This is three-and-a-half week old Jocelyn who I met just this past weekend. She was one happy and contented little girl, let me tell you. And pretty darn cute to boot. I had a great time photographing her sweet face (complete with dimples) in her parents' cool South Boston home.
While I prefer to think of all the great things a person did with their life and not their actual death, recording events is part of what I do. It's also part of how I deal with emotions, sad and happy. So, today I took an early lunch break and went down to the Boston Common to photograph the outpouring of Boston love and appreciation for the brilliant Robin Williams.Read More
The last time I saw Amy with her kids in my parents neighborhood where they live, Fiona was a baby and Aidan was a toddler not really talking much. My how time changes things! My favorite quote of the session (aside from the kids impersonating the intro to AFV "And now here's your host! Tommmmm Bergeroooooooonnnnn!") was when Fiona looked up at her mom and said "You look like a pirate princess!"
And P.S. I wanna find Fiona's white top in my size.
I was excited and surprised to get a message from my friend Shannon on my FB page earlier in the week, "Sooooo...I understand BU did damn good in CASE. How about that?" It took me a while to track down the results of the Council for Advancement and Support of Education's 2013 Circle of Excellence results, and I was confused when I found them, actually. It took me a moment to realize how well I'd done, and I'm really grateful for that. Also very cool? My coworker Vernon came in second!
Here are the images I entered.
All are copyrighted Boston University.
*** This blog entry is a little different than usual. Yesterday, I went into Boston to see my city and how it has been effected in the aftermath of the Patriot's Day bombing.The following is my take on the day, as well as some of the images I shot.
On Tuesday I felt like a failure for not photographing BU students in their dorms and apartments glued to their TVs, watching events unfold after the Boston marathon bombings on Patriot's Day. Granted, this was something that would have taken place on Monday when they were in lock-down, and to be kinder to myself, travelling into and around campus would not have been very easy. But when I woke Saturday morning to find images on the university's website from Friday night's celebrating, I literally cried a bit. Just a little. It wasn't a lot. I swear.
I felt defeated. And the worst part was I had defeated myself with stupidity by considering going in after Suspect #2 was captured and the lock-down was lifted but second-guessing myself.
I went to the gym hoping that some physical exertion would help my mood. I was on the elliptical about six minutes before I accepted that the gym was not where I needed to be, got off the machine of torture, went home, showered and hauled it into the city to see what's what. I knew there was a slim chance of much going on. The city would surely be back to normal by now and people would be getting on with things; going shopping on Newbury Street, attending this afternoon's Red Sox game.
I still had to go see. I still had to document for myself, even if it wasn't at the height of the excitement or during the thrill of the victory.
I started in Kenmore Square where the T stop was burping-up droves of people on their way to Fenway for the game. There was a substantial Boston police and military police presence and they all had a real openness and friendliness about them. One of them took one look at my camera gear and told me "That's quite a rig!" This surprised me; hadn't they been seeing nothing but big rigs all week? "Did you guys get any sleep at all last night?" I asked them.
"A few hours last night" they moaned.
I heard compliments to the police ringing out from the passing crowd, "Thanks guys!" and "Well done guys!"
It was pretty cool. The sense I got that the police were holding their heads a little higher than typical likely comes from this feeling that people have a new-found respect for them. Today they do not have the reputation so often placed on them by the public. Today, they are heroes who got the job done in a really big way.
On the streets leading to Fenway, vendors were on fire "Get a free 'Believe in Boston' flag when you buy a program!" they rang out "Programs! Get yah programs hee-ah!"
In the T to head over to Copley, I saw a runner (or at least she was dressed like one) sitting across from me, wearing a marathon jacket and holding a bouquet of of small orange and yellow roses. To my left was a couple in regular clothes, the girl also carrying a bouquet. I saw a lot of this. Wherever I was within the city.
I exited at Hynes and walked with the crowds to the corner of Boylston and Hereford Streets. Up to that location, it was busy city business as usual. As I approached the gated area where many flowers, notes, signs and photos were placed, it got quiet. Like, funeral viewing quiet.
In the middle of the city, in this one spot, you could have heard a pin drop. I thought for sure as I was on my way in that it would be a bit of a circus; people clamoring to get photos to show off to their friends. That wasn't the case. It was as if we were all on hallowed ground. People did take pictures, but it wasn't in a sensationalistic kind of way. People were there to pay their respects. And they did that. The woman in the marathon jacket approached with her flowers and laid them down as she quietly wept.
