Part 1 in a series of 5 weekly posts about discovery and the creative process

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“For technical data – the camera was faithfully used”

                                                                                  -Minor White

There are so many technical innovations affecting our world and within the field of photography they just seem to be endless. Of course, one of the most pervasive and prolific of these innovations, as to current image making, is the smart phone and the use of the photo app.

Waiting for mom. iPhone/Hipstamatic

When I got my iPhone4, with its improved camera, one of the most popular apps available was the Hipstamatic.  I don’t remember whether it was before or after I bought it that I saw on the New York Times website where a photographer had used this app to shoot a story. It turned out that its use for this application raised quite a firestorm of comments under the photo essay.  Many considered it inappropriate to use to cover such a story.  Personally, I thought it was pretty cool and since it was more editorial than journalistic, didn’t see what the issue was.  (I had used a Holga to shoot for The Atlantic and finished the images with some very distinct computer work back in 2000.)

Could I get more Banal? iPhone/Hipstamatic App

About the same time, I was seeing more and more images posted on Facebook, and elsewhere using these apps.  Most of these would have been pretty insuffereable if it were not for the “transformation” that the selected app, often the Hipstamatic, had applied to the image. Coincidentally, I was also hearing several suggest that while the apps could make a bad photograph look better they were inappropriate for creating serious work.

Maybe?.....testing lots of contrast. iPhone/Hipstamatic

Obviously, what the apps do is apply various effects to a photograph to make them look like the output of some camera and/or process from the past—or just something the programmer thought was cool.  But the question remained “could this tool actually be used in a serious and/or creative way?”. I thought I had already seen that it could, but the question still intrigued me–especially as a tool for more personal artistic expression.  I began to semi-seriously explore its potential.

My own thought is that it really doesn’t matter what camera you use but how you see and that you use a piece of equipment in a way that exploits what it does best.  That is what determines the quality of the work done.

Bacon is always good......iPhone/Hipstamatic

At 1st, I would pull out my iPhone when I was out and maybe waiting for someone, then just shoot what I saw where I was standing. I would also make images while walking my dog in our neighborhood park.  Looking over the images I was making—and they were about as banal as those I referred to above—I discovered a couple of things about its use that I liked.  There was a unique quality to the images but there was also something more intangible about using this device that struck a chord within me.

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Part 2 will be posted on January 30th, 2012

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West Virginia Diorama

Summer vacation plans were made to visit family back in DC but instead of flying we decided to use half of the time we had allotted to wander the backroads on the way there.

While driving through West Virginia, a detour was taken to search for the cranberry bogs.  A visitor center was found with some trails which we assumed would lead to the bogs.  Instead, these trails were apparently designed to just take one through the forest that surrounded the area.

Walking along, I came upon the scene above.  Maybe it was the way the trees were positioned and the foreground/background atmospheric change, but there was something different about this scene.   There was a quality to it that somehow reminded me of the dioramas I had seen in natural history museums in earlier years and was looking forward to seeing again when in DC.  The same quiet, contemplative mood I remembered existed here and the only thing missing was a few taxidermied animals or maybe some prehistoric people and their village.  Even the way the trail widened suggested a window display had been set for our education and enjoyment.

But when I did visit the Natural History Museum in DC, those expected quiet and contemplative dioramas had given way to what seemed a more frenetic, interactive type of exhibit.  I thought back to this place and was glad to have had the opportunity to experience it.

More Ordinary Places can be seen by clicking here.

all rights reserved © 2011 John Acurso

One town I discovered here in Texas, Marfa, has become a favorite detour when I am in the area.  It is home to Donald Judd’s Chinati Foundation and it seems like most of the town was owned or still is by Judd or the foundation.  Although the town shrunk dramatically after the army base closed in 1945, it is still a quiet town but also has become quite popular with its relatively moderate climate and artistic community.  I always try to find time to stop and just walk around to see what I might discover.

The image above was made while just roaming the streets there.  I had just walked by this closed store and when I turned to look back saw this odd juxtaposition of the post and the stark white building, as if it were a pointer or balance to this abandoned structure.  It was one of those easy photographs to make.

all rights reserved © 2011 John Acurso

Over the years, one of the things I have found interesting is visiting pioneer cemeteries.  I can spend hours just reading the headstones and wondering about the lives these people must have lived and how it must have been before electricity, plumbing and, in Texas, air conditioning..  Sometimes, I find a run of infant deaths all within a short period of time and once, a whole family it seemed, 5 children, who passed sequentially about every 6 months to a year over a 3 year period and then were followed by the mother just a few months after the last one.  In this case, I couldn’t help but feel a certain sadness inside and don’t think I could ever really understand the agony that mother must have gone through.

