Dog. Spelled backwards - GOD. Coincidence? Almost completely blind due to glaucoma and cataracts, Lady Byrd, our red Mini-Pin, knows her name. She makes for an excellent model for me when I am working on black and white, shades, hues and light. It's as though she realizes that for a moment of her busy day, a treat is sure to follow.
Once named Storm Peak, Mt. Werner located in Steamboat Springs, CO is still home to the famous "Champagne Powder", and having produced the most Olympic Athletes. This week, the City of Steamboat will celebrate their 100th birthday of Winter Carnival. For those who wish to grab a piece of true western cowboy life, with a panache of rip roaring ski time fun, a trip to downtown Lincoln Avenue will offer skiers being dragged by horses, the high school band playing instruments while shuffling along on skis, a lighted man skiing down Howelsen Hill at night, the ring of fire, where temporarily insane ski patrollers race down the ski jumping hill through fire and even a few brave souls who ride their bikes down the ski hill. It's 5days of rip roaring fun and events that includes the entire town, tourists and "locals" alike. So, come on down to Steamboat Springs and play a part in the oldest winter carnival west of the mighty Mississippi.
On a brisk, windy afternoon, late in January 2010, my son and I had the opportunity to explore parts of Los Angeles. My wife and I had time to visit, and our son decided to take me to locations where shooting photographs might be ample. Rich in diversity and culture, Los Angeles isn't a tourist experience but rather an exploration of all walks of life. On this particular day, we drove to Baldwin Hills, not far from La Cienega Blvd. The vistas from the Baldwin Hills Scenic Park vouchsafe the photographer time to observe, calculate the light, and perhaps select a subject, and be part of a never-to-be-forgotten moment in the camera lens. Such was the case for this woman, braving the brisk weather. Her fiery, orange hued head scarf stands out in this photo, and in retrospect, was reason that I shot the photo.
Horseshoe Bend, located off U.S. Route 89, near Page, Arizona invokes me to contemplate the powers of Mother Nature. The sandstone and years of the elements have created both masculine and feminine appearances to the Horseshoe. Strength and solemn are the sandstone, in its' masculinity, and the grace and female compassion are the Colorado River. Both joined in harmony create yet another marvel that is the southwest, filled with the years of magic and wonderment.
Taken with a Canon point and shoot 2 years ago, I enjoy this picture. It was Mother's Day weekend, and our son, a master culinary genius, dragged us to the heart of the barrio in search of some dive that excelled in the art of burritos. Most great chefs seem to just know the best dives. The cafe was closed, but we took the opportunity to wander the mean streets of Los Angeles' poorer neighborhood. My wife, a native of Los Angeles admitted to never being in this neck of the woods. We stumbled upon a voodoo/Santaria store, and once inside, my wife looked towards the ceiling, saw the pelt of a dog, turned on her heel, and out the door she went. My guess was that she was irked by the fact that it was Mother's Day, and our way of honoring her was to show her the other side of a dime. I suppose she had something else in mind.
Pretty bolts all in a row. This steel bolt, consolidated with a beam, wood and frame make for a bridge. The bridge can then transport people from point A to B. Each piece relies upon the strength of the other. One weak link can spell disaster. Any set of circumstances can circumvent the entire structure. What hard work goes into the bridge can be all for not, if the materials are substandard. This analogy is universal to life's purpose. A layman might not give pause at the integrity of one bolt; however ask a steelworker in a steel mill in Pennsylvania about this one bolt, and they will stand with princely pride at their work.
Demure in appearance, this solitary stalk of dried wheat perseveres through the cold winter. Tranquil and placid, the stalk of wheat gently tremors, evidence of a slight winter breeze. On this particular Saturday, I found myself wandering near the Chuck Lewis State Wildlife Area, RCR 14, Steamboat Springs, Co. Perhaps it was fated that I would find this little piece of nature, and the lessons it taught; Poetic perseverance is rich.
