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Mostly True Stories, Places

Maine Media Workshop

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First of all, this is not an advertisement; however…

A week ago, I spent a week in Rockport, Maine, attending the Maine Media Workshop. Maine Media has a number of workshops, most of which I would love to attend. In fact, I met several people who were spending their entire summer attending many, if not all the courses. I can understand why. Rockport is beautiful. The Maine Media workshop is exciting. The subject matter is engaging. And, most importantly, the people you meet are inspiring.

I was attending the Director’s Craft workshop, under the tutelage of Alan Myerson (look him up on IMDB, or, google him). I wanted to brush up on my directorial skills after spending the last few years exclusively working on documentaries. Alan was wonderful to work with. Under his direction, we spent the week working with some amazing actors. Alan took us through the process of auditioning, rehearsing, blocking/staging scenes and finally, shooting a scene. There were nine of us in the workshop. We had plenty of individual attention. We were able to explore our vision with the actors, and help the actors reach a level of performance that was awe inspiring. Alan was perceptive and insightful in helping us expand our directorial skill set. He was kind as he shepherded nine aspiring directors with widely varying skills and experience. And, he was responsible for bringing some amazingly talented actors.

Third Floor Sunset
The summer days are long. The sunsets are beautifully impressionistic.

Our days in the workshop were long, exhausting and invigorating. Each morning and each evening, I had a ten minute walk from my hotel to the campus, through a forest and past New England homes and farmhouses. One evening, long after dark, I stopped to consider the day. As I looked through the darkness enveloping a meadow, I saw hundreds, maybe even ten-thousand fireflies. Completely magical. Owl city must have been there before me. The next morning on my way back to campus, I stopped again, to consider the wild flowers where the fire flies had been.

Wildflowers
In a meadow near campus, wildflowers flourish.

On our last night of the workshop, Maine Media put on an all-you-can-eat lobster feed. There really isn’t anything quite like Maine lobster. After dinner, we watched a show of the weeks production work and then went out with our workshop group for a wrap party. I don’t think any of us were anxious to go back to the real world. However, we all knew that we could go back to our real lives and carry with us the gift of renewal and inspiration our week of hard work had brought.

I came to Maine with a hope to increase my skill set. I gained a wealth of new friends. I left Maine inspired by possibilities.

On my last day there, I turned on my still camera.

I don’t think I have ever seen such vibrant green as in Maine.
All you can eat lobster feed on the last night of our workshop.
70 Camden Street, Rockport, ME 04856
Spider webs are an indication that this hydrant doesn’t get a lot of use. It rains a lot in Maine.
Not sure what it says, but I like it.
In a meadow near campus, wildflowers flourish.
Although they say that if you don’t like the weather in New England, wait a minute. Fortunately, I liked the weather.
Time for a new coat?
I hope the roof doesn’t leak.
Even with more information I still couldn’t figure it out.
The summer days are long. The sunsets are beautifully impressionistic.
Not sure what it does, but it looks kind of cool.
The setting sun creates interesting shapes and lines on the third floor staff residence building.
The weather in New England is harsh. Anything with or without paint is weathered.
In the summer, the weather is inviting. In the winter, wood burning stoves are essential. I’ve never been so cold in my life as the winter I spent in Maine.
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, 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.

 

Mostly True Stories, People, Places, Things

Real Mongolian Barbecue

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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.
Mostly True Stories, People, Places

Venezuela–Before the World Collapsed

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More than 40 people have died in the recent protests in Venezuela. The Government has jailed many more. Tensions are high. Inflation is rampant. Food shortages are common. Yet, just a few months ago, it would have been hard to recognize the growing seeds of discontent.

I spent an hour at a park in Caracas last August. I met a some wonderful people and made some great friends. When I pulled out my camera, a Venezuelan Military Policeman made my acquaintance immediately. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I’d heard rumors and had been warned about taking pictures or shooting video. However, when I told him what I was doing, he warmed right up and asked me to take his picture. As we talked, I could feel an underlying tension. Yet, I would not have guessed that just a few months later, the clash of discontent would echo so loudly or so painfully.