Over the weekend, I really wasn’t interested in visiting any cemeteries although I passed one it seemed every 15-20 minutes or so.  Maybe I have gotten over the cemetery thing or maybe, with another birthday, I just feel close enough to one as it is.  Most of the names of these places I passed have left my mind, except one called Baby Head Cemetery.  I did turn around to go read the historical marker there, I mean the name was just too odd to not discover the origins.  The story seemed incomplete with Indians having killed a child on the local mountain and left the remains there—that doesn’t rate “Baby Head” in my opinion.  Maybe the tale was too gruesome to be repeated in polite society back in those days and was watered down but something just doesn’t seem right–details, I want the bloody details.  I will wait for the movie I guess.

Speaking of historical markers, I generally don’t stop to read these things when I am out like this, but on Monday I saw one regarding some war game that was played out on Texas soil in 1952.  With concerns about the cold war and nuclear attacks, apparently the government got easements to stage a massive maneuver in central Texas, Operation Longhorn—over 115,000 troops were involved.  I only read this one because it was where I had stopped to photograph.  Having never heard of this, I started to take notice of other markers I drove by to see if there was more information.   Generally, I just slowed down when I saw a sign saying there was a marker ahead and would scan the heading as I passed by, none ever said any more about the war games.  But I did follow a sign to one of these markers and was led into a cemetery that was back off the road a ways.  The cemetery appeared to still be in use but I could see those tell tale older headstones and monuments in the back and decided to go have a look since I was there.

As I walked around checking things out, I came across several headstones of a type I hadn’t seen before, those for the unknown.  At the time, I was more amused than anything with the way the headstones were inscribed.  In every way these were just sort of telling.   The image here shows 1 of 3 N’s backwards while another had 2 of 3.  My guess is that they were probably from about 1890 as they seemed to be made in a similar process to one with that date on it.  The one that was made for a client didn’t have the backward letters or alignment issues and so I do wonder if an apprentice was left to his own devices for these.

After awhile, I did start to ponder this whole “Unknown” thing.  These particular stones were placed right there along with the more magnificent sculptural headstones and not off in some corner by themselves.  It made me think that they were included in the community here and yet no one knew them.  Who were they and where did people know them? These were questions that crossed my mind–did they just drop into town and die?

While a birthday can make one wonder about their own mortality, I think I just started thinking about connections and relationships and such.  A theme that has sort of dominated my personal photography for the last several years, but this made me think in terms more personal.  Just about how important it is to have good friends and family around you.  It was great to have all those birthday wishes waiting for me when I got home.

circa 1890

all rights reserved © 2010 John Acurso

One of the great joys of traveling around is coming across little oddities, misfires and, well,  just crazy stuff.  These come in all forms from roadside attractions to strangely placed or designed structures to just ordinary things that leave you scratching your head.

Anyway, this summer while wandering back to DC, we (well, let’s just say someone did) decided we needed to go visit Natural Bridges Resort State Park in Kentucky.  My apologies to the states, but rarely is a State Park, centered around some natural feature, much to see really.  Let’s face it, if it was it would be a National Park, Monument, Historic Site or Scenic Area or something like that.  In fact, just to emphasize just how impressive this “natural bridge” is, the website for the park doesn’t even feature a photo of it on its main page.  (I think the tell tale indication is that word “Resort”  stuck into the title of the place)

When we got there, finally, and started towards the “Skylift” to go see the bridge, we couldn’t help but notice the speed limit sign.  Immediately, my days in corporate America flashed into my mind and those “committees” that are created to “solve” a problem. (sorry, I am in a quotation mark mode today!)  I could just feel the tension in that room where on one side the 20 mph folks and on the other the 25 mph folks sat glaring at each other and debating just how quick their kids actually were or weren’t.  Fortunately, it would seem, the 15 mph folks were off helping those other states.  Facing a deadlock that might keep them from their fried bologna sandwich luncheon (a story for later), they made the proverbial compromise and then, like all good math students, rounded up to the nearest whole number.  Now, I am sure there was a little debate as to whether the rounding should go up or down, but in the end, convention prevailed.

