Just open your eyes and you’ll see pictures. That’s what I tell people, anyway. I also tell them that when you are having a mental block, pick up your camera and go outside. Photograph what you see,. Pretty soon, you’ll start seeing everything. For me, I’m alway amazed just how many pictures I see when I get up off the couch and go outside.

This picture? It’s a window in the employee bathroom of the Albuquerque Photographer’s Gallery in Old Town, Albuquerque, New Mexico.
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I’ve often wondered why New Mexico photo – graphers tend to shoot the same things. I have my theories, but that’s for later.

In this picture, I managed to combine just about everything New Mexican; a red chile ristra, which despite the myths, simply means “to string chile” in order to dry them, replica of a wooden ladder typically found in various pueblos and faux adobe walls.
Where did I find such a wonder? Right out side my shared co-op gallery in Old Town. It’s part of the outdoor decorations.


One of my neighbors has quite a history. He was born in Cuba and fled very early on after Castro took over the country. He dislikes John Kennedy for his perceived failure to provide air support for the Bay of Pigs invasion. He settled in New York. He lived there for years and years. Eventually, he and his partner settled in New Mexico where he learned that he has Parkinson’s Disease which seems to moving rapidly. He still travels a bit. He does simple tasks, exercise and the laundry. Some days are better then others. He still has his sense of humor.


A few weeks ago, I heard the breaking of glass at about two am. I looked out of the window and saw two very drunken young people sprawled on the ground. One had fallen over the other. The one who was on top was holding a beer bottle which broke in his hand as he fell. Even from two stories above, I could see the slash on the palm of his hand. He was so drunk that it appeared that he didn’t feel it. But, he saw it. He shook his hand to get rid of the dripping blood. He made a lot of blood splatters. Dexter would be proud. In the morning this is what I found. Each of those dried blood drops was at least the size of a quarter. I made it my picture a day.


that the recession is over. Hmmm. I told a friend of mine that this blog doesn’t contain content that is much of a political nature. I suppose it doesn’t, given that I can be very jaded towards politicians of any stripe. However this image seems to sum up my feelings about the last few months of 2009. The pump is broken. The sign is broken. The speaker is broken. The building is broken. Everything is broken.

Worse.

This place sold “last gas.” Now, it’s gone.

What next?


This Airstream travel trailer is so shiny that it reflects the adobe house off of its stainless steel skin. I found this little trailer in a small New Mexican village called Galisteo, which is really home to an artist colony. It is about 28 miles south of Santa Fe and about 40 miles northeast of Albuquerque. I thought to myself that this was a really cool little village. Then I started looking around. No gas station. No grocery store of any type. Not even a Circle K. No cafe. They do have a small community center and fire station. I could just see living there… “honey, we need a quart of milk, I’ll be back in two hours. “


One of my more recently produced painterly motion-driven images. There is very little post production work done in this image. Most of what you see is either motion, or me playing to the usual quirks of a Nikon sensor. The rest? Well, I’m not even sure it’s F8 and be there. I ‘d just call this luck. You can decide for yourself if it’s good luck or bad luck.


Just a slightly different view. No. I still don’t know what they are. They bloom in the summer. They are purplish-translucent. I don’t believe that they are weeds. Their apparent fragility is what attracts me to them, However, I’ve never touched one to know if they are fragile. Touching them seemed like I was messing with nature too much.


Usually when I shoot a flower picture, I do it because the flower itself attracted me. I’m not a horticulturist. I’m not very deep into nature. In fact, I feel sort of the same as a friend of mine does about birds. Once, when we were traveling, he pointed out a bird and said, “that’s a Grackle.” I saw another bird and I asked what it was. His reply? “I only know one kind of bird.” It’s the same thing for me with flowers. Usually, if I submit flower pictures to any of the agencies who represent me, I have to spend a lot of time in books and online identifying just what it was that I photographed. That’s the long way of saying, I have no idea what this flower might be. I just saw it, liked it and photographed it from below with a Canon G9.