Aspen enigmatic

A visit to Aspen, my first, was characterized by a riot of color and not only in the famous and fabulous landscape. The weekly market offered its own kaleidoscope, set against a canvas of hard blue sky and the tarmac of a few closed inner-city streets. From tricked-out fixed-gear bikes to airburst popcorn and organic tomatoes, it was a nifty agglomeration of the practical and fun. My favorite, however, was the saleslady from the Epicurean Honey Co., who was impeccably turned out, as if she'd just returned from the Kentucky Derby or Melbourne Cup. The demure tilt of her hatted head wasn't shyness, she was - naturally - focusing on sending a text.

normandy's little suns

There are many reasons to love France in July. The weather, albeit unpredictable, still doesn't have the harsh heat of August, and in Paris you can feel the anticipation in the population of their August escape from the city. We had planned our first road trip with Jack for the week after our arrival in Paris; a little three-day sojourn in Normandy staying in a chateau that's been family-owned for generations. While the chateau itself was gorgeous and suitably historic (Henry IV slept in our room at one time apparently), and the food and wine suitably sumptuous, we were really there to drive around with the little bloke in our rented Peugeot to see a few of the towns and villages of Normandy. Scooting along a back road between two hamlets, we came across a field of sunflowers that looked all the more startling in the gloom of a rainy afternoon. So we pulled over and took turns scurrying around the field's edge to get a decent vantage while the other minded a sleeping Jack. I've always loved the photos of the Tour de France peloton flashing through fields of sunflowers, and indeed we had missed the Tour's visit to the Le Mans area by just a couple of days, so this was a nice consolation prize. I thought the dark and foreboding tree line in the background accentuated the vibrancy of the flowers, throwing them into even greater relief. I've already printed the shot, and it will be hanging in Casa Milverton inside a week.

goodbye sleep, hello inspiration

This blog will likely lurch in an entirely new direction given the arrival Jack Felix Milverton on Mother's Day just passed, as the paternal instincts are now in overdrive and the photos are flying thick and fast. But before I get stereotypical in my slavish devotion to the little progeny, I wanted to take a breath and look over some of the photos I've taken for clients in the past couple of years, just to remind me what I saw before fatherhood arrived in all its noisy, messy grandeur. Reviewing the galleries, this is one of my favorites simply because the conversion to monochrome worked so wonderfully. The playfulness of the pose reminds me of how much fun I had during the shoot, and I love the little bloke's hands on his father's shaved head. Hopefully I'll be able to produce some similarly neat photos of our own fella.

ZONA MACO 2011: return of the art show

The past few days saw the return of the Zona Mexico Arte Contemporaneo exhibition, one of my favorite events of the year. Galleries from Europe, the US, and Latin America show artists' works that, as you would expect, range from the glorious to the truly puzzling. This year there seemed to be so many interesting reactions from the people - mostly young - viewing the works that I found more to photograph among the audience than what was on the walls. Although that was pretty special too. To see the full spread of pics, click here to be taken to the Flickr gallery.

street kamikaze

I've always been a cycling fan, and one of my great laments in moving to Mexico City from Washington DC was that I was forsaking a great riding locale for one that barely grasped the concept. Mexico City has made some strides toward rectifying this, with new bike lanes springing up and bike rental shacks now spread around the city, but naturally it will take some time for the millions of ordinary commuters to adjust to sharing the roads with the likes of us soft-shelled cyclists. So, up until the past week, I'd resigned myself to taking the road bike down to a former auto racetrack in the south, where the only real daredevil moments come from dodging the influx of roller bladers and pram pushers once the day warmed up.

