Inessential Stuff

I had talked to Nirvana for, literally years, I think, about doing a shoot.  We finally made it happen.  And then, once it happened, it was entirely different than planned.  I was thinking of doing a shoot with a car, but I wanted some good scenic buildings and background for the car.  I thought some of the old buildings in the Hillyard district of Spokane would be cool.  But once we got there, I liked the buildings as a background without the car at all.  So we just did that.  Plus I had just purchased a new (old!) chair as a prop, so we had to test that out, too.

At the end of the shoot, we happened upon a gentlemen who took us on a mysterious little venture into an awesome building where he invited us to do a future shoot.  And so, something to look forward to!  Until then, here are some of the photographs from last night.

I take pictures here and there all the time–at Marcus’ t-ball games, on the way back from weddings, on photoshoots. It gets to be an odd assortment of photographs that aren’t easy to categorize and, therefore, don’t usually end up in a gallery on my blog. So I decided to lump them all together into a category of their own, and here they are. Will notice a rural theme, and an acute interest in hay bales.

I had warned Taryn (mostly jokingly) that the location I had in mind–an abandoned house–might be a skunk house.

But when we arrived, the house had been boarded up.  We quickly came up with an alternative industrial site near downtown, and we did some dying light shots, then some off-camera stuff.

During a little break, we took stock of our shoot.  We were standing in a little hallway that had a door at either end.  We were pleased with the location and ready to shoot some more.

Then Taryn said she saw a skunk.  We stood there, quiet, not sure about our next move.  The skunk made it for us. He entered the hallway, not 15 feet away from us and sat down.  I honestly thought about waiting to see if he would walk up the hallway, and then get a shot of him with the off-camera lights.  But I thought the better of it–seemed the lights might be startling.

Taryn and I managed to escape un-sprayed, though I never before have taken down my lights and gathered up my gear in such a delicate and rapid manner.

We plan to shoot again soon.  No skunks allowed.  Anyway, here are the results of the Industrial Skunk Shoot.

We had a brutal spring here (or a long winter), and I sent my camera to the factory service center for an upgrade, and an assortment of other over-riding factors prevented Nicole and me from getting a shoot done.  It prevented us for months.

Until last week.  Finally.

The whole concept for the shoot was built around color–in particular, a yellow dress.

We started in an alley. We ended at a house. So this is part one.

. . . of a “fence” I saw here in Spokane.

Two things I love about downtown Spokane: the freight railroad that plows straight through downtown, and the old brick buildings. Some are grand, some small, some renovated, some in need. In any case, something about the buildings appeals to me: the symmetry and solidity, perhaps. Or the transoms windows and steel fire escapes. Or the arcade facades and the neglected back walls in alleys. Or the way the bricks vary in color, or show their wear, or wear the fading paint of signs past. In any case, I like brick buildings.

(I apologize for not posting for so long. I’ve had a cold. I’ve had taxes. I’ve had poor eating habits. I’ve had many other excuses, as well. Enough then. More galleries will be on the way soon, I promise.)

It snowed last night. It came in on a wind. A thick, wet, heavy snow that stuck on branches and the sides of trees.

I woke up, saw the beautiful white world, and decided to take a little walk around my neighborhood. It was quiet outside, a sleepy Saturday, and the snow was a blanket while the city rested. I went, of course, with camera in (numb) hand.

It’s foggy.

It’s cold.

It’s windy.

It’s snowy.

It’s dark a lot.

I go out to take pictures now and then.

Here are some from the winter so far.