Tulips are, by all definitions, the baba-boom of flowers many gardeners plant here in the United States, and in Canada and Europe too. We have fields of them now exploding in the Skagit Valley. In my part of Seattle, I see dozens in full, glorious bloom. Their colors can almost drive a person wild. I love how the colors mix and accentuate each other in some petals. Me, I just do vegetables. I prefer to eat what I plant. I let others plant what I feast with my eyes.
I have a 23-year-old road bike that, well, I just can’t seem to get rid of. Maybe I will this spring. For now, it works, and it is about as old as my bike pump too, which looks worse for wear. Today I experimented with mounting the GoPro on my handlebars to see what kind of angles would be generated and to see what kind of emotions are communicated when someone is caught in the middle of a very aerobic sport. Biking is one of the most aerobic sports I know, and that is one reason I love it so. As I often do, I adjusted the settings in Lightroom to accentuate the contrast, which is a look I am growing accustomed to. Here’s to spring days, the simple pleasures of riding an old bicycle, and seeing rows of blossoming trees along a lovely lake shore.
I found these pictures among the many hundreds I took while living in Anchorage. These were all taken during a bitter cold spell in 2009-10, when temperatures plummeted to about minus 10 fahrenheit and colder. It was great for taking images. I remember getting some skin damage on my extremities on one outing. Now that it is spring in Seattle, I shutter to think I lived through this year after year, even with the beauty. That is my feeling today. It is one of joyous happiness.
I visited Iceland in 1998 and did a drive around the island with an outrageously overpriced rental car. I enjoyed it, but was not overwhelmed by it. This location, about an hour north of the capital, Reykjavik, was among the most memorable spots. Here, at the edge of the world, sat an empty house of worship, battered by the wind and rain. I guess I have a fondness for remote sanctuaries. (Click on the photo for a larger image on a separate page.)
Every work day I drive past the bustling port of Tacoma, hub of global commerce and home to heavy industry. It is blue-collar to the core, and unashamedly so. (I always wonder what kinds of organized crime take place here–my bet is quite a lot.) I also find the port to be one of the most fascinating manmade landscapes in the Northwest. I have started a series of photographs that I am calling Manufactured Landscapes. Here is one in black and white that I published on my web site in color. I like it in both color and black and white. This was taken from downtown Tacoma, looking east upon the port, where you can get a visual sampling of some of the major industry players that call it home.
I frequently go for walks in Seattle’s Discovery Park, one of the country’s best metropolitan parks. It is a true gem. Even knowing every corner of this place, I still discover new ways to see what is very familiar, and also beautiful.
I set up my GoPro at the floor level to videotape a performance by Guinean master dancer and drummer Abdoulaye Sylla and his troupe of fellow Guinean percussionists. I then caught a frame of the videotape and turned it into a still. I think the GoPro lends a style all its own music and dance recording. And, as usual, I enjoyed the show of the many fine West African artists who call the Seattle area home. This is just for fun.
The is my second in a series using a GoPro camera to document the commuting life between Seattle and Tacoma. Time inside a carbon-emitting box occupies a massive portion of the daily lives of hundreds thousands, if not more, residents in the region. The effects of stress, speed, and more primal emotions that surge during the hours on the road take a measurable toll, and few of us can stop to contemplate what the cumulative impacts are.
I am just beginning to explore the powers and possibilities of the GoPro as a still camera. This is the back seat view, as I drive over the earthquake-weakened Alaska Way Viaduct, which will be torn down in about two years (if the tunnel boring machine gets unstuck and fixed). There is a zombie like quality to all of us, in our metal and plastic boxes, heading from who knows where, to our homes or to work. I pass this scene every day, five days a week.
On my way out of Alaska in 2010, I had perhaps one of the most perfect days one could ask for in the North, driving down the AlCan through the Yukon Territory (2010).
What Beautiful Light 