I can only hope that the warmth of an August morning may return to dispel the awful strife of violent disagreement and return a measure of peace to a beautiful and interesting land.

Politics are pervasive in this Caracas town square.
The military perform police duties. When he saw my camera, he wanted to know what I was doing. When I asked to take his picture he we became friends.
He’s in big trouble…
I know how he feels.
This pint size photographer takes some pretty good pics.
Waiting for the bus is a good place to meet friends on ladies day.
These four boys represent the light, life and diversity of Venezuela.
You can feel the sincerity. Just so you know, they were trying to scam me 🙂
The sincere approach wasn’t working, so they tried another.
These boys were definitely cooking up something.
Bright and stylish colors help this boy to stand out.
Crossword puzzles, sudoku and cell phones, just another afternoon in the park.
Watching at the park.
The park in Caracas is a good place to begin any journey.
Mother and daughter enjoy a moment in the park.
For a little birdseed, these pigeons will be your friend forever.
The newspaper’s a lot more exciting when you’re older.
The sweetest spot in town.
Everyday she climbs these steps to her home.
Mostly True Stories, Places, Things

You can buy it in Hong Kong, 24/7

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I was working in my suit and tie. Not uncommon in my current assignment. Our light panel case had some particularly powerful velcro holding it together. When I bent down to get the LED lights out of the case, the velcro grabbed my tie. Destroyed. I went through three ties that day. I needed a new tie, like, NOW. My AroundMe app told me I could buy a new tie .57 miles from my current location. I took off walking. I never made it to the store AroundMe suggested. I found a tie shop within a quarter mile. In Hong Kong, much like L.A. or New York, you can buy just about anything, at just about anytime. The city never slept, at least, while I was awake, which was most of the time.

My last post from Hong Kong is dedicated to Commerce.  Fortunately for me, I now have several new ties.

If you know where to look, you can buy just about anything. You just have to carry it home because there is not room for cars on this street.
Happy really big Chinese New Year from H & M.
HIGH end product placement, Hong Kong style.
Real, or knockoffs. You can buy them both in Hong Kong.
Fashion doesn’t get any higher than in the high rise Hong Kong malls.
In one of the electronics capitals of the world, Canon and Nikon battle for supremacy. I took this photo with the 5D mkiii.
If you’re in Hong Kong, you should definitely try the dumplings. They’re Pro.
You can see the meat, hanging out in the open on almost every street corner. You can smell the meat, everywhere else.
You can smell them before you can see them. This sign was perfect, the fish were definitely not fresh.
While waiting for customers, a shopkeeper checks her device.
You can trust him. He knows what all that stuff is.
I don’t know what it is, but it better be good, because it’s not cheap (unless you know the exchange rate:).
Not sure what it is, but they said it was good in soup.
If they started moving, I’d think I was on Kronos (Qo’noS).
These are not mushrooms. They put them in soup. When you see them in your soup, don’t ask, it’s better not to know.
In Hong Kong, even the grains are color coordinated.
Perhaps she needs some new customers, or just some customers.
Negotiating is a fine art at the street market’s in Hong Kong.
I’ve been to some parts of the world where they didn’t have them; however, it is, I must admit, one of my goals to eat at McDonald’s in every country in the world that does.
Delivered hot and ready just about anywhere in Hong Kong.
Every neighborhood street corner has them. I just want to know if they have free slurpees on July 11.
They sell by the meter, and, the price is right.
To live, work, eat and sleep in small spaces.
Two brands control most of the vices throughout the world.
Hong Kong moves 24/7. Some of the best deals are available at the night market.
Mostly True Stories, Places

Hong Kong Streets

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We were walking on a busy Hong Kong street. The road was narrow. Cars were zipping past. People were jostling by, lots of them. At the crosswalk, people were waiting, restrained by the glowing red character, which, although I didn’t know the precise meaning, clearly meant, ‘don’t walk’. The light changed. GREEN. GO. The gates opened. The dam broke. The race began. People rushed across the busy street as if their lives depended on it. As if, to finish last in this race would embarrass their team, let down their nation, disappoint their parents, end their lives. Literally.

