ECF | Between The Lens

Hong Kong: Wet Markets in Moonlight

2011-10-04T02:49:00.000-07:00

Still bustling after regular market hours, Hong Kong really is the city that never sleeps. Even at 11pm you'll find loads of people wandering the wet markets around the city purchasing meat, fish, produce, and pretty much anything else you can think of under the sun...err, moonlight.

2011-09-06T14:31:00.000-07:00

"The greatest photographs are motivated by human feeling."
-David Burnett (American Photo May/June 1992)

We Can See The Truth in Your Eyes

2011-09-06T14:14:00.000-07:00

For ages you have come and gone courting this delusion.
For ages you have run from the pain and forfeited the ecstasy.
So come, return to the root of the root of your own soul.

Although you appear in earthly form
Your essence is pure Consciousness.
You are the fearless guardian of Divine Light.
So come, return to the root of the root of your own soul.

When you lose all sense of self ther bonds of a thousand chains will vanish.
Lose yourself completely,
Return to the root of the root of your own soul.

Soul of all souls, life of all life - you are "That."
Seen and unseen, moving and unmoving - you are "That."
The road that leads to the City is endless;
Go without head or feet and you'll already be there.
What else could you be? - you are "That."

-Rumi

Lunchtime!

2011-08-30T16:39:00.000-07:00

"One of the very nicest things about life is the way
we must regularly stop whatever it is we are doing
and devote our attention to eating."
-Luciano Pavarotti

On today's menu: pre-packaged organic sushi. From our friends at O-No Sushi!

To Find O-No Products: O-NO Food Co.

Farm Fresh!

2011-08-17T16:13:00.000-07:00

Wow, it's been a while since my last post. It's good to be back! And what better way to start up the blog again than with an explosion of summer fruit and veg? Brought to you by a trip to the local farmer's market.

Ray Ray...

2008-04-18T18:27:00.000-07:00

I took up scuba diving when I was 15 on a whim during a trip to the Great Barrier Reef in Cairns, Australia and instantly fell. in. love. Though being submerged underwater while strapped to a tank equaling your weight shouldn't be appealing, I continue to find the wonders of diving and the vastness of the ocean as one of the most peaceful and earthly humbling of places I can ever escape to. It's a journey I shall never find boring and a constant exploration I hope to never stop venturing on. Time spent observing through a scuba mask is undoubtedly one of the most magnificent splendors I have ever been lucky enough to discover.

I took this video last summer while diving in the Caymans, think I can out-race a stingray?

Souq de Soleil.

2008-04-06T01:10:00.000-07:00

While shopping at Gelson's today, out of nowhere, I found myself the victim of a drive-by carting. The woman behind the metal beast, not having the decency to even turn around to see whom she may have crushed, sped off down the cereal aisle leaving me lying next to the quaker oats writhing in pain.

Usually, this wouldn't warrant for a situation which I would complain about. After all, I am used to navigating the crowded streets of Hong Kong during rush hour and being small, I've become a pro at ducking and weaving. However, I wasn't in a 426 sq/mi asian city that housed 7 million people, I was in a Gelson's at 1pm on a Wednesday afternoon. But if I could deal with the possibility of getting charged at by a cab while minding my own business on the streets of New York, why was a shopping cart any different?

Perhaps I've gotten too used to the comforts and confines of my usually polite little social neighborhood of West Hollywood....

Anyway, having just arrived home from a trip to Syria, the souqs in Damascus reminded me very much of all those other times I had to dodge objects for dear life. Constructed between the alleyways of buildings no more than three meters wide, cramped souqs are filled to the brim with the most colorful arrangements of knick knacks could ever imagine for sale. The outdoor markets wind left and right for what can seem like miles between hits of fresh air; a complete maze in which, as a tourist, I undoubtedly had nothing but the best time getting lost in. Note: keep good hand-eye coordination when side-stepping to avoid shop owners jumping out from every angle shoving scarves, trinkets, and all sorts of berries and nuts in your face promising a, "good prrriiiice!"

A Legend like Billie Jean King.

2008-04-04T11:35:00.000-07:00

With the precision of Sharapova, she dominates the court.

That flawless Ivanovic form, a Kournikova beauty.

Our Venus in the making.

Solutions for America.

2008-03-07T02:07:00.000-08:00

I was watching Hardball the other day when Chris Matthews claimed the Hillary campaign was whining about votes not getting counted for Florida and Michigan. He completely shrugged off the fact that those citizens weren't able to have their voices heard and their votes casted for the simple fact that the two states decided to move an election date up.

