing, community building and growing their businesses.
It seems that the old-time, established photographers (35 yrs and older…sorry to whoever I just offended...deepest apologies) look at social media as another thing added to the ever-expanding To-Do-list. While the younger generation (Gen-Y) looks at social media as the only thing to do.
Digital-life-business-culture is here, support it, do not avoid it. (But there is no need to be overwhelmed by it either.)
Part 1: Social media is not something added to your workload…it's a tool to cut your workload in half.
This is why social medial is a tool & not homework. It is one of the few (if not only) business tools that allows to you accomplish many things with one action (a.k.a. timesaver)
I have yet to meet one photographer who misses the brick and mortar studio. The overhead itself has created many studios to fail. With the brick and mortar studio gone so is the traditional marketing and advertising that used to work.
Majority of photographers do not want to market or advertise; they want to create great photographs
Then do that, let photography be your marketing and advertising.
In the brick and mortar studio days we had storefront sidewalks. Nobody understood the value of those sidewalks until they went away.
What did the sidewalk provide that is lost in today’s digital-storefront?
Walk-by traffic
Drive-by traffic
Community
Storefront windows
Neighboring businesses
Conversation
Reasons why to think of social media as a tool
Findability
Shows that you are authentic
Conversation starter
The #1 reason is…Social media, if used correctly, will cut through the clutter of adverting and marketing that you don’t want to do anyway.
Part 2 - How-to-tips on social media as a tool
Create, Connect & Grow - Do one thing with multiple outcomes.
Create something new, and share it – This is the formula to success: “create & share”. Those who work constantly work, well...constantly. And those who do not constantly work go out of business, forever.
Deliver it, ship it, constantly – Show up for work, daily. There is no longer a brick and mortar store or a sidewalk to let people know that you showed up today. Social media gives you the opportunity to unlock your store, turn on the lights and flip over the Open for Business sign on your door front.
Decommoditize – you’re the only thing that cannot be copied. People buy from people they know. Let them know about YOU!
Learn to love “Feeds” “RSS” & “Ping.fm” (be sure to click on the hyper links if these words mean nothing to you)
Set the rules you want – You now have the tools to build whatever future you want, enjoy.
Build your portfolio and grow your business with the same actions…and its FREE.
I'd like to hear from you. So what do you think?
9.23.2010
9.22.2010
9.21.2010
Walk, Education & Links
Took a great walk with this couple above, this shoot was fun....
This week starts my season of photography education; this time as the teacher. The classes that I will instruct on are the basic “How To” class.
They will be held at various libraries throughout Pittsburgh. The best part is that they are free, yep free. If you have been following this blog throughout the years then you will know how much I love the library, (1st time readers – I love the library). It’s a place you go when you’re in need of knowledge, and it’s free.
Who is this class for?
In your gut you want to be a photographer. Or maybe you just want to learn how to use that expensive camera you just bought but you’re not sure who to ask. You have a great eye for composition but you just need some guidance, an advisor to help YOU fulfill your dreams. Make the jump from thinking, daydreaming and create great photographs…
Check out the “Event Page” at the top of the page for dates, locations & times.
P.S.
Pictage blog published one of my "How To" posts. You can read it (HERE)
Next “Photo Walk” will be on Light Up night, November 19th.
Tonight come out and listen to Vincent Pugliese give a talk on
The “How” & “Why” on the art of seeing.
9.20.2010
Moment
Current Reading: The Art of Non-Conformity by Chris Guilebeau
Current Music: Lost in America by Gathering Field
Mood: Excited
Smells: Clean House
Sounds: MSNBC., background noise
Temperature: 73 degrees & sunny
Thought: This is the start of the education season, as the teacher....
Current Music: Lost in America by Gathering Field
Mood: Excited
Smells: Clean House
Sounds: MSNBC., background noise
Temperature: 73 degrees & sunny
Thought: This is the start of the education season, as the teacher....
9.17.2010
Ramdom
Scene from last night...An interesting read by Patrick Renyolds "The Path of Laziness"
Have a good weekend!
9.16.2010
Next Tuesday Night
Create | Connect | Grow w/ Vincent Pugliese
When: September 21
Topic: The “How” & “Why” on the art of seeing: with Vincent Pugliese
Time: 7pm - 9pm
Where: 502 W. North Ave. Pgh 15212
Bio: Vincent Pugliese
Super Bowl XXXV (Ravens-Giants)
Super Bowl XXXVII (Rams-Patriots)
Photojournalist for New York Newsday
The Associated Press in New York
National Hockey League
World Wrestling Federation (can you believe that!?)
