photo(trope)isms...

I've moved, or...a new frame of reference.

2009-09-01T22:40:00.009-04:00

If you are fond of chronology or linearity, and would like to visit the first post my new blog, click HERE.

If you want to visit the new blog and view the latest post...click HERE.

If your not sure it's worth a visit, sneak a peak. Here is a frame into my new world:

I've decided to buzz off....

2009-08-27T11:22:00.003-04:00

...and start anew. If you want to see where I landed,

pollinate here.

I C U, C'ing Me, C'ing U...

2009-08-23T00:21:00.039-04:00

[August 5, 2009.] We drove to the Ammersee, a lake west of Munich, and had planned to ferry across on a steamboat. Shortly after parking, I saw a few men in Lederhosen, some of them carried musical instruments. While waiting for the steamboat to arrive, the music started. A contagious dialect of Bavarian folk music. Then, the crowd broke out in dance.

Two women dancers bore a striking resemblance to each other. One of them glared back at me in presumptive disapproval, the other smiled. In an instant different emotions were summoned, and contrasting reactions glared at my lens. I still can't decide which expression is more honest. I still can't decide which expression I like more.

a Beetle at the BBC...

2009-08-20T07:40:00.008-04:00

Today the BBC's photoblog, Viewfinder, led their post with a familiar set of footprints.

You can check out my beetle photograph and the others selected this week for the theme of Repetition. Click here for the gallery.

In Trance-igent Transit...

2009-08-18T22:31:00.007-04:00

Nostalgia is either...the barren landscape itself, the terrain that invites us to trespass and revel in hallucinations of the past; or perhaps, it is a determined spirit, cloaked in exoskeletal darkness that simply relishes the journey itself.

(Sicilian Sand Beetle, Colonna Pizzuta Beach)

The most gratifying element of travel is domesticating the memory of experience in the desert...dissolving yourself in the hourglass. Here are some of the mirages, as best I can remember...

If you prefer to make your own travel arrangements, click here.

WNYC, Street Shots

2009-08-17T13:43:00.012-04:00

The Big Apple's WNYC hosted a street photography contest last year and posted a video of the winner, Joe Wigfall, on their site.

Take a look. You will be pleasantly surprised at Joe's dedication to the art of street photography. He doesn't earn a living doing what he does in the video, but he makes a powerful argument of engaging the streets with his camera...art for art's sake. (And, he doesn't rely on a camera that looks like a piece of field artillery. You will see him carrying a bag from which he draws a small point-and-shoot camera, as well as a more common DSLR-type.)

Joe has his own technique for capturing images as he negotiates the schools of New York City's pedestrians, taxicabs, and bike messengers. He sees with his hands.

Flashback Flourish...

2009-08-10T23:31:00.007-04:00

Daniela's Onkel Hermann has an incredible garden, a Blumengarten to be precise. Last week, I spent many early morning hours pacing around the colors with my lens. The flowers were a stark reminder of transience. So, much of the week in Bavaria, I relished the present. The colors. The shapes. The perfumes. The pollen. Trying to push back the inevitable end to a vacation.

Tonight, I revisited the past...one petal at a time.

If you prefer to take your own time, click here.

Photolocutions...

2009-08-10T14:58:00.014-04:00

Monday. Back at work. Thinking in pictures. Dwelling on options, alternatives...reality and constraints. Pause. Read a few photoblogs...and found some worthwhile wordy pictograms from some icons in the field.

Antoine d' Agata:
"I don’t believe in photography as art or a job or anything. I think of photography as a language and I think a language should be used to speak, to say what you have to say. So the only things I have to say about my life and what I know about the world, is the way I see it. So, it’s not about photography… I think people should just use photography to say things and not just photography for the sake of photography… The world is full of talented photographers. The problem is just so many of them just don’t know what to say, they think life is one thing and photography is another but they don’t realize that photography is just a way to reflect what you are."

Joel Meyerowitz:
"I think about photographs as being full, or empty. You picture something in a frame and it 's got lots of accounting going on in it - stones and buildings and trees and air - but that 's not what fills up a frame. You fill up the frame with feelings, energy, discovery, and risk, and leave room enough for someone else to get in there."

Agata's framing of photography as a fluency, a language of self-expression made think, for a long time. Then I felt at a loss for words. Meyerowitz's talk of space and the challenge of evoking emotion made me wonder about scarcity and exuberance. Then I felt a bit of cabin fever.

So, I went for a walk, and remembered a series of lines from an article written by the Spanish philosopher José Ortega y Gasset. The article, written decades ago is titled, "The Difficulty of Reading." I do not recall the precise quote, but Ortega y Gasset wrote about the nature of language, and the act of reading. He wrote about how reading was always a negotiation between a text that said too much and too little...an act that teased and tantalized...indeterminacy and meaning.

I felt wedged between a philosophical banality and an alluring photographic arrogance. I kept walking and thought to myself...depressing the shutter is a brief, but complicated enterprise.

Still Monday. Back to work.

Fußgängerzone Follies in München...

2009-08-05T06:29:00.005-04:00

The "Fußgängerzone," or pedestrian area in downtown Munich is a street photographer's paradise. My eyes seized on many more opportunities than my lens, but I did not dwell on missed opportunities for too long. This strip of human congestion is a living museum, a collection and arrangement of human complexity, and I am going to miss it. Here is a series of thirty-something street glances....mostly from the hip.

If you prefer to linger in the Biergarten and finish your Weißbier at your own pace, click here.

Setting Sail...

2009-07-31T18:28:00.008-04:00

(Ari soaks in one last Sicilian sunset in Marzamemi.)

Tomorrow we leave Sicily and the Mediterranean cousins, and will track north to Bavaria. Tonight's farewells were full of tears for some. The last few days we have meandered through a few notable cities in the southeastern corner of the island.

I wish that I could do more than share images. I wish you could hear the guttural melodies of the local dialect, taste the culinary delights...as complex as the history layered about the land, breath in the aromas of sea salts, sand and wild sage, but I leave you with some of my favorite impressions...

If you want to share in our nostalgic farewell at your own pace, click here.

Sightseeing in Sicily....

2009-07-28T10:26:00.003-04:00

Yesterday Daniela and I visited Vendicari, a nature preserve. The walk through the now parched marsh led to the beach and the stone carapace of a three-hundred year old "tonnara," a site into which fishermen would herd tuna and trap them.

Later we escaped the heat traveling to another beach. The kids have been running around with their cousins. I've been walking around the garden. And we've all been enjoying the fruits of the sea, and other food oddities.

If you want to peak over my shoulder at your own pace, click here.

La Sicilia...un pezzo di paradiso

2009-07-26T18:32:00.005-04:00

I arrived yesterday, and joined the rest of the family. Daniela and the kids are sporting a deep terracotta hue. They gave me an opportunity to catch up. Today was a warm Mediterranean Sunday, and Sicily reminded me of other islands with their unique customs, faces, architecture, and oddities. It feels so familiar...timeless in a way.

A handful of images from today...

If you prefer to explore at your own pace, click here.

Two Stripes Makes It Three at the BBC...

2009-07-23T10:21:00.014-04:00

I'm partial to geometries, grids, lines, contours and contrasts...abstractions, desolate spaces, a few faces, and industrial places. Once in a while, I have found it good practice to cast aside my preference for cold and dark moods, and photograph moments of a different nature.

(If you want to view the slideshow, click here.)

Pylons, Perspectives and a Few People...

2009-07-19T22:05:00.008-04:00

This morning, I set out to test my new tripod. The Jefferson monument, as seen from across the Tidal Basin, was deserted. So I gathered up my gear and headed west to visit Honest Abe. By 0815 the place was teaming with early risers eager to beat the heat. I saw an opportunity for a shadowy self-portrait and took it, but before walking towards the colonnade, I noticed the array of square granite pylons next to me, a poorly disguised but well-designed security barrier.

