photography – Page 43 – Lorin Duckman Today

Brennan – Just a Kid

I don’t shoot a lot of kids. Don’t have any and don’t have friends who do. That’s how you get the business, I suppose, unless you happen to be good at it. But I can shoot kids. I talk with them, even if they don’t know what I am saying. I don’t make noises, raise or lower my voice or contort my face. They look at me. I shoot.

This kid I found at a wedding rehearsal dinner. His mother, the groom’s mother’s sister, Julie, held the reflector. People hooted at him in the background, yelling smile and cheese and other stupid shit. I didn’t need any help. He’s a beauty.

In their faces are the beginnings of what they will look like. Even at early stages, they look like older versions of themselves. Their skin, so smooth and blemish free. Their consciences clear of scars left by battles for self-esteem. Their mother’s love them, too, hopefully forever.

TILT in South Burlington – Out on a Date

So, my girl is the best date anyone could ever have. Looks. Sense of humor. Stories. Cool. And, honest. She dresses. She talks. Pays for dinner. And I carry my camera. Sometimes, she gives me one or two shots. I usually miss. I beg for another. Sometimes, I get real portraits. She’s looking at me and I don’t what what she’s thinking. Always hoping she feels the same way I do.

What could be bad? Tequila. Pinball. Hamburger. And a beautiful date. Then she drives home.

And then there are the people working at the bar. I shoot working people. They stay in their environment, happy I order drinks and dinner. Many have asked them to pose. They make faces. Not real, but close enough. Got a shot. Preston, the bartender, he’s not giving much. Server has a toothy grin, pretty. But, it’s a problematic pose. Don’t know what he’s saying or what she’s doing, but he knows he’s being shot and so does she. Every photographer takes what he’s given and hopes to come back for more realism, if that’s possible.

35 Cherry St – From the Balcony

Photographers have something to say, sometimes. I have to ask myself sometimes, especially when I am looking at something I see all the time, like people walking up the Battery, across the street from my condo, what do I have to say about this. It’s a scene only I see from this height and perspective, a rather selfish view since my neighbors can see the same set, albeit from a different angle. They’d see it, too, the scene, two people walking. Me. I’d see the light. I’d shoot it. And, then I’d wonder, whether the image which I captured on my rectangular sensor would look the same when it went up on a screen or on a piece of ink jet paper. It’s like seeing a beautiful woman and asking her out. Then you take her somewhere and when you look at her in a different light, does she still shine as brightly.

BURLINGTON VT WELCOMES FALL

Sharon Duckman Plays Pinball at Tilt

Approaching 66, Nov 3, Sharon Duckman has taken up pinball at a bar called Tilt in South Burlington. She will not be beaten or berated. Starting from scratch when your reflexes ain’t what they used to be is a difficult task, but with a glass of wine in her hand and a few tokens, she’s got game.

Burlington’s Firewood Operator, Eric

So, some people need wood to stay warm. Hard to get logs in Burlington. Only business in town. Seasonal work! Could call it an incubator?

Homeless Sleep Where They Can

Last great day, maybe; maybe not.

Jim O’Donnell, hobo with a car. Traveling through Burlington. Knows the street and its people. On his way to Maine. Has bags in his car where he sleeps.

Cheryl’s still on the steet with Ryan. Had her baby. Says she’s homeless and hungry.

Fog today.

All day.

Sam said he came from Maryland. Carried his bike on the train. Who knows? He slept on a picnic table.

Fear of Falling

A knock at the door Saturday brought bad news. Kit Stone, who lives above us wanted to know where Ann lived. Only four units on a floor in Westlake Residences. Hardly see neighbors, except when dumping garbage. Margaret Brown, Ann’s friend and exercise buddy had died from a fall in her condo. ME said she hit her head, fell and suffocated, according the Kit. Sad way to go, for sure. Before her time was consumed by loss of memory, organ eating bacteria, embolisms or gravy like blood. I’d mourn more, but I didn’t know her, except for a few hellos and good-byes. She never wanted to have a portrait. So, I don’t remember what she looked like. And I lived in the same building with her.

So, they tell you how folksy VT is, just a little community of like people living the dream. A way of life, special, they call it. I cannot tell you much about Margaret or about many people. Saw her recycling. Know she had a red Accura. Heard she was a doctor. This State can be impersonal. Lots of wide open spaces, canopied walks and only a few roads. People spend a lot of time commuting and attending meetings. Then they hunt, ski or ride their snow mobiles, if they hadn’t had licenses revoked. Kid’s sports dominate the fall. Festivals dominate the summer. Everyone rushing to go do something, somewhere. Never enough time.

Worry. Right now, I have my health and time. But it could change. I could fall. Need to be careful.

Nice place to do a crossword, eh?

John Lennon in Burlington, again

One of my original guys. He’s back. So am I.

Not his real name, for sure. Had a following. Always a wise statement. Kind. Gentle. Smart.

When I walked the Lake Champlain Boardwalk, on one of our best days of the year, I saw him sitting in the same swing I shot him when we first met, all alone. I remember the guys with him. Three of them; one dead, two alive. And, I know where they are.

He appeared in my first show. Wants to see the photo. I had given him a print; who knows what happened to that? As to the future, who knows about that, either?

Penguin Plunge In April at North Beach

So, they say if you want to get a picture, find a place and sit there. Someone will come on the set to make it perfect. Photographers need patience and prayer. The camera has to be ready as does the confidence. Creativity on the run. Don’t regret not shooting. Always something happening. Keep seeing. Keep being creative. Sometimes, just the camera and the environment. Sometimes, angels from another planet.

I’m just siting around at North Beach this chilly April morning, with not enough clothes, seeing if I can shoot a selfie in not-so-good light. No one on the beach. No one on the swings. No one around. And then these women arrive. A photographer’s dream, I thought, a penguin and a zebra. Two beautiful babes on a beach in April, not drinking shots, rolling in mud or being ogled by post pubescent boys. Fellini. He would have understood. The light accompanied them, brightening up the sky, though not the temperature. Ancient aliens sans chariot. I pinched myself to make sure I hadn’t frozen to death. Life. There was life.

They were there on some kind of dare with a political flavor. Some guys challenged them to jump into the Lake, forgetting these are not the girls who went to college in the 50’s, and have every bit the courage, strength and wherewithal to do anything. And, there was something about nominating someone for something. They brought along a videographer, the type that carries a cell phone to document the action. They posed, nominated whomever for whatever and then ran into the water.

Water temperature had to be in the 40’s, maybe colder.

Not much time for or interest in a swim.

And then they were gone.