Murdered Out

Continuing my week-long digression into automotive photography, I brought back this older shot from the damp streets of Berkeley. The glow of the apartment buildings, the light trails, and the older cars on the street all form the backdrop to this murdered-out Subaru Impreza WRX. (Murdered out, meaning black rims and a dark black window tint—though I always thought this look worked better on Cadillacs than Subarus…)

Murdered Out

All in the (Horse) Family

Though I don’t often show my photography from the people/photojournalism/street mode, I couldn’t resist this image of Mario Deslauriers and clan at the Lake Placid Grand Prix in Lake Placid, New York last summer. The dark greens and stark whites, with the bokeh’ed horse in the background, meld to a vibe that I would call “fresh.”

All in the (Horse) Family

Come On, Street!

Having been outside the crazy-sphere of city life for a year now, I like looking back on the outrageous geometries that San Francisco calls reasonable. (I’m guessing the number of patches are repairs to that very steep street is a testament that road crews are just as uninterested in climbing it as the average pedestrian.) It’s really not surprising that so many classic movies take place in San Francisco: drama and strangeness is built right into its structure.

Come On, Street!

Scenes from Kentucky Horse Park

For my 500th Decaseconds post, I’m bringing you some photos from the Pony Finals at the Kentucky Horse Park outside Lexington. The weather was fully as humid and sunny as the southern Midwest is fabled to be at the end of July, and these three images capture the different aspects of the place. This first image, of the model, captures the form and uniform (so to speak) that rigidly controls the event.

Pony Finals

This image, on the other hand, shows one of the folks working behind the scene. Given his surf-ready hair, blue wayfarers, and general air of authority, I call this image “Bro-thority.”


Finally, I love this shot for the looks on the riders’ faces as they exit the ring—done, for just a moment, and proud or defeated or ambivalent but, at the very least, relieved.