I moved from Beacon, NY to Seattle, WA on April 1 of 2011.  Some friends had kindly offered to let me stay at their place on Bainbridge Island until I found a job and an apartment.  Over the next month while I worked at a contract position in downtown Seattle I took the ferry between Seattle and Bainbridge Island.

After commuting over four hours each day between the Metro North and subway having a 35 minute ferry ride twice a day was pure bliss and a bit of quiet that I looked forward to.   One similarity between the Hudson Line Metro North and the Bainbridge Island Ferry is the spectacular scenery along its run.  The Hudson Line runs right along the river for most of its route and gives you stunning views of several landmarks along the way such as the Tappan Zee Bridge,  Storm King Mountain, and Bannerman Castle.

The difference is that instead of staring at it through stained plastic windows as the train sped by the sights at 60mph I could leisurely make my way to the open upper deck as the ferry moved at a much more stately pace.   The sheer tonnage of the ferry makes for an extremely stable photographic platform as well.   Nothing causes the ferry to pitch in the water (except as local rumor has it, the nuclear submarines passing through Puget Sound on their way to and from the Naval base at Kitsap) so the ride is always smooth.

Except when its pulling into port at either end the vista from the ferry is primarily about the sky.  Seattle almost always has spectacular skies for photography.   Being out in the middle of Puget Sound gives you a sweeping view in all directions with Mt. Rainier to the South, the Cascades to the East behind Seattle, and the Olympic Mountains to the West.   Seattle isn’t a very large city or a very tall city so it quickly recedes into the distance and becomes dominated by the mountains behind it.

After suffering through two years of commuting on the Metro North I couldn’t have asked for a nicer way to greet the city first thing in the morning than taking the ferry.

The Merchant House Museum is the preserved family house of the prosperous 19th century merchant family of Seabury Tredwell. In October of 2010 the museum reenacted the 1865 funeral of Seabury. Several actors played the roles of family members and the minister while the public was invited to dress the part as well. A wake was held at the house itself with a procession to the historic (and still in use) New York City Marble Cemetery for the interment.

The challenge of shooting historic costumes and events is largely about controlling the background. Either you use a very shallow depth of focus and work with your subjects to get a background clean of any modern elements or you end up with a photograph of someone carrying a glaive clad in chainmail standing in front of a Buick. Unless you’re actually shooting an album cover for a metal band that’s generally not the look most people are after. Reenactors range from gleeful hobbyists to serious historians with a rich and nuanced knowledge of the period they’re reenacting. Generally its the later who are more photogenic. When a subject has taken a great deal of pains to dress accurately for their period (which can be extremely expensive and time consuming even for a skilled seamstress) there’s a moral obligation on the part of the photographer to respect their pains and take care when composing an image.

The Jazz Age Lawn Party is an event held on New York City’s Governor’s Island two weekends over the summer.  The event features a live orchestra and centers around a dance floor where dancers spin the afternoon away.   Period dress is strongly encouraged and the event attracts a surprisingly wide range of ages.  Typically events like this attract a younger, primarily hipster crowd but there’s a vibrant social dance scene in NYC which draws a much more diverse crowd.

My interest in dance came through the avant-garde as I began to photograph butoh performances at the Cave Art Space in Williamsburg so social dance was a considerable change.   I had attended a number of events organized by Dances Of Vice and had a passing familiarity with the period dances but found it extremely challenging to get good shots.  Challenging but very enjoyable.

Personally I can’t dance because I can’t count beats properly.  I’ve tried a number of times but if more than three steps are involved I invariably loose count and up tripping over my partner’s feet.   Several seasoned dance instructors have tried to help but in the end have just shaken their heads and gently suggested I head over to the bar for a drink.  Its frustrating as I always thought it looked like a great deal of fun but you have to recognize your limits.  Finding myself unable to directly participate I’ve consoled myself with watching and taking photos.  There’s no reason you can find your own measure of enjoyment in another’s pleasure.

Honk Fest West was a 3 day festival for bring street music to Seattle.   The festival originated in Somerville, MA as a festival for activist street bands and several of the bands playing at Honk Fest West had a progressive message to share with their music.

I only saw Saturday’s performances at Seattle’s Gas Works Park but was treated to several hours of Klezmer, American Folk, and a number of drum lines.   Its music I never listen to at home but always enjoy when I go out to see it live.  Having a dozen pieces of brass in front of you with girls dancing around the band is such an important part of the street band experience that never comes across on a CD.

