Tag Archives: black and white

I don’t think I’d seem Lem since college.  And I have only seen Sam once in the last 15 years.  But this weekend the three of us got together in frigid Minneapolis.  A gathering of the fellas to talk about…anything and everything.  Both Lem and Sam were grad students whom I met as a freshman at Northwestern.  They were great role models then and are even better ones now.  Seeing Lem’s family (his wife was actually my freshman Chemistry TA) was especially fun, and you can see from the pics that none of his 3 kids is especially camera shy.

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Last weekend I met Dr. Vanessa Perez.  Vanessa is a NYC-based professor of 19th and early 20th Caribbean Literature.  The moment she said that my mind started racing to see whether I could come up with some author that might fit into that category.  Not even close, so I kept my mouth shut and kept shooting.  Vanessa wanted some headshots to gear up for (and maybe include in) her upcoming book: Hispanic Caribbean Literature of Migration: Narratives of Displacement. It turned out to be a glorious day in the park, so I shot way more than a few images.  Vanessa was a fantastic subject and was even thoughtful enough to  bring bottles of water for the shoot, which would have been a really nice touch for the photographer to have taken care of.  Hmm.  I can’t say that I learned much about Caribbean Lit, though.  Maybe I’ll have to pick up a copy of the book when it debuts later this year.  Congratulations, Vanessa.  And of course a special shout out to Serene, my very capable assistant, for helping me with lighting, gear, and entertaining the talent.

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I know I should delete more photos.  I know it.  Dealing with too many at once slows down my machine, I can’t tag them all before filing them away, and literally 95 out of 100 never get seen more than once.  But every deletion party has its rediscoveries.  Moment’s when I wonder what I was thinking to have passed over a certain shot the first time around.  Maybe I thought another in the series was better.  Or it wasn’t what I thought the client might like.  Or maybe I’m just in a different mood.  While deleting 1200+ images last night, as each called out to be spared for the chance at a future moment of fickle fondness, I was stopped in my tracks by this portrait.  The wall’s textures, the dramatic shadows, the highlights in Lisa’s hair…I love it all.  For some reason, I moved right past it the first time around.  It didn’t even make it to the second round.  Totally unconsidered.  Oh well.  Today, its a winner.  I can’t say that my mood always impacts what I like to look at, but what I just described happens often enough for me to know that it definitely plays a part.  And that’s one of the things that I love about photography…one of its most powerful little secrets.   Like any language, you can learn as much or more about the person behind the camera as the subject if you “talk” to their photos long enough.

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  • Akintayo Adewole

    Excellent save.

February 19. Today seemed to have a bit of everything. A very close friend, whose family has already suffered terribly, said goodbye to his brother. My heart goes out to him and his mother. I cannot imagine what they are going through right now.  Three blocks down from the service, at 301 Lyndhurst Street, was the house that my mother grew up in…where I got to know my grandparents. They passed a few years ago, but I went by the house just to show Serene, take a look, and because with their graves in South Carolina, it was a bit of a way to visit them.  The house is in horrible shape. I couldn’t help thinking that my grandparents would never approve of its condition. The backyard, where my grandfather used to grow award-winning vegetables, was a mess, even under the cover of two feet of snow.  One of the things that I remember hating about that house was that it overlooked a massive cemetery. As a child I feared catching even an unintentional glimpse of it.  It was scary.  But yesterday, for some reason…maybe it was the blue skies and bright sunshine…or maybe because it seemed to be aligned with the other events of the day…I was comforted by the sight of that cemetery. Or maybe it was because it was the one thing that seemed unchanged after 15 years.


I also had a chance to visit my alma mater, Gilman School. My parents’ choice to send me to Gilman for grades 7-12 is still one of the most influential things they ever did for me. As I signed in at the front desk, I asked whether or not Mr. Holley’s (pictured below) office was in the building. No. But after taking 3 steps into the Common Room, I glanced to my right to see him talking with some alums. Mr. Holley was my Af-Am Lit teacher and my baseball coach and a fantastic role model for ALL the boys in the Upper School. I also got a chance to say hello to Mr. Schmick, the new Headmaster, who seemed perplexed by the fact that I had actually grown, Mr. Foreman, my very first teacher at Gilman in 7th grade science class, and Donell Thompson, from the class of ’91, now a teacher in the middle school. Even teachers whose classes I had never taken stopped to greet me in the hallways. Gilman is a such special place because of teachers, coaches, and mentors like them, and it felt so much like being at home.

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