Those pylons, the ones I glanced over upon my arrival at the edge of the Reflecting Pool, turned out to be the key to an enjoyable series of shots. After watching people flow along and through them and walk across their shadows, I gained a new appreciation for the blocks, and their design. You probably won't share my enthusiasm for the granite cubes, but take a peek anyway.

If you'd like to weave between the granite, at your own pace, click here.

Camera-Ready Conveyance...

2009-07-17T14:15:00.007-04:00

Shaun Irving turned a truck into a camera. He then toured the Spanish countryside and took incredible large format pictures. "That tour," he writes in his website, "made me realize that in the truck, meeting people, and taking photos is where I need to be." I envy his focus.

If you are ever near Richmond, Virginia...you should visit him. Here is a gallery of his work:

Here is a short movie about him....

Curiousity Cabinets...

2009-07-12T22:19:00.010-04:00

Museums...they display, exhibit, arrange, catalog, categorize, expose, feature, and showcase. And one of my favorites is the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History, a particularly intriguing social space always swarming. For a few hours this Saturday, I dissolved myself in the crowds. The Tourists. The Spectators. The Voyeurs...those infused with a nostalgia for the past and for human exploits over nature, those are the people-objects I came to see. (The displays in the cases bore me after a few minutes.) The museum experience I relish is the interplay between the gazers and the objects they confront, ignore, gawk at, pass over....

Among the curios and curious, I spied innocence reclining near the remains of the past.

Take a look for yourself, and eye the Other(s) and their interactions.

If you want to collect specimens at your own pace...click here.

ISO-metric Imagery...

2009-07-10T00:04:00.016-04:00

It was a dark and grainy night...photographically speaking. How it ended up that way, I'm not exactly sure. Perhaps it was the hours I spent at the pub with other fans before the game and my affinity for the graininess of Guinness draught. Perhaps it was the compulsion to change the textures and experiment a bit...to reflect the upcoming noise at the Stadium. I vaguely remember taking a deep breath, adjusting the ISO setting to 3200 and then heading to the nearest Metro Station. Two stops later, we arrived at RFK Stadium to watch the US Men's National Team play Honduras. The National team played well, and fans on both sides provided much of the entertainment.

If you want to go against the grain, at your own pace...click here.

Back in Black...at the BBC

2009-07-02T06:23:00.006-04:00

A few months ago, I planned an early morning weekend visit to the steps behind the Lincoln Memorial, and Ari volunteered to tag along. We sat on the steps and watched the crew teams row along the Potomac. We talked and we took pictures. I saw that his shadow was taller than mine, and I couldn't resist musing about the omen and its interpretations. Click. After about an hour, he gave me the look , "Are we done?" So, we headed to our favorite bagel shop for breakfast.

That day will arrive soon enough, the day foreshadowed by the moment when a father sees his son's shadow reach beyond his own. For now, I'll defer the future and focus on the specific moment...that hour on those steps.

__________

The category was Black. Click here to read the BBC Blog Editor's comments, or sidestep the narrative and click here for the gallery.

[Image 10 of 10]

Halting Hesitation...

2009-06-26T18:51:00.008-04:00

There are times when we pause, and contemplate what lies ahead. Sometimes we self-consciously hide these moments. Transparency seems more opaque after the onset of adulthood.

(Click anywhere on the picture for your own close-up.)

Here, my nephew ponders and processes, frozen in pose as he looks up at the slide. I was lucky to be a few feet away and able to memorialize the indecision. He was so honest about his assessment. It made me smile.

Garden Variety Geometries...

2009-06-24T23:17:00.011-04:00

Most of my workday includes sitting under fluorescent lights and walking over synthetic carpets. Today, the artificiality of such labor induced an urge to take a long lunch. So, I walked around the US Botanic Garden just a few blocks away. Cellulose curves. Fibered forms. Colored chaos. Festive furrows. I decided to alternate between multicolor and monochrome, a tale of a tour, told in ten pictures.

(If you want to search for your own garden groove, at your own pace...click here.)

The distraction came to an end, and it was time to head back to work. The fluorescent lights were still dull, the carpet still fabricated, but the greenhouse...should still be there tomorrow.

Saturday Asymmetry

2009-06-20T23:36:00.004-04:00

The mid-morning rainstorm had ruined his plans to play in the park. When the sun returned, he lifting the paper shade, and peered through the window. I saw the opportunity and greeted him from the other side with the lens. He just stared back.

Later in the day, I noticed other lines with a bit more color and a brighter disposition....

Familiar Faces...

2009-06-15T20:05:00.008-04:00

I forgot to mention that Friday evening we gathered for a bit of family fun. The Miami cousins...ventured back into the area and all of our kids ran around for a few hours. Ricky's wild bunch displayed great patience as I followed them around with the camera. Here are a few portraits of the next generation.

(Click here to run around with the little rascals at your own pace.)

S-Capades...

2009-06-15T19:36:00.007-04:00

Saturday, we enjoyed leafy Thai lunch, and then headed into DC to watch a soccer double-header. The Washington Freedom played first, and we cheered the women on against their Chicago rivals, the Red Stars. 0-0 was the final result, a sleepy 90 minutes of play.

DC United took the field an hour later. We sat in section 336, close to the Barra Brava section of crazy fans...the supporters that stand and cheer and sing and throw their cups of beer in the air when the team scores. Here are a few glimpses of the more civilized moments.

(Click here and watch the replay at your own pace.)

Sunday, Gabriela had a game in the early afternoon. A few hours later, the grown-ups slipped into their gear and once again thumbed our noses at our age playing for a few hours in the heat and humidity. When it was all said and done, we were all sweaty and on the verge of sunstroke. So we we sat around, and cooled off while telling stories.

Pre-Teen Poetics

2009-06-05T23:40:00.007-04:00

They spent the entire day setting the stage and framing the café context, and hours later parents and other family members returned to snap their fingers in approval. Bongo drums and lava lamps conjured images from the past. Tonight, a new generation of poetic hipsters cycled through the stage in their own words, tracing beats laid down by Kerouac and Ginsburg decades ago. After a few click-clicks of the lens, here's a set of visual stanzas...snap-snap.

Click here, and feel free to write your own comments on each image as the beat goes on....

Memorial Day Weekend...Motorcycles

2009-05-24T14:59:00.007-04:00

Yesterday evening Daniela and other neighborhood ladies caught a soccer doubleheader in town. So, another dad and I took the kids for ice cream...the old-fashioned way, walking with a red wagon.

(If you want to ride along in the wagon at your own pace, click here.)

This morning, as they do each Memorial Day Sunday, the police closed I-66 and the Rolling Thunder peered over the asphalt horizon, right on schedule.

I recognized a few of the faces from last year's ride, and enjoyed many new ones. Here are some of my favorites:

If you want to wave at the bikers at your own pace, click here.)

Palettes and Palimpsests...

2009-05-17T14:25:00.007-04:00

My friend Elise exhibited her work yesterday. Fragments of text, memory shards, truncated exclamations of self and other utterances weave in and out of her art. Her new productions eloquently bind disparate and dissonant articulations upon linen. Snippets of speech, status updates, and dream dross. An intrigue in the intersections of memory and experience inspire and fuel her creative frenzy.

She began to paint again after keeping the canvas at bay for over a decade. It was a delight to meander through her projections...

Police Week Pomp and Pageantry...

2009-05-15T20:16:00.011-04:00

Every year in May, thousands of law enforcement professionals descend for a week of ceremonies in DC. Legions of cops, in all shapes and sizes, on motorcycles and in antique cars, some with tattoos, some with kilts...they, their friends and family, all gather to pay tribute to lives lost in the line of duty. There are cycling events, motorcycle formations, and antique police car parades throughout town and the surrounding suburbs. At scheduled times, vigils and memorial services interrupt the frenzy.

