Transitions

[Raleigh, NC]

it’s just like a photographer to latch on to someone else’s story in order to attempt to explain one’s own.

good thing i’m not really a photographer, just a college-kid with a camera.  good thing i find rationalizations for every shortcoming.   

this week i was blessed with the opportunity to return to the US for a few days for a little photo work.  it was a double blessing as the shoot was relatively near-to-home which allowed me to swing by my parent’s old place to collect those things which remained from my adolescence and also bid farewell to mom, dad, and the family dog as they depart to create a new home on the much cooler coast of a certain mitten-shaped state.  

the week’s schedule looked something like this:

Santiago, Chile >> Norfolk, Va >> Outer Banks, Nc >> Norfolk, Va >> Outer Banks, Nc >> Boone, Nc >> Lake Lure, Nc >> Asheville, Nc >> Lake Lure, Nc >> Winston-Salem, Nc >> Raleigh, Nc >> Santiago, Chile

toss in the physical strain of a water-bourn parasite acquired on Rapa Nui and subtract several hours of much-needed sleep and my friends you have a consequence of wander lust: thorough exhaustion.

back to that story..

the image above is of a delightful friend and musician Rob Morrell.  if you run into him, give him a pat on the back for wrapping up his master’s degree.  he is currently transitioning out of his apartment and into a career.

the second image is of my dear friend Janelle, during the father-daughter dance at her wedding reception last weekend.  though she and her new husband are the happiest couple imaginable, this moment of intense emotion was shared with her father as she said goodbye to her childhood.  

transitions, though frequently positive, as in the cases above and that in my current life tend to release much otherwise pent-up emotion.  throughout the next year or so, i plan to revisit this topic as a sort of self reflection but also fascination with a vulnerable moment of the soul.  

Stella by Starlight

[Bellavista- Santiago, Chile]

vamo a club de jazz muy weno was the only invitation i needed to overlook school work for the evening and further postpone preparations for my trip to the US.  Pancho, a friend and santiago native led me through the sleepy outskirts of Bellavista to Thelonious lugar de jazz--tucked into a row of neglected storefronts and unmarked.  after the opening set, the musicians rotated through without missing a beat.  the scores seemed to blend together, one nearly indistinguishable from the other.

though concerts are intended for the ears, my favorite element of live performance is watching the music melt across a performer’s face, witnessing the soul timidly emerge from its typically intangible place underneath the skin.  less timid souls may inhabit the entire body.  the young pianist pictured was one such case.  the staccato, rampant notes of the score became evident in every limb. his cigarette bobbed and rattled between his teeth.  without missing a beat he reached behind to sip something on ice, to ash.  the tenor sax waled through its masters neck and filled the vein which parted his forehead vertically as a mole burrowing shallowly through the lawn.  the drummer tick tick tick ed his wire sticks which fluttered like sporadic hummingbird wings in front of his tuxedo.  sights, sounds, sights, sights, sights.  do you hear that?  they’re playing Stella by Starlight 

www.theloniouschile.com

On Set: Don't Panic

[Winston-Salem, NC  USA]

my dear friend and independent film director Lindsay Thompson invited me to join her latest project as a set photographer for Don’t Panic, written by Daniel Parra.  the film follows Jack as he discovers the world is coming to an end.  Jack goes to great lengths to save Emily, the girl next door, from certain destruction before learning the warnings were merely an evening radio story.

i had too much fun working with these talented young actors Joey who plays Jack and Casey, who plays Emily.  if you’re looking for a good laugh, check out Joey’s channel on YouTube-- he’s an up and coming comedian!

Climbing Manzano

[Cajon del Maipo, Chile]

in honor of holy week, i prepared a daypack and set out to meditate in central Chile’s finest sanctuary: Cajon del Maipo. 

 just an hour outside the city of Santiago, the canyon area boasts several glaciers, natural hot springs, and abundant rock for various levels of climbers.  in the summertime, it’s a popular escape for city dwellers to enjoy a weekend backpacking or camping... skiing in the winter months.  

this weekend, i was fortunate enough to travel with a group of Chilean climbers, new friends, who were eager to show me the ropes of a section known as Manzano. 

that morning, with the blessing of the resident gaucho, we made our way through paddocks of spotted horses, over a hurried stream (the only bridge was formed of a score of spilt logs, which were not unknown to catapult the absent-minded crosser), and up the mountain in a little under an hour.  we greeted several chipper groups on the way before heading to the far side of the face to stake our claim on a favorite route.  

the rock was begging to be climbed... cracks, nooks, holds as if set by professionals... and we were happy to oblige... barely making our way down the mountain as the last light escaped the sky.

