Every day, I ride the metro. And every day, I sit with my camera in my hands thinking, “Another day on the metro. Nothing interesting happening here.” But still I sit there, camera in hand.
Just in case the lights turn out for thirty seconds.
Flashback: Year One
The very first Project365 photo.
Project365 was meant to be a one-time deal.
One photo a day for one year.
Before I started my own attempt, I saw so many people fail. In fact, I hadn’t seen anyone successfully complete the project until I was already about halfway through. (Whereas anyone = other participants in the Flickr group Project365.) Since that time, I’ve completed four full years and have started on the fifth.
I’ve recently started a much-needed project archiving all the captions on these photos, starting with Year One. I was naïve about the internet and photo asset management back then, and I only entered the captions on Flickr. With the recent closing of an old blog site (vox.com, run by SixApart) and the [allowed] loss of all my content [that I chose not to back up for personal reasons], I realized that I could potentially lose all context for the photos on my project if Flickr decided to shut down and I didn’t back up the captions manually.
In backing up these captions, I essentially re-lived every day of 2007. My brain hurt. And my heart hurt. It reminded me how long a year really is, no matter how fast or slow it feels when in the present. But most of all, I saw something in myself that I didn’t know existed. Buried among the weeks and months of technically low-quality photographs (compared to my standards now), there were gems of brilliance. I saw what I see in myself now – a photojournalist, trying to make sense of the world one picture at a time. One who wants to help the public remember that life is beautiful, even among the hardships we, as humans, endure.
I’ve always considered myself a photographer. It’s nice to know that my gut was right.
Check out Project365 :: Best of on Flickr. Right now it’s only selects from Year One. It will eventually grow to contain the best of all years.
Wishing I were outside.
So I’ll post a photo from outside. I’m currently killing some Strep bacterias while resting on my couch, or I’d go sit out in the park across the street.
Springtime, please come fast.
Published: Of House and Home
Being sick for five days really puts a damper on sharing awesome things here. On Thursday last week, my story with Sheila Durnil, “Of House and Home,” was published on Vox magazine’s website as part of a larger feature on foreclosure.
http://www.voxmagazine.com/stories/2011/02/10/house-and-home/
It may not have been a large part of the feature, but it got out there. And if even just one person sees this issue and realizes they can save their home before it’s too late, then our objective has been fulfilled.
It’s not just a house. It’s a home.
Another from New York
New York is just so busy. So crazy. So many things going on. So many memories. So many characters. So many lives. I feel like this photo has a lot of that all balled up into one.
Made me miss the small town feel of Missouri.
Just for a minute.
Instagram.
I’ve discovered this neat little iPhone app called Instagram, which is both a photo processing program and a sharing platform. The photos look better on the mobile platform, but I thought I’d share a few from this weekend here. Part kitchy, part awesome, all creative.
What you lookin’ at, Willis?
I went to New York this weekend and rode the express A train uptown for the first time.
So of course, I had to take a picture of our operator.
Wintery activity.
Funny, because it was over 40 degrees. The rink was packed. I wanted to simplify.
(An homage to Josh Bickel.)
Whatever you call it, it was nasty.
“Thundersnow” was most rampant. “Snowmageddon” also appeared, but not quite warranted compared to last year’s blizzard. “Commute from hell” was likely most accurate.
At the time of this photo, I had no idea that it would be five more hours until I could walk through my apartment door. I felt on top of the world with my 35/f2 and semi-water resistant D700. Strangers told me to get my camera out of the snow. I laughed and told them it had been through worse. (Three days of thunderstorms while camping at a burning man-esque event only made a piece of the rubber housing come loose.)
More snow photos to come soon. Cliché, I’m sure, but snow makes every gritty city look beautiful.
Right?
In my thoughts.
I’m thinking about you today, Mom.
Friends, if ever there was a day to say some healing prayers, today would be a good one. Point them in the direction of New York City.
(None of us are really that religious, but it’s the thoughts that count.)