Stories Woven Around Images
Go To Fine Art Photography
Millions of humans live in the shadow of society. They live in our midst, but remain invisible to most, by our choice, not theirs. If we do happen to see them, they are repugnant to us. They're people who we've made marginal in our ignoring and berating. These are people, yes, who march to a different drum than the societal norm. Sometimes society has provided no choice. Yet, they are people who are, but for a different set of circumstances. just like you and I. People, who like you and I are God’s children.
In this photo-piece, I seek to bring some of these folk out of the shadows into the daylight.
A door is just a door, just as a window is just a window. But is a door just a door, or a window just a window? Sure doors and windows have their own beauty. But it is still just a door, still just a window. However, have you considered rather than a door being a mere door or window being mere window, that they have a story to tell? Not the story of how they came to be, but rather the story of who they are.
Listen with me to the stories they tell.P
It is funny how plans change. The trip was planned as a jaunt to Bandera with a photo stop to Polly’s Settlement to the west of Pipe Creek. Except for maybe a photo or two we weren’t planning on spending any time in Pipe Creek. It turned out differently. A chance encounter detoured us.
[Join me in Pipe Creek]
""The City is a dynamic living narrative,an unfolding autobiography...." Unfolding the City is a series of images and words that literally unfold as the viewer scrolls down the page. Click here to view "The City."
I guess it all started when I was a child. I know I certainly instilled it in my children— The Search for junk, that is. Junk just sits in a field, in a flea market, in a junk shop, and sometimes junk tries to past itself off as antique. Wherever it sits, it sits forlornly. Whatever it tries to pass itself off as, it is still junk.
Unless — it is not!
[Join me in my search for junk as I look for things to photograph ]
“Did you just take my picture?” she demands, face in my face. “No,” I reply, “No one except Art’s.” “I saw you point the camera up the street at me,” she challenges. “A picture of Manny’s – just that – is all I took.” Satisfied, she walked back to join the others on the corner; a gathering place for those with time on their hand and a bottle to share.
All the while Art continues to sketch my likeness. He tells me as he sketches.... [Continue reading about my walk on the Eestside of Austin]
Casting about for what to post this week, I came across the journal of Arthur Francis describing a visit he and his wife, Lorena, made to the “Saratoga of the South’ – Lampasas, Texas – July 3 through July 6, 1892. It could be a true account, perhaps.
Journal Entry: July 3, 1892 | Aboard the eastbound train to Lampasas
According to my pocket watch it is a little past ten pm. The conductor just told us that we will be arriving shortly at the Lampasas Depot where we will debark. The train is scheduled to arrive at 10:30. Seems that we might be a bit early. I’m curious to visit this town that the Gulf, Colorado and Santa Fe grandly proclaims to be the “Saratoga of the South.” [Continue reading about The "Saratoga of the South"]
I am drawn to rust like a moth is drawn to fire. There’s something about rust that seduces me. Rust is fascinating. There’s an inherent beauty in rust. She paints her canvas with a palate of reds, purples, browns and blacks. My favorite, I think, are the shades of umber, ochre and sienna.
Rust has one aim--- to survive until she is no more. She only needs is a piece of ferrous metal, a bit moisture, and some air. The iron becomes her canvas; the moisture mixed with air, the paint; oxidation, her brush.
Some would say that Rust is a murderer. Not so, she is Mother Nature reminding us that from “dirt” we come and to dirt we shall return.
I can’t get away from photographing rust. Continue reading about my search for rust]
The drummer stepped off the westbound Austin & Northwestern train onto the wet wooden platform, a carpetbag in one hand, a leather-sheathed cardboard sample case in the other, wishing he had booked another night in Austin at the Depot Hotel. He was glad it was only sprinkling when he walked the few blocks from his hotel to Austin’s Union Station. With a sigh he set both down, pulled his coat tighter around him in a useless attempt to set off the bone-chilling dampness of the evening .... [Continue reading about the Drummer and the Antlers Hotel"]
Was there ever really a Heartbreak Hotel? Perhaps. Was there a man so lonely that he could die? Maybe.
Is this building the original Heartbreak Hotel?
The folks in Duncan, Oklahoma believe so. In fact, according to the Duncan Chamber of Commerce, it was the hotel* in the (now) Henderson Building that served as the inspiration for Elvis’ first hit, “Heartbreak Hotel.” Some go so far as to claim that the lyrics were written inside the hotel .... [Continue reading about why the Henderson may indeed be (or not be) the original "Heartbreak Hotel."]
The Big House on Marvin
Highland Square | Akron, Ohio
In Varicose Ribbons Photo-Stories
The “Big House on Marvin” is a treasure-trove of stories, most of which will never be known. Former owners and the current owner know their stories, but they’re not my stories. Those owners who have preceded us are no longer with us. They’ve taken their stories with them. I’ve heard snatches of a story that came after us. For certain it is not a true story, because my family is in it, and that’s not the way it happened at all. All that can be said with any certainly (and even then the memory may fail) is, what stories that are known, are the stories that I know. So we begin....
It was New Year's Eve. Instead of going out to party I made the choice to stay home and usher the new year in with a good mystery book. With a thimble of whiskey. But then I heard music!
I know absolutely nothing about this home, however I can't help but imagine that at one time a happy Wendish family lived here. I can imagine the family attending Holy Cross Lutheran Church, and after the service joining other families for a potluck lunch on the church grounds while the children socialized with.... [Read more about the children of this home.]
I have a love affair with anything that runs on tracks. I can't even remember when it started. Truthfully, I think it is in my genes. When I was about thirteen I entered the world of "boxcar tourism ...."
This is the story I tell with the introduction to my my Boxcar Tourist (railroad) photography page[Read about my introduction into Boxcar Tourism.]
Village of Make Believe Website
I invite you to visit the Village of Make Believe, a traditional under the Christmas tree train garden with roots in the late 1800s and read stories about the village and her folk, along with stories about the Whimsicle & Northern Railroad.
In Railroad Photo-Stories
A full listing of my photo-essays for The Trackside Photographer