Without one of those digital readout speedometers, I am not sure that anyone could really know that they were doing 23 mph, however, I settled in between 20-25 and figured that was good enough–there weren’t any cops hiding behind trees to ticket those of us that did slip up to 25 now and then, so all was good.  Besides, why do they need speeding ticket revenue when they have the Skylift waiting for you at the end of the road?

all rights reserved © 2010 John Acurso

As a photographer, I do carry around a camera most of the time.  It isn’t so much that I expect to make images of any note every time I go out, but you just never know what might present itself.  And when I am lucky, I get something that is useful later or in a current project.

More than not, the camera really just becomes a pretty heavy weight on my shoulder as the day progresses.  When I expect to do more serious work, I’ll be a bit more purposeful than to just walk around with family or on my way to doing something else.  At those times, I like to immerse myself in what I am doing and will generally work on a specific idea or project.  Being pretty selfish about that time, I probably don’t make the greatest company when I am doing my own thing–not that everyone would notice the difference I suppose.  But you just never know when inspiration is going to hit or an opportunity present itself—so I carry the camera.

One such opportunity came a little over a year ago, when I was in New York during spring break.   We, family and friends, had been walking around the city for awhile and were led to a Candy Store (a premeditated act I am sure!) somewhere in the vicinity of Little Italy and the East Village.  As we got there, I saw how packed the place was, with people and product, and since it was such a nice day, decided to stay outside rather than fight the crowds for a chance at a sugar high.  Everyone else crammed in.

As I stood out front, I started to notice the people passing by.  It was nearly rush hour and there was a sort of intensity and absorption on the people that were coming by.  The first thing I noticed, as I remember, was just how many seemed to break stride when they saw the candy store and then I just noticed how driven and in a hurry almost everyone seemed to be.  Occasionally, there was the person who just strolled by who, like the others, was locked into their own world but seemed less harried and was taking the time to just mosey along.

It didn’t take long for it all to hit me, that this could be an interesting and fun little photographic project while I waited.  Photograph each person that came by, each and every one, but do it so they don’t know they are being photographed.

In her book, On Photography, Susan Sontag made the observation that “There is something on people’s faces when they don’t know they are being observed that never appears when they do.”  I think this is what I was noticing, that and the complete concentration on whatever task they were pursuing instead of really noticing what else might be going on around them.  I don’t know if anyone ever even saw or noticed me, well mostly anyway.

I did adopt a more stealthy approach to make the photographs to be sure I didn’t garner attention, much the same as I had done while at Burning Man.  There, while shooting the square format of the toy, plastic camera, the Holga, I had shot many of my images with the camera held at my side, my arm fully extended as if I was just carrying the camera.  Here, with the larger camera and my desire to make horizontal images, I cradled it in my folded arms and used the secondary trigger so I wasn’t so obviously ready to make an image.  As people strolled by, I tried to rotate my body to match their gait and follow them from right to left, and then pick up someone coming the other way and follow left to right.  Now that I think of it, I probably either looked like I was in bad need of a restroom or was somehow otherwise afflicted.  The light was low, so I almost always ended up with some motion blur, which seemed to be appropriate somehow, it just sort of fit their being so focused elsewhere and scurrying by.

In all, I made about 33 exposures in the 13 minutes I had while I waited.  Like always in these sorts of things, and the reason I don’t like to get too involved in shooting when I am with others, I really wished I could have stayed longer, but everyone was ready to move on.

One of the things I think that I really liked about this particular work was just the fact that it wasn’t a sampling of the entire city, but rather a “snapshot” of a single place during a small, finite period of time.  The variety of people, attitudes and demeanor wasn’t about somehow linking disparate places or times.  The variety was organic, not forced or contrived, and the people were being themselves at this one place and time.

When I got home, I really wasn’t taking much of what I did that week too seriously.  In fact, it wasn’t until several months later that I decided to even go back and look at what I had shot.  I had totally forgotten about this little series of work.  As I scrolled through the photos, these just sort of popped out to me and I started to process the images.  I couldn’t stop until I had worked about 24 of them.  There was something there for me that just seemed to capture the spirit of the place.

all rights reserved © 2010 John Acurso

The first day of the trip was sort of normal in that it is the day when there aren’t any planned stops or wanderings, just get out of town far enough that you haven’t been there before.  That was Mt Pleasant, Texas this time, just north of Pittsburg and west of Omaha and Naples and we stole a Friday afternoon that wasn’t planned to do this.  The next day was off into Arkansas.  I am always amazed at the similar names of towns across the country and the international connections that abound.  One night we stayed in Stuttgart and a day later had lunch in Glasgow and dinner in London only to later travel through Lebanon, Rome and Carthage sequentially.