The Courier & Press in Evansville, Indiana
Wedding Photography (with his lovely & more talented wife Elizabeth)
Degree in Visual Communication, Ohio University
Website - http://elizabethvincentphotography.com/
Blog - http://elizabethvincentphotography.com/blog/
Open to all, Please RSVP
When: September 21
Topic: The “How” & “Why” on the art of seeing: with Vincent Pugliese
Time: 7pm - 9pm
Where: 502 W. North Ave. Pgh 15212
Bio: Vincent Pugliese
Super Bowl XXXV (Ravens-Giants)
Super Bowl XXXVII (Rams-Patriots)
Photojournalist for New York Newsday
The Associated Press in New York
National Hockey League
World Wrestling Federation (can you believe that!?)
The Courier & Press in Evansville, Indiana
Wedding Photography (with his lovely & more talented wife Elizabeth)
Degree in Visual Communication, Ohio University
Website - http://elizabethvincentphotography.com/
Blog - http://elizabethvincentphotography.com/blog/
Open to all, Please RSVP
9.14.2010
Nine Years Ago...
Today's date 9.11.10, city of Washington D.C., local time 6:47 am
I open the curtains to my hotel room that overlooks the city at dawn. Sitting in a chair drinking coffee I watch the city slowly come to life. A garbage truck picking up, a lady walking her dog, homeless person sleeping covered in newspapers in the park, window blinds starting to open in the Brownstone apartments letting the morning light in. Here I sit, I watch.
Nine years ago this city was under attack by a terrorist threat.
What am I doing here? Vacationing with my wife.
My day starts out with a long walk to a French patisserie; I did not know that words like "patisserie" even existed. LePain Quotidien patisserie, sounds French…isn’t that cool…in I-wish-I-could-pronounce-it sort of way. The menu reads organic ingredients, sustainable farming, and baked fresh everyday starting at 3am.
Next, this beautiful Ethiopian waitress with a poetic voice asks “Coffee for two?” “Yes, black please”. My wife orders a latté, I think the French invented the latte, not sure, sounds French.
Music by Vivaldi, four seasons plays over the house speakers, Vivaldi was Italian. I had my photograph taken outside the church he wrote the four seasons in. Beautiful selection music for this café.
Couples seated at their small table with their large coffee cups reading the paper together. Actually leaning into one anther reading the front page of the paper together. Who does that? This is something you only see in movies. Honey lets get up and do the crossword puzzle together. Here in D.C. people share the morning paper in cozy little nooks in quaint French cafés. It’s nice. I suck at the crossword.
Nine years ago this city was under attack by a terrorist threat.
Three days off due to the fact that nobody wants to get married on the anniversary of 9/11. "Anniversary" is an odd word to use for this occasion. No disrespect to those who do, but for me the word anniversary is saved for days of celebration. 9/11 is a day of remembrance.
Day of remembrance is what has brought me to write this.
I did not remember.
I am not in D.C. to pay respect or feel the loss that so many did on that day nine years ago. I am on vacation.
My wife and I randomly picked this city as a short getaway with the little time off we had. Four hour drive, a city neither one of us have been to since our elementary years. What harm? Take a nice drive down route 68 south, have a couple of good meals enjoy the shopping, have a couple of good drinks (J Paul's in Georgetown, good) take a long walk around the capital. Tried to get a tomato out of Michelle Obama's garden (this is not a good idea, do not even joke about this) Tax dollars do fund the garden, that's all I am saying. If you want to get a fresh presidential tomato, handcuffs should not be needed.
After LePain Quotidien, after the tomato fiasco we walked. The city is quiet, clean and green, very green. Trees line every sidewalk; it’s a beautiful sight. The trees provide shade which helps keep the noise down from the roadways. D.C. blended urban development with current eco-thinking, let Mother Nature provide as only she can. Even the hotel we were staying in gave me a seventy dollar discount because we drive a Prius. That felt good. Somewhere I think that somehow Al Gore and I are now closer to each other…
Nine years ago this city was under attack by a terrorist threat.
Nine years ago this city was spared of death, not of loss. The Twin Towers went down in New York City, Pentagon was attacked and a the fourth plane crashed into a field near Shanksville in Pennsylvania after its passengers attempted to retake control of the plane, which the hijackers had redirected toward Washington, D.C.
There were no survivors from any of the flights.
I open the curtains to my hotel room that overlooks the city at dawn. Sitting in a chair drinking coffee I watch the city slowly come to life. A garbage truck picking up, a lady walking her dog, homeless person sleeping covered in newspapers in the park, window blinds starting to open in the Brownstone apartments letting the morning light in. Here I sit, I watch.
Nine years ago this city was under attack by a terrorist threat.
