I wish I had some kind of heartwarming story about how a camera came into my life as a present from a well-loved relative and then turned into a great passion for me as an adult. The truth is I came to it later, in my mid-twenties on my honeymoon in Bermuda, in fact. The first photo I uploaded to Flickr on August 27, 2005 was a picture of a plumeria flower (of course it was) that I took with my point-and-shoot Canon Powershot A80, which I bought because it had a pretty sweet rotating digital screen…..I may be a nerd.

The truth is I don’t go to the City nearly as much as I’d like to. I know I take it for granted because it’s essentially in Albany’s backyard, and it often ends up being overshadowed by more “exotic” locales. However, as I thought about it, some of my favorite shots have occurred in NYC. It’s got everything you could want in a photographic environment: urban grit, a stunning variety of architecture, people galore (if you’re able to take photos of random strangers without looking like a creepy stalker – not something I have mastered yet), and an entire environment underground that offers a whole different view on society apart from it’s neighbor upstairs. In short, as I thought about it, New York City really is one of my photography meccas, and here are my favorite places to venerate it:

1) The Subway- I love public transportation no matter where I am, and if you are comfortable enough it can generate some pretty cool, slightly dangerous, usually unpredictable (depending on the subject) street photography. I’m a big baby and usually rely on the ability to snap on my iPhone without anyone knowing. Kind of creepy, I know. I can’t ignore the stations themselves, either. Lots going on there to be captured. Bonus: It’ll get you to all of these other places.

2) The Brooklyn Bridge – This is my #1 most favorite place in all of NYC. The lines are great, the light is awesome depending on what time of day you go, and you can never go wrong with the view, especially if you decide to make the approximately 1 mile stroll over to Brooklyn.

3) Chinatown – The clash of cultures fighting for dominance in this part of NYC is always good camera fodder. Plus, you can pick up some of my favorite NYC snack food, baked pork buns, at any of the seemingly hundreds of Chinese bakeries scattered throughout the area.

4) Grand Central Station – Every photog and their grandmother in NYC makes their way to GCS at some point. It may be cliche, but it’s totally worth it if you can figure out how to capture the light within the cavernous arrivals area. Also, great for people watching.

5) Central Park – Plan for a couple of hours and bring a willingness to walk. There is so much going on here, from a small zoo to Strawberry Fields, the makeshift John Lennon memorial, and even a castle (of sorts). I haven’t spent nearly enough time exploring the photograph-able nooks and crannies of this massive space, but it would be a shame to leave it off of the list.

6) Times Square at night – I know its totally touristy, but it’s also completely bright, shiny, and magical in that capitalist western society way that we Americans love so much (even if we pretend to have nothing but disdain for it). It can be as overwhelming as…well it’s overwhelming, but there are plenty of opportunities for some exciting nighttime street photography, especially as the weather gets warmer.

Obviously there are many more opportunities for exercising your shutter finger throughout the City, and these are just a sample of some places that have worked well for me in the past. Luckily, I can continue to hone my urban photography skills in one if the best cities in the world because this version of mecca is only a quick train ride away.

So listen, my wife and I spent two weeks in an apartment in a small town called Praiano, Italy this summer, and I also started a new job. These are the two things that have defined my existence for the past five months. Because nobody wants to see pictures of my new job, I’m going to share only a sampling of the 600+ shots I took while immersing myself in the most beautiful place on Earth that I’ve seen so far, the Amalfi Coast. There are so many stories hidden here in these pictures, and I promise I’ll get to them one day. For now, join me as I go to my happy place. I think you’ll like it there.

When you walk into Lyrical Ballad Bookstore on Phila Street in downtown Saratoga Springs, the first thing you notice is that familiar smell of words on paper, some of them old and some of them new. You are surrounded by books on shelves, books on the floor, books everywhere you look, and they are packed so tightly that it’s not always quite clear where one book stops and another begins. There is a mythological, or perhaps Jim Henson-ian, labyrinthine feel to the space, and while you won’t likely meet a minotaur stalking its next victim among the winding stacks, you will surely find its literary embodiment waiting to be devoured by one of the voracious readers who have regularly visited the shop since it opened in October of 1971.

As an 8 year resident of Saratoga Springs I am embarrassed to admit that this was my first visit to this downtown institution. I’ve often walked by it in a rush to get somewhere else while reminding myself every time I passed it to stop in the next time I found myself with some free time. I’m happy that that day finally came on a sunny afternoon in early April. It was then that I walked into 7 Phila
Street and almost didn’t find my way out.

