I love meeting new people. Talking with them. Hearing their stories. Sharing with them in hopes that they'll share back.  Watching the transformations from wary to friendly. From cynical to approachable. From closed to open.
Approaching people is not as hard as it seems and is so incredibly rewarding.
My friend +Mike Shaw and I talk about this a lot.
Stay tuned for something special he approached me about that I think will be meaningful, transformational and wonderful.
In the meantime,
Stay inspired.

Another day, another boy sowing seeds that have been in his family for generations.

"So Steve (Estban, for the official record.) are you gonna follow in your father's footsteps?"
(Steve's father is Manny, renowned grower of the most fabulous and varied heirloom tomatoes in all of New York)

"Yes and no. Tomatoes make my family a good living. But I can do more. Tomatoes are for the present. Seeds are the future.
[Photographer's note: Here today, gazpacho tomorrow]
My father taught me that each generation should take from the last generation and make it better."

"And you actually listened?" (Note to self: send Drew to hang out with Manny and Steve next weekend)

"Of course...He expects it form me. So I will be studying agriculture. I hope to go to Yale, Cornell or Texas A&M next year... 
(We then talked about germination, hybridization, applied seed biology and biotechnologies.)
...and then I will make my father proud as he made his father proud."

I said to Steve "do you have any idea how proud your father would be right now if he were here?"

Pause.

Then Steve answered "He doesn't need to be here. He knows...and you will tell him anyway, right?"

Click.

"Steve, with your permission, I'll be telling more than him."

Another day, another life changing smile.

Was preparing for a bear of a day and feeling a bit overwhelmed when I literally ran into this happy fellow with the totally infectious smile. He was walking around lower Manhattan busy looking up at all the buildings and taking in the sights and sounds (that most of us take for granted) with the biggest grin. He apologized and I said "Why? your smile just turned my day around." Turns out Kwame has been here for all of three days after arriving from Ghana. He was so happy to be here and couldn't wait to start work tomorrow for his uncle with whom he is staying with the goal of bringing the rest of his family over. 
He said "They will not believe how wonderful it is here and how happy they will be"
I said "so c'mon, let's show them."

Click.

And remember (because it really does need repeating): The bigger the smile you give, the bigger the smile you get.

I see twin towers everywhere.

I see twin towers everywhere.

For the past ten years, 
I see them everywhere I look,
In the elderly couple standing side by side 
taking comfort in their closeness. 
In the pencils I keep sharpened on my desk 
and quickly straighten should they begin leaning.
In the ladders I see propped against houses.
In the popsicle my daughter eats on a humid August day
In the various edifices that I used to (and want to) marvel at as see them
(but now feel a sense of dread.)

I see twin towers everywhere
And I am reminded
of epic heroism
of tragic, unfounded loss
Of what hatred can do to a city, a nation, a world
Of what those of us who lost friends, family, colleagues are experiencing today 
(Or whenever the number 11 shows itself...on Restaurant checks or calendars or bridges...)
And unfortunately, that is all that comes today and whenever I see a twin tower.

I'm sad.
So very, very sad.

Another day, another triple-feature of Apocalypse Now, Full Metal Jacket and Platoon playing nightly in 3-D with surround sound.

I love to talk to people. And some of the folks I most enjoy talking to are those who have served their country. I am of the generation born during the Viet Nam War so I never knew the draft or any of the repercussions. Whether I have my camera or not (which is quite rare), I always say "Thank You" no matter their service, conflict or cause. To put yourself in harm's way for your country is a staggering thought for me. But Eddie did. And still can't get some of the images out of his head. I simply cannot imagine what he and countless others experienced. But I listen to them; and take in some laughter but far more of what I take in is chilling and haunting.
What I can do, in exchange for their sharing their time with me, is take pictures of them (not like the one below) for their families and their grandchildren. 

And, I always say "thank you"

Another day, another demolition derby babe working her charms to sell more fried butter

Another day, another demolition derby babe working her charms to sell more fried butter.

Be still my heart. Literally.

Note: take 100 percent pure sweet cream butter, whip it until it is light and fluffy, freeze it, then surrounds it with dough. Drop the butter-laden dough balls into a deep fryer (whether the oil is clean or has been frying up bacon, twinkies or turkey legs is entirely up to you).
For purists seeking the unadulterated taste of butter, serves plain. For others who want a little more pizzazz, feel free to flavor your batter with garlic, bacon fat or coke syrup. (sigh)

Another day, another demolition derby intermission when a young man's fancy turns to corny dogs

Another day, another demolition derby intermission when a young man's fancy turns to Corny-Dogs, kool-aid dill pickles, spaghetti and meatballs on a stick, chicken-fried bacon, deep fried turkey legs bigger than his head, fried mac 'n cheese balls, buttery kettle corn (to munch and throw at his older brother when his back is turned), a caramel apple (to take three bites of and then...somehow...ends up wrapped in his kid sister's hair), deep fried twinkies and oreos covered in chocolate syrup and whipped cream and (last but not least) a towering, fluffy, cumulonimbus cloud of cotton candy that looks surprisingly like the pink beehive of the surprisingly attractive woman 5 rows back...