What am I doing here? Vacationing with my wife.
My day starts out with a long walk to a French patisserie; I did not know that words like "patisserie" even existed. LePain Quotidien patisserie, sounds French…isn’t that cool…in I-wish-I-could-pronounce-it sort of way. The menu reads organic ingredients, sustainable farming, and baked fresh everyday starting at 3am.
Next, this beautiful Ethiopian waitress with a poetic voice asks “Coffee for two?” “Yes, black please”. My wife orders a latté, I think the French invented the latte, not sure, sounds French.
Music by Vivaldi, four seasons plays over the house speakers, Vivaldi was Italian. I had my photograph taken outside the church he wrote the four seasons in. Beautiful selection music for this café.
Couples seated at their small table with their large coffee cups reading the paper together. Actually leaning into one anther reading the front page of the paper together. Who does that? This is something you only see in movies. Honey lets get up and do the crossword puzzle together. Here in D.C. people share the morning paper in cozy little nooks in quaint French cafés. It’s nice. I suck at the crossword.
Nine years ago this city was under attack by a terrorist threat.
Three days off due to the fact that nobody wants to get married on the anniversary of 9/11. "Anniversary" is an odd word to use for this occasion. No disrespect to those who do, but for me the word anniversary is saved for days of celebration. 9/11 is a day of remembrance.
Day of remembrance is what has brought me to write this.
I did not remember.
I am not in D.C. to pay respect or feel the loss that so many did on that day nine years ago. I am on vacation.
My wife and I randomly picked this city as a short getaway with the little time off we had. Four hour drive, a city neither one of us have been to since our elementary years. What harm? Take a nice drive down route 68 south, have a couple of good meals enjoy the shopping, have a couple of good drinks (J Paul's in Georgetown, good) take a long walk around the capital. Tried to get a tomato out of Michelle Obama's garden (this is not a good idea, do not even joke about this) Tax dollars do fund the garden, that's all I am saying. If you want to get a fresh presidential tomato, handcuffs should not be needed.
After LePain Quotidien, after the tomato fiasco we walked. The city is quiet, clean and green, very green. Trees line every sidewalk; it’s a beautiful sight. The trees provide shade which helps keep the noise down from the roadways. D.C. blended urban development with current eco-thinking, let Mother Nature provide as only she can. Even the hotel we were staying in gave me a seventy dollar discount because we drive a Prius. That felt good. Somewhere I think that somehow Al Gore and I are now closer to each other…
Nine years ago this city was under attack by a terrorist threat.
Nine years ago this city was spared of death, not of loss. The Twin Towers went down in New York City, Pentagon was attacked and a the fourth plane crashed into a field near Shanksville in Pennsylvania after its passengers attempted to retake control of the plane, which the hijackers had redirected toward Washington, D.C.
There were no survivors from any of the flights.
9.13.2010
Alone in a Crowded Room
People seem to be more lonely than not, have you noticed that?
How lonesome we can feel seated in a crowded room? Take away our phones and we become lost and lonely.
How could so much connectedness leave us disconnected from each other? Life exists precisely one foot in front of our faces. The exact distance that we hold our phone from our face.
Things I noticed seated in a crowd room:
- Silence
- Bad posture (Chiropractors must love this)
- Void of noticing people walking into the room.
- Nothing was growing in this room. No conversation, no writing, no thoughts, only viewing.
In this crowed room I was disconnected do to my own connectivity...
Things I noticed seated in the playground:
- A pregnant mother reading on her phone as her son plays in the distance.
- A father (not me) asking his daughter to go play as he types a text.
- A line of four other parents with their faces planted in the small screen. (seemed more like a seen out of a Tim Burton movie)
- For myself, I typed this on a note pad app on my phone while my daughter played on the jungle gym.
I am no longer feeling the need to be connected. I think by disconnecting I will communicate better to who is in front of me.
I would like to hear from you….
Do you consider yourself to be present in the moment?
How lonesome we can feel seated in a crowded room? Take away our phones and we become lost and lonely.
How could so much connectedness leave us disconnected from each other? Life exists precisely one foot in front of our faces. The exact distance that we hold our phone from our face.
Things I noticed seated in a crowd room:
- Silence
- Bad posture (Chiropractors must love this)
- Void of noticing people walking into the room.
- Nothing was growing in this room. No conversation, no writing, no thoughts, only viewing.
In this crowed room I was disconnected do to my own connectivity...
Things I noticed seated in the playground:
- A pregnant mother reading on her phone as her son plays in the distance.
- A father (not me) asking his daughter to go play as he types a text.
