She'll be Coming Around the Mountain When She Comes...
Originally uploaded by JLK1979 (AKA Mr. Johnson)
Thursday, June 25, 2009
She'll be Coming Around the Mountain When She Comes...
She'll be Coming Around the Mountain When She Comes...
Originally uploaded by JLK1979 (AKA Mr. Johnson)
Monday, June 22, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Sacrilegious in the Name of Art
Walking around to the back side of the Marathon Motor Works, following the train tracks, past the stench of something dead, Fallingwater123 pointed out a collection of books. A dozen tomes hung, tied up and gently swinging under the eve of the building still awaiting renovation. It is a creepy site just because it is just so conspicuous. There is no indication of where the books came from, there is no reason to hang them under an eve, and apparently, they have been there for more than a few weeks. It's an odd site.
The artist’s knots seem built to last. None of them have fallen; however, one or two of them have begun to shed some pages. It’s a shame. I felt as if the scene was a drawn out version of a book burning event.
The artist’s knots seem built to last. None of them have fallen; however, one or two of them have begun to shed some pages. It’s a shame. I felt as if the scene was a drawn out version of a book burning event.
Gretchen's Grind - Working at Getting you Up and Keeping you Up.
Gretchen's Grind - Working at Getting you Up and Keeping you Up.
Originally uploaded by JLK1979 (AKA Mr. Johnson)
This was meant to be an informative blurb about a quaint coffee house in Ellicott City, where the clever owners have used the name to connote duel meaning - sexy strippers and coffee, but all I can think about is Kacie's blog.
kacieinourdreams.blogspot.com/2008/12/12112008.html
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
The Lincoln Memorial - A Wonder of the World in my Back Yard
The Lincoln Memorial - A Wonder of the World in my Back Yard
Originally uploaded by JLK1979 (AKA Mr. Johnson)
Heaven and Hell in the District of Columbia
Kasia and I went out the other night into DC to capture the color of light. Our primary site was a construction site right off of Constitution. Our Photography instructor, Aya, told us that there are some amazing shots to be had at these locations due to the high powered flood lights they use to continue working. Since Monday was the last night for posting, we made an impromptu excursion.
As the sun dipped over the horizon, we walked to our site from her parking space on the side of Constitution. Two blocks in, we passed a Buddhist Monk on the sidewalk. “I just need to stop,” Kasia squeaked. I obliged. Kasia set up her tripod from a respectable distance and I watched her work. This is where the magic began to happen.
I watched Kasia, half illuminated by a nearby street lamp, I turned my head to see another monk glide past me, his orange robes flowing from the shadows. He didn’t speak or nod, but walked on. After seeing him, I knew we were going to be here a while and since I didn’t have a snickers to munch on, I also broke out my tripod.
I watched the monk pass Kasia and make his way down the sidewalk towards his brother. I watched everyone as they passed us. Even if they didn’t speak or look at me, they all still made sounds…except for these monks, and the next one that passed and the next one. They came out of nowhere gradually and stood there by the side of the street. The convergence may have took 10 minutes while Kasia and I snapped photos of the mystics to capture them in the night lights.
I would like to say that we had a calm equanimity about our work, but it was completely the exact opposite. We were being eaten alive by every fucking bug within a two mile radius of Washington DC. I slapped at my legs, my arms and head. I flailed around in the dark like I was having a seizure and in between grunts of satisfaction and cries of frustration, I froze long enough to hit the shutter on my camera and tripod. I felt as if I were in hell looking up into heaven.
For every mosquito I killed with my meaty paws, 30 others got their fill of my plasma and platelets. Those dirty buggers almost made me pass out from their feasting and gluttony. In fact, I still feel a bit woozy two days later and I have the welts to prove it.
I continue to itch as I remember the irritation and frustration I felt in the dark watching these peaceful ambassadors. Not once did I see them move suddenly to swat at a biting insect. I watched them as they stood there. I heard nothing when I watched them. Except for the whining sound of an incoming bloodsucker, the rest of the night sounds faded. I don’t remember hearing the buses, the horns, or the meandering tourists with children in tow.
I think the other night is the closest I am going to come to experience an amalgam of heaven and hell, at least until the music stops for me. Only in the Nation’s Capital can we find such chaos and inspiration to do great things.