Another day, another debate over Miles Davis or Charles Mingus or Thelonius Monk, trumpet versus vibraphone and which is less important: drums or or bass.

Please don't start debating jazz with me. I just like to talk to the folks who let me take their pictures. Can you see his wheels turning before his opening salvo?

For me, photographing people is like good jazz; there's always an arrangement but far more important is the interaction, collaboration, spontaneity and the heaping helping of improvisation we all bring to the party. (works for me anyway)

Another day, another flawed photo that speaks volumes more than the perfect ones

A few moments ago, I was marveling at the work of +Carl Stovell over on Google+ (have a look as I think his work is quite amazing) and I came across a quote by Scott Adams included in Carl's post about Creative Perfectionism that I happen to have hanging in my studio. I love the quote and it bears repeating:

"Creativity is making mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep."
Scott Adams

It's a constant debate isn't it: When is something a simple (honest) mistake or something more.

And who gets to decide?

I for one have an ongoing love/hate relationship with mistakes. But having said that, it's something I encourage my folks to strive for and make on a daily basis for that is where growth is and Art lies waiting, hiding...

Another day, another trash-talking photographer rendered powerless with a single glance.

This is John. We play chess together. Actually, it's more like wage epic battles...there's no play involved. Now I think I'm pretty good but John is way better and the only question is how many moves will I last until the inevitable checkmate. Of course, being the photographer I am, I try to distract him by taking his picture and talking "smack":
There aren't enough Bishops in the world to help you, John."
"Oh, need a big queen to fight your battles, John?"
"I heard your mama liked knights a little too much, John."
I'd go on and on.

Then, the other day, I asked a serious question:

"So John, what if you couldn't ever play chess again?"

Click.

Another day, another boy who's only memories of his father are the faded photos he and his sister keep hidden from their mother

Another day, another boy finding out who his secret admirer is

Low tide at Rye Beach

Had two related conversations today.
Someone this morning asked me why I don't do more landscape photography. I didn't have an answer.
   A different person asked me what I thought made one landscape better than another. [Insert long pregnant pause here.] I didn't have an answer (at least not a good one):
Some landscapes make me feel like immediately packing a bag and booking a flight.
Others make me see a place I've been to in a totally different way. Others make me feel small; not in an insignificant way, but rather as something much, much bigger.

Which took me back to the first question. And made me nervous. Could I evoke any of those feelings in someone else? Or do something else? And if so, what? I have to admit, I'm a little scared. Which isn't such a bad place for someone wanting to really push themselves.


Follow my twitter stream at: @alansphotos

Another day, another Lindsey.

"So dad"
   "Yeah Lindsey?"
You know how I've been really moody lately?"
   "Uh...yeah!"
"Hah! Sucks for you."

Then every door in the house slammed shut, a bolt of lightning that could have supplied power to an entire medium sized town split the largest tree in our backyard down to the roots and hail the size of marbles and golfballs started pelting the roof. Oh, god...are those locusts?

(Jeez)

Another day, another set of mood swings

 I am the incredibly proud father of a nearly twelve year old daughter. And I am totally convinced that if we could harness the power of a teenage girl's mood swings, we would be able to completely eliminate the need for oil, coal or nuclear material as an energy source.

In the meantime, God give me strength

Another day, another kid who'd rather be out way early in the morning (helping his dad) than way late at night (worrying his dad)

Amazing things happen when you stop to talk to people before even thinking about taking a photo. Perceptions change. (Sometimes dramatically.) Connections happen. (Sometimes instantly...if you ask the right questions or are willing to share something meaningful about yourself.) And the relationship between photographer and subject is transformed.

By the way, the portraits always get better. Guaranteed.
And even if they don't, you get better.

Meerkat Melodrama

Another day, another joke he hadn't heard before

Telling jokes while composing an image is tougher than you'd think.

A Monochrome Flower Study for an upcoming project

Another day, another coupla acres to work

Sonny Bialas of Bialas Farms is a charming, hard working and passionate man. His wife and daughter are equally wonderful and I had the pleasure of spending some time time with them talking about life on the farm...the trials, the tribulations, the pride and, above all, the joy they get from working the "black earth" that is their 68 acres and all the extraordinary things that grow there. The joy comes through in everything they grow.