Pshh, and I thought the media was supposed to stay objective.

Ranch Refuge.

2008-02-29T11:20:00.000-08:00

On my way up to my friend Kyle's birthday party in Santa Barbara the other day, I was absolutely embracing the drive. I found myself staring at a spectacular site, winding alongside the coastline, racing the beach toward my destination as the ocean crashed alongside the shore. I left the real world behind, looming skyscrapers, bumper to bumper traffic, and littered sidewalks that seemed to blanket sad streets.

Waste.

Did you know that Americans make up 5% of the world's population, and yet we use 30% of the world's resources every year. Something as simple and taken for granted as an untouched bread basket at a restaurant will get thrown out after you're finished with a meal...

101 Ways...

2008-02-22T15:08:00.000-08:00

Cooling bread for breakfast.
There's more than one way to improvise.

A Rab's Best Friend.

2008-02-20T00:35:00.000-08:00

The #1 camel racer in northwestern Syria. Proud champ and owner of 65 camels, he offered my mother 25 of them and 10 headscarves in exchange for my hand in marriage.

Bewilderment quickly sparked laughter.

When she replied it wasn't enough, he proceeded to offer and throw in 10 Arabian horses.

Deal? Or no deal?

Where it all began...

2008-02-16T11:04:00.001-08:00

....the cradle of civilization.

The city of Damascus, capital of Syria, is the oldest known capital of the world inhabited since around 800 B.C. Though the city is rich, rooted deep in history and culture, it still remains one of the poorest cities in the world. After a long hassle with the passports at the airport, we were finally on our way to the ritzy Four Seasons hotel right in the heart of the city; a thankfully comfortable place to stay considering the illness I was soon about to encounter.

Diesel-filled cars slowly inch their way through the city, bumper to bumper, as people dart across the streets. Every corner has a policeman or four standing at it, though they don't seem to be doing much besides striking up the occasional conversation with drivers stopped by traffic. Probably a good thing.

I must admit, aside from the photography, I was looking forward to the food more than anything. Kebabs, Shwarmas, and Hummus here I come! Shortly after gorging myself with wonderful flavors of the MIddle East, no more than 48 hours after we landed, I was STRUCK. Food poisoning that turned into five continuous days of sheer agony. Initially concerned that it might be a burst appendix, I was rushed to the hospital where doctors pledged to have the best surgeons on staff in Damascus. How reassuring...

Two IV drips, three blood tests, an ultrasound, and six injections later, I was back on my feet and clicking away, though staying cautiously suspicious of the food....

Like tea in England, the afternoons are always left for hookah time. Around 3pm the city's locals make their way to local cafes located around Damascus' ornate landscape of the Anti-Lebanese snow-capped mountains, mosque's, and Greco-Roman heritage. Though the majority of them are men, you will sometimes see the intermittent woman sitting amongst them with pipe in hand. Of course there are also various prayer times...

During prayer time, all the minaret's (towers) of the mosque's in arab countries will broadcast a call to prayer three times a day (sometimes more, depending on how devout the area) for at least two minutes as early as 5 in the morning. Since I can sleep through anything, I didn't mind it a prayer sound-off as much as some of the others, however, I did find an interesting on article about the controversies over attaching loudspeakers to almost every single mosque in a city: Islam's Daily Thunder.

Faces of the Middle East.

2008-02-14T20:37:00.001-08:00

Some kids take the helm with my camera...

I definitely found it near impossible to snap a picture of a veiled woman. I wouldn't even have to have the camera pointed in their direction or even held up to frame. The minute A camera was in sight, they quickly turned and sped away.

al-FA-बेत

2007-11-27T15:11:00.000-08:00

Carved into the wall of a Bhutanese monastery (Dzong).
Paro, Bhutan. 2007.

WGA Strike...

2007-11-07T11:34:00.000-08:00

Paramount Pictures, Los Angeles, California.

Does it make sense that per $1 million made in DVD sales, earns a writer around $30,000?

Om. Mani. Padme. Hum.

2007-11-05T10:49:00.000-08:00

Bless.

Greetings, From the Land of the "Thunder Dragon"

2007-11-04T11:32:00.000-08:00

They say those who are the happiest often live the simplest lives. After returning from a week and a half long stay in Bhutan during October of 2007, I find this philosophy to be wholeheartedly accurate. Probably one of the last places in the world where people live completely off the land and in harmony with nature, Bhutan was a delightful refreshment from the hustle and bustle of my busy city.

