Consistently carrying a camera, and more importantly, spending time capturing images can only increase one’s ability to visualize what an image should look like. Ever since codifying one of my own processes, however, I have felt a sort of friction within the working style itself. Is there a way to continue processing depth graphically such that the image appears less flat? Luckily, on the anniversary of my birth a few days ago, the biggest question was ‘how many shots can I pop off before I lose this great light?’

Everybody knows that one of the shortcuts to taking good pictures is to get out for the early light. The angles get going, but somehow more urgently than in the afternoon. There is a sense of purpose to the early part of the day. For everyone.

Wanted: a good visual metaphor that says what we’re thinking most of the time: namely that the good stuff is often obscured by too much of the other.

Here, instead, a less-than-stellar photograph: “shoot it vertically next time, kid.” Photographs that fail to circulate the eye around the image reveal a lack of imagination or skill on the part of the shooter. Can pessimism and hubris be far behind?

This location once provoked an entirely different kind of reaction (and image-making).

Early in the morning, or late, late at night, rather, the stars shine most brightly. Many of these constellations drift through the night in loose formations that reconfigure according to the vagaries of social life. Most are nameless or known simply by proxy sobriquets: bartender, tattoo personality guy, sunglass girl, bodega clerk. But shine they do in the way that they might.

Would it be unfair to lump stars in the same heap as vampires? Are they not all captivating and daylight-shy?

Alternate titles for this post include: “Tattoo Personality Guy Has a Posse” and “How I Need to Stop Hanging Out In Bars Until They Close and Thinking Everybody Is So Great.”