Downtown Portland, OR
There is no such thing as a
Photographer, because they are everywhere and nowhere. So naturally it follows there is no such thing as a Photograph. Symbolic verbiage, identifiable syntax… a keyword.
Only moments, captured with light and mirrors. Add smoke, and it becomes orthodoxy. I suppose then, that I’m gnostic.
Short Sands beach. Oswald West State Park, Oregon.
Four, if you count me. Plus one outlier on the shoulder.
Trestle bridge near Buxton, Oregon trailhead. Banks Vernonia trail.
Distortions in real-life, are simply landscapes exhausted.
Alternative forest landscape photography, abstract. Manually shot image.
Obsolesence is what gives something its charm. Punk rock, if you will. I’m no exception to the everlasting renewal and rebirth, from the tree and wheel of life. Eventually, I’ll get what I need, even if I don’t know it immediately. But in time, I’ll sense it and move on to new adventures. Always grateful for the journey.
Going analog with old, retro cars. Orange Volvo station wagon. Astoria, OR.
If you guessed 1983, you’d be wrong. It’s May 2019. Astoria is a town with a thing for retro automobiles. The old classic did give me the feeling of a faded photograph.
Sentimentality aside, engineering and design progress is a good thing. Love the color, though!