As the sun dipped over the horizon, we walked to our site from her parking space on the side of Constitution. Two blocks in, we passed a Buddhist Monk on the sidewalk. “I just need to stop,” Kasia squeaked. I obliged. Kasia set up her tripod from a respectable distance and I watched her work. This is where the magic began to happen.
I watched Kasia, half illuminated by a nearby street lamp, I turned my head to see another monk glide past me, his orange robes flowing from the shadows. He didn’t speak or nod, but walked on. After seeing him, I knew we were going to be here a while and since I didn’t have a snickers to munch on, I also broke out my tripod.
I watched the monk pass Kasia and make his way down the sidewalk towards his brother. I watched everyone as they passed us. Even if they didn’t speak or look at me, they all still made sounds…except for these monks, and the next one that passed and the next one. They came out of nowhere gradually and stood there by the side of the street. The convergence may have took 10 minutes while Kasia and I snapped photos of the mystics to capture them in the night lights.
I would like to say that we had a calm equanimity about our work, but it was completely the exact opposite. We were being eaten alive by every fucking bug within a two mile radius of Washington DC. I slapped at my legs, my arms and head. I flailed around in the dark like I was having a seizure and in between grunts of satisfaction and cries of frustration, I froze long enough to hit the shutter on my camera and tripod. I felt as if I were in hell looking up into heaven.
For every mosquito I killed with my meaty paws, 30 others got their fill of my plasma and platelets. Those dirty buggers almost made me pass out from their feasting and gluttony. In fact, I still feel a bit woozy two days later and I have the welts to prove it.
I continue to itch as I remember the irritation and frustration I felt in the dark watching these peaceful ambassadors. Not once did I see them move suddenly to swat at a biting insect. I watched them as they stood there. I heard nothing when I watched them. Except for the whining sound of an incoming bloodsucker, the rest of the night sounds faded. I don’t remember hearing the buses, the horns, or the meandering tourists with children in tow.
I think the other night is the closest I am going to come to experience an amalgam of heaven and hell, at least until the music stops for me. Only in the Nation’s Capital can we find such chaos and inspiration to do great things.
One more Marker
By the time, I took this shot, Don and I were on our third hour in the cemetery. The light caught my eye and I thought this would make a nice photo of the tree roots and that one marker near the tree.
Many times throughout the time in the cemetery, a movie (made for television -- I cannot remember the name) I saw years ago came to mind. It was about a haunted house where a new family moved in. It is the same typical haunted house story everyone tends to remember. The house was built on a cemetery with unmarked graves and the bodies were never removed from the property before the builder came in for construction. The story's supposedly true, the family is tormented by spirits, weird things happen and cannot be explained, etc. Only one aspect was different in the story that always stuck with me - the perspective that the souls of the dead inherited the lives of foliage and trees because their bodies provided sustanance as the tree's roots grew into the dead. The movie suggested that these souls now watch us and are able to live as part of the tree. This thought never left me the whole time. Interesting thought though.
True or not. So I wonder if this tree was watching me. I wonder if they retain their names afterward. "Hi, I am Bobby Lee, the Rosebush."
Many times throughout the time in the cemetery, a movie (made for television -- I cannot remember the name) I saw years ago came to mind. It was about a haunted house where a new family moved in. It is the same typical haunted house story everyone tends to remember. The house was built on a cemetery with unmarked graves and the bodies were never removed from the property before the builder came in for construction. The story's supposedly true, the family is tormented by spirits, weird things happen and cannot be explained, etc. Only one aspect was different in the story that always stuck with me - the perspective that the souls of the dead inherited the lives of foliage and trees because their bodies provided sustanance as the tree's roots grew into the dead. The movie suggested that these souls now watch us and are able to live as part of the tree. This thought never left me the whole time. Interesting thought though.
True or not. So I wonder if this tree was watching me. I wonder if they retain their names afterward. "Hi, I am Bobby Lee, the Rosebush."
Flickr Friend - Fallingwater123
Fallingwater123 - A true Southern Gentleman, knowledgable among the dead, and great company.
I met Don over Flickr about a month after I joined the website. Don does wonders in a cemetery and he truly brings those buried there back to life through the photos he takes of their tombs and grave markers. During a visit to Nashville this past weekend, I had the pleasure of meeting Don in the dark before sunrise, in an area I have never been, and let alone, in a Cemetery (parking lot)! He greeted me with a shovel, pick, and crow bar, wait no, it was cold bottle of water for the drive. Nevermind.
