Portfolio & Information & More

September 30th, 2009

Stills From A 176 Second Film

Stills from a 176 second film I never made.

5:21:14 PM – 5:24:10 PM | 2 minutes, 56 seconds

Los Angeles | The End of Summer | September 23, 2009

I asked her for a few seconds of her time and thankfully she agreed.

September 30th, 2009

This Is Not My Bride

Everyone was waiting on me, I had been around the corner getting the memory cards swapped all around. I walked into the room, the big, old, classic, beautiful room and walked towards everyone. A friend approached and handed me the strobe’s radio slave and said “F/10.” It wasn’t my lighting, it wasn’t my set and it wasn’t about me. I slapped the transmitter on top of my camera, set the thing and kept pressing that button over and over. All the time, staring at her, staring at her, staring at her – just like I had been for the last five hours, five minutes and nineteen seconds before this frame.

A friend of a friend asked me to do this for them (her) on the promise of a plane ride, a car ride and a bed. I accepted. It was the 10th wedding I have photographed in 20 years and only the second in which I accepted anything in return – rides, beds and maybe a meal. Everything else… that’s always on me.

In the one day, three hours, fifty-nine minutes and twenty-seven seconds I stared at them, (her), I made 2,228 photographs for an average of one photograph every 45 seconds.

When the portrait session was over, I made an image of her over my shoulder with my face in the frame. The only people left in the room were the bride, the groom and the best man. When the best man saw me do this he took my camera from me and pushed me into the above portrait. He said something like, “C’mon, you know you want a portrait of yourself with the bride.”

He knows me well. I did… and I never would of asked.

September 29th, 2009

12 Years After Los Angeles Blue

Los Angeles | The End of Summer | 2009

September 29th, 2009

I Kiss And Tell

Disneyland | 12:09:55 PM

I waited and waited and waited, then I got to kiss her.

She is now awake…. It must of really happen.

“A prince who had heard the story of the enchantment braved the wood, which parted at his approach, and entered the castle. He trembled upon seeing the princess’s beauty and fell on his knees before her. He kissed her, then she woke up, then everyone in the castle woke to continue where they had left off…”

This is a true story, more so then most may know. Only I think she feel asleep again, now I must brave the wood again and again and again till I can awake her anew with every brick in my empire.

September 28th, 2009

One Man, Standing Alone

Los Angeles, CA | 9/21/09 | 2:09:45 PM

One Man, Standing Alone

Three Men, Standing Alone

September 27th, 2009

Jewel City (Lanes)

I want to go bowling with you.

September 26th, 2009

“Don’t Leave Me”

I want to go bowling with you.

September 26th, 2009

LA Pull


September 16th, 2009

#1RN | Joerg C

Joerg Colberg

If you don’t know or read, you are living underneath a photographic rock.

September 15th, 2009

City Of The Violet Crown

September 15th, 2009

Not Mine 1

One of these photographs is not mine.

September 15th, 2009

Not Mine 2

One of these photographs is not mine.

September 15th, 2009

Not Mine 3

One of these photographs is not mine.

September 14th, 2009

#1RN | 9/12/09

12:22:42 PM

3:04:52 PM

Not pictured – “I’m scared when my daughter leaves your apartment, she will have lost all her innocence.”

3:21 PM

September 13th, 2009

I See You

please press play above

A True Story on 8/24/07 | Recorded & Published Privately 8/24/08

8/24/07 | 4:13 AM

10/3/07 | 2:20 AM

10/3/07 | 10:40 PM

10/5/07 | 12:53 AM

10/6/07 | 1:25 AM

10/7/07 | 4:01 AM & 10/8/07 | 3:45 AM

10/8/07 | 9:18 PM

She told me on that one day that this was my opportunity to make something, something meaningful. She then kept asking me over and over, “Can you see me, can you see… Can you see me?”

I printed out the screen on which I saw her, framed it, wrote her a story in white ink across it and shipped it. I saw her on my screen just one more time then wrote the false stories and hit send, send, send, send, send, send and send.

September 10th, 2009


This is Joshua Deaner.

1st Place | Fine Art
Photography Book Now Competition

I SELL FISH. | 350 pages

Out of 2400 books, including my best efforts, my friend Joshua won.

September 9th, 2009

CR | The Book

please touch the image for a one minute video

CR | The Book
$20 + $5 USA shipping

A book of this portfolio is now available for order.

September 9th, 2009

One Man, Standing Alone

20 North IH 35 | Austin, TX | 8/23/09 | 8:26:17 AM

He stood between this tree and those buildings in the City of the Violet Crown.

© Google

Three Men, Standing Alone

I saw those three men on a return from an important journey. I saw this man moments before the return of a second journey following up on the first. It is in these moments that these men seem everywhere I look.

September 8th, 2009

Me Me Me

I talk too much.

I use Profoto, Profoto sees fit to brag about this and I am not one to question.