In the afternoon and into the evenings, bagpiper cops in kilts travel the nearby bars and visit the giant beer tent near the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial. They play their dirges as they enter. We turn and stop, raising our cups, bottles and cans. The pipes rest, and we toast. We drink because they can't. We drink to celebrate their bravery. Cheers to you and to those no longer with us.

Tuesday:

(Click here to wave at the cyclists as they ride into town.)

Wednesday:

(Click here to find shelter in the giant beer tent.)

Breakfast in Bed

2009-05-10T21:41:00.006-04:00

We began the day by cooking up a nice morning meal, a favorite Mothers Day ritual.
After fulfilling nuclear family obligations, we met up with the rest (well, most of) the clan.

(If you want to meander amidst the matriarchs at your own pace, click here.)

Osmosis by the Oasis...

2009-05-10T08:45:00.004-04:00

Miniature mermaids, of varying hues, watched over the cocktails last night as neighbors gathered at a recently finished patio-scape. They transformed their yard into a magical watering hole, and we gathered for a few hours to barter, and banter. We soaked our feet, and our lips. We waxed nostalgia under the full moon...reminiscing about our day in the sun.

If you want your own mermaid-guided tour, click here.

Colorless Contrasts...

2009-05-03T23:31:00.007-04:00

It rained most of today. So, we decided to forgo our weekly soccer match and spare the pitch the usual trampling. After helping the kids with their homework, and dwelling on their "coming of age" moments and other complexities, I decided to search for clearer contrasts around the neighborhood.

After a rainstorm...the tiny groves in a wooden plank align with an earthworm's natural divisions.

Tiny raindrops cling to the edge of a blade of overgrown grass along the local bike path.

dental distastes...

2009-04-29T22:00:00.007-04:00

The moment I walk out of the dentist's office is the most satisfying...the artificial mint-flavored foam-fluoride taste lingers for a few more minutes, but I savor the exit knowing that this is the moment furthest in time from my next encounter with alien overhead lamps, sinewy metal scrapers, a spittoon that resembles a Georgia O'Keefe-inspired urinal design, fluorescent blue polish grit, and lectures about flossing.

Each visit is an act of surrender. This morning, I sat back in that awkwardly contoured chair, and was lowered to a negative slope like a misplaced algebraic equation on graph paper...all those years of compacted dextrose candy tablets, piraguas, slurpees, dulce de leche, and pasta de guayaba...now recorded in amalgam topographies along my enamel ridge line. I felt like an REI catolog being fondled by a millionaire hippie mountainbiker.

The hygienist talked, and I tried to reciprocate with polite banter, anything to ignore the symphony of whirls and chirps...the smell of the fluorescent blue polish, the temperature of the water whitewashing my enamel...the blasts of air from the annoying aluminum geyser.

My grandfather's two brothers, Alberto and Benjamin, were dentists. My mother's cousin, Berti, is a dentist. His daughter is also a dentist. Root canals, crowns, and bridges, run deep in my maternal family lineage.

During a summer day in the mid-1970's, I accompanied my cousin Joaquito to Berti's office. Joaquito had been newly diagnosed with his first cavities and needed fillings. We were about nine or ten years old. He asked me if they were going to give him an injection of anesthesia. I told him that they'd probably give him at least two. His eyes widened, and he said "ni' pal carajo!" So he refused the anesthesia and I watched in disbelief as his body tensed up, and endured the process. After we left the office, on our way to buy piraguas near the plaza, he smiled and bragged about how tough he'd been. His refusal that day was the single greatest act of idiotic bravery I witnessed as a child.

That moment with Joaquito scarred me, and in an odd nostalgic tribute or conscious mimetic reflex, I tense up just thinking of my next visit.

Papa Please...

2009-04-25T22:14:00.011-04:00

Friday afternoon she called me while I was driving home in the evening. "Papa can you please take me and a friend to see a movie? We want to see 17 Again. Can you take us on Saturday? I'm having a sleepover tonight. OK. Bye. Love you," Gabriela gabbled.

This morning I dutiful played the role of the doting father, with little resistance and much anguish. The moment they bounced into the car with their colorful socks, and charismatic smiles, I softened up a bit. Their enthusiasm infiltrated my sense of skepticism and disarmed me. Pink hosiery. Multi-colored athletic shoes. Polka dots. Figures and hues masterfully deployed by an exuberant young tween. So, off we went to the Tyson's Corner Mall this morning. Arriving at 10:45 am, parking was not a problem. We even had time for a few photo ops before the movie.

Dangling legs added a bit of color to whitewashed concrete.

The girls eyed the latest fashions and played around with the pink poseurs.

Before heading into the movie theater, they found time to create a few still frames of their own.

When the final credits scrolled along the screen, I eagerly reaccessed. The movie was actually enjoyable and this morning had been an unexpected opportunity to just be...a dad.

tulips, two-wheelers, and other tidbits...

2009-04-24T21:50:00.011-04:00

Today, I indulged in a long lunch and walked across the Hill to the Senate side for some sushi. (The Dirksen office building cafeteria has a sushi stand, and the prices are ridiculously low. It is one of the Hill's best kept secrets.) On the way back, I walked through a sea of Segways sashaying behind the Capitol...a group of French-speaking tourists warming up for their guided procession.

Here are a few more tulips, tossed in with other tidbits of late. [Click here for the s(l)ideshow.]

Accidental Allure...

2009-04-21T22:13:00.005-04:00

Investigators, whether documenting the scene of a crime or the scene of an accident, often rely on the use of photography to preserve images of the setting. Today, I sat through a Congressional Subcommittee hearing entitled, "Secrecy in the Response to Bayer's Fatal Chemical Plant Explosion." During the testimony, and the questioning that followed, several photographs taken by the investigators from the Chemical Safety Board were displayed on the monitors. Other photographs taken by the CSB investigators (of the Bayer CropScience Chemical Plant in Institute, West Virginia following the explosion on August 28, 2008) were posted on the Congressional Committee's website.

I found the images to be disquieting and demure...spectral and sublime. The tragedy that garnered the attention of the CSB investigator seemed at once disassociated and embedded in the images themselves. The anonymous investigator that took the pictures managed to seize an astounding array of color and compostion, a hint of symmetry and splendor that transcended the devastation and sadness of the moment.

The image that most impressed me....

Here are a few others....

(f)utility work(s)...

2009-04-15T20:35:00.008-04:00

I walked past the sign, but the words stayed with me...this evening's rain drops percolating in tandem with derivative musings. The sign, a fluorescent beacon marooned in a frenzy of impassivity, was out of place. Peering to the right of the bike trail and then to the left...I saw not a trace of activity, useful or otherwise.

Somebody may show up at that very spot. Tomorrow perhaps, to do some kind of work...I esteemed. This generous presumption then lead to wanting assessments on the nature of labor, jobs, careers....interplays between utility and futility, purpose and pointlessness, meaning and insignificance.

A sign out of place is sometimes just a sign out of place. But, living in DC infuses most of us with a perfumed cynicism and that orange placard and its prescient ironic context could just as easily have been, or will be an epiphany or an epitaph.

Did I read too much into the sign? I've had a long few weeks at work, and the fatigue effortlessly generated a series of questions: Should work speak for itself? Should work produce something that is visible? Did I need a sign that read "pedantic neurotic."

Then I smirked, and kept walking home.

Flag Day at the Foreign Service...

2009-04-10T20:52:00.006-04:00

Earlier this afternoon, my sister-in-law sat in the crowd as they announced the postings.
Her first assignment will be a bit more familiar, and she will definitely make use of every item in her diplomatic tool box...as relatives and friends scramble, look into the future...and plan their visits.
Congratulations Sis'!

Signs of Spring...

2009-03-30T22:11:00.005-04:00

Sunday morning began with an uninspiring gray fog.
So, I went for a walk in search of color,
and found some, in unexpected places....

Trooper Tribute...