When John DeMarco, a Saratoga County native fresh out of college with a degree in literature burning a hole in his pocket, decided to open a bookstore in downtown Saratoga, I doubt he could have predicted that his shop would grow in ways that indicate it may have had a plan of its own, a plan to infiltrate all of the hidden corners of downtown Saratoga. It began as a small shop that was “cheap and available” according to John. However, as John and his wife Janice developed relationships with his neighbors and as spaces around Lyrical Ballad have gone out of business (the gallery of famous Saratoga photographer George Bolster, for instance) or moved to larger, more modern accommodations, new rooms have seemingly sprouted up on their own where once there were solid walls. They appear to go on forever almost like the five-and-a-half-minute hallway from Mark Danielewski’s House of Leaves. There were several moments as I found myself wandering aimlessly among the volumes when I wondered if I shouldn’t be leaving a trail of breadcrumbs in order to find my
way back. Meanwhile, on the list of coolest places for a store to keep their more valuable inventory are two former bank vaults that harken back to days when Saratoga National Bank was housed on the corner of Phila and Broadway. There is a deep rooted sense of history in this building, and I picture the books as living entities feeding off of the remnant energy of days gone by.

While the building layout may have morphed and expanded over the years, one thing that hasn’t changed is the excitement and respect that John and Janice have for the written word. Their appreciation for the service they provide is evident in the reverence with which they speak about their business. Don’t talk about Kindles and Nooks in here (unless the nooks you’re referring to are one of the many places where you can sit down and read that first edition Hardy Boys book you never got to finish). This is a temple to creativity in all shapes and forms: new, old, science fiction, historical non-fiction, reference, and children’s stories. There are boxes full of prints and illustrations depicting life in the early days of the Capital Region. There are song books, Broadway scripts, cook books, and boxes of antique postcards available for purchase from all over the world with messages from people who likely now only exist as memories. The oldest items owned by the DeMarco’s and likely locked away in one of those former bank vaults are two rare books. One is, very fittingly, a book of horses from 1535, and the other is a book on Italian architecture dated 1580. Forget Yaddo, folks. I’m convinced that any writer in residence would find more than their fair share of inspiration among these accumulated works of authors from across the globe.

Of course, the big question is how does Lyircal Ballad continue to remain relevant in our increasingly digital world? The DeMarco’s attribute their continued success to customer loyalty and a community that supports small business. They have regular visitors who return time and again to see what they may have missed on their last adventure through the stacks, and they also have seasonal clientele who show up along with the New York City Ballet and the Philadelphia Orchestra. The racetrack, of course, brings its own set of characters. However they do recognize that they, like many independent business owners, are working harder than ever to stay afloat. Beyond the tangible storefront, they provide a unique appraisal service to people from all over New York and New England. For example, when someone with a significant library passes away they are often contacted by family members to come in an determine how much the library is worth. Currently they are working with an individual who lost his entire library in a fire and needs appraisal figures for his insurance company. It is a service that not many people offer, and they have definitely found their niche. Additionally, they buy worthy items from individuals who come in to the shop looking for some quick cash. On this particular day there was a gentleman attempting to sell a monochromatic print from the mid to late 1800’s depicting a child in a desert surrounded by a menagerie of lions, tigers, and bears (oh my!). As I said, the inventory is diverse.

We live in a world that grows more and more technologically connected and interpersonally disconnected everyday at a speed that can sometimes be overwhelming. We easily disregard the simple joys in life as frivolous or unnecessary, and we are often more concerned with getting the best deal rather than supporting those small business in our community who are struggling more than ever to survive. We download books at the touch of a button, and we forget that there is treasure out there, bound on paper just waiting to be discovered. I invite you to stop in and visit John and Janice on your next trip to Saratoga Springs. I know they would be happy to have you. While you’re there, look for an armoire that I’m certain if explored under the right conditions would lead you right to Mr. Tumnus drinking tea in C.S. Lewis’s Narnia. Just don’t forget your breadcrumbs.

Lyrical Ballad Bookstore
7 Phila St
Saratoga Springs, NY 12866
(518) 584-8779

I am so lucky to have been tapped by Abby Lublin, the person who is really at the forefront of the community building storytelling movement in the Capital District right now, to take over hosting duties at the Olde English Pub in Albany. This will be my third time in the role, and I’m really starting to hit my stride. I’d love for you to come out and share a story on this month’s theme, “Oops.” Or, if you’re not into standing in front of a mic, we always welcome an audience that enjoys listening, laughing, crying, and having a good time. I hope to see you there next Monday! I think you’ll be surprised at how much fun you’ll have.

