26-9-12

 I take a lot of architectural photographs. Elevations. Transitional spaces, framed, narrated, with shifting spaces behind. A low volume to the left, a canopy that extends to nowhere, and a double heigh space with clearstory windows. 

Wide steps. You could simply stop and sit. 

Doors without handles. But they have kicks. They open outwards, the kicks are on the wrong side. 

Tension in transitions. Layers in depth and height. 

It's a church. It's an intriguing building. 

I'm pretty sure I've taken this exact photograph of this exact church before. I know for a fact I've taken a photograph of this church before. 

26-9-11

 

26-9-10

 "And the joke is rather sad

That it's all just a little bit of history repeating." 

Propellerheads, with the marvelous Shirley Bassey singing. 

I process in batches. Sometimes the photos are all the same. I live in the same place. I walk the same streets. The photos are, undoubtedly, going to repeat. Today. 

Tomorrow. 

Definitely over the weekend. 

So it goes.

26-9-9

 

26-9-8

After the party is done, all that's left is the cleaning up.

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26-9-5

 Homeward. 

26-9-4

 The Rivoli. Toronto ON.

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26-9-1

 

26-8-31

 

26-8-30

Flight to Ontario and then a long car ride. The kid reacted appropriately. 
 

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26-8-23

After many years of not stooping to the level of Crocs ownership for a number of reasons, I finally picked up a pair. There's a story. 

My friend Ian who was killed by cancer had asked me to grab his Blundstones from work for him when he was diagnosed. "I don't know how long I'll be able to tie my shoes for." I got his boots for him, but picked up a pair of Crocs at the same time. "I wouldn't be caught dead wearing these," I told him. "but you don't really have to worry about that." He laughed.

When you're dying of cancer, everyone is so morose around you. Nobody just dicks around. We joked around the few times I got to see him before he passed. Apparently the Crocs I bought him were with him in his hospital room when he died. His wife made sure I knew. She thought I would get a kick out of it. I did. 

So I bought a pair. And then my girlfriend decorated them with little ducks when I wasn't looking. 

They are terrible shoes. I'm glad I have a pair. 
 

26-8-22

 I owed you one from a few days ago. Here it is.

26-8-21

 My good friend Ian died at the turn of the year. Every single day when I ride my bike to work I think to myself, "Ian, you are missed. This would have been a good day to be alive." That's what I thought when I saw these sunflowers this morning. Ian, I miss you. 

26-8-20

 

26-8-19

 

26-8-18

 I can't remember the last time I missed a day. I missed today. I have a picture. I'm not happy with it. It wasn't purposefully taken. So it goes.

26-8-17

 Those socks.

26-8-16

 Filing cabinet smoker. Brisket. Like magic.

26-8-15

"We see Eggelston taking photographs around Memphis. He wanders, camera in hand and at the ready, moving slowly whilst looking at the detail of the landscape, he homes in on a potential subject, adjusts his position one, two or three times and then shoots one frame and walks away."
 

From an article describing what it's like to live in the same small town that Eggleston grew up. 

Yesterday and today I took exactly one photograph. I'm tempted to do the same with film. It would mean 30+ days without an update here. In a perfect world, 36 days. What could go wrong?

26-8-14

 

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26-8-12

 A photo that makes you squint because of the brightness. I squint anyway. I don't know that I've managed this with a photograph before, though I've tried. 

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