Right off the bat I found the Bhutanese people to be some of the friendliest and kindest souls I have ever met. As I would often approach with my camera to ask permission for a photograph, I was continually welcomed with open arms. The best part of all was being able to show them the picture I had just taken right after each shot, which they would peer at with such smiles of amusement.

Perched on mountains, strung across roofs, windows, and almost everywhere else there is a spare hook or patch of land, Tibetan prayer flags are hung all over the Kingdom of Bhutan. Made from an array of colorful cloth, they are cut into individual rectangles and traditionally woodblock-printed with symbols and scripture. The five colors on a prayer flag represent the elements and are often arranged in a specific order. Blue and white colored flags, symbolizing water and sky, are frequently seen strung alongside mountains and placed randomly throughout trails for safety and guidance. While green and yellow flags are often placed nearby crop fields and farms as good luck for the growing season.

Below is the legendary Taksang Lhakang, also known as, Tiger's Nest. It is said that the Guru Rinpoche, the father of the Bhutanese sect of Mahayana Buddhism, arrived in the Paro Valley many centuries ago riding on the back of a tigress. He meditated for three months in a cave on the spot where this monastery was later built.

The Future of Bhutan...

2007-10-31T05:14:00.000-07:00

Leap.

2007-08-25T00:36:00.000-07:00

Stay cool.

It's only getting hotter.

Global Warming

Summer Staple.

2007-08-25T00:20:00.000-07:00

Ice delights when hits the lips.

Makes Lime Ade

....a staple summer beverage.

Au' Natural.

2007-07-31T05:14:00.000-07:00

Every Sunday, the local farmer's market bustles with activity.

Even in the foggy San Francisco weather, it was probably be the most colorful array of fruit and veggies I'd ever seen.

They say the best produce is grown in sunny California.

I say, I agree.

Doubt.

2007-07-30T00:59:00.000-07:00

this makes me question a lot of things....

The Destruction of Graham Street Market (HK).

2007-07-28T05:13:00.000-07:00

Ever since I left Hong Kong to study in the US only to come back twice a year, I often noticed huge changes in the city’s construction and cultural way of life. More malls and restaurants were being built as small, independently owned stores constantly gave way to growing franchises. Local culture gave way to the Western world, and of course, the high rises just seemed to loom larger and larger. Either that, or I was already finding myself shrinking. Great.

After shopping for some vintage t-shirts at local Hong Kong brand G.O.D (Goods of Desire) one day while I was back visiting for a family reunion, I picked up a copy of the latest edition of HK Magazine. The cover, reading, “DOOMSDAY: The Destruction of HK’s Graham Street Market,” instantly caught my eye. Yet another part of traditional HK culture was surrendering to the grasp of globalization.

above: a traditional dai pai dong (street food stand).

The Central Street Market, located in the heart of the city, which covers Graham, Peel, and Gage Street has been in operation since 1841 and is now under threat of destruction by the Hong Kong government. Hong Kong’s oldest wet market was now to give way to even more commercial and office buildings. And there was nothing anyone could do about it. Apparently, after 1970 the Hong Kong government decided to cease the reissuing of hawker licenses. And there were never any unions created for these workers because they had never used to have to deal with such issues. Because so many of the vendors are now so old, most of whom do not have much more than a 3rd grade reading level, they are not organized nor capable enough of forming a union to battle the government.

Almost immediately, I grabbed my camera out of my bag and headed over to the market hoping to catch some good shots of the 140-year old wet market before I left to head back to the States the following day. I thought, who knows, the next time I come home that market would probably no longer exist. I wanted to get some good photos of some of the vendors around the market, but looking like the obvious tourist walking around with my camera and back pack, I knew it was going be a difficult feat as most of them are elderly and do not like to be photographed.

As I came upon each stall, slowly walking the market’s slightly slanted slope, many of the hawkers, especially the women, quickly duck behind their fruit-filled Styrofoam boxes the instant they spot my camera. I sensed the animosity coming from these folks as I smiled politely at them, pointing to my camera, silently asking for permission to photograph them because I started getting angry stares and extended arms frantically waving their hands to shoo me away. Clearly, no one was in the mood to be chummy.