Another Empty Dream?

As usual, the trip was planned along the secondary highways (even that first day gave no other option), those roads that used to shuttle us across the country before the super highways were built and through the cities and towns along the way, rather than skirting them.  Then, in places, along some smaller back roads to connect with the next highway.  Having a navigator who loves working a map, even though she has a computer gps system at hand, there were more back roads to be found than had been planned.  We traveled just under 3900 miles and did it at an average of about 25 mph for the number of hours on the road (gps calculates this based on the time it was turned on–leaving the motel in the morning–to the time it is turned off–when booking the evenings lodging even if we continued to explore after that)

I guess there are a few outstanding observations that I made along the road.  First, I believe that we could probably feed our hungry with the amount of roadkill you find once you come to the lushly vegetated areas of the south.  Second, unlike in the north, the bugs here must have evolved to the point that they know how to avoid the windshield as we never once “had” to clean it because of them.  In fact, I don’t remember even one bug smash the whole trip–but maybe they have more sense than to be out in that sort of heat.  Third, the post office must have money to burn as there were new post offices in towns that didn’t even exist anymore and in places where most of the town was vacant buildings.  Fourth, Kudzu is really overrunning our country!

But maybe the most disconcerting to me in many ways, and consistent with my travels all over this country, is the decay of our small towns.  Even some of the larger towns, over 5000 population, the downtown areas are full of empty buildings and little hope.  Every town had one or two or both a Family Dollar or Dollar General and maybe a gas station convenience store and that was about it. ( I think these Dollar stores may become our national icon if my recent trips are any indication of their prevalence. )  What it made me think about is how you could photograph many of these downtown areas today and compare them to shots from the 50′s or 60′s and find nothing different other than the vibrance of that earlier time to the state of disrepair and the generally vacant or missing buildings today.

More than on other trips, I also saw these old grand homes, some of the antebellum sort, that were crumbling from our memories and were in places where it was obvious they were not going to be saved or were already beyond being saved.

If there was one regret about the trip, I think it might be that I don’t know enough about either the civil war or the civil rights movement to have fully appreciated all that I saw or passed through.  But later, after being home for awhile, I did have a thought, where my travels in the north intersected with the south, was just how much war actually has transpired in our country and on our land.  We generally don’t think about it–at least not a west coast city boy like me– because it is so far in our past, but there has been much blood shed on our land.  Even driving out in the middle of Montana or in the Dakota’s, you often run across an obscure roadside marker where some massacre of indians or settlers or soldiers took place–places not memorialized like the Little Bighorn or so many civil war battlefields.  In the south, almost everywhere there was some skirmish or battle indicated, especially when you are near a river, of which there are many.

Honestly, I didn’t really photograph too much on this trip.  Dynamics are different when traveling with family and you have a pretty aggressive schedule on top of that– and then the record heat we encountered everywhere just wasn’t conducive to too much roaming outside of the car .  But I have been contemplating another fall trip and this was to be a sort of scouting expedition in some ways.  I think it did work to stimulate my interest in a southern trip rather than the more northern trip I had been contemplating.  So, we will see.

Armadillo stew anyone?

I had gotten into town on Friday night and while I was getting dinner, I was asked if I was here for the races.  I didn’t know anything about the races, but I did remember that Carl and I had found a Nascar sanctioned track somewhere along the route back in 2006.  With the gates open, we had taken our heavily laden Suburban and done a few, albeit cautious, laps!

I was informed that the races were every Saturday night, on that same track, but I wasn’t sure I could afford the extra time in one town.  Later, while talking with my wife-it’s great to have someone in the wings, that isn’t caught up in what is actually going on, to give perspective–she reminded me that I had built in several days of slop for just this sort of thing.  As I thought about it, I realized that I could run up the road during the day tomorrow and come back for the evening races and not really lose that much time anyway.

When I got to the races, I paid my pit fee and was given forms to fill out, including an assignment of all right to any photograph I made to Nascar!  Well, I balked at that and when I spoke to the head guy, he saw my camera and decided to toss the form and give me a press pass.  He assured me that they had no interest in the rights to my photographs.

Getting across the track to the pits was a bit of a challenge.  The water trucks had over watered the track and it was a slippery mud bog.  I carefully skated across and somehow got to the pits without falling on my ass.

