Inessential Stuff

After four cancelled shoots (rain, rain, other obligations, and a friend’s ER visit), Tori and I finally met up for some pictures. We chose the day because it had only a 10% chance of rain. Whatever. It rained on us anyway.

Tori was spectacular: hiking through the rain, jumping on trains while wearing high heels, climbing onto “No Trespassing” freight docks, game for any setting.

I’m more or less pleased with the results of the photoshoot. I just have this lingering sense that I didn’t take full advantage of Tori’s radiant smile.

So I took Marcus to the park, and I had my camera, and I started to take some pictures. But I was bored. Why? Well, for one, I am to the age, sadly, where swings make me sick. But I was also bored because I already have hundreds and hundreds, nay, thousands and thousands, of pictures of Marcus playing in the park. They mostly look the same, except he gets smaller and smaller as the pictures get older and older. So I decided to “goof around” and try something new. Sometimes it involved sitting very still, as if a tripod. I liked that. Sometimes it involved running madly alongside Marcus, trying to keep up, snapping off pictures. I didn’t like that. But at least the pictures don’t look like all the other “park pictures” I have of the Marcus Man.

(Note: none of the images have been digitally altered to increase or decrease blur. The “Giant Leap” picture is a digital composite.)

After nearly 20 years of heroic service, after traversing the country, and indeed, several continents, my camera bag has died. Ripped, torn, battered and bruised beyond repair.

Here is a picture of the bag, in action, during what would be its last wedding (click picture for a closer view). RIP.

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.)