Tag Archives: photograph

A Bad Monday

Available with many other prints on my Etsy here.

All Dressed Up

This piece, along with many others, is available on my Etsy HERE.

We’ll Lead You Astray…

Photo taken by me in Kung Fu Necktie, Philadelphia.

“We’ll lead you astray,” she said.

He picked up his beer and turned to face her. “Oh really?”

She laughed a bit.

“Hi, I’m Rob.” He reached out his hand.

“Sally,” she said with a smile.

“So, go ahead. Lead and I’ll follow.”

She turned to her friend next to her and whispered something, and she whispered back. He started to lose his confidence. But she was the one who spoke first. She removed her cardigan and started rolling the plaid sleeves of her shirt. He noticed the tip of some cleavage peeking out of the tank she wore underneath. The band started playing which should have ended the conversation, but he persisted.

“So what do you do?”

“I’m a teacher!”

“Teacher by day, hipster by night?”

“I’m not a hipster,” she frowned.

He laughed. “I was kidding.”

He paused, making it awkward.

“Are you here to see Those Darlins, or one of the openers?”

“Darlins!” she yelled. She turned to her friend again.

“I love them, aren’t they great!”

“Yeah!” she yelled back. “Love them…saw them in Jersey a few weeks ago.”

“Nice!” he said with a smile.

The band was especially loud as she yelled something to him and he could not hear.

“Huh?”

She yelled it again and he still couldn’t hear her.

“Reading what?” he yelled to her.

She pointed at something over his shoulder, and he turned to see a lit up sign that said “We’ll Lead You Astray”.

Breakfast in Bed

In a half-awake stupor she felt the other side of the bed to find it empty. Alarmed, she jumped up and surveyed the room, realizing he was not in it. His clothing, so thoughtlessly thrown to the ground the night before in a passionate transition from date to bed, was all gone.

She had a moment of startling alarm that she had been abandoned once again and sat up to lean against the headboard and analyze where things went wrong. She let him in her bed too soon. She laughed too much at dinner. Or not enough. Was it her outfit? Her perfume? Too much, too little? That’s when she noticed an odd scent sneaking into the room.
She tiptoed to the bedroom door and opened it a crack to peek into the kitchen, where she heard the sizzling of bacon and then recognized the lovely aroma of breakfast. She heard the toaster pop and closed the door with care.
As she climbed back into bed she rolled around a bit on her fluffy white comforter and smiled. This was a lovely moment she wanted to savor; maybe he was one of the good ones.
She heard the hallway floorboard creak, a warning that he was coming, and slid back into her original sleeping position, closed her eyes and feigned sleep as he opened the door with a tray of food, a breakfast in bed.

Photographs by Nadia Lavard, whose regular blog can be seen here and photo blog here.

The Funereal Photographer

Alice got home from work and pulled out the vintage Polaroid camera she’d discovered at a yard sale fully loaded, an unlikely find. She took out a small cloth and cleaned the lens, then reread the directions posted on the back of the camera itself. She was ready.

She threw on a cardigan in case it got chilly as evening approached and walked to the door to look at the world through the camera. She moved it from one spot to another with a heavy sigh. After a moment she went outside to walk around and find some photo opportunities.

Wandering around her neighborhood was admittedly not the way to find great shots, but none of her friends would pose for her. If she were honest with herself, she would realize that she wasn’t really close to any of them.

The camera was exciting, but the prospect of taking photographs of flowers and trash on the road and trees and cars didn’t really feel like the ultimate use of this rare and almost magical ancient film. She wanted to capture the image of a person. To know the feeling of posing them just right followed by the satisfaction of hearing the click of the shutter.

This was the first time Alice realized that she was alone. No boyfriend. No best friend. A few acquaintances who never called her; she was always the one dialing them, asking them to go out, and then hitting end after they declined.

She walked down the empty street, dragging her hand along a chain link fence, and looked from house to house, car to car, nobody to be found. She headed for the playground in the hopes that some parent would be there pushing their child on a swing, or teaching them to ride a bike. But when she got there she realized it wasn’t right. She relaxed on a bench and watched some kids play on the nearby jungle gym.

She moved to the swingset and let the Polaroid rest on her lap, her free hand holding the chain, resting her head against the cold metal chain.

Photographs taken by me of model/makeup artist Sarah Maccarelli, whose work can be seen here. She was great to work with and was quite the actress, considering how happy and friendly she was.

Screaming Love From the Rooftop

Photograph by Nadia Lavard, whose photograph blog can be seen here and her regular blog here.

It was time for him to run, and he knew it.

The footsteps of security guards echoed up the stairs that led to the rooftop; the door would burst open any second now. But he had to say it once more.

He cupped his fingerless-gloved hands and yelled it one more time. “I love you Julia Jane Mayer!” He watched as she blew kisses up at him from four stories below accompanied by a huge grin; his heart skipped and he felt a rush of adrenaline. He turned and started running as fast as he could toward the fire escape he’d used to get up there. He could hear her yelling, “Run!” with a laugh and he pumped his legs as fast as he could.

The door was opened with such force that it slammed against the wall and he didn’t even turn to look back as he reached the edge and climbed over the side.

He could see the guards, four of them, all overweight, first look in the direction he’d come from, then one pointed. “There!”

“Hey, you!” screamed another.

He smiled, waved and slid down the ladder out of sight.

The Garden Party, 1943

The men all sat to one side, dressed much more casual than their female counterparts, avoiding the talk of new clothing lines and the coupon section of the newspaper.

None of them knew each other, but this was to their liking more than taking part in a garden party. They talked of manly topics such as the new Ford, baseball and work. One of them, a car salesman, tried to convince them they all needed the ’44 that was coming in next week. Another, a soldier on leave, spoke of the war and regaled them with bloody stories full of bullets and bombs and explosions.

They watched from afar as their lady folk drank tea from fancy little cups and ate tiny desserts squeezed between their fingers.

Both sides checked on each other here and there. A husband nodded to his wife from across the ornate garden. A wife smiled and raised a teacup to her husband or pointed out a fancy statue of a cherub. One young woman had a camera and shot a photograph of her husband, the soldier.

It was like a school dance, but they were adults, at a garden party.

Typing on the back of the original photograph.

What War Does

This original and many others are now for sale on my Etsy.

Out of State Love

The original prints of Out of State Love and many others are for sale now on my Etsy. Please check it out and share it with friends!

The Ferry Ride

This print is available at my Etsy HERE.