But a recent visit to the new Common People store in a gorgeously-restored mansion in Polanco has led to a new era of bone-headed risk-taking on the mean streets of the capital. There in the lobby was a conglomeration of black metal tubes, two tiny tires, and a saddle collectively known as a Strida 5.0. It's a British import that has won fans and detractors the world over for its looks and its ride. Being a bit of a design junky, it was love at first sight and within a couple of days a model was residing in our home. Its unusually high riding position - reminiscent of a Penny Farthing - makes for an entirely different center of gravity and so it's far more maneuverable and heck of a lot more comfortable than a standard pushie.

A couple of hours of riding this matt black future museum piece have taught me a few things: it can't be ridden fast; it's no good for jumping gutters; it has the temperament of a rodeo bull; and it may be the most surprising, zen-inspiring bike I've ever ridden. You don't get tired or stiff from huddling over the bars as you might on a road bike. The perforated disc brakes are sure and responsive. It turns on a dime, so navigating the traffic - either wheeled or pedestrian - is a doddle. And the lack of speed means you simply can't rush, so you may as well soak up the sights. Add to this mix the fact that it folds in seconds into a compact package and you've got a bike you can slip into a cafe without attention, or stuff in a bag and take with you anywhere. Tomorrow, the camera will come along into Chapultepec Park, so let's see what this different vantage will lead to.

view from 88 orchard

A glorious faux Spring day in New York City today and Sylvie and I hauled our cold-riddled selves out of The Thompson Hotel for a late lunch at 88 Orchard, a routinely spectacular cafe in the lowest east side. Out past the jars of vegan choco chip peanut butter cookies and flyers for numerous causes was an apartment building that fascinated me. What caught my eye were the fire escapes, which had beautiful and ornate designs in their ironwork railings but it's doubtful I could have done them justice with an eye clouded by lack of sleep and the haze of a seemingly intractable cold. But what also caught me was that the day itself - a balmy 66 degrees F - had brought out the vibrancy of the city again like a Spring rain on a flower bed. The locals all looked Vogue (pick any month, any year and it will apply. The styles are simply that diverse), the streets suddenly more spacious, and the colors practically bursting forth after a brutal winter. Tomorrow, the winter will return with a vengeance (temp back to mid-20s with a high near 40) but for now, I loved the little glimpse of Spring, when people look up without furrowed brows and a curse on their lips.

when the sun shone

The horrific flooding in my home state of Queensland was an appalling tragedy to endure from a distance, and the many tales of courage by what the press likes to call ordinary Australians were uplifting but still couldn't obscure the sorrow many families will confront so early in the new year. At the same time, in Brazil, the death toll from flooding passed 340, and yet the coverage didn't seem anywhere near as complete as that from Australia, sadly. But if there is one thing both nations have in common it's the color, spirit and confidence of their people and there will be better times again for both, we know. Watching the remarkable photos on Facebook from friends in Brisbane, chronicling the astounding rise of the Brisbane River (thanks Marius Jansen), it made me terribly homesick for southeast Queensland, where I spent my years at school and university. And so, I flipped back through my pictures of a trip there during 2010 and found a clutch that sort of summed up the material things that I miss so much and that trigger homesickness in a second. (I don't need to elaborate on how much I miss my Mum and brother there, I'll get all misty and fill the blog with typos). All the pics were taken at a pub (or across from it) in Kingscliff and while this is indeed New South Wales, the lines blur at the border and it's all Gold Coast to me. Burger, beer, coffee, and boards. That's home.

rive gauche glam

Paris, St. Germaine des Pres. We've been holed up in our own neck of the woods in Paris for three weeks but finally ventured across the Seine to revisit the fabulous Rive Gauche. When lounging comfortably in your own arrondissement, you can forget about the flashy, tourist-filled parts of the city and it's fun to dive back and ogle at the window displays and stroll through the little alleys. This display caught my eye because of the style of design as well as the elegant simplicity of the arrangement, with the "bows" so diligently aligned.

riding the rails

One of the benefits being a repeat visitor to Miami is the chance to explore some off-the-path places that are probably unknown to your typical South Beach dweller. Take the Gold Coast Railroad Museum in the city's south. When I got there, a busload of eight year olds was dutifully absorbing the usual field trip instructions on how not to demolish a public resource while I slipped past to check out the many carriages and engines in repose around the sprawling site. It actually used to be a base for airships toward the end of WWII but it was demolished by a monster hurricane in September 1945. Just how big this storm was can be seen in the massive concrete columns that tower over the Museum gift shop. They used to be supports for a hanger whose size just boggles the imagination. When it came down, it crushed the airships and planes inside, and the demolition was so complete that the Navy (thanks for the correction anonymous, but why so serious?) simply shuttered the entire base.