- A line of four other parents with their faces planted in the small screen. (seemed more like a seen out of a Tim Burton movie)
- For myself, I typed this on a note pad app on my phone while my daughter played on the jungle gym.
I am no longer feeling the need to be connected. I think by disconnecting I will communicate better to who is in front of me.
I would like to hear from you….
Do you consider yourself to be present in the moment?
Photo of the Week
All photography & artwork on this site is licensed under a creative commons licensing: Please feel free to use and distribute the photography & artwork in accordance with the licensing
9.12.2010
Moment – Expanded Edition
Current Reading:
Art & Fear by Bayles and Orlando ~ Good book, its about facing the resistant of our inner voice when creating. This is the third book that I have read about “resistant” makes me want to write about the “release” vs. “resistant” when creating.
Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert ~ Loved it. There I said it. I am a heterosexual male who loved reading this book. Now, somebody turn up the Lady Gaga music.
Tribal Leadership by a whole bunch of people, follow the hyperlink if you are interested. Good book if you are into community building and bring the best out of others.
Oscar Wilde a Life in Letters by Merlin Holland ~ Just started reading this book, very good so far.
Current Music:
Elizabeth rock’en the ipod mixs
Mood: NFL game day…..its a mood.
Smells: Tomatoes
Sounds: My four year old dancing and bouncing throughout out house.
Temperature: 63 degrees
Thoughts: Is it wrong to tie a four year old to a chair as I watch football? If so somebody please get me a good lawyer.
9.09.2010
Create | Connect | Grow w/ Vincent Pugliese
When: September 21
Topic: The “How” & “Why” on the art of seeing: with Vincent Pugliese
Time: 7pm - 9pm
Where: 502 W. North Ave. Pgh 15212
Bio: Vincent Pugliese
Super Bowl XXXV (Ravens-Giants)
Super Bowl XXXVII (Rams-Patriots)
Photojournalist for New York Newsday
The Associated Press in New York
National Hockey League
World Wrestling Federation (can you believe that!?)
The Courier & Press in Evansville, Indiana
Wedding Photography (with his lovely & more talented wife Elizabeth)
Degree in Visual Communication, Ohio University
Website - http://elizabethvincentphotography.com/
Blog - http://elizabethvincentphotography.com/blog/
Open to all, Please RSVP
Topic: The “How” & “Why” on the art of seeing: with Vincent Pugliese
Time: 7pm - 9pm
Where: 502 W. North Ave. Pgh 15212
Bio: Vincent Pugliese
Super Bowl XXXV (Ravens-Giants)
Super Bowl XXXVII (Rams-Patriots)
Photojournalist for New York Newsday
The Associated Press in New York
National Hockey League
World Wrestling Federation (can you believe that!?)
The Courier & Press in Evansville, Indiana
Wedding Photography (with his lovely & more talented wife Elizabeth)
Degree in Visual Communication, Ohio University
Website - http://elizabethvincentphotography.com/
Blog - http://elizabethvincentphotography.com/blog/
Open to all, Please RSVP
9.08.2010
Pittsburgh Wedding Photography
I think she is trying to communicate something...... this was a funniest moment ever!
9.07.2010
9.03.2010
9.01.2010
Modus Operandi
Jonathan Fields, blogger, author, and serial entrepreneur, recently wrote a blog post titled “What’s Your Creative Modus Operandi?” For us non-Latin speaking, Modus Operandi translated in English is Method of Operating.
I get this question a good deal during conversation, “How do I set up my space/self to create?” Jonathan listed 18 things to think about when creating or preparing your space/self. Here are my thoughts on the “how of why” of what I do.
Clothes – When writing at home I wear old t-shirts no socks, pants optional.
Sound – Instrumental music when writing. Loud rock music when editing photos.
Light – Natural, natural, natural light as much as possible. At nighttime I prefer the glow of the screen with no additional ambient light
Location - Home office for typing , for journal writing I like the library and a few select coffee houses in the area, especially if I am in a creative-non-fiction mood of writing. Then I definitely go out of house.
Directionality – At home facing a clean white wall, out of house I try to find a corner seat that faces a window to the street but also which gives me a good view of what is happening inside.
Time of Day – Dawn & dusk for both writing and photography.
Routine/Spontaneity – Both. I keep a journal with me at all times, almost.
Long periods or short bursts – Short busts of capturing an idea and long periods of over-thinking, editing and usually going back to the short burst and publishing that as is, with typos corrected by my wife.
Carry something to capture ideas on the fly? - Yep, journal and voice recorder app on my phone.
Squeaky Clean or Squalor – Clean is good, clean work space is great!
