READ THIS FIRST
I can’t think of a more exciting idea than this. It easily beats out the potential for an invisibility cloak that I was reading about a few weeks ago. It seems that technology is taking a turn for the magical, because Intel is also working on “shape-shifting” technology. This all sounds very Harry Potter to me. Microsoft also finally debuted Photosynth, but it only works on Windows XP or Vista machines. If somebody wants to buy me XP, I would be surprisingly happy.
I haven’t seen a ton of graffiti in Portland that blew my mind, but some of it is particularly hilarious.
These are also on my Flickr page.
Rule #1 of Photography:
If you suck at photography, get a bigger lens.
I always like a story that comes around full circle, especially when it all happens by chance. My favorite full circle story I have to tell starts when I was in high school. I was working at Sunday River, a ski resort in Bethel, Maine. I used to take my lunch breaks in the furthest room back in the lodge, so I could take a nap after eating my sandwich. One day I noticed a small childish piece of graffiti, LYNDSAY IS A FAG! I laughed and laughed at this simple remark. After all, it’s not often you hear of a girl referred to as a fag, and it’s even more rare to see that she is so flamboyant that it needs to be inked onto a wall in the back of a ski lodge. It instantly became my favorite piece of nonsensical graffiti, and I made sure to tell a lot of people about it.
Flash-forward seven years, I’m now working in the Tech Barn at MMW. It’s the first week of workshops, and the course managers are struggling to keep up. One rotund course manager comes into the barn for the first time. He begins to introduce himself, and tell us what he has been up to. He’s from Connecticut and about my age. He went to Gould Academy, a private school in Bethel. He’s an avid skier, and used to teach lessons at Sunday River. His name is Lyndsay and he’s wearing pink shorts.
No, it didn’t hit me until the next time I told the LYNDSAY IS A FAG story, but when it did, my perception of the graffiti made a lot more sense. What used to be a funny visual in my mind was now a long story of chance, and a great story to anyone who met Lyndsay that summer.
I finally found the cable for my SLR. I uploaded some pictures from the second half of our cross country trip. Most of these are from South Dakota, Montana and Oregon (there wasn’t much to take pictures of in Idaho.)
Check out my Flickr page if you want to read the descriptions.
The following are a few stills from a shoot I did with Cig Harvey back in Rockport. I was the gaffer’s assistant, which was basically the best boy electric, since I was also the equipment rental house too. Working on a photo set is similar to a film shoot, but seemed to be a lot less rushed. Maybe it was because we were all such good friends and have worked together before. Also, you can get away with a lot more hollywooding of gear. I would often find myself crouched down holding a Flexfill or some bead board. These shots are from three of the 5 day shoots that we did. The other locations included a snowy gate, the front and back lawns of the Camden Public Library and the upstairs bedroom in Doug and Cig’s house.
The images and descriptions can also be seen and read on my Flickr photostream.
I was in my parents’ garage, with my father and his dog. I was fresh from my first semester at college and still practicing all the disgusting habits that I had learned there. I reached my hand up, index finger extended, and began rummaging around inside of my nose. I pulled out a booger, nothing too offensive. I flicked it to the ground, just as my father saw what I was doing.
“Hey, wipe that on the dog, like the rest of us.”