No Parking

My love for photography really began my freshman year in college. The photography course, which art and design students were required to take, covered all aspects of picture making, aesthetic and technical. By my junior year I had set up a "darkroom" in the kitchen of my apartment near school. This was the pre-digital era which meant dealing with rolls of film, splashing about in chemicals, and coping with the idiosyncrasies of an enlarger. Print processing was done at night with the window blacked out (more or less) to control light from neighbors' windows, streetlights, and the occasional bright moon. Although I appreciate the control now possible with digital photography, I miss the magic of seeing an image gradually appear, floating in a bath of developer. 
The photo above, taken a few blocks from my apartment in Brooklyn, is of a ragpicker's wagon in front of his warehouse/stable. It looks as though it could be the 19th or early 20th century, but it was actually the 1960s. Are there still ragpickers plying their trade? Textile recyclers?

Notre Dame des Arts

I have always been intrigued by surfaces, especially worn, multi-layered facades of old buildings. This photo was taken in France.

Looking at Art

A few years ago we raised two chickens. 

They insisted on chicken art as part of the decor of their home.