Leaving Louisiana in Broad Daylight

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What remains.

This is what remains. Before it is taken down. Carted off for scrap. Left to rot in the land fill. I haven’t been to this neighborhood in a long while. I don’t want to get shot. I doubt this building is still standing. There are other pictures in my archive that have been made from a side view. It is interesting to note that the house was leaning heavily to the right. The next time that I went back, more parts fell off. It was leaning to the left. Usually, when I building sort of rocks back and forth, the next step is collapse. We call that demolition by neglect.

Speaking of archives. And, collapse.

One of you kindly wrote that even if I can’t shoot second lines, masked indians and the culture anymore that it didn’t matter because my old archives would eventually surface here.

Nope. No way. No how.

It may be nothing more than a point of pride, but the only pictures from those collections that make it here, or anywhere for that matter, are the best, the ones with the peak decisive moment, and the newest. The rest of that days work are out takes. They live in my files only because I’m old school and I never throw away an image. I don’t delete.


If I say that I’m done then I’m done. I don’t like it much. It speaks about getting old. I’m giving up something that I really like to do. And, I miss the companionship. I will occasionally come out for something like I did last week. A second line for a person who was a friend to us all. I’ll do it for a jazz funeral… if I know the person being honored. But, that’s different. You know why.



This picture is about me. I asked yesterday what the picture meant to you. Some of you answered. Cool and thank you. There’s a lot of post production going on. But, it’s sneaky. Subtle. Even, maybe, sublime. Sublime is about the last thing that you’d ever say about my work. And yet.


12 Replies to “Leaving Louisiana in Broad Daylight”

  1. You know, I’m not sure what I enjoy more — your photography or the words that accompany each post. You’re a natural storyteller; the name is apt.

    Thanks for another one.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. I’ve tried. Not for the culture. Photographing that is sort of kin to good photojournalism. You have to be there and be in it. Yes. I did come out for the first of a bunch f second lines for Deb Cotton, but that was different, important and I’m pretty sure that everyone was in the same state of mind.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Sharon, you are welcome. I’m not sure this is storm related. There are no water marks, nor is there a leftover “Katrina Cross.” Keep in mind, one of our many nicknames is “The City that Care Forgot.” But, now you have my curiosity up. I think I’ll go back to it. If I get shot, I’ll send you the hospital bill. 🙂


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