The lights guide my way, but I am a flightless bird weighed down by expectation.
Many have written their thoughts on the wall of misfits, but few understand my grounded predicament.
I look up at the buildings I’ll never soar over, and time cemented in brick whose unwavering tick clips my wings.
Finally there’s a little air to breathe.
The board shows my train is leaving the station, and, although I will not be flying to my next destination, the journey of the flightless bird carries on.
Can a microwave be a window into a kitchen’s soul?
As a tool it’s a quick fix- a shortcut to an often longer and more complex culinary process. But there are no shortcuts when judging character.
We see a lamp on the deck, guiding visitors inside our home. Plates, mugs, and bowls stand at the ready before service deployment. The kitchen table light shines between different decorations, letting everyone know it’s time to take their seats.
The back door by the fridge is opened, and a simple bird song floods the house as we sit down for breakfast.
A dormant ladder lay on its side on the edge of dark and light, with flickers of the sun reflecting across its polished gray surface. The ladder’s red feet simultaneously stand out against the grass on one end and blend in with the brick patio on the other.
No work has been done yet, but it’s time for a drink.
Oh hey- turns out that if I lay down next to the ladder I can make flowers come to life in narrow focus. Who said that man-made tools and nature can’t complement one another.
It’s time to start doing chores around the yard.
Within a palette of greens and blues, a bright red strip resembling a bleeding wound bisected the landscape. A whispering wind drew me in and beckoned me to investigate.
The bright red strip was a field of thousands of poppy flowers, each fluttering in the air and forming unique shapes with its petals. Every floret was part of a greater whole, yet told its own story through its distinct dance and the flight of its seeds.
May the poppy field grow and the dance continue.
This gallery is the second in a series where I have 30 minutes, from first to last shutter press, to capture interesting aspects of life in Somerville.
It was a Wednesday night, and I had never seen Assembly Row so busy and bustling with family SUVs hunting for parking spots. The gentle breeze carried a distinct feeling of spring as trees and flowers began their transition to full bloom.
Soft lights cast a gentle glow on the street while kids and adults alike tackled their first ice cream cones of the season after some shopping in preparation for warmer weather. The day’s construction equipment stood silent while everyone day-dreamed, longingly, of summer.
This gallery is the first in a series where I have 30 minutes, from first to last shutter press, to capture interesting aspects of life in Somerville.
It was a gray Monday in April and my shutter finger was itching quite badly. After a long day of work, I decided it was time to investigate the quiet city around me.
I observed people and cars, both still and in motion, and the yellow lights that gestured the transitionary period of movement to both parties. The dull street pavement showed its many cracks as evidence of construction and home improvement littered the area. A red house by the rail bridge injected life into the scene, while the empty train tracks melted mysteriously into the fog.
And then my camera died.
Vines wrap the rebuilt castle walls, firmly gripping to the past. Red chimneys and the castle’s red roof look up to the sky in search of sunlight, but today is a solemn day of remembrance. The decommissioned clock tower clock will not strike noon today.
Compared to the castle, whose foundation emerges out of mighty cliffs, our existence seems fragile- and yet the renovated castle is history now too. Older, more primeval ruins in the distance confirm that no one is safe from the scurry of power, war, and technological progress.
Whether you believe in a higher power or not, enjoy the world we have- adapt now or become a relic of the past too.
I woke up to a flat, gray sky dotted with ravens and pigeons. The streets of Warsaw outside of my hotel looked sparse as families prepared to celebrate Three Kings Day, a national holiday in Poland that marks the end of the Christmas season. “Now this is my kind of day to shoot” I thought as I packed my camera and finalized my meticulously planned route through the city.
The goal of this series was to evoke a somber mood and honor Warsaw's rapid resurgence after nearly 90% of the city’s buildings were flattened to the ground (including the historic Old Town) by Hitler during WWII. As I traveled through winding streets, parks, and along the Vistula River, I captured landmarks from medieval times, monuments honoring historical figures and those who bravely fought against Nazi and Red Army occupation, relics of a bygone Soviet era, and evidence of continued construction pointing to a bright future.
Poland’s emergence from the ashes of the 20th century into a modern economic growth engine is nothing short of remarkable, and I can’t help but be proud of my Polish heritage.
