Being There

Last coherent conversation with my Father

I never lived in this apartment, apart from one month in 2015 where I came back to Ireland with the intention of trying to get to know him again and to remind myself of who he was and where I came from.

Last coherent conversation with my Father

Dublin, My father had fallen about 6 months previously and damaged some bones. He was checked on by a friend who determined quite rightly, that he was in trouble. Between my Sister and my oldest brother, John, and their friends that were still living in Ireland, helped get him situated in a new place.
In the meantime, he had been hospitalized and then sent to ‘Our Lady’s Manor’ which is a care home administered by an order of nuns. This is literally moments after I saw him for the first time in 3 years. I was gutted when I saw him, so physically diminished, yet bright and coherent despite the crumbling infrastructure.

Last coherent conversation with my Father

Dublin,. My oldest brother, John, dealing with immediate arrangements for Dad, a Taxi, and his job back in the UK.

Last coherent conversation with my Father

Waiting by the elevator at Our lady’s Manor care home. My thoughts during this time were to apply the same psychology through my camera that would help determine the best images to get in the moment. As I was looking at my father, I could see his demeanour, indicating that he wasn’t really sure about what was going on in that moment. The following image carries on this psychology and is manifested on my brother, as he amply reflects my own thoughts in that moment.

Last coherent conversation with my Father

Waiting by the elevator at Our lady’s Manor care home. My thoughts during this time were to apply the same psychology through my camera that would help determine the best images to get in the moment. As I was looking at my father, my brother, John, came to my focus attention. This is hard for all of us.

Last coherent conversation with my Father

Dublin,. In the tiny elevator at Our lady’s Manor care home.
It became clear that it was very difficult for me to figure out which emotion was calling me the most. I made the picture to solidify the moment.

Last coherent conversation with my Father

I remember my dad talking about a film that he said was profound; “Being There” with Peter Sellers. The sentiment of this film is reflected in these images.

Last coherent conversation with my Father

Dublin,. This is my brother, John, saying goodbye for now to our dad. Me giving him that hug, would look just the same as this, and it would be the following day. The last time I would talk with him.

Last coherent conversation with my Father

Dublin,. A view, one that I’d seen many times before, but from another point.
My father spilt most of his life into this area, everyone knew him, he was a hand, act or part in this area for 88 years.

Last coherent conversation with my Father

I remember my dad talking about a film that he said was profound; “Being There” with Peter Sellers. The sentiment of this film is reflected in these images.

Last coherent conversation with my Father

I have vague memories of being a child holding his big warm hand, and he would turn back to me like this, and say something.

Last coherent conversation with my Father

Dublin,. I literally got off the plane got in a taxi and came straight out to see him at the Manor. The trip back to my friend’s house where I was staying, was a real-time tableaux of images from the window of the train, segments of my past life in Ireland, chunks of memory, good and bad times, little vignettes of thought and memory synchronized and dispatched with the rhythm of the tracks.

Last coherent conversation with my Father

Dublin,. A view, one that I’d seen many times before, but from another point.
My father spilt most of his life into this area, everyone knew him, he was a hand, act or part in this area for 88 years.

Last coherent conversation with my Father

Dublin,. A view, one that I’d seen many times before, but from another point.
My father spilt most of his life into this area, everyone knew him, he was a hand, act or part in this area for 88 years.

Last coherent conversation with my Father

I remember once my dad talking about a film that he said was profound; “Being There” with Peter Sellers. The sentiment of this film is reflected in these images.

Last coherent conversation with my Father

The last look.
I had a deadline, my part in a charade. I got one day with my father.
The window frame tells me that I have no control, I include it in the frame, to convey a sense of constraint. Other things going on outside the window, are reinforcements on this concept.

On street photography and behavior.

I also live and shoot in Seattle and have done for 12 years. Seattle is possibly one of the most photographer friendly cities outside of NYC. It is also one of the best places I’ve worked for the most incredible light which lasts for 5 months of the year, and is peaking July to October.

Seattleites are pretty reserved and have become used to photographers, when I first started here there was about 3 or 4 regular downtown street photographers and two more who were both mail delivery people. By about 2010 there was about 15 regulars and now I don’t know.

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My behavior on the street is that I walk to my spots with my gear on full view, and I’ll typically scan the scene for a few minutes and then as things appear I will shoot. I’ve recently been doing a lot more video work which involves a tripod and two lenses. I’ve had 2 people this summer stop and ask what I’m doing.

I basically go into a scene with an intent and respectful command, and I will just start working like there was nobody there at all. I’m an exceptionally shy person who has to bring up my reserves of confidence to actually do this at all, and it is even harder when someone stops to ask, but I can do that now and I do it very well. I made my introductions with beat cops, and explained what Im doing by making a half page flyer and handing it out after an introduction, along with my ID. Now they know that I’m there doing my thing, and if I ever get grief from anyone they already have a little background on me upfront.

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Very very rarely will someone get huffy about having their picture taken (and usually people get upset if they think they have been singled out) and if so Ill stop, if Im wearing sunglasses, Ill take them off make eye contact and offer to shake their hand and explain that Im an artist and invite them to see what I’m doing. I’ll offer them a business card, a nice high quality card that says, yes I’m serious about this work.

