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Labor Day Pepper Mania

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A farmer’s market on Labor Day weekend is a garden photographer’s sweet spot providing baskets of cascading peppers of all hues and shapes.

Edward Weston photographed green peppers over a long period of time before he settled on the images we now know as Pepper #30.

To those who repeatedly found something sexual in his imagery, he said:

“As you like it ‒ but this is just a pepper ‒ nothing else ‒to the impure all things ‒ are impure.”[

 

 

Speeding to a Stop in Boston & Suburbs

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The older and slower I get, the faster things seem to go by me.  Take Boston, for instance.

Most of the time I feel like the two ladies stranded on a traffic island outside of South Station trying to cross the street. Behind them, cars. In front of them, buses.

What’s a girl to do?

Work on taking interesting photos of things in motion.

That’s what I decided to do to get me off the traffic island.

Man in Black

mime-man-santefe-coakleyI took this photo in Sante Fe 12 years ago.  Just walking by this beautifully bricked side street (perhaps this building was a theatre, I’m not sure) and this man was there. Dancing. Or, if memory serves, he might have been miming something, perhaps practicing or warming up for an act to take place inside the building.  I’m sure there is some logical explanation but the image still serves to remind me that spontaneity and creativity go together and being too self-conscious would have produced, in this instance: no man, no dancer, just an empty street with no inspiration 12 years later.

 

 

The Art of Aging

lily-coakley-webAn aging lily is deconstructed and reimagined on a scanner.  It is easier to celebrate decay in flowers than humans.  My wrinkle cream falls short in the “re-imagination” department.

Peter Piper Picked a Purple Pepper

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Peter Piper picked pickled peppers but he might have picked these purple peppers if he’d seen them at the Farmer’s Market in Franklin.

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Missing Light in the Tunnel

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There is light at the end of the tunnel in my nearby industrial park but none in my morning newspaper.  Sigh.  I’ve reached at 69 years old an age that I remember my mother reached only in her eighties: the world’s complexities overwhelmed her.  She began watching Spanish TV channels without knowing one word of Spanish.

This morning no shortage of insolubles. Iraq. Syria. Israel. Palestine. The Metropolitan Opera in NYC and its 17 unions.

What?  Seventeen unions.  One employer.

That fact alone has me reaching for the remote control.

What # channel is Telemundo Boston?

Groundhog VS Photographer

The groundhog is eating my dill so I photographed them for eternity. Except I am 20+ versions in to just one of the images and still not happy with any version.  Maybe I should have let the groundhog eat it.  One thing is for sure, photographer and groundhog are an equal match in the obsessive department.

 

Maira Kalman Saves Creative Souls One Quack at a Time

A portrait of creativity that could save my discouraged soul the old fashioned way:  One quack at a time. Thanks to Austin Kleon for this link (and many others)!

 

How do I tell her the chicken stinks?

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Twilight. A Bell Tolls.

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On a good day, twilight in the garden or on the road is like a bell tolling announcing a mysterious world.

On a bad day, I put my camera down and go home.

 

Pat Coakley