Oh, it’s been far too long. Isn’t that what everyone says when they post after being gone for months? Anyway, it’s true. It has been too long. It’s amazing how quickly time passes when you’re working a full-time job and interning in a different capacity at the same time in the same place where you work that full-time job. In my case, I was finishing up yet another graduate program. This time I went ahead and completed my Certificate of Advanced Study in Educational Leadership, which means that at some point in my professional future I may be able to move from the passenger seat into the driver’s seat. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the passenger seat. I am pretty comfortable with my current professional role. I’m a decent navigator, and I know how to find the good music on the radio. Also, I’m not solely responsible for everyone’s safety while on the road, so if I have to stay here a bit longer I am A-OK with that. However, there comes a time in life when some are just ready to get our license, and finally hop behind that steering wheel. Here I am, rear view mirror adjusted, and seat belts plugged in. It’s a scary and exciting thought, but right now I’m simply enjoying having no homework for the first time in three years. It’s tough working full-time and going to school, so don’t be surprised if there happens to be a lot of laying-in-hammock time this summer.

In other news I’ve taken over as host of the monthly Front Parlor Series storytelling night at the Olde English Pub at Quackenbush Square in Albany. Apparently Abby Lublin, the founder of the FPS in Troy, felt I had the goods to fill her shoes on the west side of the Hudson, and I am so psyched that she did. I’ve hosted two evenings so far, one in both April and May, and I’ve really been enjoying myself. The folks at OEP have been very welcoming, and they are committed to growing this monthly community event. The next one is happening on June 18th (it’s always the third Monday), and our theme is “Oops!” I hope to see you there. Don’t worry, telling a story isn’t mandatory. It’s only highly encouraged! For more information on how storytelling works, check this out.

Photography-wise, I’ve been focusing most of my efforts on instant film from those wonderfully inventive folks at The Impossible Project. I really can’t stop from continually pushing myself via this medium. My digital SLR is getting little play these days and may be thinking about leaving me. Unfortunately, until I run out of money (which may be sooner rather than later because digital is definitely cheaper than film), I am wandering with my SX-70 stuck to my face. You can check out all of my shots in this set on Flickr, if you feel so inclined. Meanwhile, I’m always looking for new photographic opportunities, so if you’d like to have your picture taken and watch it instantly appear before your very eyes, let me know. Or, even better yet, come to storytelling on June 18th, and we can do it then!

I’ve given you this brief personal history lesson because this week I was able to hang my first photography show ever at the Spectrum Theatre. This independent movie house, an Albany institution, speaks to the importance of locally owned and operated businesses contributing to the revitalization of an area. I am so excited to display my work in the lobby of the theatre, to be a part of the downtown area that I have come to enjoy and so much want to be a part of. It really is amazing for me to think that my photographs are actually on display in a public place. It may seem like a small achievement to some, but for me it is the tangible realization of something that simply brings me joy. What more could a person ask for?

A little bit about the show – Faces of China
There are places in the world where I am fairly certain I will never set foot. They are completely foreign places where the people speak languages that bear no resemblance to my own, the smells are as strange to my nose as the language is to my ears, and the food touches taste buds that have sat around bored for my entire life. For some people a trip to China is a commonplace occurrence. For me, China was about as far away from home as I could ever think of traveling.  If you had asked me several years ago what the likelihood was that I would be walking across the Great Wall on a damp April afternoon, my answer would have been a definitive “slim to none.” Two years later I am still regularly amazed at all that I experienced during that 10 day school trip with 15 wide-eyed American teenagers by my side.

In the end, it was the Chinese people who made the experience truly special. They were some of the friendliest citizens that I have encountered in all of my travels, and they were genuinely intrigued by our presence in their country. I’m sure we were a sight to behold: 21 Americans moving in unison, all with our cameras out, staring wide-eyed at everything we encountered. It was pretty commonplace for the Chinese to follow us around like paparazzi, snapping photos of us in many different states of tourist-ness. We were as foreign to them as they were to us, and it created a sort of sightseeing ballet. We would move forward and they would move around us, always smiling, always interested in where we would go next. I hope I have captured their welcoming nature and their quiet curiosity in these photos.

