Dusk. Sunset. Almost, but not quite, blue hour.
I made this picture in a neighborhood near Musician’s Village. In, I guess, what would be called the 9th Ward. I was coming back from some place else. The Trump rally to be exact. I bet you were expecting to see political pictures.
Yes. Sure. I went. I started to walk around. And, like a couple of other photographers, I just said the hell with it. I couldn’t do it. I suppose that if I were properly credentialed and I had to make a picture for a client, I would have. But… it just wasn’t worth my time. One photographer that I know, left the rally and drove down the street and ate crawfish at a little “place.” Another lasted about seven minutes. It was like that.
I left the area and started poking around in my usual back waters. Eventually, I made my way to the neighborhood that houses the Musician’s Village. It made a bunch of pictures. I photographed some feral chickens and roosters. And, I met a couple of local people. I did what I do.
I also made this rebirth picture. The angular shape way in the back is a left over, ruined and abandoned house. Katrina got it. It didn’t make it back. But, nature did.