ShutterSpeed

This morning I got a text from AAron ‘The Nag’ Ontiveroz about how much he liked this photograph. I should have known that it was a ploy to get me to write a blog for shutterspeed.  Not to mention the guy is partial to rainbows. So folks here it goes…….

Yesterday I photographed some dripping icicles with a circular rainbow lens flair at a home near the hospital.  It was a very colorful and dramatic image that really caught me off guard when it happened.  Frequently I am required to search for photographs called feature, wild or enterprise art.  It is a difficult task to say the least and even after 23 years in the business I get stumped. Monday I was desperate for wild art so I thought icicles would be cool to shoot.

The first set of images I took were of these dangling beauties….they would work in a pinch but wanted the icicles to be more sparkling and illuminated.

I tried to back light them and kept getting a distracting background.  I was getting irritated because the voices of creativity in my head were calling me names(most of which I cannot mention in this post) and taunting me……’whats the matter mike, you can’t take a pretty picture of a simple icicle’…..

So when I was trolling a downtown street near the hospital a massive column of icicles compelled me to stop and snap a few.  I must of taken a couple of dozen when I noticed this crazy eye blinding rainbow lens flair appeared in the viewfinder.  The voices quit lashing their insults and quickly took advantage of the flair.

It took a few shots to find the correct exposure but I finally pinned it down.  Hope you like them.

Watching the Pioneer Avenue Safeway close was sort of like losing a family member… albeit a family member I barely knew.

In 2006, my cousin worked as a meat man at the neighborhood market. There, I watched as many pounds of beef were packaged when he let me behind the glass. The experience was a definite highlight of that summer and a warm welcome to Cheyenne, too.

Later that summer, I bought a fern at the Safeway. Lazily, I tried to cultivate it in my trunk. For two or three months, the plant received nothing but the finest neglect. When I was looking for a shovel in my trunk one day, I found the fern. I brought it inside and fed it a little water. It came back to life and enjoys a healthy existence to this day.

It’s really kind of sad looking back on the life of that little plant. No one cared for it and it survived despite the odds. Conversely, I never thought the fern would out-live the place from where it came. It seemed, after all, that the Safeway was cared for by the surrounding community. Despite this, the market was unable to survive.

I hadn’t actually been in said Safeway in recent years, though I drove by it regularly. To me, it existed much like an aunt or cousin I know is there, but rarely speak to. I may never buy another fern or witness the power that is meat packing again, but I will never forget the times I shared with the Pioneer Avenue Safeway.

Farewell, dear friend, farewell.

Thanks for looking.

So here goes my first photo story for the Tribune Eagle. I did mine on the folks who play pool at the Cheyenne Senior Center. It’s not really how you might picture a typical pool hall — filled with noise, smoke and stale beer stink. But, this pool hall is not necessarily for the quiet and reserved either. I found that it is a gathering point for a group of guys who are pretty young at heart, depsite being seniors. They give each other a hard time and get awfully boisterous.  They’ll tell you about the old days when a new pool cue cost $20 and a small town reputation was earned by beating up the toughest guy in the community.  You’ll also find quieter times when they gather to talk about health issues, family problems and other challenges in life. It appears that these people are really there for each other and need each other to stave off that loneliness that I am told comes with retirement. At the same time, I couldn’t help but think that I hope to be having as much fun as they are when I’m their age.

Thanks for looking.

This year for Lent, my dad gave up Wyoming Cowboys basketball.

From what I’ve gathered throughout the years, the things people give up for Lent are not meant to briefly better oneself. Sacrifices are supposed to act as a springboard for living a better life every day.

As a kid, my parents made me quit sweets, T.V. and misdemeanor criminal activity. For the most part, that made me angry, though not committing crimes was probably beneficial.

For a number of years, I haven’t attended church and had no intention of ever going back. In recent months, however, I became engaged.

Thus, I no longer make decisions — Linda calls the shots.

I say “yes” or “no,” even though I may not agree.

As such, I went to Ash Wednesday mass for the first time in years — twice at that (once for work).

Since I was there, I reflected and decided how to be a better person.

So, what to give up… my backbone? Already gone. My independence? Gone too. My Playstation? She probably smashed that after reading this.

Hmm…

Maybe my often-aloof father knows something I don’t after his 30 years of marriage. He sacrificed a bad UW hoops team, which really isn’t beneficial. His choice, initially, seemed so mundane.

Why not just give up tube socks or crust?

After tonight — and others like it — as I cease to exist as I once knew myself, I realize that in getting married, I am bettering myself in sense that I can no longer make my own decisions.

AAron just nods affirmatively when appropriate.

Since I don’t have control of the T.V. or groceries and I can never leave Linda’s sight long enough to light fireworks… I guess I’ll give up… Ziggy Comics and… Oh God, she’s coming, I gotta go.

Thanks for looking.

With my six month anniversary with the Wyoming Tribune Eagle now behind me, I thought I would write a few words on what it’s like to be the new guy in town.  Unlike my fellow photogs, I did not grow up in Wyoming.  Western living is still something I’m getting used to because I grew up in a city with a higher population than all of Wyoming.

This isn’t to say I’m any better off for it.  After all,  people do silly things like pay for parking and forgo fresh air in big cities.  On the contrary, I appreciate this state for its natural wonders and tight-knit communities.  This is my third year in Wyoming after two as a staff photographer in Rawlins and I’m convinced now more than ever that being a foreigner in cowboy country gives me a unique insight into taking photos here.  Most everything I see as a photographer out here is worth a few pictures since everything is fairly new to me.

Recently, I attempted to pick a few photos to explain what it is to be the new guy in town.  I chose the top one (from the United States Team Roping Championship back in September) because it reminds me of the distinct mood I typically experience at rodeos.  I chose the bottom one (from the Children’s Miracle Network Car and Motorcycle Show — also in September) because it reminds me more of the urban surroundings from which I came.

To me, the juxtaposition of the two images serves as a reminder of the diversity to be witnessed in my new town and state — Cheyenne, Wyoming.

Thanks for looking.