Chasing a Trail

This past Fall, I was given a plum assignment: Travel feature for the New York Times.
The story centers around the Creole migration, from New Orleans to Los Angeles. Black Creoles in Louisiana found infinitely better opportunity in California, and moved in droves for the better part of the last century.  I was to repeat the journey of the writer, which involved taking the Sunset Limited train.

This is by far the longest post I have written, but this trip had such an impact on me; I wanted to get it out.

Most travel assignments have a shot list of restaurants, shops, sights, etc. This story was a bit more challenging, in that most of the few places the writer mentions were closed, or don't exist any more. Finding shots to fit the words was not as straightforward. The story finally was printed in January, and overall I am pleased with the result, but my outtakes tell a different story.

The train from New Orleans to LA is a 48 hour straight shot. New Orleans Union Station is a time capsule.

Life, and death, in a house

I met a lovely couple last year while shooting their kitchen for a magazine. They were friendly and intelligent. They gave me coffee and we chatted for a while after the shoot. The woman was a semi retired journalist; the husband was fully retired, I believe, and was an avid hunter. He was going to help me procure a teal (that's a real pretty duck) for a still life photo I had wanted to do. The house was a very early example of Arts and Crafts and they showed me all around the glorious main floor. I wrote down their info and meant to stay in touch.

Two weeks ago I received an email from the woman saying her husband had passed quite suddenly. She was going to move out of the big house, and was hoping I would come photograph it, in order to make a book for herself and the children.

The portrait is the husband as a young boy, and on the desk is a photo of him as a grown man, hunting, as he loved to do.

The family thoroughly inhabited every corner of this house. In photographing it, I wanted to capture the actual life of the space, and not overly style or edit. It was a different experience, shooting a house as a home, and not a showroom. A little inspiring, even. Maybe I shouldn't style the life out of the houses all the time. We take all the real stuff out and set out flowers and food and perfectly messily placed throw blankets.

Dog House REVISED AUGUST 26, 2016

 I originally posted this in the Spring of this year. There were about 7 photos with dogs in houses.
At the end I mused that there might be a book in there. Turns out there is. Tentatively due out Fall of 2016. Meanwhile, the images are on lockdown. Stay tuned...

Original text:
Whenever there are pets in the houses I'm shooting, I try to get them in at least one shot. It's mostly dogs, but I do find the occasional cat or rabbit. Most of them are total camera junkies. They're definitely easier to work with than children.

I have so so many more. Maybe there's a book in here somewhere.

Portrait of my Mother

My mother is house/chicken/dog sitting around the corner. The yard there is a tangle of herbs, vegetables, water features, and weeds. She is in heaven.
As I passed through the kitchen on the way out to the back, to watch the chickens scratch around in the dirt, and drink wine with my mother (me, not the chickens) I noticed 3 paper towels with various seeds, pods, and petals laid out on them.
This says more about her than any portrait I could possibly make.
I took these with my iphone.

Cats in Glass Houses

No big photo opportunities

A couple of weeks ago, I was given an assignment for the New York Times. It's a travel piece that waxes nostalgic about the literary lives that have tripped through the city, and its surrounds. Tennessee Williams, William Falkner, Walker Percy. Etc.

It was a particularly tricky thing to illustrate, considering the whole crux of the piece is that you can no longer literally find the places that once inspired these great writers:

There are no signposts, no big photo opportunities. Just a unique and, for me, magical way of being in the world.

 I woke up before dawn, and wandered the quarter, and later drove out to Laura plantation.
 I photographed the sites that were mentioned in the piece, but found myself drawn, as we all are, to the abstract surfaces.

Men at the Track

We went to see the Wiener Dog races at the Fairgrounds a few weeks ago, and I shot some TMAX400.
The little dogs were hilarious, but the real track dogs were the old guys just enduring the hipsters and shtick that were getting in the way of the horse races.