Supermodels

Pre-digital age, I was a magazine junkie.

In my 20s, living in Manhattan,

these were the faces that graced

Vogue, Elle, Mirabella, Harper's Bazzar.

Working in fashion, and then at a major pop culture enterprise,

clubbing on Thursday nights, and seeking groovy hot spots on the weekends;

these faces populated my world.

They are still radiant and forever iconic.

The Penultimate Week - The Hundred Day Project

As summer winds down so does The Hundred Day Project.

To counter burnout,

I woke before the sun on several mornings

and traipsed around my neighborhood waiting for it to crest over the hills.

Photography is all about light, and yet, more often than not,

 I shoot in the middle of the day.

Not ideal!

This week was all about morning light.

Echo Park Lake at Dawn

Musical Carpet Ride

Blame it on Pandora, but I've been on a musical carpet ride.

I've been hanging out in Manhattan in the late '80s.

English Beat, Terence Trent Darby, Indigo Girls, Everything But The Girl

This was my kitchen.

Fourth floor walk up, Upper East Side.

My sister was the previous tenant.

I longed for a kitchen where I could open the oven and refrigerator at the same time.

This was how my refrigerator was usually stocked.

I used an Absolute bottle to chill New York's finest.

One day, a delivery guy was out of breath after climbing the stairs to my door.

I offered him a glass of water.  

He bolted when he saw me pour what he perceived to be straight vodka.

Griffith Observatory at Dawn

Peggy Freydberg

Blizzard

It takes courage to see beauty
in a world spread deep and silent
with interminable whiteness;
and to keep on being awed
by such uncommon splendor
while trying to suppress
a fundamental fear
of being buried by it.

But know it as it is:
Beauty is everlasting.
And winter's burial is not.
Underneath cold winter bone,
the flesh of summer sleeps.

A year before Peggy Freydberg died

her poems were first published.

She was 106.

She wrote about aging through the prism

of her life on The Vineyard.

Her work is remarkable.

Spectacular Sunset

Week Twelve - The Hundred Day Project

How is it feasible that Labor Day is two weeks away

shuttering the windows on another season?

 I wrestle with the unsettling notion of time passing too quickly.

Within me is a duality of propulsion and inertia. 

I sit in a state of wait while the calendar pages rapidly turn.

Another week, another set of photos.

Mad Whip kicked off the week with her last pic from an epic weekend wedding in Scotland.

My images were all taken close to home.

Although I didn't feel very inspired 

I am satisfied with several of the images.

Perhaps therein lies the lesson:

After 80 some odd days,

the ritual, even when it feels monotonous,

can lead to surprising results.

GBH

Best known for Get Carter,

British crime novelist, Ted Lewis's final novel GBH, published in 1980,

is a stunning examination of character and storytelling.

Told in two skillfully intercut time frames,

the narrative demands one's full attention to detail, dialogue and things left unsaid.

This is the type of book that stays with you, long after the last page has been read.

The Clock

Christian Marclay's The Clock is a looped 24 hour montage that functions as a clock.

Its scenes are selected from films,

with real-time references to the time of day. 

My first viewing was 2 1/2 hours, my second was an 1 1/2.

Mesmerizing, evocative, inventive.
The success of this artistic masterpiece is that the examination of quotidian life,
becomes a commentary on life as a whole.
Dissecting it into seconds creates a picture greater than the sum of its parts.

The editing, pacing and sound design were magnificent. 

Brilliance!!!!