I don’t keep pictures on my phone. Well, a few. Ask me for a “fall’ shot? I would look in my Lightroom catalog. And, there? Well, let’s say that it’s been a while since I scouted fall foliage. There is that moment in time when the leaves are in full color just before they wither and fall…. Color! Everyone wants that brilliant mesmerizing color! “Fall,” I’ve seen a few. I hope to see a few more. That would be sweet too. It’s the first day of fall. Bittersweet, the days are getting shorter.
The only difference between your iPhone and my camera is that my inconsequential pics have a higher technical quality. My daily diary is not particularly interesting. I have shots of the cats, where we’ve been, and the food we consumed. Mundane. Boring, no doubt. The stories behind the picture(s)? It’s all an experience/experiment. Does the picture come first or does the narrative come as I take the picture? Both, all of the above, a gorgeous sunset is easy. But I experiment. There are few new pictures. It’s mostly reworking previous subjects in a new situation. Repeat? You bet. New? Some, too. By now I should know what I’m doing and never miss. I should not have to repeat my mistakes. I know what to do. But… most of my stuff (images) is mundane and not worthy of more than a glance. Throw stuff away? A friend told me recently that he dumps all his bad images. Clutter! No clutter! No, no, no. I have faithfully cataloged all of my clutter with a database. Database? Why not? And images are stored on hard drives. There’s no space taken up there. …except if you have too many redundant drives. Anyway, today was mundane. Anything but… Coffee in the antique store, antique store (another), ghost church/cemetery, dinner/anniversary with the cousins, and food! There’s a fine line. But, every day is a gift! Really!! You gotta be smiling by now, YTIMA spelled backwards is llits AMITY.
How do you film a ghost? Good question. Good answer. …’cause I don’t know. It’s not easy. The questions begs an answer. There’s not much to see… or to effectively record. I suppose that’s the answer too. Confused? I might yet be buried here. It’s a former church site that has been designated a national historic landmark property but they did not landmark the building. The church was collapsing. The solution? Ghost church. I’ve never seen nor heard of one. It’s surely different. It’s in the middle of nowhere. So, I doubt there will be many folks visiting. Now you know about as much as I do without resorting to an internet search.
Follow up: They painted it. I have mixed feelings about the paint job. It does stand out. I suppose it might even look spooky on a moonlit night.
There is a side benefit to sitting in NYC traffic during the evening rush hour. I was not familiar with Williamsburg. So we had to go the hard way. GPS is nice. It will get you there. But to be a native, is to know the short cuts and avoid the sitting. We sat. But it was sunset and the benefit was that we had ample opportunity to photograph New York as I had never been allowed. Yes, we shot through and out the window. We got what we got. The new Kosciuszko Bridge, the skyline, the Empire State Building, the Freedom Tower – all of this was afforded to us.
There was a big ginormous cemetery in Queens that one rarely glimpses over the high fence. I got it with the ESB in the background. Neat!
We still sat for a good long while. But there was something to do too. Stuck in traffic? There’s a benefit. You can see the city from a vantage you will not otherwise be allowed. There are views and then there are views. …silver lining.
It occurred to me… that fall pictures in a cemetery are somehow intertwined. Dead leaves and dead people. That’s kind of harsh and stark. Beautiful autumn color in a restful place for departed dearly beloved ones. I’ve taken many a cemetery pic and seek the quintessential autumn image. I have taken fall images in a cemetery for sure. Bittersweet.
You’d have to be on the inside to get the title of my post. Yup. St Fidelis church/cathedral. The cemetery was just a few blocks away set on the open plain. Long long ago the winds were so strong that the local blacksmiths began making iron crosses from scrap materials at hand. It’s unusual.
We met a woman who had lost her husband a year ago to the day and she was visiting the grave site. She struck up a conversation; his sudden death was from a cerebral aneurysm. My specialty. We spoke. I sympathized. The nearest hospital with a neurosurgeon was more than three hours away. Her husband of 60+ years was gone in about 10 days. Sad.
The past several days have been a time of reflection. Media, emails, conversations – direct and overheard, all of this has filled the dialog. It’s different, not the same, visceral unlike ever before. Its too late. This is not a novel or some movie. The ending is not what was expected. We are stuck with this turn of history. Civility and decency seem to have been turned on its head. The obvious is not so. What I read, saw, and heard is not what others experienced. I am bewildered. Others want to demonstrate and protest and resist. The contest is done. There is a winner. We may all be losers. Or not. It’s not over. That is the scary admission. Sometimes I think that it is good to have faith…