the photography:
i am currently hanging out in my parents dining room amidst the tap-tap-tapping of my wife on my mother's old white iMac laptop. it's a fitting scene for a snowy and flipping freezing afternoon in February. the high for today? looking at a whopping 8 degrees above zero. oh crap. days like this prove that mittens are not just for second graders.

we are in vermont to celebrate my sister-in-law's graduation from college. graduation from college is a special occasion that i have celebrated with friends and family at least a dozen times (only once for myself) and i am always amazed by the jubilation, awe, and just plain "scared shitless" emotions that make the entire day so energized and full of smiles. now if only you could repeat this feeling of accomplishment later on in your life when you could use a little pick-me-up to get you through the doldrums (also known as your "20's"). i think half the reason so many people go to graduate school is to feel that sense of accomplishment again. i know that if i could celebrate my college graduation over and over and over, i would. even if i had to listen to "i've got you babe" every morning for the rest of my life.

as an 18 year old entering the doors of academia, i distinctly remember that college was going to prepare me for the business world that lay ahead of me as an adult. i honestly thought that college was going to prepare me for a career path or at the very least, give me the smallest inkling of what i wanted to do. in fact, college did not do this. in fact, college prepared me with the social tools to be able to STOMACH the business world (not how to navigate it). for these social preparations, i am extremely grateful for my experiences during my four years of school. i just wish that during my senior year one of my professors had taken me aside and reassured me that while i would be trying to navigate this vast and very very serious business world that i would be shipwrecked and marooned at least four times.

for if i had known this, i would not have felt so down upon myself when i was working 50 hours a week and feeling so very alone and unhappy with where i was headed. professional loneliness (for a lack of a better term) is never pointed out as a possibility within the halls of academia. it's not even mentioned. i think it should be mandatory and embraced. when i left the academic bubble, all i got was a "here's the alumni network" and a peppy "enjoy your first job!". strong words to make you feel important and dearly missed but these words hold little water when you resumé lists "Bakery Delivery Driver - six months", "Freelance newspaper advertisement designer - 2 months", and (my personal favorite) "Band photographer - 1 band".

oh well... it's not planting the flag on the top of the mountain that defines us... it's the climb. right? right?

photos are with the 5DMKII and my EF 24-105mm f/4.0L USM. i want to say it one more time but it was silly cold outside... 8 degrees yo. sunny, but c'mon. 8 degrees!!!

the music:
whenever i get to hang out at my parents house, people are always chatting. the conversation topics range dynamically from the government (the vermont state secessionist movement is currently high on the list), artists (local photographers are my fave), books (my mom is the head of the board of trustees at the local public library), and the obligatory where-are-they-now-Champlain-Valley-Union-High-School-class-of-1996 check-in. it's always fun to chew the fat and music is also always on the tip of my father's tongue when the conversation turns boring. the CD players in the living room and in the cars are always loaded with something fun and exciting. my father's newest kick? punk rock music with an irish twist. you heard it here first.

edd's current favorite records:
The Pogues - Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash
Flogging Molly - Swagger
The Dropkick Murphy's - Blackout

what the what? that's right... my dad is listening to the Murphy's. amazing. the man who introduced me to Tom Waits has come full circle and instead of scatting off the quick witted "Step Right Up" he serenades the bar world of broads with "Kiss Me I'm Shit Faced".

i couldn't be prouder. but right now i'm kicking back and listening to the original (which i was totally unaware of BTW) Respect by Otis. my friend poor-white-trashley would be proud. hit it otis. hit it.

the photography:
you know what's fun? taking an outsider's stance while standing in an insider's job. confused? you should be. i'll lay it out for you:

a) i work in the automotive industry as a photojournalist
b) i'm not an enthusiast (or at least i wasn't before i started this job) nor am i an automotive blogger
c) i'm not a reporter
d) and i'm not easily swayed (or impressed for that matter) by those who are

when i'm working the show floor, i'm simply a photographer with a job to do and a deadline to meet. thank you so much for understanding my frustration when you step in front of me to make sure you take a camera phone photo of your buddy for facebook. please be polite and get out of my way.

this (almost) oblivious mind-set allows me to work at an auto show as efficiently and as objectively as humanly possible. auto shows are basically cavernous rooms filled with PR suits, reflectively clean metalic cars, million dollar plastic replicas, and thousands of people wanting to know what this that and the other thing are all about. there are freelancers, writers, photographers, and videographers everywhere, snapping pictures, taking video, tweeting, and producing everything from newspaper columns to the occasional online web-isode video about transmission fluid. it's an interesting group of people to say the least.

