Monthly Archives: June 2014

Mostly True Stories, People, Places

Faces of Brazil

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I’m usually shooting video on assignment. Too often, stills are second priority and I never have enough time. However, when I go out in the streets, I have this compelling desire to capture the essence of the street–documentary style–a story in every frame–a thousand stories in a single image. I don’t consider it stealing, although, I try to take the spirit of a place with me.  I try to be invisible so that I and my camera don’t interrupt the realness of the moment. I rarely succeed. At least, that’s how it feels. Sometimes I get lucky and freeze the moment I was seeing in my mind.  People are my favorite and hardest to shoot. I love to capture the stories that are written in the lines of faces and hands, or, deeply etched on the soul through the eyes–stories I can only invent–stories you will see differently. Perhaps our own stories are written by the ways and means with which we see the world.

Brazil is exciting, vibrant, constantly moving. The scenery is diverse and beautiful. So, too, are the people.

Elbow grease, or just paint, Sao Paulo, Brazil.
Relaxin’ at the Sao Paulo Opera House.
Could be their next album cover–On the steps of the Grand Theater, Sao Paulo, Brazil.
So, so weary. Homeless in Sao Paulo, Brazil.
Officially watching traffic in Sao Paulo, Brazil.
This man waits for the bus in Curitiba, Brazil.
Speed and motion in Curitiba, Brazil.
There are many ways to stretch in Curitiba, Brazil.
Product placement? Or just an ad for Adidas?
A mother and daughter aren’t pleased in Olinda, Brazil.
Waiting, just waiting on the street in Olinda, Brazil.
Windows without glass, Olinda, Brazil.
Sao Paulo Brazil has a colorful mix of ethnicities.
Sittin’ on the dock of the bay…Recife, Brazil.
Brazilian boys wait for the right moment to jump in to the Beberibe River, in Recife, Brazil.
A family takes a boat ride on the Beberibe river in Recife. Brazil.
Rowing and relaxing on the Capibaribe river, Recife.
The King still lives on the streets of São Paulo.
Music is not just a part of life in Brazil, it is life.
These street singers make up the lyrics to the songs they sing, as they sing them.
Musicians advance the rich heritage of Brazilian music on the streets of Recife.
Colorful murals are a part of the landscape in Brazil.
This indigenous street vendor is happy to make a sale in Olinda, Brazil.
A Brazilian family out for a stroll.
Mostly True Stories, Places

Recife Brazil, Beautifully Dangerous

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“Don’t go in the water,” my friend said.

“Why not. It’s so beautiful.”

“Sharks.”

“Sharks?”

SHARKS!

Yet, as I looked around, people were happily and ignorantly swimming in the warm inviting water. Worth the risk? I don’t think so. I didn’t need to speak Portuguese to understand the signs.

The beaches in and around Recife are some of the most dangerous in the world. People regularly ignore the colorful warning signs, especially when intoxicated, and risk life and limb, literally, by going in the water. Shark attacks are a common occurrence.

I had the privilege to spend a few days in Recife, prior to World Cup. I enjoyed tremendously the beauty of the city, and, the beaches. There were no shark attacks while I was there. However, twelve people were killed in riots during a police strike in the city. So, I guess you take risks there, in, or out of the water.

Even though the beaches in Brazil are beautiful, they are extremely dangerous.
Watch out for sharks and don’t go in the water in Brazil.
Beautiful beaches can be found in many Brazilian coastal cities, including Recife.
Beautiful beaches can be found in many Brazilian coastal cities, including Recife.
Olinda, Brazil, by the sea.
Brazilian Palm trees.
Brazilian Palm trees.
Beautiful beaches can be found in many Brazilian coastal cities, including Recife.
Mostly True Stories, People, Places

Strikes in Brazil

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Fish for lunchWorld cup was still a few weeks away. We were eating lunch in a little cafe in Recife. The food was delicious. My new Brazilian friends were delightful. The lights in the restaurant went out and the cafe owner approached our table. He spoke rapidly and seemed agitated. I don’t speak Portuguese, but my friends look concerned.  I looked around and noticed that the cafe was empty. It wasn’t, just a moment before.

São Paulo PolicePolice Strike.

Gangs were coming. People were rioting. The situation was dangerous. The cafe was closing and we needed to leave.

São Paulo public transportationA few days later, in São Paulo, our taxi driver told us the bus drivers were on strike. We were so close to the hotel, just one block left to go. Traffic stopped.

Let’s walk, I said.

Too dangerous. With your equipment, the taxi is the best option.  Cars stopped. Buses blocked roads. It took us  an hour to go one block. The city was in turmoil.

São Paulo PoliceThe next morning, another strike. The Police, again, in eleven Brazilian states. We may not be able to get the shots we were looking for. Crowds. Riots. Craziness.
Street MusicianStreet performers playing cool jazz. Just another crazy day in Brazil.

I stood on the roof of an old hi-rise building,in downtown São Paulo,  taking pictures and shooting B-roll video of the city. Police Strike, Sâo PauloBelow me I could see Police–all of them. On Strike. When I took their pictures, they were friendly and seemed rather pleased. They had nothing else to do, World Cup was still a few weeks away.Sã Paulo Police

Street Musicians

Mostly True Stories, Places

Goblin Valley

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Not long ago, a group of scouts ignored the prime directive and damaged one of the non-carbon based life forms. The results went viral. We were investigating. Goblin Valley.

M class. The air was still. Breathable. Quiet. The terrain was foreign. Alien. Forbidding. Frozen figures watched, waited. Goblins.

Would they come to life? Would they reap havoc in the night? Best to visit in the light.

I can not say if a captured image contains a portion of the subject’s soul. The rocks must answer the query when sentience returns. Or perhaps sentience remains and only mobility has been taken. I could not tell. The figures were staring, watching. The hairs on the back of my neck stood. Chills. I was moving too fast. I perceived that age had slowed their movement, but not their purpose. Perhaps if I was careful, reverent, I could take with me their spirit and they would not bear witness of my own destructiveness. For, it would seem, that with more visibility, their demise is assured.

Three Goblins stand watch at the entrance to Goblin Valley, Utah.
Goblin Valley, Utah.
Goblin Valley, Utah.
Goblin Valley, Utah.
Goblin Valley, Utah.
Goblin Valley sentinels.
Goblin Valley.
Goblin Valley.
Goblin Valley.
Goblin Valley.
Goblin Valley.
Goblin Valley.
Goblin Valley.
Goblin Valley.
Goblin Valley.
Goblin Valley.
Goblin Valley.
Goblin Valley.
Goblin Valley.
Patterns in the sandstone.