A little while later, I came across an old woman snipping stocks off the ends of some vegetables and decided the only way I was going to get a good shot of anyone was to sit down and confront them. At first, she completely dismissed me, shaking her head as if to tell me to not bother and just go away. I crouched down and continued to introduce myself and tell her I was there doing some research to see if there was anything I could possibly do to help their situation. Still, she continued to ignore me. After about three minutes of talking she slowly rolled her neck toward me, looked into my eyes, and coldly snapped,
"What are you going to do? What is anyone going to do? The government has the last say and I will be out a of job in two months and have no money by the end of the year." Refusing to leave, I continued to ask her questions and comment about how horrible it was that the government was basically going just throw them out on the street without allocating them a new area to relocate. I told her about how there was a front page article in the paper about people’s anger toward the government’s decision to tear down the market, to which she simply replied that she couldn’t read. Finally, after about 10 minutes she warmed up to me, even giving me just the hint of a tiny smile.

I began talking to her about why she and other vendors weren’t trying to rally any kind of protest against the government, I found it heartbreaking when she responded that because the majority of them are so old, it was easier to just give up rather than pick a losing fight. “There’s no point. We kind of just assumed we would be here forever,” said the 76-year old Lee Pai Ling, one of the many fruit and vegetable hawkers soon to be displaced at Graham Street Market. She continued, “This has been a way of life as long as we know it.”

Before I left I asked if I could take her picture again. She nodded. But added, “Don’t expect me to smile though.” Then she got right back to work separating her pile of vegetables. She is the woman in the photo below.

Becoming Forgotten....

2007-04-23T10:50:00.000-07:00

Hong Kong has always been known to be a city, rich and diverse both in culture and ethnicity. It is a city most metropolitan in nature. However, the traditions and customs that have long withstood its downfalls are suddenly becoming more and more threatened by natural changes toward advancement and technology—the coming of age.

From the Opium wars in 1839 and 1860, to the occupation of the British in 1841, all the way to handing back of the city to the People’s Republic of China in 1997, the people who built Hong Kong, turned it into the magnificent city that stands today, have always coped well with the changes of time. On the other hand, it is becoming harder and harder to make ends meet, for the common local, in a city that prides itself on its increasingly growing global and economic standpoint. Thus, I set out to capture the side of Hong Kong that more and more people are disregarding, those who are most common, those who seem to be gradually diminishing, constantly being exploited to foreigners, and above all, becoming forgotten.

For instance, the traditional fisherman is slowly becoming extinct and being replaced by larger fishing boats, clearly a more efficient means to catch fish for the masses. However, with enormous fishing nets and way too few fish, those commoners who usually live on the outskirts of Hong Kong in little villages, relying on the daily catch for feed, are frequently finding themselves without dinner. Many villages like those most known in Sai Kung and on Lantau Island have moved, either back to the mainland or to the city to find a better job in order to take care of their families. Outside the fringes of the city, many remnants of what used to be a lively village, full of tradition and history can only be found.

There are some villages that survive; one that I frequented last summer during a family boating trip. However, the people who reside there are usually found to have given into the hands of tourism and have come to realize the only way to make a living is to take advantage of the foreigners who seem to be exploiting them and their once, culture-filled rural community. The night market in Mong Kok is one of Hong Kong’s most well known and deadliest tourist traps.

Open only after the sun sets and the streets close, then do hawkers flood the middle of the roads with their carts. Peddling porcelain, jade horses, “gold” Buddhas, furniture, toys, Mao trinkets, Che t-shirts, cheap jewelry and cd’s, fake sunglasses and DVD’s, not to mention furs and leathers of all kinds, it is a subsequent candy store for visiting travelers and antique collectors. In addition to basically everything you can find, restaurants and street food vendors outline the night market encapsulating all the attention in the center with an assortment of warm and filling aromas. However, these common smells of local foods such as wonton noodles (Wonton-Meen), homemade Chinese dumplings filled with pork, shrimp, shitake mushrooms and Chinese chives (Gao-Zi), special thinly sliced fish (Yu-Peen), congee, and a kind of fried dough commonly eaten for breakfast (Yao-Za-Gwai), are not only found on the outskirts of the city like Mon Kok.
Familiar Hong Kong cheap and fast street food can be found all over parts of the city, being pushed increasingly back behind tall buildings, ritzy hotels, and alluring shops. This kind of mass-appeal local dining (Dai-Pai-Dong) are still visited regularly by the Hong Kong businessman looking for a quick bite between meetings; however, with the increase of ex-patriots, quickly thinning out the usual Chinese face in the crowd, proper eateries are now the way to go. Besides the air condition and comfortableness of restaurants that people are opting for, these local, and sometimes outdoor, places are usually located smaller, older buildings that tend to be very crowded during consumption hours where smaller parties usually find themselves sitting with strangers at larger tables.