by staying in an almost oblivious state of mind, i find that i don't easily wrap myself up in the notorious game of cat and mouse that i have dubbed, shiny objects (shiny objects is a marketing ploy which causes the buyer or viewer to stare at a new shiny object and because said new shiny object is so amazingly shiny and new, the buyer/viewer's head is cleared of any thoughts whatsoever. ending scenario? buyer/viewer's head has clouded over and any sense of how said shiny object fits into the "big picture" is lost; it's a distraction method employed by many and understood by few).

one of the few historic sights (and the grandest of shiny objects) from the auto show circuit that always draws my attention above the sea of noise, news, lights, and commotion are the gorgeous (and highly-suspect) auto show models. dressed to the nines and paid to stand next to a large hunk of steel and plastic, these models eek out a living looking pretty, standing at attention, and smiling like they don't know how to frown. unlike their runway cousins, the auto show model must not only fit the part (visually matching the brand) but they must also stand next to their respective vehicle and touch it occasionaly, thus drawing needed attention to whatever is being displayed. it sounds silly, but picture bob barker repeatedly announcing "A new Car!!!" over and over. car show models are a lot like that. imagine this job description:

seeking size 0-3 female, at least 5'9"
must be able to stand under hot lights with very little clothing for 5 hours straight
must be able to smile entire four hours
must be able to stand smell of armor all
must be able to stand up to sleezy reporters and photographers who want to possibly smooch you or buy you drink
must be able to stomach new chrysler lineup
must be able to do all this in 4" heels

there are more than a few deal breakers in there. jeez...

so anyways, i took some quick pics of the models. my mind always works in funny ways so i tried to create a dichotomy between images of the models being models and hamming it up for the camera, and of models not paying attention to me. i think it works well. the funny thing is, half the time i'm at an auto show, i pay zero attention to the models. zero. except unless they ask me to get them a sandwich (model humor... too soon?!) or possibly a 2,500 calorie protein shake? (way too soon)

photos are with the 5DMKII and the 24-70mm f2.8L and the new 70-200mm f2.8L. i likey. thanks for another smashing year detroit, i actually miss you already. Joe? i'm gonna take you up on that offer to do a DETROIT-IN-24-HOURS-PHOTOGRAPHY-MARATHON. that will be fun.

and just to clarify, i am a little jaded at the process but i love the people i work with and i love what i do for a living. some of the best days of my year are spent walking around detroit during the auto show. i really dig it.

the music:
i enjoyed spending much of my downtime today reading hilarious braid facts posted by their bass player Tod Bell over his twitter feed. this stroll down memory lane obviously led to me playing lots and lots of braid over the headphones. i could listen to them forever. i'm a nerd, a geek, a husband, a former jock, a soon to be father, a photographer, and a braid fan. but not in that order.

the photography:
i've been MIA for a bit. sorry about that. the holidays are busy with family and really busy with work. my bad. but i'm posting now, right?

i spend at least one week in detroit every year as i cover the north american international auto show as an automotive photojournalist from the floors of cobo hall. it's always a wicked exciting time to be around for the major car releases from the big three american automotive giants with all of the pomp and circumstance that comes with the dance party that is the press days. sigh. january in detroit? sigh.

every time i enter the detroit city limits, all i want to do is spend my time photographing the world outside of the hall walls, the desolate, decrepit, weed-infested streets, and burned out house shells that make up the greater detroit metropolitan region. this year i took the plunge and i snuck out of the hotel and i explored. it was amazing. on that warm/cold/warm morning, i took the time to photograph the GMC Safari van that is jacked up with at least an 18" lift kit complete with gigantic mudding tires affixed to it's tiny axels making it look like the ultimate redneck salute to the A-Team. too bad it's painted tan (or should i say faded tan). finally. i have been eyeing that bad-boy for three years.

one of the glimmering pillars of detroit's losing battle with it's own humanity is the Michigan Central Depot, located on Michigan Avenue in detroit, just down the street from the former Tiger Stadium. this building has been empty since Amtrak left in 1988 which means that the 17 story structure (slightly guessing since the first floor atrium has 76' tall ceiling) has been empty for more that 22 years. the condition of the building is a national and architectural travesty that many photographers have taken a stab at capturing. so i gave it a my best shot with the time i was alloted and i feel quite good about the results. i will, mark my words, one day return and climb inside this building and i will document the horror that lies within. one day.

another stop on my way out of detroit is this great little diner/hamburger joint. two of us ate 2 eggs over easy, hashbrowns, toast, and bacon. we paid $7.47. crazy. the man behind the counter shredded the potatoes for the hashbrowns while we sat and waited. amazing.

