Blog Archives
altar
You already know that I make a lot of photos by shooting through windows without any ability to carefully compose the shots: I get what I get. Sometimes it’s awful.
And then, there are times like this, when I didn’t even know until I saw this image on my computer that the cross on the altar was lined up through the gap in the door AND was arranged perfectly against a lighter background.
I don’t think I’d’ve planned it any better.
Eastland, Texas
photographed 8.7.2022
gone to the dogs
There was only one reason I came here: I wanted to see what a place called “Nimrod” looked like. Mostly it looked like a church and a cemetery.
But there was this abandoned building; the sign over the door was illegible, so I don’t know what it was. But it was something related to dogs, and to trophies of dogs, and even a dog mural. Somehow these context clues made more mysterious.
Nimrod, Texas
photographed 8.7.2022
eight twenty-seven
Yesterday’s post spoke about how I took a lot of photos at the hotel where I stayed in Oklahoma City. And here’s another one.
I just couldn’t stop myself.
21c Museum Hotel
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
photographed 8.3.2022
accent color
So, the other weekend in Oklahoma City, I spent a few nights at the delightfully eccentric and quirky 21c Museum Hotel. The hotel is in a former Ford assembly plant, and it’s still got a lot of industrial details and the best natural light I’ve ever seen in a hotel.
And that’s why almost every photo I made that weekend was taken in the hotel.
I mean, you see why, right? A red blanket in an otherwise mostly monochromatic room + window light? There’s no way to pass that up.
21c Museum Hotel
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
photographed 8.4.2022
if you have a complaint
That little sign in the window says, “If you have a complaint…”
The woman I met just down the block had plenty of complaints. She started our conversation by saying, “Can I hep yew?” in a way that made it clear that what she really want to “hep” me do was leave. But then she got to talking (as we say in Texas) and I learned some things:
- There are “about” 58 people in Putnam
- She’s 66 and her husband is 68 and they are the youngest people in town.
- She hates living in Putnam. Just hates it. Always has.
- Her dream is to move to Abilene.
- People in Putnam are mean. They won’t talk to you.
- She hates it there.
- Everyone moved there just to be left alone.
- She just hates it.
It was hard to see an end to the conversation – once she got started she definitely warmed to her topic! – so I wished her a good day and told her that I hoped her dream of moving to Abilene came true. She said, “Oh I cain’t move until my husband dies. He ain’t leavin’ here.”
And ever since then, I’ve worried about her husband’s long-term life expectancy. If you know what I mean.
Putnam, Texas
photographed 8.7.2022