September 7th, 2009

City Of The Violet Crown

September 7th, 2009

An Old Gift

The first true teacher I ever had claimed he could fly. He also claimed he was from outer space. I saw no reason to doubt or judge him on either claim, so long as he stayed a true teacher and let me someday see the evidence, whatever it may be and in whatever form. I am still waiting, but he has thrown some marvelous peeks out into the world.

In Kentucky in 1994 on the way to yet another wedding, I jumped and jumped and jumped into the sky over and over again into a pool we all paid $0.25 each to swim in. Someone I was there with photographed me there against that sky.

Maybe a year later, I remember visiting him with his girl. It was late and I was about to leave their room to sleep. He looked over at his girl and asked, “Should I give it to him now?” She replied simply, “Yes.” He pulled this painting out of the closet and handed it to me.

That day in Kentucky, out in the sun and up in that sky, I got the worst sunburn of my life. The color of my back far surpassed the red of any hot hot bright bright red red sun.

This is my photograph of the back of the painter that day in Kentucky. It was maybe yesterday or maybe it was 15 years, either way I can still feel the sting all over my back.

September 6th, 2009

9/4/09 | I

September 6th, 2009

9/4/09 | II

September 6th, 2009

9/4/09 | III

September 6th, 2009

9/4/09 | IV

September 5th, 2009

spare | strike = A Red 189

Callicoon, NY

The one consistent thing when I travel lost or when I otherwise need it, it turns out, in a way I wasn’t aware of until last night, is the alley.

Now I have no idea how to even bowl correctly nor do I want it. I went some growing up and enjoyed it enough during my brief 3 years in Texas close to family in the 80’s. Then it faded.

In college, (fall 1994, same time as the Promise Lane story and then again in summer 1997 after leaving and returning), when the color print processor was having troubles, I hit the alley. I went in the morning before the leagues and then later the same day after. So much so the owner/operator just shook his head at me and started comping me shoes and games. I would be put on one end of the alley and just left alone, throwing the ball, throwing the ball and throwing the ball.

When traveling on assignment bowling is a great way to kill the time in between not otherwise filled with details. One can always find an alley if one looks. I have been to 43 of the lower 48 states. I have bowled in at least 25-30.

In 1999, after a real deep love had left just days prior and I dropped communication with many of my friends, I was in West Virginia on an assignment for a major news magazine on one of the most emotional subjects I ever had the privilege to witness. I had just left the home and had 3 hours before I needed to get to the airport to go to the next heart wrenching home in Indiana. I was driving over a bridge when I saw a sign right next to the bridge that simply said BOWL and had an arrow pointing straight down. I found the alley, almost under the bridge I had just been on and went in. I was alone in the place except for 3 people on the lane 2 lanes over. Two older women and one old man, the kind of old man you know is smarter then you and hope to be someday. They were all laughing and having a nice time. I started bowling. Throwing the ball, throwing the ball and throwing the ball. I noticed I was around 100 by the 5th frame and that they had stopped bowling. When I looked over, the old man was looking at me, “You alright son?” he asked. I smiled, said “Yes” and looked at my feet, I felt awful I ruined their bowling moment. I got to frame 10 and left.

A year later I accepted an invitation to go bowling here in NYC. I had a broken foot and was on crutches, the people who invited me didn’t know this until I showed up. I still bowled.

A year after that on September 10, 2001, I was out till about 3am, bowling. I slept through most of the events that morning of the 11th until I heard my answering machine playing out loud a friends voice of long ago asking me through her tears, “Are you okay, are you okay?”

Snoqualmie, WA

I only bowl but maybe once a year. Somehow, it always feels significant. Last night it was, I was throwing the ball, throwing the ball and throwing the ball surrounded by good friends. I finished with a red scoreboard at 189.

September 4th, 2009

This Is Justin

This is Justin. He is 41 years old.

Justin manages money better then I do.

“This year, emerging-market funds have soared on expectations that the worst of the credit crisis is over. The New York-based Oppenheimer Developing Markets Fund, (The $6.9 billion fund) managed by Justin Leverenz, topped the emerging-market equity fund chart in part by posting a gain of 37.8 percent in the first six months of 2009. Leverenz, 41, says he buys stocks in companies when temporary trouble or controversy prompts investors to sell them.”


September 3rd, 2009

Promise Lane

Promise Lane | Rochester, NY | 1994

I recently posted some images counting down to an event, an event I knew would be one of the most significant in my life to this point or at the least, or at the most, more significant a moment then I have experienced in any time I that can remember.

Images of this event I then postponed, or canceled once started, as the pressure was too great for someone very close that I cared for. I did not feel this pressure when maybe I should of as I honestly don’t always see what is clear when what is clear or known to me, I find only wonderful.

The image countdown felt familiar, so much so, I remember telling someone about it and how I do it often, but I could not recall when or why it defined a part of me so easily nor when I last did it. To some, a self imposed delay can make the reward only greater, but when a moment is right to me, it is very hard for it to feel correct ever again. So I jump and blindly hope for the best.

