Mt. Rainier looms like a giant in the distance above the Duwamish River, in south Seattle (2014).
This happens to be a “picture” I see often, at least when the clouds let me see Rainier behind the industrial facade. Maybe I just like the Duwamish River because it is the one I see most often, and feel some deep pity for. It was once a living thing. Now it is just a place where we built a city, a port, an economy. Seeing the Duwamish every day some times reminds me of what I felt when I saw the Mississippi in Louisiana, where the river is subverted to human desires and the many industries that thrive there. Maybe I just have a thing for rivers?
One of several art pieces made from vacuum cleaner parts decorates the Vac Shop, in south Seattle (2014).
One of several art pieces made from vacuum cleaner parts decorates the Vac Shop, in south Seattle (2014).
I always seem to discover something new, peculiar, and definitely quirky in south Seattle, particularly the industrial area called SoDo. The Vac Shop eluded my attention for years, until today. How could I have missed this? I have no idea what creative inspirations lie behind these pieces, and I do not think it matters. And, Bibles are apparently in the shop too. Full service, it appears. (Click on each photo for a larger, full-sized image on a separate page.)
Spring continues to have lovely surprises less than a block from my house. Yeah cherry blossoms. (Click on each photo to see a photo page for each image.)
This photograph of the lower Duwamish, in the Port of Seattle, was taken in January 2014.
The Duwamish River, in south Seattle, is a U.S. federal Superfund cleanup site and one of the most developed industrial landscapes in the Pacific Northwest. The area is dotted with cargo container barges, cement factories, shipping and receiving warehouses, and other industrial facilities. Believe it or not, fish swim up this river to spawn, and people fish on this waterway every summer.
At the Dakshinkali temple near Kathmandu, male goats and cocks are sacrificed, washed in a stream, and then prepared to be eaten (taken 1989).
In the United States, one estimate pegs the number of animals killed for food production at about 10 billion annually (most being chickens). The methods are hidden from view, seldom filmed, and far from humane. That fact is important to bear in mind when contemplating this picture I took at a temple in Nepal called Dakshinkali. This is a sacred Hindu site where animals (goats, cocks) are slaughtered in sacrifice to the Hindu god Kali. Nepalese bring their farm animals for ritualistic sacrifice, with methods similar to the quick and mostly painless halal and kosher styles of killing of certain animals for consumption. I remember seeing this man kill many goats and cockerels in September 1989. Blood was everywhere. It was all very calm, if not serene. Large crowds of Nepalese stood patiently in long lines waiting for the swift act. I had never seen anything like this before. I realized at that moment that people live their lives in such totally different ways than I do, and in ways that make perfect sense to them, but may seem outright cruel to outsiders (again, remember the dead billions of factory killed chickens in our country). That is a moment I recall ever so clearly, when my perception of reality had measurably changed. That is still why I like to travel.
A lot of research has gone into the idea of snap judgments. Social science pop writer Malcolm Gladwell wrote a best-selling book on the idea called Blink, on how the brain can make decisions in fractions of seconds. The visual arts invite this instinctive and I think deeply wise response. Why do we like one photograph or artists and ignore others’ work? What is that special stuff that makes for brilliance and artistry? I do not fully know, except that for me the response is emotional and intuitive when I see a picture or a video I like.
This thought process raced through my mind as I saw the new Google Glass YouTube ad stream in front of me, announcing itself like a thunder-clap with its Dick Dale-inspired guitar riffs. Google managed to bottle what its brand means to the public: innovation, can’t-live-without-it, market leader.
The pale shadow of a comparison in terms of YouTube ads was Microsoft Corp.’s product launch for its poorly received tablet called the Surface Pro. Everything reeked of clumsiness and corporate heaviness, decision by committee, inability to know the audience and know where the geek world had gravitated five years earlier. Dancing dude in horned-rimmed glasses and a tie and coat? Did anyone have the guts to squash this before the campaign?
Those were my gut reactions. Wondering what other people think. Does our mind’s eye immediately recognize the media that pulls at that special place between our brains, hearts, and midsections? Did you respond the same way I did? Or, does the proliferation of Google Glass parodies online already indicate that my gut was easily duped by the first five viewings.
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.
Taken from Highway 99, by the tunnel work site (2014).
Right now, the tunnel project is stuck and engineers are scrambling how to fix a massive and still-broken machine trapped beneath Seattle’s mucky dirt. This is the closest the public can come to seeing the work yard, as seen from Highway 99 (2014).
A long line of trucks usually is found on the service road next to the port and visible from Highway 99 (2014).
There is something comforting to me about this factory, which continues to churn out cement year after year (2014).
A massive tunnel-boring project in Seattle, that is pegged to cost more than $3 billion, is now on hold. Th several-stories-tall tunnel boring machine, dubbed Bertha, is now broken and stuck beneath the viaduct I drive over every day (Highway 99), and theoretically the future tunnel will replace the aging structure that takes me and tens of thousands of other drivers daily. North of the port, crews are digging up things by the Gates Foundation headquarters, making this a landscape of cranes, heavy moving equipment, and grand ambitions that tower like the Space Needle close by. Looking at the cranes in these pictures, I imagine I am seeing the giant snow walking machines seen in The Empire Strikes Back. My favorite landmark, however, remains the massive Ash Cement Factory. Time has not seemed to change this place. It just seems to get more grey.
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.
A statue of Captain James Cook, who explored the waters known as Cook Inlet, stands on a bluff overlooking the waters where he set anchor (2010).
It was about 10 degrees below 0 (fahrenheit) when I snapped this picture at Kincaid Park’s beach, in January 2010.
In Anchorage I was amazed the ladies could still sport the heels with ice and snow, not to mention the skirts, when the mercury went south of zero. Northerners are hardy folk (2010).
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.
What Beautiful Light 