Photo Walk: Lower Allston
I set out to photograph yesterday with my dog, and we spent the better part of the day together working through two rolls of Fujifilm Across 100 II.
I was intrigued by the chandelier beside the dumpster. This is a telling situation. The small, plastic rendition of a historically prevalent symbol of status and wealth, sitting disheveled in an alley. What does this mean?
I have a fascination for things left behind. I look at them like artifacts of life going on without me. The world moves rapidly and I will never meet most people. I will never know who owned these shoes or why they no longer needed them. I will never know why they were left here, but I found them.
An Allston family keeps their stand-up piano on their porch, where I’ve seen them play many times. The piano sounds terrible, but it is tuned enough to deliver the bones of the melody. It is all they need.
A detour sign is eaten slowly by parking lot vegetation.
I call these the vineyards. The back yards of several streets back up to each other and converge in a beautifully sunbathed calamity.
We stopped for a rest at home. The dog gets tired in this heat. My money tree has grown substantially, and she almost obscures my portrait of CJ. Beside her sits a stone I cleaned from our local park and the print of our beloved Cyrus.
I’ve been experimenting with what can be conveyed using motion in photography. I have a habit of photographing from the moving car, and frames typically turn out less than sharp. Does that hurt the photograph or potentially aid in the conveyance of the moment? These images feel painterly and remind me of walking the trail in the evening light before sunset.
At the end of the day we relax in our studio. We walk daily and we walk all over. Ozzy is a good dog. I do my best to look with the same eyes he does. He has a unique way of looking at the mundane with a particular interest. I try to do the same.