Clean or dirty - Clean
Solo or surrounded - Solo for both writing and photography (personal work)
Digital or analogue – Both
What fuels you? – Miso soup this week
Leaded or unleaded? – Half caf, half decaf. Thinking about becoming a tea drinker.
Breaks – Sure, yep, why not… I play guitar or go for a walk. Something to rest the mind and the eyes. Fresh air helps a lot also.
Mindset practices that fuel creation – Showering, driving, eves-dropping, yep, I am a stealer of ideas but only the good ones, hopefully.
Movement practices that fuel creation – Yoga and walks in the woods...I know that sounds contrite but its true.
What's your "Modus Operandi?" I would love to know....
Thanks for reading...
8.31.2010
Connected, Disconnected and Suffering
What is more of an odd feeling, being connected or disconnected?
Tuesday morning I am drinking coffee and sharing a piece of toast with my daughter. The news headline is that President Obama will being holding his address to the nation tonight and the topic will be on the end of the war in Iraq.
Accept for news headlines I have been disconnected from this war. Sure, I have shared my opinions during conversation (my opinion is war sucks, George Bush was wrong and Saddam Hussein was evil, good riddance). But I was never connected to the war. I have not met one soldier who served. I have not met one family affected by the loss of a loved one. I have not met one community suffering from the loss of the young men and women who have left home to serve. (God bless you, all of you for your services)
The last decade in America was war. How could I have not been affected at all? How could I feel no pain or see no suffering? How could I not even have been a spectator?
I am sorry for my actions. For my disconnect. I am sorry for the prayers that I have not offered up.
Later in the day I walked to the bank and then to the post office and then to the drug store. I buy shampoo. I stand in the cashier's line waiting to pay behind an old man buying his daily newspaper. His mobile phone rings…”yes, they are shipping home the body today from Afghanistan.” He pays for his paper I pay for my shampoo.
When I walk out of the drug store I see the man leaning against his car crying, trying to recompose himself.
I feel connected.
8.30.2010
Published: Whirl Wedding Guide
The Whirl Wedding Guide hits the stands on Thursday this week, they decided to pick up a few of our photos from our weddings! We even got 2 full pages. To see all the photos you click over to Elizabeth's blog (HERE)
8.27.2010
Photo of the Week
All photography & artwork on this site is licensed under a creative commons licensing: Please feel free to use and distribute the photography & artwork in accordance with the licensing
8.25.2010
Got Sleep
Went to bed Monday night at 9pm and woke up Tuesday at 1pm, still tired.
Went down to the kitchen, drank a bowl of cold miso soup that my wife left for me earlier in the day. Sat down at the computer at 2pm started editing the wedding from the weekend before. It was an Indian wedding, beautiful colors and lots and lots and lots of photos, 8pm done with the bulk editing. Thinking about food seems like too much work to cook, but decide on rice and vegetables.
Sitting on the sofa for the first time in two days, turn on the TV nothing on, no surprise there. Try to watch some news but too boring. Why do people care if Obama is a Muslim anyway? A country that is built on freedom of religion, just as long your religion is something a white guy believes in. (no comments please, I will just delete them).
Decide on watching TEDTalks videos on design thinking; I like this train of thought. I have been implementing design thinking into our photography biz. Keeping people and technology on the same page is a good marketing tip.
11:30pm need to go back to bed, tired but not tired enough to sleep. It’s time for repeats, turn on Hulu (is it turn on when watching on the net?). LOST the final season episode 17 Titled “The End”, not a bad starting point for my drifting off to sleep TV watching (or is it screen watching?)
With new technology new names for things seem to be the last thing to be decided on.
Went down to the kitchen, drank a bowl of cold miso soup that my wife left for me earlier in the day. Sat down at the computer at 2pm started editing the wedding from the weekend before. It was an Indian wedding, beautiful colors and lots and lots and lots of photos, 8pm done with the bulk editing. Thinking about food seems like too much work to cook, but decide on rice and vegetables.
Sitting on the sofa for the first time in two days, turn on the TV nothing on, no surprise there. Try to watch some news but too boring. Why do people care if Obama is a Muslim anyway? A country that is built on freedom of religion, just as long your religion is something a white guy believes in. (no comments please, I will just delete them).
Decide on watching TEDTalks videos on design thinking; I like this train of thought. I have been implementing design thinking into our photography biz. Keeping people and technology on the same page is a good marketing tip.
11:30pm need to go back to bed, tired but not tired enough to sleep. It’s time for repeats, turn on Hulu (is it turn on when watching on the net?). LOST the final season episode 17 Titled “The End”, not a bad starting point for my drifting off to sleep TV watching (or is it screen watching?)
With new technology new names for things seem to be the last thing to be decided on.
8.23.2010
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