The sound grew louder. Swishes and slaps thundered closer with each advance. My heart raced, wondering if I would be swept up in the rush of white manes splashing towards me. My feet, trapped by the pond's thick sludge, did not move. I pressed the shutter and heard the fast, steady clicks of my camera as the horses hurtled through the water. My balance was non-existent, and it took great effort to lift myself up and out of the muck. If I twisted or turned the wrong way, I would lose stability and fall into the muddied water. And fall I did.
An obscure treasure haven exists on the outskirts of Brooklyn, New York. Dead Horse Bay obtained its curious name in the 19th Century after animal remains, mostly horses, were rendered at plants producing glue and fertilizer, among other things. Numerous bottles, as clear and intact as the day they were made, sway with the tide. Some are half-buried and filled with decades of sand. Other bottles, broken and set among other relics of our past, appear for a time before the tide reappears. This is one of them.
LA-based band King Washington
Eastern State Penitentiary
The mountains are calling and I must go. (John Muir)
Things slow down in the South for a reason. To give us time to really see what's around us. Edisto Island, South Carolina is one of those places that feeds my Soul.
On a recent visit to the Outer Banks of North Carolina, my arrival coincided with the aftermath of 14 inches of rain that saturated the area, with the threat of more rain to come. But, as with anything in life, you take what comes your way and you work with it. The forecasts were often wrong, or changed every few hours as my friends and I made plans on what to shoot and then changed plans again and again. It sounds frustrating, but there was a freedom in the situation. I could plan things out, but I don’t really know what the future holds. So, in allowing life's compass to guide me, I was more likely to have a serendipitous experience that will that will hold tight to my memory and put a smile on my face when I need it.
A winter visit to the Yukon Territory was challenging. Especially when an Arctic blast kept the temperature from rising much above -25° F in the early morning hours while shooting an Aurora. Snow silenced the chill, but the dogs howled soulfully in the distance. They ached to run the trails. Things are different in a frozen, solitary place. As I cleared my mind of clutter, challenges were met. Fears were overcome. I was empowered by - of all things - the cold.