Bi Polar People

A child, a tiny thing in blond banana curls and cut-off genes walks with her dad, or rather dad walks with his vivacious daughter. He is still wearing his fatigues and is a bit weary but a promise is never forgotten when your daughter asks… The carnival was one of those rent-a-rides put up by the local church to gather money for things like the leaky roof on a steeple that had seen better days and for food that would feed the many in a parish that was just as poor as its' parishioners. The brightest, loudest, fun thing in the parking lot was the carousel. Parked among the hawkers of fish bowls and stuffeded animals it twirled and howled a calliope of show tunes only those from the past would remember, but everyone still enjoyed the lively sounds. A tug or two on a pants leg sent father and child into the thick crowd of the curious. The event had invited many in this small town to do something different, or do something at all. It was just another reason to gather and chat with

I have been taking pictures since I was twelve years old. My first camera was a 35mm Kodak 3c. We go way back together. It had a flip out lens with bellows. Depth of field was easy to adjust with this camera while maintaining good exposures – something today’s digital point and shot cameras overlook. If your camera has a manual setting you can blur the background while keeping the foreground in focus, just keep the lens wide open and adjust shutter speed to the correct exposure. The three preceding pictures are what I call strong images, because they may evoke strong emotions. This is the type of shot I look for. This is my eye’s personality. Usually such shots are deceptive. The drink in hand at thirty thousand feet is a coke, the bowl sitting on top of a wooden table is almost every kind of texture one can a capture in a single shot, otherwise it has no particular purpose, and the angel is really a manikin’s reflection in a storefront window. They all tell a story, are not the c

My Angel 

No one knows 

O Solo Mio 

MS is not perfect, it gets attacked because it is the volksys - the people's operating system, a complex compilation of code that makes it easy for the every day person who doesn't want to do nothing more than print, work, play, or peruse the net. Of course this doesn't come about without a few paradigm shifts, like why aren't documents, email, music and pictures all the same stuff? One day we'll walk in any room like the movie "Alien" and voice the command, "Mother - what's for dinner, show me pictures of my grandchildren, read my email and play some Procol Harem." Not in our lifetime of course, but as we become more dependent on machines we become more like them and just as isolated and taken for granted. Eventually a culture will evolve with the machine as a distant infrastructure while we live our lives beyond the necessity of day to day personal maintenance. We will indeed have a perpetual mother that watches over us and provides the ne