it was a gorgeous couple of days but much of my time was spent in a conventional hall and then in a casino. don't ask. i didn't bet a cent. but the time i did get out and take some photographs, the light was perfect, the sky was filled with voluptuous high clouds, and the temperature was perfect while sitting right around 33 degrees. i couldn't have asked for a better 1.5 hours. next time? i'm gonna take a couple of days and document the city of detroit as it should be documented. it's a beautiful place. truly beautiful.

the music:
i first heard the band doves when i was working in a crappy design job laying out old-people-group-tour catalogs for an old-people-group-tour company located in boston. boring, mind-numbing, and anti-inspirational were the terms we threw around that office like oyster crackers onto a bowl campbell's clam chowdah. an aging hipster coworker (in his 40's who wore chucks and took care of his 15 year old daughter on the weekends) spent much of his time pulling me aside and chatting about bands in hopes of passing the rock'n'roll torch to an up-and-coming music junkie such as myself. it worked. his first lesson was to never forget the importance of punk music no matter how trite and watered down it becomes and his second was to always listen to captain beefheart. i soaked up a lot of information during my 6 month freelance stint on the third floor of that brick building just south of the five points channel. a lot.

one of the records that was passed down to me during that educational period was the doves, lost souls, the first full length from these three chaps from manchester. it's quite a fantastic record from start to finish with the ebb and flow of songs that peaks with the epic "the cedar room" which needs the calming cool down of "the house" to bring the record back to earth. if you want to know where coldplay get much of their sound from i can tell you that it's not all radiohead ripoffs. doves mix floating chords and keyboards with a smooth rhythm section and echoed staccato guitars to make you feel right at home in your chair with your headphones on. i went so far with my love of doves to track them down during their first couple of tours to the states. the opening band for their first tour? a little group called the strokes. the second tour? a little group called my morning jacket. not too shabby kids. not too shabby.

the photography:
that's right. i love horses. they are the most majestic, non-urban, non-exotic, animal that i can think of. yet, for some reason, right in the middle of the Old Town neighborhood on the northside of chicago, there is a field (empty lot) that is a fenced in pen for a group of horses. why do i know this? because it is visible from the train (brown and purple lines for those at home keeping score) just south of the Sedgewick stop looking west.

glorious prancing horses. yup. amazing. on this fine day, there were three light colored specimens and one eerily 'black-as-night but with red highlights' specimen trotting around the lot. every time i got close to the fence with my camera, one of the horses would inevitably walk up to me as if to say 'this is the part of the story where you give me a carrot or some hay and i'll be cool with your presence'. it was pretty awesome.

the back story is that my wife and i have been enamored with these gigantic creatures since we started riding the train together to go to work about three years ago. a good day in my book is when i get to see the 'guys' (as they have come to be regarded) on my way to work and on my way home. i even go so far as to make sure i am sitting on the proper side of the train for a good viewing. oh yeah. i'm obsessed.

photos are with the 28mm and if you know your focal lengths, you will realize that 28mm is pretty wide so you can really get a sense of how close i was on some of these frames. good times. they are beautiful creatures and they scare the crap out of me when i get too close. it's humbling to be so close to such a powerful animal in the (cough, literary license) wild.

the music:
i have this reoccurring habit (um, doesn't the definition of habit mean reoccurring?) of leaving my ipod at home. this sucks when i have gobs of photos to edit and nothing to listen to whilst doing so. pandora radio is an ok distraction but it's biggest fault lies within the fact that after about 45 mins, the songs start to repeat themselves. thank god i brought the ipod today.

Operation Ivy were a raucous nor-cal punk outfit featuring a very young (and extra snarly) Tim Armstrong (of Rancid fame) that were full of the punk ethos as much as jamaican rock steady. their mix of punk, ska, and anti-establishment sounds a lot like a cheap The Clash rip-offs but Op Ivy meant much much more to the music community in the late 80's. Op Ivy's real claim to fame (at least in the music press) was that they solidified the Berkley punk sound that led us directly to bands like Green Day and Sublime. as Op Ivy played their last show in 1989, the openers were a small little punk trio that had just changed their name to Green Day. oh well, someone had to do it. if kids in the 2000's are picking up Op Ivy records because Billie Joe Armstrong told them to, so be it. these guys deserve their due. legacies aside, take warning is a stripped down ska/punk jam filled with advice, upstroke guitars, and a damn funky bass line. it stands the test of time for sure. go out and find the Energy LP. it's as awesome as much as it's cliche and trite. but hey, they did it really well.