I hope you have the time to stop by, see a movie, support an amazing local business, and take a look at my pictures. The show runs through April 17th, and it will be up for Albany’s 1st Friday celebration on April 6th. Check out my event page on Facebook, too.

Many thanks to: My wife Amy for (mostly) happily supporting me every time I bring a new camera into our already crowded house and for always encouraging me to go after what I want in life; My friends who put up with me constantly sticking cameras in their faces; Sebastien and Bennett for encouraging some stranger from the Internet to go out and shoot and for setting the bar high for Capital District photography; and All Over Albany for giving me the opportunity to write, share my photos, and generally express myself in ways that seemed improbable in the past. You all rock!

P.S. My grandmother says hi to The Internet!

P.P.S If your mother shows up to your show early, this is what happens.

There’s something mesmerizing about the Empire State Plaza. You probably won’t admit it, so I’ll do it for you. You, all of you Capital Region residents, you actually enjoy coming here, but you’re not sure why. Don’t worry. I feel the same way, and I’m trying to work through it. The vast expanse of concrete, the bad modern art (some with dangerously sharp moving parts), the abyss-like reflecting pools (don’t get too close!), and the potential jumping off point for the coming zombie apocalypse make the Governor Nelson A. Rockefeller Empire State Plaza unappealing at first glance. But there’s something else, isn’t there? It’s something that makes me want to wander around as if there is a huge secret hidden among the pebbled walkways and white marble retaining walls that many have searched for but never found. It’s waiting to be discovered, and I want to be the one to discover it.

One thing is for sure. It’s a landmark that is unmistakably Albany. I can’t remember the number of times I sighed with relief as a kid upon seeing that unique skyline as we pulled onto I-787 from the NYS Thruway headed to my house in Cohoes after a very long road trip. I was almost home, and I could not WAIT to get out of the family minivan (we are a gassy bunch). Or perhaps I associated it with childhood visits to the NYS museum where I took a great amount of pleasure simply planting myself in their refurbished subway car, imagining myself speeding under that other city in New York that many people mistake for our capital. Even now, as I sit here typing this, I can’t pinpoint what it is about the Plaza that intrigues me so, but intrigue me it certainly does.

Maybe it’s simply trying to figure out what people were thinking as they designed it that keeps me coming back. I imagine a group of men with thick, horn-rimmed glasses and pocket-protected white short-sleeve dress shirts standing around a table thinking “How much concrete can we dump in the middle of this city before somebody calls our bluff?” Was this just a product of the times, a design born from a typical 1950′s architectural mind where rock and steel represented strength, tried and true blue-blooded American stoicism? Or was it Rockefeller’s silent thumb-to-the-nose at bleak Soviet-era design? We’ll show those commies! We’ll build there buildings here, and then they won’t want to build them like that anymore! Nyah nyah!

I’m reading into it too much, aren’t I?

You do have to admit that there is something very Stalinistic about the vibe there: everything in its place, emotionless, unwavering. Is that a bread line snaking out of the Justice Building?? But then look at it again. There’s symmetry and wide open spaces. There’s fresh, open air in a somewhat stagnant downtown area. There are….some trees. It’s an experiment in opposites! I’m certainly no student of design, but there’s a dichotomy here that intrigues me and evokes emotion. I wonder if someone can help me figure out why that is?

The Concourse, unfortunately, is a lost cause.

Do you know what it’s like to walk across history? Have you experienced standing on the centuries, touching time? There are places on the Earth that I swear are some kind of gateway to the soul of our planet. The Great Wall of China is one of these. You can sense a strange energy coursing through the stone walls and uneven stairways of this ancient monument, an odd sort of memorial to the blood, sweat, and tears of the people who gave their lives to this crazy work of timeless engineering.

I had never climbed a mountain, never had a reason to, until I found myself at the bottom of this wall. It took me nearly two hours to get to the top. It was worth every sweaty, wind-sucking moment. Being at the top of the Great Wall puts the size of things into perspective. Take my word for it: nothing is insurmountable.

I took this shot at the Palais de Congres, a sort of convention center in the downtown area of Montreal, Quebec, in July of 2011. It is probably my second most favorite shot of the year, and I sat on the floor in this entrance lobby for over an hour waiting for the perfect situation to present itself. I’d actually been eyeing up this building for years as I drove past it on my way out of the city, and i finally took an opportunity to explore it with camera in hand. Incidentally, I shot this “from the hip,” as they say, and I couldn’t have been any luckier. The lighting was exactly as I’d hoped (it was late afternoon), and the angle was perfect. Every time I look at this photo now I wonder what this woman would think of me broadcasting her picture for everyone to see.

