I love having such a great forum. It send me scurrying off into corners of closets for boxes of slides to show people the really cool images I’ve been honored to have seen over the years. (Now I get to show them to you…welcome to the slide show….) anyway….I shot this in 1986. I couldn’t believe the primacy of color in Mexico. It was like they saw color and us Anglos don’t. What’s up with that? Why don’t we? Anyway, whenever I come back from visiting there I always wonder where all of the color is.
Mexico has a depth of soul and character that we don’t get to experience here in the US of A all that much.. It seems that behind every corner hides a shot like this… In Mexico, spirit is as real as material things, like money. It somehow makes the poverty seem poetic. Why is that? Por que? Yo no se…
This is Christina, my assistant and good friend. This is my front yard, just a month or so ago…. Can you see the invisible made visible? Can you see the circles and eddies? Can you feel and trace the energy flowing through the shot? If you can, I probably have something to say to you.
But the Fool on the Hill Sees the sun going down And the eyes in his head See the world spinnin round……..
I love the rainbow signifying all of the underlying turbulence. What an amazing experience; all of that water, drained from half a continent, concentrated and spilling over right in front of you….
Whoa. Cool. Is it really that color? Yeppers….
Near the Ides of March through the beginning of April, cactus bloom all across Texas. The prettiest of the colors is this brilliant orange-red of the Claret Cup. This was shot northwest of Austin, near Marble Falls.
This was shot just 10 seconds after the previous sunset (#20) with the telephone line. It’s in the opposite side of the sky. Sometimes beauty rolls in like waves.
What I really like about this shot isn’t just the brilliant, almost violent, color. I love the compositional element of the telephone line running at a sagging diagonal. It talks about connectedness and communication and tying together amid the stark natural locationless setting. .
Early one late Winter morning in the early 70’s the hippie colonies on 29th Street were roused by soldiers, carrying rifles, disembarking from buses into our street. It was hard to determine which group was more stunned, the soldiers in their late teens seeing hordes of half dressed hippies spill out of the houses, or the hippies who were sure Nixon had finally gone bonkers and sent in the troops. As it turned out, it was one of those events that will teach you to delay reacting when faced with a very odd situation. The radio announced that LBJ had died and that his body was being given an honor guard from the funeral home to his place of honor at the LBJ Library…We made sure that when his hearse passed he was accompanied by the proper dirge at as many decibles as our rock and roll amp and speakers could deliver: The Rolling Sones’ cover of Robert Johnson’s immortal tune “You Got to Move”. I’ve been told one could hear it from Lamar to Guadalupe…. May his Soul rest in Peace. He wasn’t so bad, after all; unlike the current usurper, he cared about people other than his rich cronies