2009-03-26T17:48:00.009-04:00

A few months ago I posted a few words about, and a couple of pictures of Trooper. Trooper died this past January from injuries sustained in a car accident, but today he made an encore appearance during a Congressional Subcommittee Hearing when Subcommittee Chairman, Congressman Bart Stupak, held up his picture.

(Snapshot from Today's Subcommittee Video Recording)

Here is the Wall Street Journal Article that puts it all in context....

...Manic Monday

2009-03-23T21:50:00.006-04:00

Today was a late day at the office, a consequence of frantically attempting to meet erratically imposed deadlines. While working well past dinner time, my blackberry vibrated. It was Ari calling, "Papa...when are you coming home? ...At what time?" I tried to explain that I would be home later tonight, but that I could not tell him exactly when. The disappointment in his voice was strident.

Then, thirty minutes later, the blackberry vibrated again. This time it was Gabriela calling, "Papa...when are you coming home?" A deep breath later, I tried to explain, "I'll be heading home soon, after I finish my project...." She read the situation well, and in a moment of wisdom and kindness offered a bit of understanding, "I love you Papa, Goodnight."

Arriving home from work after the kids have gone to bed is fortunately a very rare occurrence, yet I still wonder about those few hours I missed and those other manic moments...the frenzied tales told by children at the end of the day.

...charquitos al carbón

2009-03-16T20:14:00.008-04:00

A light rain dusted the deck, disturbed the reflection of leafless trees floating in puddles. The weekend was a mass of gray skies and damp airs...the meteorological incarnation of a large manatee. For a few brief moments on Sunday afternoon, we found warmth with family and other flavors. My brother grilled homemade bison sausage, and other savory delicacies. He is a chef by training, an artist of the palate. You probably think I'm exaggerating, but the flavors he conjured were as delicate as childhood memories of the Island, as refreshing as a fleeting tropical downpour, and as syncretic as Santeria and Spanglish.

He smoked, then grilled, then glazed ribs with his homemade guava chipotle BBQ sauce. This sauce was thick and dark like tamarind syrup. Plenty of sauce remained...so, I drenched my portion of grilled meats with the enthusiasm of a piraguero serving up his last shavings of ice. We ate, and laughed, and celebrated a nephew's birthday. The raindrops marched down from the clouds...slowly, in an orderly fashion, disciplined...much like a colony of water ants. The air was still damp, and crisp. Grey skies were now dark. But that didn't bother me now. The guava flavors had long since crafted more vibrant reflections in the puddles of memory.

If you want your own serving, click here to see the leftovers.

...heard around the house

2009-03-09T22:14:00.006-04:00

A few pimples dance around her hairline. She counters with special rinses and washes, and shrugs. We watch from a distance, and stand ready to offer reassurances regarding her changing complexions, contours, and concerns.

Then a few days ago she walked up to us, grinned and confidently conveyed a dose of self-assurance. "This morning I looked into the mirror and a really cute girl stared back at me." She then giggled and glided out of sight.

Adolescence seems to be a pleasing pose....

Vitrious Vanities...

2009-03-02T20:44:00.009-05:00

Last night...they were predicting, and then revising their estimates as I glanced outside and the snow began to fall. This morning, I glanced again and smiled.

The county closed the schools, I took the day off in order to nurse the tail end of a nagging cold. The kids played outside. I shoveled. Daniela relaxed. And drop by drop the icicles hanging from our front portico...grew and grew. Throughout the day, I documented their glints and their guises, as the glass stalactites mimicked the girth of a pachyderm's snout. By nightfall, the longest one had reached 36 inches...and kept growing. Here are a few of those moments:

If you prefer to catch the droplets at your own pace, click here. And if all of this has left you nostalgic for 80's music of a similar vein...enjoy this classic and floe back in time.

Carnival in Clarendon

2009-02-24T22:28:00.011-05:00

The Mardi Gras parade began with Arlington County Police braving the 20 degree chill as they looped around on their Harley's. Residents and business representatives followed atop decorated floats tossing beads at the crowd. (Click here to catch your own.)

This was my first experience with our local Carnival, and I was pleasantly surprised, especially as I glimpsed this Bolivian Oruro mask punctuating the final leg of the forty-five minute procession...a flash of Andean pre-Lenten festivities (inside a truncated version of the Cajun circus) along the streets of Arlington...concentric convolutions of the carnivalesque.

Pollyannish Perambulation...

2009-02-22T20:40:00.003-05:00

For many months, the inside-the-beltway micro climate has been dominated by gloomy punditry, contrasting political forecasts, and economic darkness. Today, clouds gave way and for few hours we could see the golden chariot looming behind the leafless trees. For a few moments, we unplugged from the realpolitik grounding ourselves in asphalt and concrete pathways, dissolving ourselves amidst the shadows and delightful perspectives of scale and sunlight...renewing our optimism in a suspension of disbelief...willing ourselves to overlook the limitations of political economy, and hoping for better forecasts.

Glowing Gerkin...

2009-02-17T23:12:00.002-05:00

Third grade science fair projects can be fun.

Click here to gawk at the coruscating cucumber...

Crimson Convergence...

2009-02-16T12:21:00.008-05:00

Saturday morning, I invited Ari to accompany me on an urban photographic safari. While wandering along the bike path in our neighborhood, I spotted this broken basketball stand. After evaluating our options, we sat in front of the stand...the red hoop framing a portion of the trail. We waited, patiently. Two joggers merged into our field of view a few minutes later. Click. (The lady wearing the blue sweatshirt is eclipsed by the left side of the hoop.)

Picture Perfect...

2009-02-08T09:17:00.009-05:00

I have been a fan of the BBC and its website, especially the "Day in Pictures" segment, for quite a while. Each weekday afternoon, I dissolve myself in their array of photojournalistic vignettes. So when the BBC began requesting that readers from their world-wide audience submit pictures for its "Your Pictures, Your World" segment, I thought...sure, why not?

At the time, the four themes framing the solicitation were: Yellow, Water, Junk, and Numbers. I sent them one of my pictures a few weeks ago. Today, I peeked at the BBC website...and almost fell of my chair.

Take a closer look for yourself. Click here to see Daniela descending the yellow spiral staircase. There are 10 pictures in total. She and the staircase may be reached by clicking on number 8.

Lashing out...in Lyrics

2009-02-02T22:29:00.007-05:00

Yesterday afternoon, I sat in a Starbucks coffeehouse. This particular store is small, and mainly serves commuter coffee drinkers. Here, the line is usually five people deep and the service is fast, furious and efficient. Most of the square footage is dedicated to the service counter, and the display shelves. This is not the place for claustrophobic caffeine junkies.

After ordering my drink, I occupied one of small tables in the rear of the store. Behind me, sat a man and a woman, dressed in Pittsburgh Steelers jerseys, hovering over their laptops. Behind them, sat a man with oily gray hair...slicked back, earphones dangling from his ears. The large makeshift bag near his feet gave every indication that he was homeless...all of his portable possessions neatly wrapped in black plastic tarp. His head swayed from side to side, and his lips moved without an utterance as he listened to his music. In my best estimation he was fifty years old. He sat in style, wearing orange ski pants...his legs crossed and his foot tapping in the air.

Not more than five minutes after sitting down at my table, the homeless man's deep voice made conversation with the young couple next to him. A brief, but polite exchange ensued. Halting in its revelation, the few words spoken by the younger man in the Steelers jersey could have easily been translated as follows: "I don't know you. Don't talk to me, please." Then there was silence, intermittently punctuated by the barrista's calls and high-pitch vapors rising from steamed milk.

A few minutes later, the homeless man began singing. Loudly. Lyrics from the past. He sang in tune.

People are strange, when you're a stranger.

People look ugly when you're alone.

Women seem wicked when you're unwanted...

I recognized the first verse and the melody, thinking...anything can happen...this man may be mentally ill...put your computer away.... Then the lyrics came into focus, and I realized what the homeless man was doing as he continued to sing.

When you're strange.

Faces come out in the rain.

