Tag Archives: photography

The Hipsters Are Gonna Be Pissed

“Did you notice everyone is trying to seem sort of kitsch, retro and hipster these days?” he asked her.

She looked up from her computer. “Kind of. What do you mean?”

“I was looking through Vogue the other day-“

“What were you doing looking at Vogue?”

He blushed a bit. “Huh?”

“Vogue?” she pushed. She just had to know what would possess her boyfriend to pick up the magazine clearly for women.

“Oh, yeah. Marion Cotillard was on the cover.”

“Who?”

“French actress? A Very Long Engagement? Big Fish? Love Me if You Dare? You know her.”

“Oh right…her. Okay so? Hipsters in popular magazines, I believe you were saying?”

“Um…yeah. Sorry, got me off track. The photos of her all look vintage, like the photos you take.”

“Really?”

“Yup.  They’re all taken in antique-looking places. Very similar to what Urban does in their catalog. Clothing looks vintage.”

“I doubt it is.”

“I know, but still. And there’s even one with her holding an old Polaroid camera, like the ones you display in your workroom.”

“Really? I have to see this.”

“Yeah. And she’s standing in front of a bookshelf of really old books.”

“Interesting.”

“So I started picking up more mainstream mags, just looking through at the photos, and they’re the same.”

“Interesting.”

He paused to look up at her.

“You don’t find this a bit odd?”

“Not really. Mainstream always copies the obscure, the new, the hip. They don’t call them hipsters for no reason! It’s just that now mainstream has finally caught on.”

“Well, the hipsters are gonna be pissed.”

“Yes, yes they are.”

Inseparable

I created this with filmstrips I got at a yard sale, I’m guessing from somewhere in the mid to late sixties and early seventies. I came up with the story and edited it into the filmstrip. I did not edit the film from its original shots in any way. It may take a moment to load, or if it doesn’t work for you, click HERE.

Reading “A Coney Island of the Mind”

Created with an old 1958 copy of A Coney Island of the Mind, my own mind and my typewriter.

The Reluctant Model

Created with a found photo and a typewriter. Take from it what you will.

Now for sale HERE along with more of my work.

In Public

“This hill is nice.”

“Told you,” he said, taking a sip of his iced tea.

“You were right. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Mhmm.”

“I’d say it’s perfect, considering what we came here to do.”

“Yes. Secluded.”

“Naturey.”

“Romantic.”

“We don’t need it to be romantic for this.”

“We don’t need it to be- naturey, did you say?”

“Mhmm,” she said with a smile.
“Okay, then, should we do it?”

She smiled with a certain curtness that only she could muster.

He handed her purse over, and she began rummaging through it.

“I can’t find them.”

“I put them in there, I know I did.”

“You sure?”

“Would I ever, ever forget something like that?”

“You’re right…probably not.”

“Look harder. Hurry!”

She flipped it and dumped everything out, and they both rummaged through the contents.

“Here they are!” he said with a certain amount of triumph in his voice.

She took one and opened it, and he did the same.

“I love playing with bubbles,” she said with a smile and a wink.

The Final Sunset

The government, scientists, specialists, news programs, everyone agreed the time had come. The end was here.

Many people prepared, stocking everything they could get in their basements: batteries, flash lights, canned goods, generators, but a select few knew it was only a matter of time. Without the sun, plants would stop growing, and slowly all life would discontinue.

Those few decided to honor their light giver, the life essence of their world, one last time. In this small town, a collection of people, rather than uselessly bunkering down in a basement, wanted to say goodbye to someone they never thought would abandon them, someone they took for granted, the one who gave them life every day up until this point without ever asking anything in return. Many forgot all about the importance of it, or simply complained when the weather was too hot or they forgot their sunglasses. So few really relished in how much it did for every living being on the planet.

And now it would abandon them.

Today the sun would set for the last time on their world.

And so they gathered to worship their long-time friend, or say goodbye, or mourn its death. They met at the old soccer field and sat in the bleachers as if watching a match, but this time nobody would cheer. The sun slowly reached the horizon, and the colors were more beautiful than any spectator had ever witnessed. A cloud cluster came in from the East, but it would not ruin the absolute perfection of the very last sunset in the history of man.

The sun touched the horizon, and crawled beyond their sight, a few oo’s and ah’s rang up from the crowd as if they were witnessing fireworks. People hugged, they held hands or comforted each other in their own way. The last orange sliver peeked for one more moment, and then was gone forever.

Photograph by the amazingly talented Manon De Sutter. Click here for more of her work.

A Rainy Reunion

The two friends sat on his stoop watching rain fall a few feet ahead of them but not yet breaking through the leaves above. It hadn’t been raining when she arrived, but just started once they’d sat.

“It’s raining.”

“Yup,” he responded.

She looked up at the tree and smiled.

“This is nice, sitting in the rain without getting wet.”

He nodded and continued to enjoy the patter.

“I missed you.”

“Me too,” he said with a smile.

“So what do you want to do today?”

“We’re doing it,” he said.

A Lonely Birthday

This print and many others are now available on my Etsy!

The Annual Dare

The Annual Dare

Created with a found photograph from the 1940s, my imagination and my typewriter.

Five More Minutes

The beeping of her alarm woke me up, but I didn’t mind.

“Hey,” she said, all sleepy-eyed.

“Morning,” I replied.

She turned away onto her side, an obvious hint she wanted to be spooned, and I followed suit.

“This is nice.”

She turned and smiled at my comment. Once she returned to being the little spoon I kissed her neck.

“I wish I didn’t have to go to work.,” I heard her whisper. “I could do this all day.”

“Same.”

She escaped my arms and rolled onto her back so I kissed her.

“At least you have off today. Lucky.”

I smiled. She’s always been jealous of my day off.

“You better get up. You’ll be late.”

She turned away again, signaling for more spooning. I scooched up against her and squeezed her in my arms.

She reached for the fluffy white comforter and pulled it over our heads.

“Five more minutes.”