But today, it's home to a range of locomotives, diesel engines, and passenger and freight cars of the golden eras of rail, including the precursor to Air Force One, the presidential rail car. My personal favorite however was the California Zephyr, which was a shiny steel tube of art deco brilliance with an observation deck on top that afforded the well-heeled traveler glorious views of the mountains and valleys on its run between Chicago and San Francisco fifty years ago. Wandering through the stately cabins and lounges, you can positively feel the Mad Men aura and martini glamor. But for this selection of photos, I went with the sort of polar opposite. Many of the trains and railway cars in the Museum sit outside awaiting restoration, which naturally depends on whatever funds the place can scrape up. So, the ravages of Miami's climate are taking quite a toll on them and for me, I love that the fading colors of their original lives are being replaced by new color schemes of rust, flaking paint, and exposed metal and wood. It was unexpected inspiration.

the green desert

This is the view from the back of one of the seaside bluffs in San Carlos, on the coast of the Sea of Cortez. It's a favorite retreat for us when we desperately need the ultimate change of scene. This time it wasn't the cacti perched on the side of red rock coves or the many blues of the water that struck us but the verdant greens induced from the desert by summer rains. It was amazing just flying into Hermasillo 90 mins away and seeing the lush ground cover from the air. But up close, it was even better. Give your lens a polarizer and those greens and sky blues fairly burst out. 24-105mm at 32mm and f/7.1 for 1/100sec.

malestrom

Nicely evil-looking clouds moving into the city, this time from the east. Ten minutes later, you couldn't see this scene for the wind-driven rain and hail.

slick

Storm week continues (actually, lingers a little longer than a week) with this view of an oil slick on the road outside the apartment during a rainstorm. I was lucky that the light hit the street at such an angle to highlight the oil as it seeped from the road's centerline toward the drain. A little reminiscent perhaps of the famous spill not far from us in the Gulf. You can see the Volvo hatchback slicing through the slick, its tires cutting a line across the oil momentarily, like some kind of chemical mower. The colors are great and it's so rare to get a chance to catch a spectrum like this. A little like the opposite of a rainbow, which to me implies cleanliness, finality after a storm, and a gentle reminder of nature's benevolence. Definitely not the case with this asphalt rainbow.

six flag tormenta

Another storm pounding the south of the city this week. It's been a cracking week for storms, although I'm sure Sylvie isn't as thrilled, having to experience them from the interior of our car as she wends her way back from campuses around the city. The flash floods that result from the severity of the storms (and the lack of foresight by city planners when it comes to drainage) can pose real threats to commuters across the city and play havoc with an already hopeless traffic environment. This storm was rolling along the foothills in the south and nicely framed the fun park just on the other side of the park from us. I'd love to roller coaster through one of these storms one day, although doubtless the threat posed by lightning strikes would rank you highly for candidacy on the Darwin list for most stupid exits from this mortal coil. f/22 and 0.6 second on a tripod, ISO 100.

la semana de las tormentas

Time to resort to the breathless "Discovery Channel"-like approach to blog posting. You know, something like: "It's Storm Week at the damofoto blog, time to relish all the chaos that comes with the DF wet season, when vast cloud banks scud in and sudden squalls pummel the capital each afternoon. Torrential downpours. Hail. Flash floods. Skeins of blue and green lightning. All in a single afternoon's "tormenta." Stay tuned for new posts showcasing mother nature's ruthless"...ahhh, you get the idea. This afternoon's sample was taken toward the south, using f/22, a lengthy shutter speed, and a tripod.