Then, I remembered; I don’t really do this countdown often at all it turns out, at least not in a way that I am always aware of in the moment. I can only think of one other time… The two events were not the same, the countdown was not the same.

In 1993/1994, I lived with two couples. Both of these couples were a year ahead of me in school and before they went their ways and I went mine, both of these couples got married. I was invited to both weddings and invited to make photographs at both weddings. I had been alone at the time and would remain so. While they had all found and fell in love with each other in school, I had not found anyone.

This has always struck me as disappointing and yet I took pride in it as I knew my life had remained all about me and trying to learn all I could while I could in such a small perfect little expensive vacuum.

In July 1994, I worked in a museum for the summer and was house sitting in a home that was less then welcoming. I use to steal film here and there and go for walks with my deceased and unmet grand stepfather’s camera. I made work prints in the museum after hours and kept my test strips.

In September 1994, a previous roommate’s wedding was coming. I wanted to mark the wait or the countdown. So I got the bride’s address and as the wedding approached, day by day, I dropped one test strip from these images into the mail simply with a stamp slapped on it to her at her parent’s house.

Her parents lived on a road called Promise Lane.

The only time I heard or thought of these images again was later at the reception when I had already sort of forgotten sending them. The bride’s mother informed me that when they stopped, she missed having a new image in the mail each day.

Fifteen years have gone by now since I did this or looked at these images. I could of made them this past July and mailed them last week.

I cannot escape myself and I too like new images in the mail each day, when they stop, I also miss them.

I am sentimental.

Using this site yesterday, I wanted to send myself many many many images from this past July, I sent them to myself here, in September.

I am nostalgic.

Maybe you saw them and maybe you missed them when they stopped. I did.

I am romantic.

– – –

After the wedding and at the reception on September 24, 1994, this woman flipped a coin and wondered…

I did the same thing yesterday, I threw my coin as high as I could…

It never came back down.

September 2nd, 2009

“You Changed Clothes”

I was once assigned to shoot a cover of TIME, a senator at the Senate building. He had made big news to say the least and TIME had the exclusive. I was all set to go, but what to wear? I got really nervous about it, it was going to be outside on a balcony in summer, so hot. I was really worried too as I knew the white house photographer for TIME was going to shoot behind the scenes and I knew everyone at TIME would see how I was dressed in those images. I went to 3 stores and tried on dress shirts and suits, nothing fit, was wrinkled, I had no iron and would by flying in and out of DC in one day for it and checking more and more items or things to carry was making the budget higher then I knew I could already get away with. Never mind spending all that money on a suit to only wear once on a small budget that already had a loophole in the deal to not be a cover or at least not pay me for one if it didn’t happen.

I remember standing in a Banana Republic® and getting really stressed out over a shirt, it was so silly but nonetheless, there I was.

So I got linen pants and nice new simple black T. Done.

So, not only was I shot by the white house photographer, about 10 film crews from the news channels shot the photo shoot as it was the only time the senator was in public that day. So I think it went on TV, not sure.

Then, back in NYC that night, I got to be in the art directors office during layout for my cover. It was almost midnight and I had changed into nicer black designer jeans and a button down by a fancy designer. It was one of the biggest moments of my career watching like a fly on the wall, really really really great in fact.

As I stood there, staring at what was to be my cover of TIME surrounded by all the big decision makers, the DOP standing next to me was looking through the contact sheets of the white house photographer that shot my shoot.

The DOP looked at me, looked me over, head to toe, and said, “You changed clothes.”

No judgments or comments, just those three words, I had no idea what the DOP had meant.

Later that night, almost 1am or so, the PE called to tell me they switched it, I didn’t get my cover because the senator – not an exact quote but close – “Wasn’t recognizable enough as a person, readers wouldn’t know the face” – they put the president on the cover as they needed a sales boost that week.

I think if I had worn a suit, I would of gotten my cover?

I made two images that day. A large lit formal portrait that was to be the cover and some tight fast close ups in the less then 5 minutes I had total. The lit image wasn’t used and the close up was used double page in TIME.

The close up used was the first image I made. In fact, it had been the clip test (remember those? Lights + E-6 + Hasselblad + 5 minute shoot + 1 Polaroid = bad ass). Well, after having the clip in my pocket, waiting for the balance to be rushed for 2 hours, I realized that was the best shot. I pulled I it out of my pocket, dusted it off, threw it into the selects and then there it was, 2 pages in TIME.

The image that was to be the cover was later used for by the Senator for his memoir, so that almost made up for not getting my cover of TIME before I was 30, but not really.

Be professional to the situation, be true to yourself and be true to your subject, most times, you will get the respect the situation dictates.

Or… Wear Dri-FIT as to not sweat in your eyes in your 5 minutes in a hot conference room to photograph the richest man in the world. (Just be sure you recently bleached your hair to match a girls).