El Glacier San Francisco

[Cajon del Maipu, Chile]

saturday morning we awoke to the warm sun on our faces, the clock read a pleasant 8:30.. mmm saturday mornings.  i lingered for a moment until the realization hit me... we were already an hour and a half late for the bus. (shit)  frantically, i mean cooly with even tempers, we stuffed our packs, laced our boots, and scurried for the elevator 

our commute was relatively smooth.  thanks to a boisterous street vendor and an entire boy scout troop we even got on the right bus.  (i won’t mention that one of the scouts, the freckled one, offered me his ring.  or that the street vendor had to stall the bus driver while i searched the nearby tiendas for my lost traveling partner.. who had wandered because he was hungry, again.)

the bus left us at the police check point where we were advised (by the police) to walk a block away and hitch-hike, there were no buses for the rest of the day.  needless to say, we made friends along the way, took a couple group photos and made our way to the trailhead, that was “an hour up the road.”  later we discovered that if you were traveling by foot with something that resembled the stomach flu, it was closer to three hours.  after reaching the true trailhead, we hiked under an hour, found a flat spot by the river and settled in for the night.  as we prepared the traditional trekker’s pasta and snuggled into our bags the air made its way from a pleasant 75 degrees to a little below freezing.

the next morning surrounded by snow capped mountain peaks and our systems reset, we finished the hike to El glacier San Francisco.  as pictured above, the glacier (and snow) is an anomaly in the midst of violent, dry terrain.  the earth is dusty, not excluding the mountains which i believe could crumble with moment’s notice.  little rain and deep valleys protect jagged rocks from erosion.  the plants which remain to be nibbled by horses are succulent and spiny specimens not dissimilar to the porcupine.   

upon decent we were able to more perfectly enjoy the contrasting landscape. the sendero to the glacier lies just outside of Cajon del Maipo, a popular place to camp, trek, and climb, and much of the canyon extends beyond the park.  many of the rocks that line (or block) the trail are in fact sedimentary and maintain rare shades of purple and teal.  within the canyon walls lie layer upon layer of ancient history which create the most compelling stripes and designs.

our trek down the mountain we met a lovely couple and made fast friends.  before we knew it, we were laughing in town over empanadas and peach juice.. then comfortably asleep in the back of their car... en route once again to Santiago.

Window Frames

[Santiago, Chile]

so much travel discourse engages only the destination.  some might give a brief nod to a particularly noteworthy mode of transportation, especially when it seemingly goes wrong. have you ever overheard “one-up” style dialogue competing for the most haphazard misadventure?  

     YOUR turbulence was bad? one time WE rode by cattle car...  

at the end of the day, travel escapes memories of traveling so much so i wonder if the tab at the top of this page should read “a destination blog.”  no. that would be an utter shame.  

travel or transport time is essential in order to reflect and on occasion extract the decadence from recent memory and place it somewhere safe. i like to think this extracted decadence becomes the substance of one’s “mental photo album,” or at least the next journal entry.  travel allows time to write, reflect, and edit that mental album.

 the collection of images above represent some moments in transit; but as a body, they more faithfully represent the moments of travel which seemingly escape formal memory.. moments of inspiration we’re too quick to loose. 

1. discussing the next venture on the balcony of my apartment in Santiago... our reflections as produced by a number of windows.  foothills of the Andes mountains in the background, distorted by a layer of smog.
2. a rainy day for public transportation in the Argentine country side.
3. a favorite writing spot in Buenos Aires, a cool breeze and view of Recoleta Cemetery
4. a rainbow charms the afternoon sky... view returning from Iguazu

Trekking Patagonia

[Mt. Fitz Roy, Argentina] The Patagonia Mountains

what was your last impulse buy?  tuesday i discovered i had some extra time off.  by wednesday i was on a LAN flight bound for Punta Arenas, Chile-- the world’s southern most city.  

most trekkers who come through Punta Arenas flock to Torres del Paine in Chilean Patagonia; but our schedule favored a shorter expedition and we set off towards Mt. Fitz Roy, just across the Argentine border.  we met the trailhead in the pueblito of El Chalten, and quickly found ourselves winding through foothills and lush pastures outlined with glacial streams.  that evening we set up camp to the lull of a gentle rain and the steady drumming of swift water in the nearby river.  in the morning we made the short trek to the mirador at Glacier grande (a nod to the naming committee.).  the sendero to the summit of Fitz Roy led us through ancient gnarled forests, lush prairies, gentle lagoons with pebbled beaches, alongside steep canyons and threatening rock faces.  this diverse landscape, for which Patagonia has gained its renown, was appropriately accompanied in three short days by sun, snow, rain, and fierce winds rivaled only by that of hurricanes.  

 the final morning we climbed to the final mirador at the base of the summit.  resting at the top, we watched clouds dance in the violent wind; playfully covering bits of the peak, revealing sections previously hidden.  the lake formed at the base of the summit captured the bluest sky.  to reassign the words of a newly admired author, the lake was the color of the ocean of the purest dreams.