Paul before he suited up and Todd working on the air pressure

The first people I met were driver Paul and his brother and crew chief, Todd.  Although busy getting the car ready, Paul took quite a bit of time to get me oriented to the happenings.   Visually, there were several obviously different classes of cars, with Paul racing in the Late Model division.  Others included Hobby Stock, Pro Stock and Modified.

Now, I have actually had various connections to racing over the years and know a little about the sport, but I have to admit that like the masses, what makes racing most interesting to me are the bumps and grinds!  Of course, you never want anyone to get hurt, but just watching a bunch of guys go in circles can get pretty boring after the novelty of the roar and the flying dirt wears off!  So, here on a dirt track, I expected chaos and when I asked Paul about it, I got a very practical, but disappointing answer.  I mean we are not talking big, well funded race teams here.  These guys come from towns where the average income is $20-30,000 for a family.  So Paul’s answer should have been predictable, they try to avoid contact as much as possible because they can’t afford to be replacing their cars!  Paul’s family might be a bit better off, they own an auto dealership (county population is only 5000 though!).  Cars in Paul’s division probably range in the $30-50000 range, with Paul’s at the high end (he has two of them).  Apparently, it was significant that his engine was all steel, which must be a good thing as it seemed to be cited as the reason for the higher investment.

(This financial thing sort of explained that even though they would fly through the corners in 4 wheel slides and at odd angles, the racing would almost come to a stop if there was a crowd until they hit the straight away again when it would be more of a drag race at times.)

Standard pose #1

After awhile, I started walking around and meeting other drivers.  Everyone was pretty occupied with what they were doing, but always took time to answer a question and to say hello as I walked by.  There was a certain sense that, like in most things, there were those that were very serious and those that were there for the social event.  Most likely the latter being those that don’t fare quite as well in the races.

Standard pose #2

Maybe one of the more interesting things that happened, repeatedly, was that when I asked to take a photograph of one of the drivers, they would cop the same pose!  Paul didn’t do it, and I certainly wasn’t ready for it, but there they were, kneeling by the door, hand on the window.

My intent with this portrait work is to not interfere with what the person does, but this took all my strength to not say “WTF are you doing!”   Anyway, it just seemed to be a driver thing, although, fortunately, some were much more relaxed about it.

Dean was a bit more relaxed, no standard pose!

The event is broken up into 3 parts, probably to give the people in the stands their monies worth.  First, each of the 4 classes do “hot laps”.  Kind of like a practice session to get a sense of the track conditions and to make any last minute changes to suspension and tire pressures etc.  Next, there are heats to determine who will be in the main event and to determine, I thought, the order in which they would start.  Of course, sometimes there are not enough cars to fill out the field and so all move on.

I should note here that I was told that racers come in from Illinois, Nebraska and Kansas to race here.  But then you have to remember that some of these counties have just 5000 people in them, so the populations is pretty sparse in these here parts!

The first cars head out for Hot Laps, then I head for cover

When the Hot Laps were first called, the pits became a bit more dangerous to just be walking around in.  Cars darted out of their slots and the dust made it almost impossible to see and someone like me, wandering, sod fodder–so I carefully maneuvered my way back to the sanctuary of Paul and Todd’s hauler!

Being in the pits is pretty cool, but when the races started, I realized why there weren’t more spectators out there.  Unless you get invited up onto the top of someone’s hauler, as I was, you can’t see anything.  Also, watching from the stands, you see the whole track and other than movement akin to watching tennis, it is a pretty sedate activity.  Out here, you have to rotate your body around or snap your head back and forth in 300 degree swings to actually watch the race.  Standing on top of the hauler, with no railing, there were times I was afraid I would stumble off in a dizzy stupor.  Since there were no vendors out here, I was missing having a beer while watching, but that would have possibly been fatal.

And a bit more casual yet

Paul had been the points leader in his class until the previous week when a suspension part failed during his heat and he could not race in the feature.  So his qualifying heat tonight was going to be important to him to get a good starting position for the race.  Fortunately, he won by a wide margin and things were looking good.

Later, he found out that he would be starting dead last!  Because these guys don’t bump and grind through the turns, it is hard to work your way through the crowd.  This starting position pretty much assured a poor finish.  Needless to say, there were many expletives flying around the pit.  Although I generally came down from atop the hauler between heats, I stayed put this time to allow the steam to settle before getting back in everyone’s way again.  No one could actually explain Paul’s being put at the end of the field to me.