Most of the music I’ve shot over the years has been in concert halls or clubs.  Shooting outdoors is a challenge as you have to worry about the direction of the sun, the background, and errant hacky-sacks.   Even with the additional elements to keep in mind its far more fun as you get to decide how you want the band to visually interact with the environment and the crowds are far livelier.

Attending the Honk Fest was a hugely cathartic experience for me.  Most of April and May had been spent looking for work, working obscene hours at my contract position, looking for my own apartment, attending to the logistics of moving from where I was staying with friends on Bainbridge into Seattle, and fighting with work to get the time to do so.   Just being outside in the sunshine with bands playing, the trees opening their first leaves of spring, and people dancing around felt like I had finally arrived.

When I lived in Beacon I would commute from the mid-Hudson Valley to Grand Central most weekdays and often on the weekends. The platform at the Metro North station at Beacon with its view of the Hudson River, the dock at Beacon, and the Beacon-Newburgh Bridge is a very familiar one. A simple concrete slab with a few vending machines, ticket machines, and a coffee shop.

Commuting is an action of pure habit. I knew I had to leave the house at 7:15 am if I walked or 7:30 am if the weather was clear enough to ride my bicycle to travel the mile and a half stretch between my apartment and the train station. Not one minute before or after. That gave me enough time to arrive at the platform with about 4 or 5 minutes before the train arrives at 7:44 am.

The platform itself is a constrained environment. The platform is perhaps 20 feet wide and only has access points at the North and South ends. Every morning and evening you’re greeted with the same view. By habit people stand in the same location to get into the front or rear of the train depending on which exit they use once the train arrives in Grand Central Station.

My preference was the North end of the platform. The view of the Hudson River was obscured by a line of trees and the Sloop Club except for the very North end of the platform which presented a narrow view of the Hudson and the park which jutted out to form a small bay.

These photographs were all taken with my iphone through the instagram app. They represent that one view taken across the nearly two years that I commuted from Beacon, NY to Grand Central Station. The view never changed but everything else did. The seasons, the available light, the encroachment of ice across the bay, the layers of snow that built up, the cracking of the ice in Spring when the great slabs of ice would swept downstream by the currents and tides. Then the leaves would slowly reappear on the trees.

I was always in the same place, everything else was changing but I was tied to that one spot on the platform at the same time every morning. This wasn’t a pleasant moment-of-zen but rather a great dissatisfaction. If it was a particularly beautiful morning, I got on the 7:44 train. If the clouds were pouring down over the hills surrounding the Hudson River shrouding the magnificent Storm King, I got on the 7:44 train. If a late autumn or early spring mist danced across the surface of the Hudson for that brief time between dawn and being burned off by the sun, I got on the 7:44 train.

The Hudson Valley is an incredibly beautiful vista and I only could experience it through the window of the 7:44 local to Grand Central Station. The only time I had to experience it was that brief window of time between 7:40 am and 7:44 am when I stepped onto the platform and when the train arrived.

On April 1, 2011 I moved to Seattle and away from the Hudson Valley which I loved. I couldn’t stand to be that close to something and be constantly alienated by the draconian cost-of-living of the NYC metro area that required me to sit on that 7:44 am train to NYC and just watch everything go by.

Starting close to home is the Beacon Falls.   This is a small waterfall in the city of Beacon, NY where I currently reside.  My apartment on Main Street is just out of sight of the falls but on quiet nights I can hear the water pouring over the falls and past the rapids that run under the East Main bridge.

The Maybrook line, a rail line which runs from just south of Beacon to Connecticut curves past the falls.  The Metro North railroad purchased the tracks in 1995 but over 15 years later has done nothing with them.  This was a former industrial line having seen use on and off for over 125 years but has unused since 1993.

The Beacon Falls is one of 13 dams built along Fishkill Creek, primarily for industry.  Beacon was once a major center in the hat trade with some 500 hat factories in business at one time.  Like much of industry in the Northeast, these were shuttered long ago as the factories first moved to the deep south and then overseas.  There are a number of decaying industrial spaces up and down Fishkill Creek.  Some of these former factories are being demolished or renovated, primarily for residential use as Dutchess County has become an attractive alternative to the superheated real estate market closer to NYC.

Recently a developer purchased the land surrounding the falls and is currently restoring the land around the creek as part of their mixed use project.  Prior to the developer taking over the site the creek was littered with rubbish and overgrown with weeds.  The developer hired an environmental engineer to remediate the area and has both cleaned out the trash and opened up the creekside from the overgrowth as they plan to use the falls as a focal point for their project.