When you're strange.

No one remembers your name....

With those poetic lyrics composed decades ago by Jim Morrison, and their strategic deployment, the homeless man had both lashed out at the indifference expressed by that other man in his football jersey, and also conformed to that man's imputation of eccentricity. The lyrical performance was a powerful and scathing criticism of how we perceive strangers, and so willingly seclude them in anonymity when we don't even ask them their name. As the homeless man continued to sing aloud, I looked around the coffee house. Everyone else ignored the outburst, pretending not to be distracted...looking away, looking down, making casual conversation with others.

After singing the verses a few times, the homeless man stopped singing aloud. He didn't say anything for approximately thirty minutes. The couple with the football jerseys left. A few minutes went by. I looked behind me at the homeless man, and he looked back at me. Then he quickly looked down. I finished the rest of my coffee, an inch of cold, brown unpleasantness, grabbed my backpack and walked out the door...silently humming that melody crafted by Morrison thinking that the saddest part of the homeless man's poetic commentary was that it dissolved itself in our prejudices. I don't think anyone else paid close attention to the words uttered by the homeless man during his melodic rant. After all, crazy people aren't supposed to make sense....

Cake and Cleavage...

2009-02-01T16:03:00.003-05:00

A while ago, members of Daniela's Book Club, Knitting Club, and Walking Club joined forces to plan an ambush. Yesterday they set the trap, and later in the evening Daniela walked in...

(Click here to admire the plotters and their prowess at your own pace.)

Philippe Petit...

2009-01-28T21:02:00.010-05:00

One of my favorite children's books is titled, The Man Who Walked Between the Towers (2003). Mordicai Gerstein both wrote and illustrated this tale of a man traversing between the nearly completed Twin Towers...on a cable wire, on August 7, 1974 at 7:15am. I have read this story aloud to my children many times, and each time my eyes welled up as I turned the last page. In his book, which won the Caldecott Medal in 2004, Gerstein eloquently and artfully reminds readers that the Towers, and by allegory the memory of those who perished with them, live despite their demise...safely nestled and nurtured in the memory of that high-wire tirade.

Earlier tonight while thumbing through the digital pages of the Huffington Post, I tripped upon this interview, given by Monsieur Petit last night. I laughed...and my eyes welled up again.

The Colbert ReportMon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c

Philippe Petit

Colbert Report Full Episodes
Colbert Report Tickets

Paul McCartney Appearance
More Funny Videos

Flaky Freeze...

2009-01-27T19:08:00.004-05:00

The first snowfall of the year in the DC Metro region left its imprint upon our front yard. Here is a brief summary of our day, in pictures. Click here, to sit on the bench and peruse at your own pace.

Protest and the Politics of Choice...

2009-01-23T09:37:00.005-05:00

First Street NE divides the US Supreme Court from the US Capitol. On any given day, the buildings uneventfully glare at each other. Yesterday this corridor ceded to an organized display of dissent, as tens of thousands gathered on the anniversary of Roe v. Wade (1973).

Shortly after noon, I walked the few blocks from my office and mingled about the crowd. My interest in documenting their faces and their slogans was driven by curiosity. Some individuals wore their political sentiment on their sleeves.
Others had it stitched upon their backs.
If you want to choose sides, click here and join the crowd, face to face...

Blue Ticket Blues...

2009-01-20T19:49:00.011-05:00

Not long after dawn, we breezed into DC on I-395 with a special pass...a lone car cruising on the HOV lanes. The empty concrete landscape seemed a fiction. In the end, the deserted highway was real and the mirage came later. Once afoot and with tickets in hand, the blue ticket line unraveled into gridlock, and for no apparent reason stood still...for hours. One particular ticket holder amidst the standstill recorded a collective eruption of frustration and shared it with the Washington Post.

As the time for the Inaugural Commencement approached, we had choices to make: tread impatience with the rest of the crowd and hope the line began to move; or, break ranks and retreat to the wide-screen TV in the nearby Congressional office. I was happy to wade in the pool of stagnant faces, but conceded to other desires. We listened to the speech in comfort, and hung around for a reception before heading home, while CNN traced the beginning of the parade route....

I took a few pictures, but my exposure was limited. Here are a few of the faces plucked from the crowd. (If you feel like cutting in line, click here.)

Nevertheless, I did not dwell on the missed opportunities. Today was a day for contemplation and ideas. That urge to document images gave way to a more abstract appreciation of the moment. It was a remarkable day.

Two Tickets...

2009-01-19T20:04:00.005-05:00

Early tomorrow morning we are heading into DC to swim in the crowds. I will let you know how it went.

Capitoilets...the pre-inaugural landscape

2009-01-13T19:57:00.012-05:00

Preparations for the upcoming Swearing-In Ceremony are underway. Some spectators will be seated close in, others will stand far away. Nevertheless everyone braving the cold will be close to the blue walls.
I saw the first truckload of port-a-johns this morning, while driving along Independence Avenue near the Washington Monument. Then I noticed them everywhere. Rows and rows of port-a-johns. So during my lunch hour, I walked a few blocks into the shadow of the most notable dome in this city and marveled at how the terrain was re-framed by those other domes...capping the blue synthetic outhouses.

(Click here, if you wish to preview the privies at your own pace.)

By the time I headed home, the sun was setting and I still glimpsed a few trucks delivering their cargo. These lavatories stacked intermittently from the Capitol to the Vietnam Veteran's Memorial. Rows of blue headgear, lacking both context and content...at least for a few more days.

Murano Music...

2009-01-06T22:52:00.004-05:00

Fountain pens fascinate me, especially the rituals involved in quenching their thirst with watery tones. Cartridges. Fillers. Nibs. Choosing the inks: bottle shapes and shades. After the sequence of pre-cursive manipulations, each pen then discloses a distinctive modulation when pressed upon the page.

Today, I flirted with a glass pen for the first time, an Italian pistachio green stylus I recently acquired. I etched ink across the pages of a new...(what else?) lime green colored Moleskine journal.

Some scribbles resembled diary confessions, some paid homage to childish sketches. The exhilaration of cruising around the blank page...the rumbling of glass against cellulose left a pair of haiku skid marks.

Glass pen whispers blue
notations born of friction.
Secrets scraping by....

Fragile word-chorus
chants abrasive melodies.
Caligraphy hiss...

A Foodie Farewell...

2009-01-01T19:20:00.014-05:00

This morning Daniela spoke via Skype to her brother in Belarus. He recommended that we have brunch at Slim Goodies...a diner located in the Garden District. We were game, but my in-laws hesitated a bit. Daniela pressed the issue, and we were on our way at noon.

We parked on Magazine Street, and walked a block...passing flocks of hungover twenty-somethings at a pizzeria and a Mexican restaurant. A local couple and a crowd of grunge-artsy types hovered around the entrance to Slim Goodies. Green and Pink hair comingled with sterling silver piercings and vintage eyewear. I asked the non-pierced locals about the wait. "An hour," they answered without a care and a smile. So we left our name and a cell phone number with the hostess/owner and took a walk. A block away, we saw the six-foot high wall fountain at the The Bulldog Pub's beer garden.
Distracted by the scenic displays, time quietly slipped away. We received the call and returned to the diner. While waiting outside for a few more moments, my father-in-law's hunger boiled over into impatience, but the owner flirted with him and he blushed. "I'll get your table ready right now. You're such a handsome man. How do you keep the ladies off of him...." Her charm disarmed my father-in-law's concerns about the wait. (This woman had the skills of an FBI hostage negotiator combined with the allure of a 1940's pin-up girl.) Moments later we were seated next to a table full of tattooed women. Bruce Springsteen's Thunder Road blared from the jukebox, and coffee flowed as we eyed the menus.
I ordered the "Jewish Coonass" breakfast platter: two potato latkes, topped with grilled spinach, two eggs and crawfish étouffée. Daniela had the "Creole Slammer" breakfast platter: two eggs under a pile of hash browns and crawfish étouffée. The wait was worth it, and the flavorful impressions will last as long as those tattoos that brunched alongside our table. As we finished up, the owner/hostess came by once more and told us that she was picking up the tab for my in-law's meals...a jazzy display of class.

