Abstractions and Contemplation
A way of seeing that is, perhaps, more emotion than vision. Contemplative photography, or Miksang - which is a Tibetan word meaning "Good Eye." This expanding body of work is a study in mood, texture, the deceptively benign, and experiments with Bokeh (the out of focus points of light), as photographic compositions.
Black, in the Absence of Light
42 x 28
Color Photograph
Pigment Ink on Archival Rag Paper
Chicago, Westside. A Black teenager rides a bicycle while chatting on his cellphone. He casts a perfect silhouette against a brightly graffitied, abandoned building. There are no identifiable features, nothing distinct… a cardboard cutout in the shape of a human being.
Rolling by on two wheels - this metaphor for what it often means to be Black in these United States.
Green Yellow Red
A Triptych in Two Editions:
3 Panels | 16 X 24 Each (Sold)
3 Panels | 24 X 36 Each
Color Pigment Prints on Archival Rag Paper
The Words Never Mattered
*Shown as a Diptych
36 x 24
Color Pigment Print on Archival Rag Paper
(Click Image to Enlarge)
I Am The Broken One
*Shown as a Diptych
36 x 24
Color Pigment Print on Archival Rag Paper
(Click Image to Enlarge)
She / Her
42 x 28
Color Photograph
Pigment Ink on Archival Rag Paper
I initially titled this piece “Untitled, No.24…” but the photograph itself, never fully accepted the name. Sometime later, it declared “She / Her” as its pronouns. Yeah, my photographs talk to me.
The Cyclist
42 x 28
Color Photograph
Pigment Ink on Archival Rag Paper
Thelonious
28 x 42
Color Photograph
Pigment Ink on Archival Rag Paper
The Fire Next Time*
28 x 42
Color Photograph
Pigment Ink on Archival Rag Paper
*from the title of a work by James Baldwin
Twenty Leaving Allentown
36 x 24
Black and White Photograph with Text Overlay
Piezography Ink on Archival Rag Paper
Allentown, PA | 07.November.2015
Billy Joel knew of what he sang.
We spent time in this city over the weekend, an audition for my daughter at Muhlenberg. The university sits within a beautiful campus and is a world unto itself. Literally. Beyond that, there was little else we found about this place that wasn’t simply depressing… and we tried.
While our daughter was occupied with the machinations of potential university life, my wife and I found an Italian restaurant situated within a sad little strip mall… all of the strip malls were sad. Our meal, like the restaurant, was bereft of flavor. I sat back and looked around. No one seemed to be particularly moved by their meal, chewing and swallowing and driven only by the need for sustenance. We left our half eaten plates and drove nearly 5 miles to a McDonalds.
Back at the hotel, evening and time to eat again. I actually dreaded the idea. One of the employees suggested a place called “The Chicken Lounge.”
My heart sank.
The Chicken Lounge.
He assured us that it was the best option available at this hour, and so, away we went. This joint was situated in (another) rundown strip mall, behind two faded orange metal doors. Surprisingly, the vibe at the Chicken Lounge seemed wholly out of step with the general Allentown populace. Its patrons reminded me of hanging out in Chicago’s Boystown, though many were decidedly middle aged – like Robin Williams and Nathan Lane in that film, The Birdcage.
The food was better, and despite its name, we had burgers. Most importantly, the bar was decent and they were rather generous with the pour. Still, just beyond the food and the drink and the people, the weight of life in a run-down, economically devastated factory town could be found in every corner.
The residue of betrayal.
American Dream, denied.
“Well I'm living here in Allentown
And it's hard to keep a good man down
But I won't be getting up today…”
-Billy Joel
I captured these geese flying overhead.
Twenty by my count, they appeared to be leaving Allentown.
We soon followed, in a markedly more pedestrian fashion.