Since people are finding themselves frequenting Dai Pai Dong’s less and less, storeowners are finding themselves unable to pay the expensive city rent and are being forced to move into government market buildings that usually rent out the top floors to local restaurateurs. Not only are these budget restaurants being the ones shoved out of the old spotlight, but as are common street markets, like the well-known Wan Chai market, which has now been moved into a central government building.

It is not the fact that these places have been forced to succumb to the city’s ongoing clean-up and transformation, but that the spirit of tradition and Hong Kong culture is no longer being seen, let alone remembered, in a city that is constantly evolving. Markets are giving way to more traffic room due to a rise in vehicles; fisherman and farmers are losing their war with globalization; local restaurants are being drowned beneath grand buildings; and convention has surrendered to modernization. The way of life that used to be will soon be no longer.

Sometimes you just need the beach.

2007-04-17T21:30:00.000-07:00

Shh....I won't tell if you don't.

Stick it to a lamp post.

2007-04-16T21:25:00.000-07:00

People....streets of San Francisco.

2007-04-16T21:02:00.000-07:00

(click on thumbnail for full-size image)

Breakdancing street performers....San Francisco.

2007-04-15T10:55:00.000-07:00

A few problems with the Haight.

2007-04-15T10:11:00.000-07:00

Not that I have any problems with the Haight/Ashbury area. On the contrary, I find it to be one of the most spectacular and culturally integrated places in the city. Althought the area has never really been known for their saftey, there have been an recent escalations concerning loiterers, criminals....and more so just plain drunks.
Many concerned neighbors are concerned with the fact that the streets have, as of late, has turned into a nasty hole, filled with partiers who begin their celebrations by midmorning and are wasted by early afternoon. One neightbor even reported an incident of "rivers of urine" streaming down the streets during the annual Summer of Love fair in '06.
While many do believe that the area should be cleaned up and given more of a respectful image, there are those who believe it is the charm, heritage, and traditions of the current Haight/Ashbury that gives it that special something, makes it so inviting, and they would like to keep it that way.

Streets of San Francisco...Graffiti Art.

2007-04-14T11:52:00.000-07:00

Graffiti has always been linked to the underground world, to the delinquent and illicit behavior of bandits who mark their territory in brightly colored gang symbols, like an insect might display in the wild display to ward off intruders. While this still might carry true in some places, that is not the case of the many displays of graffiti art we find in the city of San Francisco today. However, due to the complaints of many, the city has set out to spend approximately two million dollars a year on the abatement of graffiti.
I, on the other hand, find the writings of graffiti to often be a misunderstood form of art, a form of distinctive individual expression that often goes unnoticed in such a hustle and bustle city. Not often will you find a passer buyer really taking the time to stare and decipher the words that color the cement walls. In fact, the usual bystander will most likely simply dismiss it as juvenile art, probably done by someone who needs something productive to do in his/her life. On the contrary, many of these random and seemingly undecipherable letters are, created by artists and activists, in an attempt to get their personal messages out, whatever they might be.

Stallion.

2006-12-04T18:45:00.000-08:00

(Click on the photos for the actual size)

The inspiration for my project came shortly after coming upon one of American photographer, Frederick Sommer’s prints. One of his most recognized prints was a double exposure made in 1946, entitled, “Max Ernst.” Using two old photographs, one, a picture Sommer had taken of surrealist painter Max Ernst, and the other, the background print of a cement wall. Combining the two, Sommer was able to expose each negative separately onto the same sheet of paper, one right after another. At first glance, the print instantly intrigued me. The way Sommer was so brilliantly able to almost engrave Ernst into the cement wall astonished me. The magnificent tones of gray, the brilliant ashen of the whitewashed wall on the body, and the blacks of the crevices in that wall capture the intensity of an almost 3-dimensional look. I found it to look almost as if it were a painting, so lifelike, etched into the background of a cement wall.

A couple months ago, I took a trip with some friends to a place called Pine Valley down in San Diego countryside. My friend, whose cabin we were to reside in, promised us a view so spectacular it alone would be worth the visit. Of course, I jumped at the opportunity to get some fantastic shots. Armed with a duffle bag of sweaters, my camera, and seven rolls of film, I was ready to venture into the wilderness of San Diego. However, once we arrived, the weather was much less than promising. We spent the majority of the time indoors, snuggled up next to the fire, roasting marshmallows as the rain continued for days to follow.