The clock was ticking. Seconds remained.

I stepped into the street. A hand seized my arm, held my shoulder.

“WAIT.” My friend, a Hong Kong native, pulled me back onto the sidewalk. “Not enough time,” he said.

We could make it, I thought.

Voooommm. A Black BMW M6 roared past, inches from where my toes had just been.

“THERE’S STILL TIME ON THE CLOCK,” I shouted, thinking that made a difference.

“In Hong Kong, the cars do not stop,” my friend said.  “You must pay attention.”

We turned down a narrow side street. Cars were not allowed. People bustled, shoulder to shoulder, grocery sack to grocery sack, carving out space amidst the shops, the pungent smells, the noise. The crowd was moving, faster in the middle, slower on the sides where the shouts were loudest.

Dried fish. Wet fish. Hanging meat. Cloth. Shoes. T-shirts. DVDs. Electronics. Hand bags–with designer labels–REALLY.

My friend held my camera so I could shop. I selected a present for my wife. My friend did the negotiating–back and forth.  The shopkeeper spoke in loud, harsh tones. He seemed to be angry. Then, he smiled and bowed. They exchanged money–my money–and I was given a beautiful silk scarf. I had no idea how much it cost. Walking away, I checked my currency conversion ap.

“Great deal, ” I said, stepping off the curb. “My wife will love it.”

My friend grabbed my arm and pulled me back onto the sidewalk.  A car zipped past as I looked up from my iPhone.

“Here,” he said, handing me back my camera. “you should take more pictures.”

If you know where to look, you can buy just about anything. You just have to carry it home because there is not room for cars on this street.
I could understand the characters, but when the cars stopped, the crowds of people crossed the street.
I could see the construction workers, I just couldn’t tell what it was they were shoveling.
It’s not a request.
I’m just glad I didn’t have to drive through Hong Kong.
Construction is ever present on the streets of Hong Kong. I’m just not sure where they wanted us to go here.
I knew there was a thriving film industry in Hong Kong. I just didn’t know we were that close to Hollywood.
Amidst the towering skyscrapers, it’s not easy to find a place to sit.
Advertising posters cover graphite on some of the meaner Hong Kong streets.
You’d be surprised what grows on the streets of Hong Kong.
In Hong Kong they speak Cantonese. Perhaps the gang style graphite demands more mandarins.
Smoking is Asia is pervasive. In Hong Kong the have a place for the butts.
I couldn’t tell if it was a delivery or a pickup. He seemed to have a long way to go.
At any age, there are ways to make money.
Waiting for the bus is a social occasion.
Hong Kong moves 24/7. Some of the best deals are available at the night market.
Mostly True Stories, People, Places, Things

Hong Kong Slice of Life

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When I saw the Reggae Kung Fu poster, I asked my friend, a native of Hong Kong, if Jackie Chan was in town. I meant it as a joke. He didn’t laugh. He took me seriously.

“No. Unfortunately, Jackie Chan is not in town.” He said it as if he knew, at all times, where Jackie Chan actually was. And, he seemed disappointed he could not take me to meet Jackie Chan. He didn’t mention any Reggae artists.

Humor, especially with sarcasm, doesn’t translate well, mine, or his. My friend told me how much he loves Jackie Chan, how much the people of Hong Kong love Jackie Chan. But, he said, the movies made in Hong Kong look different than the movies made in the US.

“What’s the difference,” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “They’re just different.”

He tried to show me some examples. Grittier, dirtier, darker, faster, more martial arts. “American movies make Hong Kong look…cleaner.”

“Show me your Hong Kong.”

