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Red & Black

Art in the morning.

This is on me. Not the dog. 

I was walking. I saw this beat up, rusted car. I walked by it. Wait a minute. I went back. I saw. Not the whole car. Details. Bits. Pieces.


This happens when I’m in a zone. When I see. Really see. Likely as not I’m not in a zone. I don’t see. I miss things. Because I’m human. Like everybody else.

Blues Music

Little Freddy King

Little Freddy King

Music City.

That title is usually reserved for Nashville, Tennessee. With the number of musicians who make their home in New Orleans, grew up in New Orleans, who play in New Orleans and record in New Orleans, we kind of give them a little competition.


Jazz was born in New Orleans. That matters.

This is Little Freddie King. He’s 76 years old. A cousin to Lightnin’ Hopkins. Was born in McComb, Mississippi where he has a marker on the Blues Trail. He is a founding member of Jazzfest where he’s played for 42 years. It seems like he took a break of  20 years between records. Now, he records with some frequency.

And, you’ve never heard of him.

Not unless you know the blues. Not unless you live in the region. Not unless you are really “into” music.

He plays in little clubs. Juke joints. Around the city. Clubs like DBA. Siberia. Old Arabi Bar. BJ’s Lounge. He did open in Telluride, Colorado at the same festival that Neil Young & The Promise of The Real headlined.

He can play. He is the real deal.

The picture. I made it at a blues festival. No surprise there, right? I tinkered with it. No surprise there, either. That’s what you are seeing. A blues musician — an old school legend –who’s been tinkered with. By me.


See What I Mean?

Autumn in the pool.

Autumn in the pool.

See? Autumn in New Orleans.

That’s the pool. One day it was nicely clean. Sparkling blue. The next day Autumn fell into the pool. Leaves. Leaves. More leaves.

Trust me. That bit of back lighting makes the leaves look colorful. They are not. They are mostly brown. I also helped a little bit in post production.

The picture. It fills two needs. It shows you what the pool looks like. It fills the bill for the occasional series, “What the dog saw.” She saw this. So did the other dogs. The look on their faces told me all I needed to know. You know. “What is this in OUR pool?”

That Time of Year

And, so it starts. Halloween.

And, so it starts. Halloween.

It almost got away from me.

Between what has become a busy schedule, my own recovery from a slight repair and no real fall weather to speak of, the spooky season almost got away from me. Luckily, a bunch of little people reminded me. Toddlers. You know?

So, here we go.

Spooky. Scary. New Orleans for Halloween. For me, one of the best holidays in New Orleans. Christmas is the other one. Mardi Gras comes in third. Or tied.

Our fall season this year. Very strange. Only a couple of days when the high temperature dropped below 80 degrees. The leaves didn’t turn red. Or gold. Today, they just fell off the trees. Brown. Dead. Into the pool. It looks like a swamp.

The picture. Just something I saw. And, reworked in post production. No. Not my house. Just a place that I stumbled on. One more thing. Halloween posts are on and off this week. Stay tuned. Check out the following week leading up to the big night.


One Night, One Time

A quick phone call.

A quick phone call.

It almost looks like I took this picture in Europe, doesn’t it?

Nope. The French Quarter. A neighborhood that is French, Spanish and a little American. All in one. I suppose the woman has a little European look to her. That may be stretching things a little too much. However, the bike is as All-American clunker. Rebuilt and restored to navigate our streets.

The picture. I took a bunch of pictures. Maybe ten or so, with different framing. She finished her call and asked why I took the picture. I showed her. She thought the pictures were very cool. She asked a favor. The next two streets were not well lighted. Could I walk with her through them?

Of course.

The Boxer

Preparing for training.

Preparing for training.

The dive gym. In Central City.

It is mostly for boxers who want to train. It’s inexpensive. It’s in the heart of the new gentrification of Oretha Castle Haley Boulevard in Central City. It may be one of the last ungentrified business there. Even as the weather cools off, this place is always hot, humid and sweaty. It’s old school. The owner lives on the premises. You can work out for ten dollars. I could photograph for ten dollars. I imagine if you needed overnight accommodations, that would cost ten dollars. You’d have to sleep on a concrete floor. I’m just guessing. I don’t really know.

About once a yearly quarter, the owner holds a “Friday Night Fights” event. It’s usually outdoors at a bar a few blocks towards the river on lower St. Charles Avenue. It’s a hoot. It’s more-or-less old-fashioned burlesque with boxing matches mixed in. It’s great fun. You can find it on Facebook.

The picture. I was once working on a big Central City project with a friend of mine. This picture was part of that. The original version is straight ahead photojournalism. Of course, what you are looking at has been tinkered with. A lot.