We walked off most of the calories strolling along in Audobon Park. As we passed the pond and other passersby, Gabriela found her tree and perched for a while, thinking of anything but....our trip home tomorrow.

An Old Year...A New Year...

2009-01-01T11:10:00.010-05:00

Click on the comic strip...to read the fine print.

Bayou Bliss...

2008-12-30T23:26:00.008-05:00

Today we craved a bit of green. So we traveled a few miles south of New Orleans to Jefferson Parish, and walked along the trails in Bayou Coquille.

You are welcome to have a seat and let your eyes wander....
Click here, for a few moments in the marsh.

The Audobon Aquarium and...

2008-12-29T21:46:00.005-05:00

I couldn't decide which I enjoyed more...the displays of fishes, frogs, skates, rays, corals and clownfish, or the mullets, the New Orleans Saints football jerseys, and the many personalities gawking at life underwater.
This aquarium is a true place of encounters, literally...complete with a stingray petting pool. Yes, you can pet a stingray, and even pet a baby nurse shark. Somehow, the stingrays are trained. You merely roll up you sleeves, insert your arm in the tank, make a fist and then extend your index and middle fingers. The rays swim over and hover just under your digits. Then, you gently rub behind their head. I was amazed and even amused when one of the rays protested by splashing a wing and spraying me with water when I cut my ray massage short. (That particular and seemingly docile dasyatid had a bit of an attitude.) Gabriela joined in, and massaged her own.
Here are a few glimpses from our time inside and outside of the water. If you want to massage the photos at your own pace, click here with your index and middle fingers fully extended.

Facades, Faces and other Frames...

2008-12-28T11:18:00.004-05:00

I heard someone mention, "New Orleans is a city you eat your way through...." It is true, I have found out. (The colors and the architecture, the door frames, and the people seem to increase one's appetite.)
Click here, and pick through the (.jpeg) jambalaya at your own pace.

Ink-Congruities...

2008-12-27T18:38:00.010-05:00

Yesterday, my eye wandered...searching for disparities and asymmetries, as we re-entered the French Quarter. As we approached Café du Monde for another round of powdered sugar and fried dough, I walked past a tourist just sitting...his purposeful self-commodification emblazoned on his right forearm. I asked if my camera could scan his barcode and he said, "sure."

Ink-Commodified Human

Moments later while under the spell of café au lait, I contemplated the alternative readings of this linear impression. A critique of consumer society? An indelible identification with a consumer product?

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/\

Today, I strolled along Magazine Street in the Uptown section bored by the banality of one antique shop after another. Then I saw these mannequins in a storefront window and stopped, and stared.

Humanized Ink-Commodity

An academic assonance played in my head...lyrics borrowed from Claude Lévi-Strauss' text La Pensée Sauvage, and The Who's song Tattoo. The self-induced pedantic seizure distilled into rhetorical ironies: "Hey mannequin ladies...are your tattoos a brand of conviction, isolation or fraternization? Hey barcode tourist...does your tattoo make you feel plastic, metallic, or elastic?"

Audobon Park...

2008-12-26T23:17:00.004-05:00

Yesterday afternoon, we decided to traipse through one of New Orleans' hallmark green spaces...Audobon Par k. We cast a few shadows, and sat in the shade. Then it was time to head back. (Nonno was sleepy and needed a nap.)

Here are a few patches of green, and blue, and other colors. Click here, to sort them out at your own pace.

At the park entrance opposite Tulane University, on the way to the car....

New Orleans Noel...

2008-12-25T13:06:00.007-05:00

Yesterday, our first full day in New Orleans, we rendezvoused with David and his two girls. (He traveled from Brazil to visit his parents. Last time we saw each other was over 18 year ago in Hoboken, New Jersey.) Our plan was to weave around the French Quarter, and share stories from the last few years, while drinking coffee, devouring beignets, and absorbing the local colors, sights and sounds.
Here are a few of the images from our wanderings. Click here, to trace your own path through the Cajun labyrinth....

This was my favorite array of the day....

Beignet Bound...

2008-12-23T22:13:00.010-05:00

We arrived today in the Big Easy after a two-day road trip, and are staying at my brother in-law's home while he enjoys an academic sabbatical in Europe. We have planned to soak up the flavor of New Orleans (or what is left...post-Katrina) for a week or so before heading back home to DC.
(2130 hrs, local time) As I type, there is a live New Orleans Jazz band...singing accompanied by those unmistakable trumpets and banjos...nearby, somewhere down the street in this "Uptown" neighborhood. Tomorrow morning...the French Quarter.

Here are some impressions from our interstate journey today. (Click on the moving images to view the slide show at your own speed.)

Asymmetry and Adolescence...

2008-12-14T23:42:00.010-05:00

Her choice of socks is playful...and girlish.

Her eyes when accidentally framed, seem to belong to someone much older...

This weekend, I appreciated her preteen form much how she displayed it...with great flexibility.

Pyrrhic Pyre, or Pyric Prolixity...

2008-12-09T20:16:00.005-05:00

(A Haiku in Flames)

Promethean yen
emerges at night. Wax log
is Greek tragedy....

Washington D.C. at dusk...

2008-12-05T18:01:00.012-05:00

As I prepared to head home this evening, I glanced at the sky and knew it would be a spectacular sunset. So I placed my camera on the empty passenger's seat. I'm glad I did so.

At a red light by the Tidal Basin, I saw a lone figure contemplating....
The light turned green, and I continued with my commute.

Veterans and Verisimilitude...

2008-12-02T22:51:00.007-05:00

A few days ago at dusk, I walked along the Fußgängerzone on the northern boundary of the White House and saw him standing. This man, holding a simple wooden cane in his left hand and dressed in dark earth-tones, stood at attention. As I walked towards him, he lifted his right arm in one fluid motion, frozen in military salute...facing the presidential estate. He was a Veteran for sure...his gray hair was long, but not un-kept...his glasses unfashionable and thick. Without a word, he withdrew his tribute. Lowering his right arm, he right-faced and began walking West. His gate was steady, but the cadence punctuated by presumptive injuries...a kinesic memoir written upon battle-hardened cartilage, sinew and bone. I wondered who he was...where he had served...and why he returned to this place....

This face without a name made me think of other names that I had photographed a few days ago. These other cognomina seemed incognito, at first. Then I realized the brilliant interplay, which occurs at this monument...noms de guerre, given a face...with each visitor's reflection. I then looked around and wondered where they would build the next monument, in which direction would it face...the monument for the soldiers that died in Iraq and Afghanistan. I sighed, and snapped the picture.

los primos y el pasado...

2008-11-30T12:07:00.006-05:00

The Turkey-fête overflowed onto my side of the family last night, as we made a "mejunje" from all the leftover relatives. We seized this opportunity to celebrate my cousin Karla's birthday. More than three decades have raced by since we last ran around the majestic Flamboyan, pelted each other with mangoes, and shared a ripe soursop from my grandmother's garden. Her daughter, thirteen, ran around with the younger cousins...comfortably climbing along this branch of the family tree.

Today, we shared some of the monumental sites with Karla and her daughter. I was reminded of how much I enjoy the city at night and of the permanence of its marble. I was reminded of how much I miss my youthful antics and of the permanence of nostalgia. This streetlamp we saw near the White House today was an interesting omen.

Peruse this recent past at your own pace by clicking here.

Thanksgiving Family Filling...

2008-11-29T16:59:00.003-05:00

This weekend, relatives were stuffed in close proximity...turkeys and cranberries, teasing and cackling, We dined, danced, debated, and delighted with extended family. I will gladly share the sights, but I will spare you the sounds. As for the smells, some were related to fowl and some were of the featherless variety. However, when it comes to relatives, it is impossible for them to overstay their welcome...much like the Pilgrims, I suppose.

