No idea what happened here. It’s the only roll that came back with these spots, which implicates the film stock. I went back and forth with the lab; they were at a loss. I, of course, thought the shot was ruined, but I’ve come to like it. I imagine they’re angels, because that’s my dear friend’s grave in the cairn at the bottom of the fence post. (2022)
(2022)
There are still nets on those rims twenty-some years after the abandonment of the girls’ reform school. (2020)
(2021)
This blog was resurrected in part because of the yearlong project that involved scanning and cataloguing every photo I ever took. (It was supposed to be a three-month project, but, yeah.) It was all done here in Aston, Pa., down the road from where I used to live, at an artists’ studio complex. My neighbors in the converted mill were real artists. I am not.
So, I spent my weekends in this room, from cold to heat to cold, from football to baseball, reliving my life. This was taken on the day I left. (2017)
After a breakup, I rented an old stone house on a hill, at the top of a long driveway removed from the road, where no one could find me. (2005)
These are two of the only pictures I have pre-1980s that I’m certain I took. There are a few more. I remember the camera, but I don’t remember anything about it. I had not yet arrived at taking pictures as a thing for me. The first one is the view from the front door, the second is my father in a light moment with my stepsister, about 16, after dinner. I took it when I was about 14. I am older now than he was then.
(2000)
(2018)
My bride and I rent the same beach house every year, during the same week in September, on a spit of New Jersey barrier island I’ve been going to since before I could form sentences. At that time of year, we’ve cleared out most of the suckers. Entire beach for two? Right this way. (2016)