jeffl7

I imagine Moses on a bike, parting a sea of traffic. He seems quite intent on maintaining his path through.

Disturbing. Orwellian. This is the world we live in.

Quiet, except for the peek of the dish soap peering out to look at the yellow flowers.

The highway both anchors and intrudes. The pink is fantastic.

My first thought was a grill as well, but then I did a double-take and had a flashback. The drab color works here, giving a vintage feel. The expression is great.

The wife went to McGill for a year. I've never been to Montreal, but it's on my list. I like the crispness of the shot. The tilt to the bench adds a little tension.

The brooding color of the storm is well captured, albeit a little disorienting. I like how the lights burn through, almost beacon-like. The color noise in the rightmost cloud adds some visual interest, and I'm glad you left it in.

All the clutter that love brings. It tends to pile up, doesn't it? It's hard for love to take flight when it's so weighed down by "stuff."

A simplicity in the capture. Striking detail. Nicely handled.

I missed this one. A nice capture, documenting self-discovery, which will continue for years, no doubt. I like the selective coloring.

I like the brooding quality of this shot. The vast dark space at the bottom right adds visual heft, balance and pathos.

The olive cast creates an oppressive mood.

Quiet charm.

Two different personalities, at least as far as what you've captured. I like the hodge-podge outfits. The rivets on the wall and the absolute lack of anything organic, except for the children, create such a harsh visual world. The children are a welcome intrusion.

The balance is great--umbrella with that strong bumble-bee wrap around the pole.

Noah's not crying. He's was squinting and not in the best mood. I'm not sure why I posted this pic other than it seemed the opposite of the "say cheese" photos. We traipsed all over the ruins with a pretty informative guide, but the kids weren't all that impressed. They did have fun playing with stray dogs (with strict prohibitions to look, but not touch). The snapped cracked me up, but I guess you had to be there. Iximche was built in about fifty years and consisted of several kings who served simultaneously in abutting clusters. Cortes made and then broke a treaty, ultimately decimating the town. Iximche was the first capital of Guatemala under Spanish rule, but was burned and forgotten. It was the sight of some arbitration during the civil war the last century. There was a Mayan prayer ceremony being conducted on the far end, but photos weren't allowed (or respectful).

Mixed messages. Life as a game. I like it.

I like the sense of substance you captured in her body. The detail on the suit is nicely handled. There is a Schiele quality to your frenetic lines, which add life.

Carlos: Yikes! Nothing like a Russian parable to amp up the anxiety! I still get spontaneous hugs all the time from my kids. That's my honey. Tony: You've shared your history with me before, and I appreciate that you've thought about these issues, too. At home, these issues barely flicker. I'm dad and my kids are my kids. It's the big wide world that gives me angst. I appreciate how thoughtful you have been in your comments whenever I'm mulling over these ideas and trying to make some sense of them. Ruud: My once every other month posting pales in comparison to your steady stream of street theater.

Jack: We are both climber and the mountain we are climbing. Just when I was ready to trot off to bed, I am left with this deep nugget of existentialism to chew on. What dreams may come.... Thanks..... I agree that the struggle against inertia is a huge one. I wish I had your photographic stamina. Tony: I was aware of the matter of color with the lattice suggesting bars. Since was silliness after a birthday party, my original take was of....well....silliness. And then I saw it as a more layered, nuanced shot (accidentally so). The matter of color as identity is a hard one, especially given the nightly news. As you know, we have an interracial family with preteen kids who are struggling to make sense of their place in the world and their connection to their pigment-challenged parents. I say this jokingly, but I can't tell you the absolute terror I feel letting these bright, complicated, and unfathomably wonderful kids I love so dearly venture out into an Instamatic world where color is suspicious and black and white is the first thought that fires.

Thanks....These children's stories are not mine to tell, but their smiles, though genuine, are hard-earned. They are sweet kids...well-loved. Mary Ellen Mark passed away this year. I bought her recent book "Mary Ellen Mark on the Portrait on the Moment," which was a fascinating peek into her approach. I wanted a thumbnail compendium of her pictures, which I know well, but I was really taken with her description of the process. It is inspiring me to be a little braver about taking portraits I'm sure this is not an original thought, but my source memory is a little dim. More and more, I think that all portraits are actually self-portraits. My ugly mug with my now beat-up Canon always seems to show up reflected in my subject's eyes. Like the kids here, I am cautiously happy, I am striving to climb higher, and most days, I'm hanging on for dear life.

Michael has already done a more thorough and thoughtful analysis than I could produce. I agree that the shot carries not only a lot of visual interest, but some emotional tugs as well. A deep shot that conveys a lot of joie de vivre.

Funny, I was going to make up an Indian-sounding name for the river, but didn't because I thought this must be England and my inventiveness would fall flat. As you know, I spent five years in Oklahoma, so that's where my mind went when I saw this pic even knowing nothing about the location.