Here is the 5th sunset in my week of Brazilian Sunset photos. Perhaps the team can find the strength they need before the sun sets 🙂
Tag Archives: Photo
Brazilian Sunset 4
Continuing the seven day sunset series, here’s the next installment, another dose of Brazilian beauty.
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Brazilian Sunset 3
By this point, you might be wondering why I’m not in Brazil. For that matter you might be asking yourself why you’re not in Brazil. I can’t answer that question for you, except to say that if you have to see a spectacular sunset, Brazil is a great place to do so.
Brazilian Sunset 3–enjoy.
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Brazilian Sunset 2
By now, Brazil will have played Germany, the outcome is certain, just as the sun rises and sets, everyday. Enjoy the game.
Here is my second Brazilian sunset out of seven.
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Brazilian Sunset 1
I’m out of town this week attending a Director’s Seminar at the Maine Media Workshop, so, I thought I would try scheduling a daily post from my recent Brazil trip. Regardless of the outcome in the World Cup, the sun will set on Brazil. And, when it does, it will be beautiful. Here’s the first of a 7 day, daily sunset post from Brazil.
Comments are welcome. Feedback encouraged.
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Faces of Brazil
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 SĂŁo 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.
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Recife Brazil, Beautifully Dangerous
“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.
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Strikes in Brazil
World 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. Â I looked around and noticed that the cafe was empty. It wasn’t, just a moment before.
Police Strike.
Gangs were coming. People were rioting. The situation was dangerous. The cafe was closing and we needed to leave.
A few days later, in SĂŁo 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.
The 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 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. 
Below 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.
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Goblin Valley
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.
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Real Mongolian Barbecue
There are no fast food restaurants in Ulan Batar.
Our driver, a native Mongolian, took us to what he said was the original Mongolian Barbecue. I looked at the menu, most of which I didn’t understand. Some of the dishes had English translations next to the Mongolian. My choices, among many others:
Rendeers wigwam
Baked Sheep Head
Ox Tongue
Fried Ox Tongue
Horse Meat Assortments
Fried Liver
Mongolian Khuushuur stuffed with mutton
We ordered an assortment of dishes to share. When they brought the baked sheep head, our Mongolian friend looked rather anxious. He waited for me to go first. I wasn’t sure I was hungry anymore. The sheep was sitting in the serving tray staring at me–literally.
“Do you want the eyes?” He asked. “Or the brain?”
“No thanks. It’s all yours.”
With gratitude and zeal, our friend speared the eyeballs from the sheep. Then, he lifted the skull from the sheep’s head and scooped out the brains.
I went for the Khuushuur. It seemed safest.
As we ate, and shared stories, I began to forget our differences. I began to relax and enjoy a culture I knew so very little about. I began to appreciate the food which had a very different, yet pleasing taste–that is–until I looked–again–at the eyeless sheep staring back at me.
The real thing, staring up at me.
Mongolia is known as the Land of Blue Skies; however, with an average annual temperature 27˚ƒ, the skies are frequently much more ominous in Ulan Batar, the world’s coldest capital city.
With a population of over one-million, Ulan Batar, or UlaanBataar, is the largest city and capital of Mongolia.
Where cars are rare and fuel is expensive, walking is the predominant means of transportation.
No longer nomadic, many Mongolians still prefer the comfort of the yurt, along with alternative housing.
Outside of the main city of Ulan Batar, running water and sanitation facilities don’t exist. Outhouses are bathrooms for many Mongolians.
Clean water and sanitation are key tenants of modern life. For many Mongolians, it requires constant daily effort to haul water for critical needs.
In spite of the abundance of garbage and lack of sanitation, this little stream is the primary water source for a large community outside of Ulan Batar.
Two boys play soccer near the family yurt, just outside of Ulan Batar.
Without baskets, and old basketball makes for a pretty good soccer ball.
On the steppes outside of Ulan Batar, boys love to play ball.
Each spring many Mongolia yurt dwellers pack up their home and move to greener pastures. Apparently, it helps to take the bus.
Even on a sunny day, cuddling for warmth is a good idea in Mongolia.
Still dressed in her traditional costume, this Mongolian grandmother protects her little grand daughter outside the family yurt.
Life isn’t easy when you’re small, in Mongolia.
The Lines and wrinkles hint at struggles and adversity; yet, the smile reveals her love for life in Mongolia.
The ceiling in the average yurt is just over 6 feet high. With a hole in the center to vent the wood burning stove, and a thick canvas flap which can be pulled back to let in the sun, the yurt is surprisingly comfortable.
No running water; but a generator for electricity supplies the power for entertainment.
The bucket with spigot above the wash basin is the water supply for hand washing and showering.
This sweet woman was baking bread in her wood stove when we arrived. It was delicious.
A wood burning stove for heating and cooking dominates the circular yurt one-room living room, dining room, bedroom, playroom.
Gathering wood for the stove occupies time during the warm months, in preparation for the minus 40 degree fahrenheit winter temperatures outside the yurt during winter.
Thick carpets and warm blankets make for ideal napping conditions when you’re small.
It’s a big wide world outside the yurt near Ulan Bataar.
Rickety makeshift fences separate squatter’s lands while dirt roads between yurts also double as trash dumps.
In the city, you can find great bargains on beautiful products. I purchased a beautiful cashmere scarf for my wife.
They're Calling To Me 