One winter morning two years ago, I visited my favorite bookstore. It was — past tense, as it closed that spring — a cozy place that struck just the right balance between old and new, rare and common, the sort of place you visit to just be around books. Every few weeks I’d go in the hopes of finding something I’d overlooked on all my other visits … which, inevitably, was the case.
Of late I’ve felt ambivalent about my own photography. As Juhani Pallasmaa wrote in The Eyes of the Skin, we’ve elevated sight above the other senses; we regard the world — see the world, in that telling metaphor for understanding — in a disproportionately visual way, diminishing our other senses and the fullness of lived experience.
Seen on the G train: A bookish young hipster bringing home the taxidermied head of a bighorn ram. Continue reading
When life gives you snow… Continue reading
The sun sets early in winter, but while it’s high the light is so, so glorious. Continue reading