Brad Pitt and I share the exact same birthday (month, day, year) outside of that, our stories diverge considerably. Mr. Pitt went on to become an internationally famous superstar, while I have led the much more interesting life of the starving artist. I come from a long line of storytellers (whose gift for gab stretches back through the mists of time to our native Ireland) and professional malcontents who were seemingly born to create something in the arts, be it music, writing, sculpture, painting, or photography. I started writing at age 12 with a screenplay with my cousin Ryan about a planet where everyone looked like Elton John entitled "Don't I Know You?" More screenplays followed, several of which received epic Super-8 production with budgets that sometimes ran up to $10. A few even had sound!  More writing followed: songs, poems, short stories, numerous unfinished novels, etc.. Somewhere in there was an attempt at being a rock star...
Still living at home, at age 22, my father dropped an elderly Nikromatt 35-mm film camera into my lap, in the hopes that I would "make a go of it" as a photojournalist. That didn't happen, but I did develop an abiding love of photography that along with writing and archival work have been among the chief passions of my life. When it comes to my photography, I try to be as creative as possible while at the same time striving for a documentary/archival quality. The only set rules I adhere to, when it comes to making pictures are: 1.) Try not to make the picture blurry, and 2.) Don't drop the camera.
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Comments (6)
beachzz
For a long time, I moved every few months. I went from my own little house near the beach, to camping out on a friend's couch, to sharing a tiny apartment with someone who started out as a friend and ended up not being one. But still, you do always leave a part of yourself when you leave.
Chipka
There is a part of me in every apartment or house I ever lived in, and the tragedy in that is that the people who live there now will never know...even as they move on and leave parts of themselves behind. I think that's where "ghosts" actually come from...they're the little fingerprints we leave behind...those memories that lurk in corners like peach pits that somehow missed the trashcan and wound up staying longer in the apartment than the resident who ate the peach and threw the pit away, missing the garbage can or bag. This shot is incredibly haunting and a bit melancholy in a poetic way. I remember that apartment as it's the last apartment I saw in Chicago before going to live in Prague. I remember where that microwave used to sit, and I remember the chayotes (the seed is always the best part!) and yeah...LOTS of X-Files and Rockford. This is a gorgeous shot. Deliciously moody. What a gorgeous and moody shot, and though I saw this BEFORE you posted it, and saw the apartment with that intriguing "hideaway kitchen" I really like the sense of mystery here. Oh, there are so many stories behind this image...well...within this image; I'm now itching to write something that takes place there! Or in its fictional equivalent, which might just happen to be on some far-out planet with a name like "Gamma Coreus 4" or something typically goofy in that science fictional way. This is a wonderful shot! Oh and I remember some of your roommates..."Lumba" especially...and we won't even mention "the Creature." I didn't live with them and I still get itchy just thinking about them, and "Lumba's" frightening dish sponge...jeez...that thing had to have either the cause or cure for something growing in it.
durleybeachbum
So evocative! Moving would kill me..or they could kill me first and then I wouldn't mind. Fab narrative and a loaded image.
myrrhluz
Wonderful narative. A beginning, middle and end of a relationship. The image shows the end. I like the heavy black sides, that narrow the focus to the empty interior. The microwave is out of place. An expectant, a bit lost air permeates the place. This air is intensified by the faint view of other windows, to other buildings, that seem to gently mock this empty room. This is a wonderful image that seems to describe a state of mind. The state of mind, when that which was familiar becomes alien. The worse entrance I had to a new home, was in Biloxi Mississippi. We came in on a cold and rainy night. We turned on the light switch, and the walls moved. Roaches. Big ones, little ones and really tiny ones. There was no furniture yet and we slept on the floor. Fitfully.
francinechristophe
Whow ! What an atmosphere and mood !
auntietk
Empty places always seem like an alien landscape to me. This is great. You've really captured the feeling!