I believe that if I’m going to ‘use’ people as my characters models whatever, then they have a right to know what I’m doing and invite them to be involved with viewing the work. I offer them cards most take them and I very very rarely hear from anyone afterwards, however, I do make a big deal about them going to the sites and looking at the work, to educate them on my ‘vision’ and what I’m trying to achieve.

8186d-13129286_1678364745757239_1961994206_nBasically if you treat everyone that you are shooting, like they are gods, and that you wouldnt, or couldnt, be there, to do what you do, if it wasn’t for them, and you tell them that, then they will have a radically different attitude towards you next time. And it gets passed on to their friends also.
I always give my name first, if there’s a particularly warm vibe at the end of a conversation then you ask their name and offer to shake hands, and the next time they see you, you will get a nice smile or an amazing photograph.

A man climbed up to the top of the city center ornamental Sequoia, flanked by a small army of medics, police and fire services, some streets were blocked off for the 25 hour period.

A man climbed up to the top of the city center ornamental Sequoia, flanked by a small army of medics, police and fire services, some streets were blocked off for the 25 hour period.

 

At the end of the day nobody wants to feel as though they are being abused or exploited, and ultimately we as street photographers are exploiting them because they are there. But our job is to be emissaries and educators for our art.

Inner Strength On the Streets.

I love and respect all of the people I photograph on the streets. I see you, and I see you in the fragmented moments when you are off guard, unaware, and existing in the space between consciousness and biology.
To my heroes, my street loves; my respect, always.

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I simply cannot get over how robust and powerful this man is. So young and so beaten by life. He lost his leg, something to do with rotting bone from an infected wound.

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A man climbed up to the top of the city center ornamental Sequoia, flanked by a small army of medics, police and fire services, some streets were blocked off for the 25 hour period.

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Ive seen this gentleman, on a daily basis since I have been living here, 12 years. I have watched him slow down and degenerate from a feisty outspoken veteran in full military fatigues, to a feisty challenger of old age. He is the personification of defiance. I dont know him, but I love him for his strength.

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I love the parallel of primal mothering in a modern civic environment.

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She came up to me on the street and showed me the pictures she had taken with her phone. Quite astounding actually. A real sense of aesthetic, indicating a book far larger then its cover conveys.

Observations from a Small City on the Edge of a Crumbling Tectonic Economy..

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I’ve lived in Seattle since November 25th 2004, and in that time I have seen some slow changes, lost touch with a lot of people who moved on, disappeared left town etc. It’s really not until 2013 that the physical changes happened in the city that I could start to think I was living in a dynamic place.

I’ve lived in Seattle since November 25th 2004, and in that time I have seen some slow changes, lost touch with a lot of people who moved on, disappeared left town etc. It’s really not until 2013 that the physical changes happened in the city that I could start to think I was living in a dynamic place.

I came to the US with an expectations of grandeur.

I was really surprised when I got to New York, Boston, Chicago, Detroit and DC and was hit in the face with the fact that these were aging cities, and the sense that the people living there, really didn’t have much actual control or say over anything that went on, because democracy got in the way. Id assumed the US was bright shiny and new.
As a European, I had always grown up with places that were maintained and there was a real sense of local pride and everyone was involved in it.

Over the years and traveling around, I’ve seen enough of it to tell me that this country is definitely a continent in decline. A place strangled by conservative values, and disregard for everything except money.

The US is definitely not a place I want to grow old in, and yet, I don’t know where else there is now that hasn’t adopted the same capitalistic values, and with that the utterly destructive nature of that which is held in high regard: individualism.

 

 

I just watched an amazing scene in a movie

and then I wrote an email to a friend of mine.

Here are some pictures.

Afellow traveler in Varanasi. Her journey was similar to mine. Self reparation.

A fellow traveler in Varanasi. Her journey was similar to mine. Self reparation.

Afellow traveler in Varanasi. Her journey was similar to mine. Self reparation.

A fellow traveler in Varanasi. Her journey was similar to mine. Self reparation.

Afellow traveler in Varanasi. Her journey was similar to mine. Self reparation.

A fellow traveler in Varanasi. Her journey was similar to mine. Self reparation.

Afellow traveler in Varanasi. Her journey was similar to mine. Self reparation.

A fellow traveler in Varanasi. Her journey was similar to mine. Self reparation.

From the Archives..

I once had the bright idea of taking pictures of newspapers, periodically while on my travels.
In the US its easy to do this because of these street-side vending machines where the top half of the front page is displayed, and that basically all I need.

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To this day, I find it hard to swallow that the administration of the time were actually lying.

A Small Journey in Pictures.

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stuck behind glass on a shitty day that looks and feels like it never woke up. cant see, cant do, cant anything

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a fast moving car with radio static for a driver, cryptic messages no control no direction. fast nothing.

Seeing Friends like you've never seen them before.

Seeing Friends like you’ve never seen them before.

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through other peoples eyes

 

 

I made a decision

I made a decision

 

Sad Feelings

Sad Feelings

 

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searching for meaning

 

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searching for clarity

 

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searching for connections

 

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reaching out

 

when the story ends.

when the story ends.

 

Watching the surface from underneath.

Watching the surface from underneath.

 

Happy in your mess. Because its yours.

Happy in your mess. Because its yours.

 

Going back and seeing family. Seeing Glenna, glowing.

Going back and seeing family. Seeing Glenna, glowing.