Along the way, Don set the tone with one of the creepest scores I have ever heard. Dark, heavy organ music played (Franz Listz) as we ascended into the graveyard; like I said on his posting of Mount Olivet, it is a moment I will not forget.
This particular photo was taken at the Marathon Motor Works in Nashville and each place that he took me turned out to be a true treasure.
Don, it was a pleasure meeting you and I look forward to our next photoshoot. Remember, lunch is on me next time -- guest or no guest. Thank you very much for sharing your time, city sites, and knowledge with me.
For those of you that are interested in his work, please check him out at:
www.flickr.com/photos/fallingwater123/. You will not regret it.
I met Don over Flickr about a month after I joined the website. Don does wonders in a cemetery and he truly brings those buried there back to life through the photos he takes of their tombs and grave markers. During a visit to Nashville this past weekend, I had the pleasure of meeting Don in the dark before sunrise, in an area I have never been, and let alone, in a Cemetery (parking lot)! He greeted me with a shovel, pick, and crow bar, wait no, it was cold bottle of water for the drive. Nevermind.
Along the way, Don set the tone with one of the creepest scores I have ever heard. Dark, heavy organ music played (Franz Listz) as we ascended into the graveyard; like I said on his posting of Mount Olivet, it is a moment I will not forget.
This particular photo was taken at the Marathon Motor Works in Nashville and each place that he took me turned out to be a true treasure.
Don, it was a pleasure meeting you and I look forward to our next photoshoot. Remember, lunch is on me next time -- guest or no guest. Thank you very much for sharing your time, city sites, and knowledge with me.
For those of you that are interested in his work, please check him out at:
www.flickr.com/photos/fallingwater123/. You will not regret it.
Love me for my Flaws
This glass was found on the window ledge of the abandoned admin building on the premises of Mount Olivet.
As Fallingwater123 and I left the building to go around the other side, I heard her whisper, "take my photo. Love me for my flaws." So I did and here she is.
As Fallingwater123 and I left the building to go around the other side, I heard her whisper, "take my photo. Love me for my flaws." So I did and here she is.
Flickr Friend - Katarzyna Swierczek
Kasia and I have become fast friends through friends and neighbors, but most notably, through photography and Flickr. Though this website provides ample subject matter for our discussions, we talk about everything under the sun. She is my Photography companion during the early morning weekends when we seek out another abandoned site or interesting photo opportunity.
To me, Kasia, as a good friend and photo buddy, she comprises a plethora of knowledge on so many topics. She is driven, creative, and a sense of humor that always makes me smile when I see her. My Polish friend has the ability to use vulgarity just enough to make you smile and laugh.
She possesses an evil eye that, in times of duress, may threaten to burst and squirt eyeball fluid all over. She calls it allergies; I call her “allergies” an event that has the ability to make me do the exorcist vomit exercise if anything threatens to land on me. I have photos to prove her eye can get huge and ominous.
Already, in the short span of a few months, we have gone on over a dozen excursions, had our blood sucked by packs of ticks the size of dinner plates, and we were almost arrested by a “pretend cop.” (Go figure.) Together, we have logged hundreds of miles on the roads and many hours behind the lens of a camera.
She is a Canon girl and I am a Nikon guy. This is my Flickr Friend, Kasia.
You can view her work here: www.flickr.com/photos/kswierczek/
To me, Kasia, as a good friend and photo buddy, she comprises a plethora of knowledge on so many topics. She is driven, creative, and a sense of humor that always makes me smile when I see her. My Polish friend has the ability to use vulgarity just enough to make you smile and laugh.
She possesses an evil eye that, in times of duress, may threaten to burst and squirt eyeball fluid all over. She calls it allergies; I call her “allergies” an event that has the ability to make me do the exorcist vomit exercise if anything threatens to land on me. I have photos to prove her eye can get huge and ominous.
Already, in the short span of a few months, we have gone on over a dozen excursions, had our blood sucked by packs of ticks the size of dinner plates, and we were almost arrested by a “pretend cop.” (Go figure.) Together, we have logged hundreds of miles on the roads and many hours behind the lens of a camera.
She is a Canon girl and I am a Nikon guy. This is my Flickr Friend, Kasia.
You can view her work here: www.flickr.com/photos/kswierczek/
Thursday, June 04, 2009
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
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