The lineup started outside. Way outside. One line came from the north, snaking around the fountain and up Fifth Avenue. The other wound south. But they converged at the top of the steps and reformed inside the Museum of Metropolitan Art, winding through the galleries and balconies of the second floor. This photo was taken near the “2 Hours From This Point” sign.
Set on a 1.6km section of elevated subway track converted to a greenway, the High Line Park is one of my favourite things in New York. With great views, of both the city and in the nearby galleries of Chelsea, the setting is a great collection of juxtapositions that seems to define the entire town.
From seat 18A, en route to Paris’ CDG Terminal 2.
From the chaos of weather and delayed flights, a surprise trip to Paris. And necessary, if I was to arrive in Nice today. Thousands of people streaming in from almost 100 countries has made space in Cannes a hot commodity. So when my flight from JFK was delayed and I missed my connection to Nice, I went from Amsterdam to Paris for yet another leg onward. 26 hours of travel and 5 airports later, the Cannes Lions Festival of Creativity begins tomorrow and it looks to be great.
Another in my series taken from Toronto’s Park Hyatt, these buildings are somewhere around Yonge and College.
Aiming south from 18 floors above Bloor St West, the buildings of Toronto’s financial district are still quite active after midnight.
In a break between the traffic flows at the Aldershot GO Train Station, a look up to the last platform.
Back in the city for the first time in more than 5 years, I had a checklist of shots to try. Subways, buildings, streetcars. But the chance to do long-exposure shots from an outdoor patio at the Park Hyatt’s 18th floor bar was a nice surprise. There will be more from this trip in the coming days, but here’s one of my favourites.
The top of the Cardiovascular & Critical Care Tower, part of the billion dollar expansion that includes a new children’s hospital (and a second tower), due to open in 2012.
It would have been easy to spend an hour or two exploring the various angles of this great old barn. The details of the wood grain are hard to see, but I hope to have more from this series and this trip.
The ceiling at the B&O Railroad Museum in Baltimore, MD.
From above the MoMA parking lot, this shot toward the CBS building is one of my early attempts at “miniature faking.” The tilt-shift technique produces an image that’s like looking down on a model scene, with a narrow focus and saturated colours like the metallic paint on toy cars. I’m not sure if this was the best photo for the processing, but I wanted to see how it turned out.
One of the shots from an all-too-brief (work) trip to New York. Taken shortly after a rainstorm, just outside my hotel. This is an HDR composite of 7 shots.
About the only time the bridge isn’t packed with people and souvenir sellers is right before they shut off the lights for the night — 2 AM.
The internal debate over the precise details of my Athens itinerary continues right through the airplane’s descent into the city. Stay a night, see the sights then move over the horizon to the islands? Or pack in a days’ worth of photography and hyperaggrivation and take an overnight ferry to gyros paradise?
By noon, the gears of travel finally begin to grind. I head to the airport, but with a brief stop at the FedEx terminal to retrieve the new camera lens that had arrived this morning. With an uncharacteristic smoothness in my travel plans, I arrive at gate C8. I think – maybe – that I might even have brought everything I intended. It hasn’t happened yet in eight years, but without any glaring packing errors, I consider the possibility.
In my first few days in this country, I am perplexed by what appears to be a vast one-dimensionality to contemporary Tunisian music: the people all watch and listen to the same stuff. I’m not new to Arabic music. But with eerie similarity, it’s like The Big Game is on every channel, all day, all night, every day, every night. I don’t get it. I must be missing something.
The speaker blares to life and startles me back to consciousness. It has been just under a year since traveling in a Muslim country and being woken by one of the five daily calls to prayer.
Sleek chrome toasters that evoked speeding transcontinental trains. Vacuum cleaners and radios and power tools and water pitchers all so sculpted for speed they practically had wings. Magazine advertisements, brochures and newspaper articles of the day touted the materials of the wondrous and revolutionary future: magnesium alloys!
June 24th had slipped my mind. Across France, towns explode with the sound of music in the streets. And there are few accordions to be found. Last year on this date, I was in the southern town of Perpignan, where stages dotted block after city block, filling the city with rock, rap, jazz and curious performances best classified as “Noise.” But throughout Paris’ Latin Quarter this year, straight-ahead rock rules the day. Indie kids bang out Police covers with mangled English lyrics, others offer rambling guitar scenes conjuring the best and worst of Jerry Garcia and on other stages, serious, extended riff sessions abound, transcending all the languages spoken in the audience: everyone present understands loud. Including those of us lucky to have a hotel window within earshot of a stage. Or three stages