He tried to. I think. The sites we filmed and photographed were carefully selected. I spent nearly a week in Hong Kong, this time, and I still don’t think I’ve seen the city, the ‘real’ city. After all, I couldn’t give a one sentence description. Big, tall, vibrant, energizing, fast paced, harried, smelly, busy, clean, dirty… I could use a dictionary and never run out of adjectives to describe Hong Kong. It is all of those things, and more. So, bear with me. I photographed the things I could see. Slice of Life? I hope so…

Only in Hong Kong could you synthesize Reggae music with Kung Fu action. You might even see Jackie Chan.
While waiting for customers, a shopkeeper checks her device.
Three children snack on the way home from school in Hong Kong.
School just let out. Who had a good day? Who had a bad day?
I couldn’t read the posters, but it did seem like a good place to read.
Outside a Hong Kong apothecary, a sign suggests a slippery slope to regularity.
Matching sweats and jackets create some style on the Hong Kong streets
School uniforms are an important part of life for young people in Hong Kong.
This is how the build those massive skyscrapers.
Over crowding is part of life in Hong Kong, especially in the poor sections.
They look a lot nicer on the inside.
Architecture in Hong Kong makes a bold statement.
Living on the water in Hong Kong is a lifestyle choice.
Hong Kong currents carry ideas and leaves to many parts of the world.
Water means life in Hong Kong.
Repulse beach is a popular resort destination throughout Asia.
Water taxis are an economical way to cross the bay and provide an excellent view.
Any open window is an opportunity where space is at a premium.
Innovation is the mother of invention, they say. With so much to do and so little space, innovation is is contagious.
It doesn’t matter what floor you live on, a clothes dryer is a luxury few can afford.
HIGH end product placement, Hong Kong style.
Places, Things

Religious Worship–Hong Kong Style

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There are approximately 600 temples, shrines and monasteries in Hong Kong. Buddhism and Christianity are the most widely practiced religions; however, most world religions are found throughout Hong Kong. I was only able to visit two Buddhist Temples, but the evidence of religious worship is pervasive. The Chinese of Hong Kong are a religious people.

Like many cities throughout the world, those in need pray for alms on busy thorough fares.
Complete with fruit for departed ancestors and burning incense, religion tradition informs daily living for many in Hong Kong.
For the devout, the temple entrance holds the promise of greater wisdom within.
Just outside the temple entrance a lantern, in the traditional style, lights the path to wisdom.
Above the tile roof of a Hong Kong Temple, detailed ceramic artwork tells the story of rich religious tradition.
Love Gods and Goddesses are popular at the Kwun Yan Shrine at Repulse Bay.
Inlaid gold and cultured pearls enhance Godly reverence for temple worshippers.
Burning incense is an important element to worship for traditional Chinese.
Burning candles are part of the religious tradition of many of the world’s religions.
Worshippers can burn incense at many places throughout the shrine of Kwun Yam.
Each mini-shrine, contributes to the religious tradition of the Kwun Yam shrine.
Gold Gods and Money Gods are popular at the Kwun Yam Shrine where visitors line up to rub the God’s belly.
A buddhist Temple Goddess stoically watches patrons drift past.
Crowned Gods stand sentinel as patrons pass their ranks.
A tile turtle provides transportation for a Buddhist God.
Savory smoke ascends to heaven for the devout Buddhist.
Intricate ceramic artwork invoke religious symbolism throughout the temple.
Beautiful Chinese characters adorn the shrine of Kwun Yam.
Ceramic tile are a rich part of the visual appeal of the Kwun Yam Shrine.
Each character tells a story at the Buddhist Temple Shrine of Kwun Yam.
Standing over 10 meters high, Kwun Yam stands guard over the sea at the Buddhist shrine near Repulse Bay.
A shrine for burning incense adorns the porch of many homes and apartments in Hong Kong.
The Buddhist Temple Shrine of Kwun Yam touches the sea at Repulse Bay, Hong Kong.