another age

Whenever I get bogged down by the perils of this metropolis - the bustle and battles - I pop back into Lightroom and sift through the travel shots for a little quiet inspiration. More often than not last year's trip to Burgundy furnishes the mental respite I'm hunting for. To look across young vines like these, streaked by lavender and crowned by storm clouds, you're really looking across the centuries. It's an age away from the clogged streets, racetrack sidewalks, and sonic assaults of the city. When gazing at an image like this, I don't even begrudge the French farmers their budget-sapping subsidies, it's all worthwhile even before you get your hands on the fruits of their labor.

the $20 million taste

Okay, so maybe the wine wasn't worth that much, but the new cellaring and admin facility for the wonderful Williams Selyem winery is. And being treated to a barrel tasting of their pinot noir, I felt a little like a millionaire myself. The assistant wine maker, Phil McGahan, is an Australian hailing from a small town in my own state of Queensland. He gained a degree in wine making in Australia and earned his spurs in the Hunter Valley outside Sydney before coming to Sonoma to join Williams Selyem. He works with wine maker Bob Cabral who has shot to prominence for his fabulous reds. Phil is both your typically laconic Aussie bloke with an added frisson of relentless energy and I wanted to capture this dichotomy, relying on a little shutter drag while he was pouring some pinot from the barrels in the new WS facility. It was a privileged peek behind the scenes at a label that has produced wines for White House dinners in addition to its own select wine club members.

vesper

This is one hardy feline. Not only does this plump ginger puss choose a classic Vespa seat for its evening nap, it also picks one of the busiest streets in the 9th Arrondissement in Paris as its less-than-private boudoir. According to our host this wonderfully balmy Parisian evening, this is a regular sight. Somehow the cat manages to tune out the boisterousness of the adjacent sidewalk cafes and restaurants and happily naps on this particular scooter, bringing many pedestrians to an abrupt and amazed halt. It might be that this individual takes advantage of a warm seat after the owner's evening commute, or it might purely be a sense of style. This is a Parisian cat, after all.

recycling

It's been a while since the last blog thanks to a tremendous amount of travel and so there is a wealth of new material for the blog. One of my favorites from the Paris visit was this wonderful chandelier. It's an old brass base that originally must have hosted some other shade fitting, but some bright spark has had the idea of plugging the frame with plastic cutlery. In this case, spoons, but there was another with plastic forks. I found the curvaceous contrast in this irresistible, especially in back and white. The store was in the 9th arrondissement and I think this image nicely sums up the mix of old and new that's prevalent throughout the neighborhood.

rake

Dashing style while raking it in. Chetewy, aka "Chester", in action. Rarely seen at the table these past weeks sadly, the action is far quieter without his cries of "Come on petit pou!" and singing of "que bonito nimilito". His slashing style of play is as entertaining as the audio accompaniment.

MACOver

Art in Mexico seems an under-rated feature, lagging behind foreign appreciation for food, history, and kitsch (see Lucha Libre) - in no particular order. But the Zona MACO exhibit has become quite possible my favorite thing above all else here (despite the growing evidence that my preference is actually the food) gathering as it does an astonishing array of wonderful local artists and others from abroad in one champagne-studded place.

MACO is shorthand for the Mexico Contemporary Art exhibition, and it attracts artists, galleries, buyers, and fanciers from all over the world. Works from Dutch artists appear alongside others from Argentina, New York and, naturally, Mexico itself. It's a vibrant array of the bold, bizarre, and boisterous, and the people strolling the floor of the Centro Banamex during the exhibition are as varied and interesting as the art. I've put up a full gallery of shots on my web site at http://www.damofoto.com but here's a little sample to liven up the blog.