Street Art

[Buenos Aires, Argentina]

song: The Trapeze Swinger by Iron & Wine 

“and they went on to say that the pearly gates have some eloquent graffiti..” 

 in the 1950’s political parties began to pay artists to tag slogans and advertisements on public surfaces throughout the city.  this practice ended abruptly in 1979 when all forms of political protest were banned during the Dirty War.  

in response to the 2001 economic crisis, which left an estimated 20% of the argentine work force unemployed, street art resurrected.  this time with a definite leaning towards fine art.

 in the spectrum between public art and vandalism, street art generally finds itself unstably in the middle.  its very definition classifies it a a rogue art form, unsanctioned works on public spaces. though many street artists have gained renown as legitimate artists, few cities are as welcoming as Buenos Aires.  cities such as Los Angeles, London, Paris, and New York have thriving street art scenes. however, artists in these cities are generally limited to less visible canvases such as alley ways or works that can be completed quickly, under the cover of night.  the rare treasure that is the open-air street gallery is made possible in Buenos Aires by a welcoming public and a police force willing to turn a blind eye.  many businesses and fine restaurants have begun to hire well known artists such as RunDontWalk and Pum Pum to create works on their own facades-- mostly to discourage less-developed works and propaganda from making an appearance.

to give you an idea of the sheer concentration of street art, the works above can be found within the same city block in the San Telmo barrio.  each represents a different approach to a common medium.

1. this stenciling is a popular argentine cartoon character, paired with political advertising for the reelection of current president Christina Kirchner.
2. this work shows Argentina’s (disputed) territorial claim in Antarctica, a subject of some political controversy.

conclusion: to see some of the best art in Buenos Aires, you may never have to go indoors (though i do highly recommend making a visit to MALBA and Bellas Artes museums.)  during midday, travel with a friend, leave valuables behind and get lost in the immense concrete gallery of Buenos Aires.

Las Cataratas Iguazu

[Puerto Iguazú, Argentina]

rumor has it that upon laying eyes on Iguazu Falls, first lady Elenor Roosevelt exclaimed “poor Niagra!” 

las cataratas include 275 separate falls, spanning approximately 1.7 miles.  the falls average 210-270 feet in height.

Argentina established Iguazu National Park in 1934 to protect the subtropical rainforest which surrounds the falls.  it is home to over 2000 species of plants, 450 species of birds, and 80 species of mammals.

the falls are fed by the Rio Iguazu which serves as a section of the Brazil-Argentina border. 

over-all, we felt adequately rewarded for the 18 hour bus ride each way, if not only by the astounding view of the moonrise over Uruguay en route to our destination. 

Cafe Martinez

[Recoleta- Buenos Aires, Argentina]

there’s a little cafe two blocks from my apartment.  the kind manager is patient as i fumble my way through the menu.  mostly, i come for whole beans... ground beans rather.   though ground beans sound somehow less romantic, that’s what i order so long the grinder remains in cardboard captivity north of the equator. 

¿como se dice, “coarse, espresso, auto-drip?”

i’d like to tell you this is a “niche-cafe” which cannot be found anywhere other than Avenida Pueyrrdón; but the truth is that Cafe Martinez is the Starbucks of urban Argentina.  the appeal?  for one, you cannot order “para llevar,” which means, if you’d like a cafe con leche, you must have a seat and be served. 

there is much emphasis on servitude nowadays (which i do not intend to belittle) although it is a delight to be served. and to take the time to relish this gift.  recognize the moments you are served.. see if you notice shift in affect, a certain lightness of face.

it is protocol, throughout Argentina that coffee is accompanied by a trio of bite-sized cookies and a glass of mineral water.  three of my favorite luxuries.  cookies, coffee, mineral water.  mmm.  

the last but foremost reason i’m drawn to this cafe is its name.  it appeals to my ego, who could resist?  

for these reasons, i find an excuse to announce each time we pass its sign.  i even called my brother, a fellow coffee aficionado to inform him we may be distantly related to a coffee emperor-- as if we needed to further justify our petty indulgence.  

this will not end with how to find God in a coffee shop.  it’s much too easy to find God in the midst of luxury with a mild stimulant and soft jazz.

instead i’d like to remember a theme which has (repeatedly) tossed a humble pie in my face over the last eight months. the creme filling seems to explode each time i lose sight of the fact my best disguise still looks like a circus clown.  it manifests itself in the form of a found note, dear friend, good book, a new favorite cafe on which i like to gloat.  

the last lines of text in the image above says “What we praise signifies our treasure.  Let love for God’s word fall from our mouths and drip from our lives.”  drip from our lives.  drip from our lives.  let love for God’s word so saturate our lives that we no longer let art, adventures, cafes be the center of our praise. of our conversation.  instead each time we pass a sign of the Lord’s goodness, announce it.  call your brother.  let him know that you are a child of the emperor of goodness, the artisan of life, and the author of love.