Despite their best efforts, many children were left behind!

During the intermission, before the feature races, they held a kiddie bike race on the front stretch.  Now, I am talking 4 and 5 year olds on this dirt track and they were starting so far away from the finish line that you could hardly see them!  I felt like there was something akin to sadistic pleasure being had by someone.  One manic kid took off while I am not sure any others ever made it to the finish line.  The older kids did seem to fare a bit better as a group.

But this is when it hit me, and I had noticed it in the earlier races as well, no one in the stands clapped or cheered–even for the kids!  When I got back to the hauler, I asked Paul about this.  I don’t think I got an answer.  Certainly, there were a few making some noise, like Paul’s girlfriend, but the majority just sat there.  I guess it was just another Saturday night at the races.

Todd and his daughter watch between heats

But then, there was a wreck right in front of the stands and miraculously, there was life!  Everyone was standing and after I made sure the driver was alright, I turned my attention to something in the pits down below.  All of the sudden the stands erupted, there were cheers and yelling and laughing!  I asked what was going on.  Apparently, the wrecked driver got out of his car, went to the backstretch where the rest of the field had been held and started to beat the crap out of the driver that caused him to wreck.  Yes, the real Nascar does still exist!

all rights reserved © 2010 John Acurso

What further excited me about all of this was that I found a blog by a guy who is walking across the US just to do it–mid-life crisis at age 30?  I went through the whole 60+ days entries yesterday and somewhere in there he hit on that chord that is important to me as well, about connecting with people.  On the front of his push cart is a sign that reads “We may never meet again”, a saying he apparently borrowed from a friend who encouraged him on his way.  I liked that because it might just encapsulate the fact that these chance meetings are both insignificant and maybe have a little gravity as well,  as singular experiences in our otherwise routine lives.  As I have found and related here, these can also turn into more significant connections and lasting memories if you remain open to the possibilities.

So, as usual, while I wrote the words above, I got an idea.  Between now and when I leave for DC, I think I will just highlight some of the folks I met and photographed as I traveled around the country last September–and maybe a few others as well, the ordinary people who took the time to stop and talk and share a little bit about themselves.  Maybe the best way to do this, so I don’t get confused as to who I have done and who I haven’t, would be to follow a somewhat chronological order–somewhat being the operative word.

Danko in Chicago Lumber Company, Omaha

So, I’ll start it off today with Danko, who I met in Omaha while I was getting the truck worked on.  At the time, I was on my way to find the train stations that I featured in this entry .  I got rather lost after I followed one sign and found no others.  But, as luck would have it, there was a pretty cool building along the way, the Chicago Lumber Company building.  It almost looked like it could have been a train station at one time, although it was apparently built by the company.   I went inside to get some directions–and to see if the interior was as cool as the exterior.

Apparently, the red fence was to the left here, where the white building is now

Danko was the counter salesperson who greeted me as I entered and we just started to talk.  I don’t even remember if I asked directions first or commented on the cool building, but Danko was soon telling me the history of this particular part of the city.  It seems Danko’s family immigrated from Poland(a part that is now part of the Ukraine) in 1951, sponsored by a church group, and ended up living just a few blocks from here much of his life.  Apparently, this part of the city was heavily occupied by those who came over from eastern Europe after the war.  As I heard about the history of this area, it was obvious that the Chicago Lumber Company had not only been in this location for a long time but that it held a very special place in Danko’s memories.  I heard about the great red fence that used to line the street outside and his playing in the streets around here.

When I asked if I could take his picture, he was a little confused and a bit shy about it, offering up the receptionist that was sitting by the door in his stead.  But I insisted that I photographed the people I talked to and he actually seemed pleased, if not a little stressed by the request.  He agreed, however, wanted to get his bosses permission first.  I saw a great smile come across the bosses face as Danko came out with the go ahead.

More people and their stories can be found on my website under the categories “Americans” and “Across the West-1″.

all rights reserved © 2010 John Acurso

From the archives

I had to dig through my archives to find this image.  Over the past week(maybe more like months), I have read and heard things that just made this pop into my head.

Maybe there isn’t much to add except that I believe the image speaks to possibilities and to suggest looking at familiar things in different ways.  Something we can do that helps keep us young, resilient and tolerant.  Also, something that feeds our creativity and quality of life.

all rights reserved © 2010 John Acurso