Montreal is one of my favorite cities in North America. I’ve been going there to escape the humdrum of everyday life since one of my closest friends from high school started college at McGill University back I’m 1998. Since then I have been enticed by the urban landscape of this very European city so close to the US.

There’s a sort of dichotomy that happens in Montreal that I haven’t experienced in any other city. Perhaps it’s because I’ve spent so much time there, but I swear there is a small town hidden among the skyscrapers and asphalt built in the shadow of Mont Royal. I’ve never felt unsafe walking around this city, no matter what time of day, and late at night there is an eerie absence of automobile traffic like I’ve never seen in a place that is equally as loud and fast paced when the sun is up. Additionally, it is one of the easiest cities to drive in, and I’ve (mostly) never felt on edge while navigating its streets by car.

I have many happy memories of times spent exploring all that Montreal has to offer. I still remember my first taste of poutine, the real food of the gods, and I’ll never forget the first time I was cut off by several rude Québécois drivers as I found my way to my friends apartment in my 1993 Toyota Paseo (a very small car when you’re 6’5″) while slowly (too slowly) realizing that the blinking green light is equivalent to our traffic light turn arrow in a left turn lane. Who knew? I am still intrigued by the maze of underground shopping malls that wind through the downtown area allowing even the hardiest French-Canadian commercialized respite from the brutal winter winds north of the border. Whoever came up with that idea was a genius.

I’ve had plenty of people over the years tell me I am crazy for choosing Montreal over Toronto as best Canadian city, but I stand by my choice. I have too many good memories over too many years to turn my back on a city that’s been very good to me. Sure it may not have the hustle and bustle of some of its larger cousins, but I’m ok with that. Give me some culturally sanctioned cheese fries, people with just enough chip on their shoulder to make socialization a healthy gamble, and a place to buy Chinese pork buns or Vietnamese banh mi sandwiches, and I’m in heaven. Je t’aime, Montreal. Je t’aime.

There’s just something about bridges that makes me want to photograph them. I’m not quite sure what it is; maybe it’s the ability to play with different types of symmetry when composing the shot or it might be the availability of some typically cool backdrops. Either way, I can never pass up the opportunity to snap some pictures of these feats of engineering. Have you ever thought about how these old school bridges were built? Imagine putting one of these suckers up at the turn of the century; neither a simple nor a pretty process. Meanwhile, this is the one shot from 2011 that I’m most proud of. Out of all of the pictures I took last year, this is my favorite.

So you were promised a story behind every picture, and this one definitely has a story. However, the story actually has nothing to do with the bridge itself but rather why I was standing over the East River between Manhattan and Brooklyn alone on a frigid, blustery morning in February. I had traveled to the city that particular weekend to participate in a fundraising event for Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center. Specifically, I was part of a team (the cheering part because I signed up too late) that was riding stationary bikes in something called the Cycle for Survival. This is an annual event, basically a large scale spinning class, that happens all over the country as a way to raise money that will help to fund research into very rare cancers. One of my closest friends who was being treated at Sloan-Kettering had recently passed away, after a 2 year long fight, from one of these cancers, and I needed to make amends.

Sure, I was there to cheer on my buddy’s family as they rode, but I was also there as a way to seek forgiveness for not being the type of friend that I expected others to be to me. You see, it’s very easy for me to put things off. I am a procrastinator at heart, and unfortunately I missed out on the chance to support my friend when he needed me the most. Every time that I had an opportunity to visit him in New York City something else would come up, or nothing would come up, but I was just lazy. And he would always understand. And I would always convince myself that there would be another time, a better time, for me to go. I made promises that I didn’t keep, and those are the worst kind. For whatever reason or no reason at all I waited until it was too late to finally commit to drive down and see him. He died the day before I could get to him. I never was able to tell him so many things. I’m not sure he knew how much fun I had those nights during high school, nerding out in his basement playing video games and watching movies, or that I actually looked forward to the rounds of golf that we shared on sunny summer mornings, not because I love golf but because he didn’t care if I cheated. I never got to really tell him how much I respected him for earning his PhD in engineering at 28 years old, a degree he was never able to use. I never got to tell him how lucky I was to have him as a friend.

And here I am standing on the Brooklyn Bridge alone before the event, talking into the wind, hoping that it will carry a message for me; a message of sadness; a message of humility; a message of apology.

That’s what this picture means to me.