Bourbon Street
I’ve spent plenty of time in New Orleans over the past year, but always gave Bourbon Street a wide berth to avoid the crowds and connect more with less-touristy parts of the city. But, this past weekend, I was on assignment shooting social content of fans during the Saints/Vikings game. There aren’t a ton of sports bars in the French Quarter, but Razoo’s on Bourbon Street turned out to be the only one I popped my head into that didn’t have a jazz band competing for fans’ attention inside.
Growing up in a conservative home, “Bourbon Street” was rarely used to denote the actual place, but was tossed around as a pejorative. “That person/place/thing looks like Bourbon Street.” It was a catch-all term around the house for anything deemed negative or immoral.
Older now, navigating this wide world for myself, I’ve finally had a chance to create my my own opinion of Bourbon Street. Is it crowded, smelly, cheapened by tourist pandering? Yes. Is it dominated by rubes who order alcohol by the yard and spend too much on cover charges for superficial pagan delights? Yes.
But.
It also makes for one hell of a photo.
Sunrise Yoga with Megan Rae
Sunrise is special.
Getting up before the sun and beating the rest of the world to the day's beginning is an incredible feeling.
I've also noticed a recurring pattern where the best photos happen in storms, freezing temperatures, areas with high snakebite risk, and almost never during business hours.
The water has been low in my hometown lately. I was fortunate enough to catch Megan on a free day for some early morning creativity.
If you scroll to the end, you'll find a cool little video with did with the drone while we were outside.
Wizards of the Southern Woods, Part I
In literature and legend, the forest is deeply symbolic. It is the unknown. The subconscious. Shadowed tranquility wrapped around nature’s raw force.
From ancient texts to modern interpretations: a journey into the woods will either destroy you or enlighten you.
The prospect of enlightenment fascinates me.
April 3rd, 2016
In literature and legend, the forest is deeply symbolic. It is the unknown. The subconscious. Shadowed tranquility wrapped around nature’s raw force.
From ancient texts to modern interpretations: a journey into the woods will either destroy you or enlighten you.
The prospect of enlightenment fascinates me.
In the 13th century German romance of the same name, Parzival goes to Trevrizent’s remote hermitage for 14 days of penance and enlightenment as part of his quest for the Holy Grail.
In “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” Shakespeare’s fairies caper in the woods and play with human destines.
In The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, Merry and Pippin’s escape into Fangorn Forest threatens to end their lives until they are taken by the Ents to the reborn White Wizard. •
The forest is where the boundary between the visceral and the ineffable grows thin. Consciousness will either expand there, or end completely.
Now, consider the American South. Historically and currently, it is where food and raw materials are grown. Pop culture tries to tell us that it is the abode of bumpkins, rednecks, illiteracy and poverty.
To be fair, the South does have those issues. But the danger is in the dismissal.
But even in our worst places, you are likely to emerge into a glade and meet remarkable people. They might not immediately stand out, but they can be found if you look.
They are wise. They are experienced. They are soulful. They are musical. They are magical.
They are the wizards of the southern woods.
I’m putting together some stories about a few people I’ve met. More coming soon. @ Tate's Hell State Forest
Dumbo Thoughts
November 19th, 2016 - The fact that everyone takes this picture in no way diminishes what a special, singularly American view this is in NYC.
November 19th, 2016
The fact that everyone takes this picture in no way diminishes what a special, singularly American view this is in NYC.
I take refuge in the wide open spaces. I love the mountains, the coasts, the forests, anywhere that wraps me with natural surroundings.
Nature is entropy wrapped in beauty. Equal parts brutality and fragility. A delicate balance that somehow still nourishes the human spirit.
Cities, on the other hand, are human invention stocked with human variables. If nature is a testament to what humans need to feel nourished, cities represent what we do when we need to feel accomplished.
Ordered stone set upon disordered earth. Love them or hate them (I readily admit that large cities give me intense anxiety), nothing is quite so much a monument to human capacity as a skyscraper raising itself against the blue sky.
The day I took this photo, I went to Brooklyn’s Dumbo neighborhood and wrote a letter that changed the course of my life.
I will never forget that table, that cup of coffee, and this beautiful view back toward Manhattan as I walked back to the train.
DUMBO, Brooklyn, NY
