I went out this afternoon to take a look at the recently-opened High Line Park. From the park, I saw that the Hudson River along the West Side was thick with pancake ice, so I walked down to the water to take a closer look and some pictures.
I ended up walking along the West Side Greenway to Pier 66, where wind-whipped spray had choked the Long Time waterwheel and frosted the railings with still more ice.
I've started a new project, which is to take one photograph every day during 2010, and post it to the web. You can see the pictures at my new twentyten.disoriented.net photoblog. The goal is to try to make me think more about photography and try out some new techniques.
It's quite likely that I won't manage to take a photograph - let alone an interesting photograph - every day. It's very likely that I won't manage to post one every day, as I don't always have access to the Internet. Still, it's an interesting challenge and I hope to learn something along the way.
Twitter is currently full of people reminiscing about what they were doing #10yearsago. Ten years ago, I was living in Paris. On New Year's Eve, I put a roll of 1600ASA film into my camera, and went out to take pictures of the city by night, including the Eiffel Tower with it's illuminated 'An 2000' sign (which lit up exactly at midnight). These are my favorite pictures from that night.
The first snowstorm of the winter hit New York on Saturday, and left behind a few inches of snow.
Over the summer, the schoolyard on Rivington Street has been playing host to some kind of sports league. When I walk past, I'll often see teams of mostly young adults playing a game whose rules appear to be those of baseball, but which is played with a large inflated ball like a soccer ball. The games are competitive but courteous; when one player does something particularly skillful, everyone applauds politely.
When I walked past tonight, the game was going on as usual, but with one minor difference: the players on one team were all dressed as mimes, complete with berets, white greasepaint, and black uniforms with white suspenders.
When I told M. about it, she said “And this is why we live in New York”.
As soon as I jumped off the boat, I found myself surrounded by fish. They were small, with vertical black and white stripes, and they seemed entirely unafraid of the clumsy primate splashing awkwardly through their element. If I stretched out a hand towards one, it would give a little flick of its fins and put itself just out of my reach. Otherwise, they seemed entirely unperturbed by the sudden intrusion of masked and flippered humans into their world.
Continue reading 'Fish time'
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