Looking down Boylston Street beyond the barricade was eerie. Something out of an apocalyptic movie. I've never seen Boylston Street so deserted. I'm not sure anyone ever has.
I walked on, taking Newbury Street. It was a typical Saturday on Newbury; lots of people walking around, talking, smiling, eating lunch al fresco. Until you came to another spot where a side street had been barricaded. At the corner of Newbury and Dartmouth, there were military police on hand who kindly accepted praise whenever it was offered. Which was often. From this vantage point, you could see the beautiful Boston Public Library, her flags still at half-mast. On the other side of the barricade, a select few in marathon jackets were being handed and getting into white bodysuits. The ones we've seen evidence collectors wear on the news.
As I walked on, there were occasional memorials. A seemingly random light pole near a restaurant was covered with flowers. It was near this corner where I saw a woman approch a trio of police and go down the line, shaking each of their hands, "Thank you...Thank you...Thank you." she praised them quietly. Outside one business there was a huge area where people had written down their thoughts with sidewalk chalk. There was a bucket of chalk in the middle of it all for anyone to add to it if they wished. And in this spot too, where there was only chalk drawing, there was silence and reverence.
It was incredible. Every last person wandering the streets and coming across these sights knew what it was about. I don't mean to state the obvious. What I mean is, everyone felt effected by this. No one was out of the loop or outside it's effects.
Taking a right on Berkeley Street, I was lead back to Boylston, which is where the more substantial memorial had grown by the barricades blocking off the other end of the street. There were police and Red Cross volunteers (not sure why. Perhaps to answer questions?), therapy dogs hanging out, and more and more people. The crowd was large, but with the exception of one girl talking loudly on her phone, it was a respectful crowd.
In the outer rim of the crowd, there was friendly talking, people petting dogs and chatting with their owners, but as I made my way to the front of the crowd closest to the memorial, the sound dimmed again. No one was pushing or shoving to view, they would peacefully get out of each others' way when someone was trying to take a photo. With exception to one couple who, judging from their outfits had been in the marathon themselves, I didn't see one person photograph themselves with the scene behind them. One man approached and tied a pair of shoes to the barricade. Periodically, another person would approach, crouch down and lay flowers with the others. People held each other and read all the words on the notes and signs, taking it all in.
I don't know what I thought I might see going into the city that day. Large crowds of gawkers, maybe. I was pleased and impressed to see what I did; People being human. Being kind and friendly, compassionate.
It definitely made me proud to be a Bostonian.
I have nothing to say here except that I am a slacker and have fallen way behind in my BU work updates. Here's a glance at the last five months or so.
This is Julian. He is a mere seven weeks old. You'll see him at a day old a few entries below this one. He is very cute and I love him.
This wasn't a pro shoot but rather, the first of many that this little one will experience. Julian was born April 6, to my friends Maureen and Jon, parents of Amelia (who's quite a bit bigger now!)! He's cute as can be.
I met Heather and Jeff on the Boston Common. I mean, I didn't literally meet them there...we planned it. Oh, you know what I mean! We wandered the common for a bit and when rain led us under a bridge (and a bunch of other people too, making it impossible to keep shooting) we chatted about this and that. Heather is a (saint!) second grade teacher. Jeff is a doctor. What kind of doctor?
What kind of surgeon?
An orthopedic surgeon.
At Mass General.
Do you know Dr. Smith?
Yes, I work with him!
Oh, cause he put this in me! (here's the part where I over-share and pull out my keychain which has on it a small strip of metal which Dr. Smith put in years ago and then took out nine months later).
Fortunately, Jeff doesn't seem phased about this, or my game of "Can You Guess Where It Came Out Of?". He thinks for a while, but because of it's odd bend at the end, he is stumped and I win the game "My collarbone!" I spill the answer.
He is appropriately impressed as is Heather.
The rain stops and so does my talking about myself and my ridiculous injury and we get back to taking pictures of this beautiful couple. And I do mean beautiful. I have the pics to prove it...
Petra got in contact with me a while ago. She and her husband Matt are celebrating their tenth anniversary and Petra wanted to commemorate it with some portraits. It took a while for us to make it happen! Our first attempt got rained out, the second didn't happen because of crossed wires, and finally, the third time was a charm!
I shot these about a week ago while second shooting for Lukas Kisiel. Eric and Cullen were married at South Church in Boston and their reception was at the Intercontinental Hotel. The rain was outrageous before the wedding but fortunately went way for the outdoor portraits at the hotel afterwards!