I found myself standing on the cold stone porch early one morning with camera in hand, scanning the vast property, sorely disappointed with the widespread fog that glazed over the open plain. Compelled to capture at least one magnificent countryside snapshot, I donned my rain gear and set out in search for the perfect subject.
I stumbled upon a string of horses grazing near a large lake in a pasture not too far from the cabin. Not wanting to frighten them away, I approached with caution. After spotting me and initially running away, I pursued them to their new chosen grazing area.

It took a while for me to be able to get up close and personal with the horses and I became quite nervous when a couple of them decided to sniff me out. However, it wasn’t long before they adjusted to being in the spotlight. Working with horses during summer camps and having participated in equestrian for six years in my childhood, I have always had a love for these magnificent creatures. Thus, I decided something I found so close to my heart would be the perfect subject to encapsulate in my project.

However, Like Sommer, I was not pleased with my initial prints of the subject. Pleasant and well photographed they were, but boring. Still in the early stages of learning the art of photography, I wanted to experiment with different styles and techniques I could incorporate into my shots from my weekend in San Diego. After seeing Sommer’s double exposure of Max Ernst, I decided I would attempt to integrate nude shots in, as double exposures, with my horse photographs.

There are three main themes to this project. The first theme serves to portray the human body as a canvas. The reason for this comes from my love of the human body as an art form as well as my curiosity for the taboo art of tattooing. I, myself, have five tattoos; one that you can see in one of the photographs. For this series, I chose a couple shots that exposed parts of the body, which are often found, tattooed on many bodies in society today. I took a more Weston approach to my second theme, in which I intended to blend the curves of the human figure in with the terrain of the landscape. For my third theme I chose to blend the elements to horse and human altogether, as portrayed in the photograph of the hand on the horse's back. The hand being almost as if it were part of the horse.

Bigger Ben

2006-12-03T22:06:00.001-08:00

London is by far Europe's biggest city. Having an unmatched charisma and a unique aura of excitement, London is a thrilling place to visit. Its museums and galleries are among the finest in the world, while monuments from the capital's more glorious past are to be seen everywhere, from Roman ruins through great Baroque churches to the architecture of the triumphalist British Empire.

Puff puff...

2006-12-03T20:58:00.000-08:00

"No you don't always die from tobacco,
Sometimes you just lose a lung.
Oh, you don't always die from tobacco,
Sometimes they just snip out your tongue.
And you won't sing worth a heck,
With a big hole in your neck.
No you don't always die from tobacco."
-Taken from *Truth Commercial

Hardly Strictly Bluegrass

2006-12-03T18:44:00.000-08:00

"We've never done this before, but this seems like the place to do it."
-Gillian Welch

I recently attended the annual Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival this past fall in San Francisco. I encountered not only an eclectic array of bluegrass bands, but an enourmous audience spanning the majority of Golden Gate Park; all of them were brought together by their love of folk and bluegrass. The longer I stayed, the more the crowd continued to grow as people from all over the city arrived at the surrounding hillsides of the park's dusty dirt paths, faintly fragranced by the overhanging eucalyptus trees. The sounds from the various stages echoing and overlapping at times as I walked from stage to stage, with snippets of fiddling banjos and faint backwoods vocals blending together harmoniously.

"Oh the people would come from far away
They'd dance all night till the break of day
When the caller hollered "do-se-do"
You knew Uncle Pen was ready to go

Late in the evening about sundown
High on the hill and above the town
Uncle Pen played the fiddle lord how it would ring
You could hear it talk, you could hear it sing

He played an old piece he called "Soldier's Joy"
And the one called "The Boston Boy"
The greatest of all was "Jenny Lynn"
To me that's where the fiddle begins

I'll never forget that mournful day
When Uncle Pen was called away
They hung up his fiddle, they hung up his bow
They knew it was time for him to go."
-Bill Monroe

Visit HardlyStrictlyBluegrass at: http://www.strictlybluegrass.com/

2006-12-03T16:30:00.000-08:00

This was the very first image that I ever snapped and developed in the dark room on my own. Pretty good for a first shot, wouldn't you say?

My beginnings as a toddler photographer...

2006-12-03T15:22:00.000-08:00

A few of my first prints: