Monday, July 27, 2009

Treading the boards

With the threat of swine 'flu rearing its ugly head once more as officials eye the official season for influenza in a short while, the deja vu made me wistful for the peaceful sanctuary of Punta de Mita, a little less than an hour from Puerta Vallarta. Sylvie and I slipped away from the chaos of a shuttered city during the height of the hype in the first week of May and were reveled in the calm and beauty of the little town.
They have some good surfing beaches there and so we headed out with a couple of local board riders for some lessons. It was a reintroduction for me, a totally new adventure for Sylvie. In a short time, she was riding the nose while I sat on my long board and watched, thrilled for Sylvie but lamenting that a worn rotator cuff and screwy elbow kept me from riding.
When we returned by boat from our surfing expedition I noticed the rental boards stacked and just loved the colors and verticals so had to grab the shot. It's a favorite, not least because of the feeling of escape it imparts whenever I see it on my wall.
Canon 40D, 40mm on a 24-105mm at 1/13 sec, f/4 and ISO400.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

In the continuing quest to define a clear answer to the question "what kind of photographer are you" I seem to get the greatest pleasure when people ask another question: "What IS it?"
This whole challenge of categorizing yourself is a little nuts really, and I can see why musicians are wary of being pigeon-holed. I'm satisfied just being a photographer - not a landscape pro, not a portrait specialist, just a shooter.
That said, I love taking photos of elements of a scene or object that capture the whole. One of my favorite images in this regard is one of the ceiling lights in one of our elevators here. A grid of clear plastic cylinders poke down and diffuse the hidden florescent lights and to me suggest the rods inside a nuclear reactor. Similarly, I love this shot of a light fixture taken earlier this year in a Paris jewelry store where Sylvie bought a gorgeous necklace. The little globes around the light create tiny and unique worlds of their own. I love looking closely at each one to see how it differs from its neighbors. It's not fine art photography by any stretch, but I love it nonetheless. I guess, if pressed, I can just say I'm a photographer that sweats the small stuff.
Canon 40D with a 24-105 f/4 at 92mm, f/8 at 1/320 sec and 400 ISO.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

Desert Anchorage


Driving through the back-country trails in San Carlos can make you feel like the last person on the planet. The Sonoran desert marches to the waters of the Sea of Cortez and beyond. The little islands just offshore sport the same scrubby look and classic cartoon cacti of the mainland.
The expansive blue sky, blistering sun, and utter silence can make the stretch of land between the mountains and the sea seem utterly hostile. The flock of vultures I passed while driving with Jose Lopez of the local university helped to embellish the theme of desolation.
San Carlos is a fishing village that also evolved (or devolved, depending on your opinion) into a tourism and retirement destination for well-heeled northerners looking for a dry, warm climate, benign beaches, and tremendous fishing and diving. The fishermen and their families now live on the northern edge of town, up a dusty/muddy track that dejectedly trails off from the paved road that used to take tourists to the Club Med. You can stop by the village and buy a fresh seafood lunch from one of the little shanty restaurants alongside the fishing skiffs drawn up on the sand.
Heading a kilometer inland toward the hills that drop down near the village, we encountered this skiff high and dry in the desert but still lashed to a bush, almost as if the owner harbored suspicions that the sea hadn't receded for good.
I washed out the picture a good deal to impart the feeling that day of the mirage-inducing heat, the broad sky, and the incongruity of the battered skiff still tied down despite its desert berth.

Friday, July 3, 2009

Bizarre and Bazaar

Back in Mexico after our little Miami sojourn and sifting through pictures for framing and display here in the house. One of my favorites from a recent outing was this shot of a police truck and its occupant reflected in a mirror on sale at Bazaar Sabado at San Angel.
There are a few qualities about the shot that I think aptly reflect this city. There's the mirror itself, which speaks to the flourishing arts and crafts scene here, one of the most compelling aspects of life in Mexico. There's the cobblestone street, which is a reminder of the history to be found across the city. San Angel has some truly beautiful homes - most hidden behind towering walls that speak to another Mexico City characteristic that I won't dwell on - and the streets around the market remind of Italian mountain villages with their chunkiness and haphazard patterns.
There's the presence of the police truck and officer, and the solitary red traffic cone - witches hats as they're known in Australia - that to me is the most poignant. Why is there? What purpose is it serving? Why just one? Such are the vagaries, and mysteries, of Mexico law enforcement.