I've been a little busy lately. Images are pilling up—I never stop shooting—and I can almost hear them, pleading, begging to be set free; being trapped in Lightroom is just no way for an honest photograph to live.
Anyway, I apologize for the radio silence. There are 4 to 6 posts I want to write but that damn clock keeps ticking, moving me closer to too many deadlines for comfort—personal or otherwise. Our oldest daughter—middle child extraordinaire—is turning double digits next weekend and since it'll be Easter, she had some friends over on Saturday. So there's that, most recently. I also still need to finish the Tokyo series believe or not. But I'm writing a new conference called Les États Photographiques (tentatively The United States of Photography once I get around to translating it) and it's essentially monopolizing all my thoughts, leaving very little brainpower for anything else. I'm scheduled to speak on April 7.
We released our new KAGE issue last week, with Kevin Mullins acting as this month's editor—the theme is Faces in case you're curious. This all happened while I was in Toronto, beginning a new project with some wonderful folks. Toronto...hadn't been there in years. I recognized the aerial web of wires instantly, the steel grooves of streetcars, the small shops...but all so much hipper than I remembered. Shades of Portland—although I've never set foot there. Shades of _a faint idea _ of Portland I guess. A construct that's probably nowhere near the truth.
I took the train instead of flying. Had some writing to do so I figured I'd use the time, thought the scenery would somehow inspire me. It didn't. But there's still something vaguely romantic about trains. A rhythm of Beats and Dharma Bums clashing and clanging against the open space. The shots below were taken on the way home, on a sunny morning that slowly turned into a very dark late afternoon. I was looking to smear the landscapes...reflections of my liquified mind.