more, more, more

Unlike writing, which is a vocation mired with maybes, the camera, for all of its complex mechanisms, can only say yes. Photography is, for me, a medium of unanimous affirmation, the shutter creating a yes so total, so entire, nothing in its frame can be denied presence. Though the impulse to fire the shutter can be entangled with doubt, the act is swift and irreversible. Once the photo is made, the only way to turn back is to destroy it.

If, as the photographer Garry Winogrand has said, we take photographs to see how the world looks when photographed, I make pictures of my brother to see the parts in him I cannot see in real time, my eyes too myopic, fleeting or faulty. The photograph invites true study, the frame fixing the world in place so that myth and truth accrue within our gaze. In this way, the image offers more of a person than what was first attainable at first glance. The shutter goes from saying yes, yes, yes to more, more, more.

— Ocean Vuong, from “My Brother’s Keeper” (NY Times, June 11 2025)


Notes:

  • Photo of Strawberry Moon @ 4:19 am this morning @ Cove Island Park. See more pictures of the moon, the fog, the sunrise, egrets, herons, and an amazing TIME LAPSE VIDEO — all found here.

If this isn’t nice, what is?

My uncle Alex Vonnegut, a Harvard-educated life insurance salesman who lived at 5033 North Pennsylvania Street, taught me something very important. He said that when things were really going well we should be sure to notice it. He was talking about simple occasions, not great victories: maybe drinking lemonade on a hot afternoon in the shade, or smelling the aroma of a nearby bakery, or fishing and not caring if we catch anything or not, or hearing somebody all alone playing a piano really well in the house next door. Uncle Alex urged me to say this out loud during such epiphanies: “If this isn’t nice, what is?”

— Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without a Country (Seven Stories Press, 2005)


Notes:

  • “If this isn’t nice, what is?” DK Photo: Baby Robins. 1pm. June 1, 2025. Stamford, CT. Thank you Barry and Cara Denison for sharing your beautiful finding.
  • Quote: Thank you The Hammock Papers

Walking. 5 years, and counting.

4:30 a.m. yesterday morning.
Forecast called for 90% to 100% cloud cover, and light rain. Again, damn it. Rinse & Repeat.
I stare at the app, irritated.
I pay $50 / year for this smartphone app, and it’s consistently wrong.
Yet, I pay.
And I believe.
And I walk.
Oh, Lord. Let it be wrong again today.
And light rain it did; Rain enough to keep the pesky humans at home.
But it let up.
And there I am. Alone. Standing on the break wall, with the fog lifting.
I snap the shot. I stare at the LCD screen, and I don’t see what I see in front of me.
The HuMan tool can’t capture it.
Beautiful can’t describe it. Ethereal.

Painter Giorgio Morandi: “One can travel this world and see nothing. To achieve understanding it’s necessary not to see many things, but to look hard at what you do see...Nothing, or almost nothing in this world is truly new, what’s important is the new, different perspective an artist chooses to look at the world.”

It’s been 1,828 consecutive (almost) days on this Cove Island Park walk. Like in a row.

Yes, it’s the same Cove Island Park track. May 5th makes it the 5 year anniversary of this walk.

And, the Magic Show goes on.


Notes: See other photos from Wednesday morning’s walk here.

Easter Sunday

Easter Service. Bethany Church of Stamford. 6:30 a.m. 60° F, wind gusts up to 30 mph. April 20, 2025. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. More photos from this mornings walk here and here.

Wait for it…

Twilight to Sunrise. Time Lapse Video. 5:00 am to 6:45 am, 105 minutes in 26 seconds. 50° F. April 19, 2025. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT

More photos from this morning’s walk here.