If you click here, we may even set a place for you at the table.

Ari's Award...

2008-11-25T16:14:00.005-05:00

The PTA held an awards ceremony this afternoon for their annual creativity contest, REFLECTIONS. This year's theme was "WOW," and Ari won third prize for his entry in the Intermediate Photography category. After the assembly, we all congratulated him in the hallway as he held his certificate and trophy closely by his side.
Here is his photograph...
Shortly after the ceremony, I asked him how he felt. "I just entered the contest for the cookies," he commented. "If you participate, they give you cookies after the assembly." He then added...with a pensive look, "I think I'll do this again next year."

chubby chewer...

2008-11-22T18:05:00.005-05:00

We arrived home this afternoon and found our furry friend gorging on the front lawn. He sat still atop the pumpkin. We exited the car, and as we approached he waddled away.
A few minutes after we entered the house our friend returned, perched and continued to feast. I watched through the window.

bioplastics bemoaned...

2008-11-18T21:02:00.015-05:00

I ate lunch today at one of the "green" government cafeterias near my new office building. The scene resembled an overcrowded high school lunchroom. The faces floating around me were a panoply of extremes, overdressed and under-starched youths mingling with over-starched underwhelmed politicos. The pizza bar offered an array of glistening square cuts. I chose the cheese, one slice. After paying for the reflective polygon, I grabbed a set of flatware. The feel was different, the sheen was absent. These were forks and knives made of corn starch, mostly...a hard resin billed as "biodegradable and biocompostable."
The knife flexed sideways as I tried to slice my cheese pizza. My new eco-sci-fi cutlery eased through the cheese, but barely dented the dough. I ate the pizza with my hands, and then gave the knife and fork a closer look. Bending either of them generated stretch marks, of sorts. The lines vanished after gently straightening the utensil.
The flatware's design was less than inspiring, a design element constrained by its own nomenclature...any semblance of artfulness unnecessarily eclipsed by a paean to eco-pragmatism. I finished eating, and retired the cutlery to the "biocompostables" bin. Walking past the main stand, I grabbed a fresh trio of flatware...souveniers from my close encounter with the eco-chic. Hours later, I wondered how much corn or cornstarch was needed to make a bioplastic spoon, or fork, or knife. I wondered if this maize product was a bit of high-fructose hyperbole for an emergent hyper-environmental consciousness.

This evening, I found an article in Popular Science, The Problem with (Bio)Plastic, by Matt Ransford, dated May, 7, 2008. His text warned of the eco-woes and hinted that bioplastics may be just as harmful as petro-plastics. The assessment was sobering, but artfully critical. I mean literally artful, replete with echoes of René Magritte and his modernist playfulness...of his dissonant aesthetic. I'll spare you the article's fatalism and will neglect to paraphrase the warnings against this particular panacea. But, I have to share that image, the presumptive tribute to Magritte, his Modernist eye, and critical sense of irony.

[I Am Not a Plastic Bag: Anya Hindmarch]

Indulgent Septuagenarian Induction...

2008-11-16T21:55:00.005-05:00

Saturday night, the extended family donned their dancing shoes and celebrated my Aunt Jenny's latest cumpleaños. The merengue-frosted dulce de leche-filled cake aptly conveyed the sweetness and savor that have framed her outlook and still give texture to her disposition. We all danced. Our hips and feet echoed Caribbean rythms and 70's disco tunes as we laughed, spilled a little wine, and unveiled a gag gift.
These family gatherings have served as both festive chronometer and flavorful nostalgia. I looked around and saw the youngsters darting around legs, and remembered doing the same decades ago in Puerto Rico. The generations move along, and the family celebrations stay the same.

(Go ahead, cut in and grab a dance partner...cliquea aquí.)

Indian Summer Indulgence...

2008-11-16T21:33:00.007-05:00

Early this Saturday afternoon, the mercury hovered near seventy degrees. So we walked all over the leaves.
As we arrived at one of the nearby parks, she decided to dress herself in autumnal modesty.
Gabriela favored an inverted perspective as she swayed around.
Unleashed, Ari prowled upwards and scurried along a plastic perch.

canine coda...

2008-11-13T21:55:00.006-05:00

This week, I temporarily left the familiarity of the Executive branch, and began a one-year detail with a Congressional Committee. Monday morning, I arrived early. The offices were empty, so I sat on the couch in the reception area, and waited. A few minutes later, a woman walked towards me, a three-legged dog trailing behind her. She walked by and offered a friendly greeting soaked in Midwestern sincerity, "Good Morning." Then her three-legged companion surprised me. He walked up to me and placed his muzzle next to my lap, gently nudging my hand away from the copy of the New York Times.

Each morning, he arrives at the office with his owner, Lisa, a veterinarian by training. Most of the day, he lays on a dark blanket near her desk. They go for their daily walk. I walk by her desk, and she is on the floor massaging his back, and his legs, and his snout. Their contact is framed by an unsettling empathy, as well as a discomforting urgency. I learned quite a bit about Trooper this week. Along with a remarkable personality and uncanny sociability, Trooper also has terminal cancer. He may endure for a few more weeks, or a few more months. Lisa told me that she will be a mess when he "goes," as she phrased it. Lisa and I traded stories, anecdotes, dramas, tales and narratives...all sewn together with the thread of cancer-tinged experiences.

I offered to take pictures of Trooper during one of their daily walks. Lisa then mentioned that she had hundreds of pictures of Trooper, taken by her boyfriend with his digital camera. I asked if she would share some of those pictures with me, and she did. These two are my favorites, and were taken a few years ago according to the data encoded in the images. The artistic quality of the photographs pales in comparison to Trooper's character...a compliment to both the photographer and his subject.

GMail Video? Yep...

2008-11-11T20:23:00.006-05:00

Google Mail now has a video-chat capability. Click here to read today's post on the official Gmail Blog.

Screenshot from today's news...

winemaker's wittiness...

2008-11-11T17:03:00.018-05:00

The display bottle intrigued me as I walked by, an elegant and simple design from a Virginia winery. So, I made a purchase from the vintner at the farmers market this past weekend...feeling a sense of pride in supporting our local wine growers. That evening, we poured a round and then, while inspecting the font my better half noticed the anomaly. "They misspelled Raspberry," she sang. "The p is missing."
I pondered the presumptive typo for a few days, and today I decided to email the winery. To my surprise, the owner replied an hour later. In his own words: There is a little story behind it. It was originally spelled wrong and we decided not to fix it because our wine has no "P". We have since made a couple minor changes and the new bottling will be spelled correctly. Thanks again and we hope you come out to visit us sometime.

I laughed...a Virginia winemaker soaked in self-effacing humor. After reading the email, I poured a bit of the Rasberry Merlot, thought about planning a trip to the vineyard, and with a smirk offered a toast...to all those who can make light of their mistakes. Cheers.

saltation salutations...

2008-11-09T11:44:00.006-05:00

These past few months, our lawn has played host to political signage. So before retiring the displays, we had a bit of fun...tacked them up on the shed...and jumped around...welcoming the future.
(If you want to bounce along, click here.)

prismatic passion...

2008-11-08T22:16:00.005-05:00

While walking through a local farmers market today, many people and much of the produce drew my attention. The colors were enchanting. Neighbors chattered and children pined. Then, I spied the not-so-public display of reflection. Nestled quietly, amidst all the frenzy and trapped within a cellophane membrane, a leaf and a bundle of lavender tenderly embraced.

Papo Pictograph...

2008-11-07T22:05:00.011-05:00

My friend Rob sent me a link via email today. I clicked, and slowly leafed through the many images...the way one turns the pages of a favorite and dog-eared novel.

I envy those who earn a living as fine art photographers. Rachel Papo's array artfully documents moments, glances, and experiences...betwixt and between Israeli women, initiates into compulsory military service.

