STORYTELLER

Category: Americana

  • Home, Not Home

    Y es. I was taking you through my travels, but soon New Orleans will fade into my rambles. I’d like to say I have mixed emotions about leaving, but I don’t. The city is very broken. We are on pace to have the highest number of murders per capita. That means we’ll have around 350…

  • Different

    Well. The subject is the same as the last few days posts. Another picture of a county fair. Yes. Again. But, the post production is very different. I can’t even remember what I did to this picture. But, you have to admit that it’s not my usual style or color palette.

  • White Picket Fence

    Usually, the phrase “white picket fence” means something about American Traditionalism. It is sort of an icon that speaks to a certain kind of life — sort of a dream — to which you aspire. Those standards probably have changed. That dream seems a little shopworn. Or not. Depends on who you are, and what…

  • Tools.

    When I was photographing The Bank, located in Central City, the owner took me to another building that he uses as a workshop. He restores some furniture there. He also builds new, better-than-original furniture and house details there. I happened to wander into a back room and found the tools of his trade hanging neatly…

  • Not Quite So Broken

    I made this picture in Holy Cross. That’s in roughly the same place as yesterday’s picture. But, this one is a little more whimsical and colorful. I especially like the car. It came from California. Of course it did. If you look on the porch of the pink house — Oh wait. Excuse me. The…

  • Is It Real?

    So. I ran out of batteries on my “real” cameras. Yeah, Yeah. My bad. But, I was having fun. So, I resorted to my backup’s backup and turned to my i-Phone. Even though I make pictures with it often, there is something about shooting with it that makes me feel like I’m not doing a…

  • One Night, One Time

      “A wise man was telling stories to me. About the places he had been to. And the things that he had seen. A quiet voice is singing something to me. An age-old song about the home of the brave. In this land here of the free. One time one night in America.” — David Hildago & Louie Perez/Los Lobos…

  • Those Were The Days. Or Not.

    I saw this on my walk through The Quarter. I had to photograph it. I make no cultural comments. Angelo Brocato is long longer in The French Quarter. They are located on Carrollton near Canal Street. They are New Orleans beloved Italian sweet shop. Ice cream that is the best. Often, we eat dinner at…

  • Bikes in The Quarter

    So. I was very late yesterday and I’m very early today. That’s what happens when I can’t sleep. This is one of those pictures I made on my walk through The French Quarter. The bikes are typical for the rough streets located there. For me, the added touch was the faded Mardi Gras beads which…