(Click here, if you want to zoom into the rank and file.)

signed...sealed and delivered!

2008-11-04T23:17:00.004-05:00

portentous pastiche...

2008-11-04T19:05:00.005-05:00

The polls closed at 1900 hours here in Virginia...still nervous. So, I created my own good luck collage from a picture (click no.13) I noticed earlier in the week.
[a reconfiguration of 'The face. Aiko' by Russian couple Galina Brando and Alexander Abramov]

Wandering, Wondering and Waiting...

2008-11-04T14:39:00.009-05:00

Earlier today, the anticipation and restlessness led me out of the house and away from the computer. I walked around a nearby neighborhood's polling site. The intensity of RED vs. BLUE was only a glance away...a few more hours before the election coverage begins digesting the ballots and spewing predictions.

Election Enthusiasm...

2008-11-04T06:28:00.005-05:00

The polls in my neighborhood opened at 0600 hours. By 0530 I was in line, with approximately thirty other voters. The line kept growing and growing with every passing minute.
By 0615, I had cast my vote, and was ready to head home. Then I thought about the day, stopped, and pulled out my camera. I hope you had a chance to vote today.

Cartesian Coordination...

2008-11-01T23:43:00.003-04:00

While her brother etched his skills along the pitch, she decided to cart around her sense of spontaneity and wheel through the air.

(Click here, if you wish to tumble along.)

Witchy Women...

2008-11-01T21:24:00.016-04:00

Yesterday evening, spectral wavelengths danced in costumes. The sisters reveled in relative mischief at the edge of the neighborhood bonfire as ghouls glowed in the dark. Pumpkins, carved anew by squirrely incisors, radiated a warm glow. After basking in the spectacle, we later faded into the nighttime carnival and began to trick or treat.

Halloween Piano Recital...

2008-10-28T22:30:00.006-04:00

Sunday afternoon, Ari suited up as his favorite funster. Before tickling the ivories, he humored himself...speculating on his mood and mocking the Batman.

After clowning around, the crowd cheered and his sister followed suit. He was last seen on his way back to the Funhouse...

Carving Cavalcade...

2008-10-26T21:07:00.005-04:00

The cousins came together for their annual pre-Halloween pumpkin sculpting. Orange slime stuck to everyone. Seeds roasting in the oven, were later sprinkled with salt. Little rascals hollowed jack-o-lanterns...foreshadowing the carnivalesque.

If you want to dissever, engrave or etch, just bring your own blade...and click here.

Hard-Boiled...Haute Couture

2008-10-24T12:26:00.003-04:00

Yesterday morning, one of my co-workers buzzed in with her new scarf. Her sense of humor, and the fashionable kerchief mischief made for memorable moments throughout the day.

If you want your own scarf, click here.

Atlantic Atheneum...

2008-10-23T17:50:00.007-04:00

A very artsy friend cast her spell and transformed our local elementary school library. Her interpretation of an ocean theme swelled into a benthic literary fantasy...20,000 Reads Under the Sea, if you will. During last night's book fair, parents and students swarmed about the cellulose seascape...spawning themselves into bookish baitfish...perusing the plankton fonts under the watchful gaze of a squid, a shark, a stingray and a few seahorses.

If you want to swim along, hold your breath and click here.

Segmented Cephalopod...

2008-10-18T16:51:00.004-04:00

On Friday, Gabriela had a fragmentary experience in her sixth grade science class. She decided to share her delight in the dissection. In the evening, I was greeted by an invertebrate collage....

Cachondeo Cubano...

2008-10-14T21:02:00.009-04:00

Saturday, I joined a colleague from work and soaked in a bit of soccer at RFK Stadium...U.S. v. Cuba in a World Cup qualifying match. A contingent of Cubans sat a few rows ahead of us, waving their flag and screaming "Cuba, Cuba, Cuba...." With an awestruck gaze, they often paused and took pictures of the crowd. I overheard a few of them speaking in dialect, their accents thick like freshly harvested plantains. They optimistically cheered for their team during the entire match, despite losing...6-1, an optimism to emulate, a loyalty to envy.

The next day, I read in the Sunday paper that two of the Cuban national team players had defected before the game. I wondered if the Cuban fans knew. I wondered if the Cuban defectors knew how much their fans had cheered. I wondered about life in Cuba.

Happy (En)Trails...

2008-10-14T13:23:00.005-04:00

After four hours, I surveyed my hands at midnight. They were a deep black, darker than squid ink and coated in a repulsive moisturizing bile freshly harvested from the labyrinth of pipes under the sink and beneath the walls. The aromatic bouquet, a rancid eau d' compost, reminded me of the alabaster vapors drifting and dancing through Haiti's Cité Soleil slum. For hours, I pushed and pulled a series of coiled spring-steel snakes into and out of various plumbing orifices around the house. Home Sweet Home, constipated by a pound of green beans that Daniela decided to "recycle" in the kitchen sink disposal.... Home, Sweet, Home...I hate you.
This morning, my father and I continued the battery of enemas...until I heard the gurgling gasps rising from the rooftop drain pipe. I sat there on the roof and sighed, humbled by my close encounter with domestic excreta.

Cosmetic Comparison...

2008-10-12T21:29:00.007-04:00

Clowning around with my cousin Elisa at Manina's house in July 1979, almost thirty years ago...
A few weeks ago, when my mother found these pictures in her basement she commented on the resemblance between me and Gabriela. Below is a picture of Gabri, which I took last year.

You decide.

Yom Pikkture

2008-10-11T10:49:00.009-04:00

On Thursday, my day was weighted with reflection. In the early afternoon, Ari hovered as I shrouded myself with solemn introspection. He is an eight-year old boy. He relishes time spent with his father, especially when we embark on father-son adventures. This day was not such an occasion. Still, his childish exuberance escaped the gravity of this day. Atonement has many melodies, so I decided to improvise and create a form of pixelated expiation. I decided to make up for the times when I had said, "not now..." or "later...."

"Ari, grab your camera, and I'll take mine. Let's go for a walk." "Really," he doubted. Along the bike path, we talked about photography, nature, and framing images around us....

(Click on the images to focus on the colors.)

Sunrise...Silhouette

2008-10-08T18:25:00.009-04:00

6:45 am...I headed for DC. A few minutes later, I saw the streaks across the skyline as I crossed over the Potomac. I reached behind me and into the backpack. Cruising along Independence Avenue on my way to Capitol Hill, I desperately sought to capture the glow. The exposure to these hues and tones affected me all day. My moods radiated with solace.
...along Independence Avenue, approaching the Tidal Basin.
...along Independence Avenue, Air and Space Museum (Smithsonian) on the left.

Kültür Karavan...

2008-10-05T21:39:00.010-04:00

This weekend accelerated past me, reminding me of science fiction warp drives, and Star Trek reruns. My only image of stability reflected in a side-view mirror. I did, however, find some firm footing...
...walking around at this weekend's Turkish Festival. (Eighteen years ago, I spent months studying the Turkish language, and then a few weeks in Istanbul.) As we walked today, the crowd in DC saturated my senses with familiar phrases, idioms, compliments, curses, and proverbs, while the Anatolian aromas and Azeri artisans contrasted and cavorted with the Istanbul chic.

Aside from the faceless fez, we saw Fenerbahçe jerseys and Puma footwear competing for attention amid the headscarves. And once in a while, I spotted reconciliatory fashion statements swimming within the stream of modern and traditional currents.

I taught Gabriela and Ari a few phrases in Türkçe and they artfully deployed them, earning smiles from the vendors, artists, dancers and passersby. All three of us marveled and mingled.

If you prefer to savor these Turkish delights at your own pace, click here.

The Dark Knight & The Bailout Plan

2008-10-02T22:53:00.006-04:00

I enjoyed this clip, and have played it many times over. The fictional context is fitting, and creates a revealing backdrop.