Pot Roast

I was half way through the batch of photos from our most recent vacation when I showed Laura this photograph telling her it was my favorite so far. She said it was boring and I said, "But I like boring photographs."

So many photographs are hyperbole. They strive to find the most beautiful mountaintop, the moment of greatest drama, or the subject most destitute. And while it's often fun to make these types of photographs, it can be harrowing to be constantly bombarded with such extreme images. Boring photographs let me catch my breath and appreciate the mundane.

They're kind of like pot roast. Not as exciting or exotic as sushi or foie gras, but nothing gives you that warm comforted feeling like a slowly simmered roast covered in tender root vegetables. They have a sense of familiarity, even though you may not be acquainted with the particular subject in the photograph. This photograph was taken on a boat in the middle of the Atlantic, but to me, it feels much closer than that.

Mom and Dad

Probably my favorite photo of my mom and dad. At least that I've taken. They had driven all the way to Chicago to hang out with the rest of my friends and family at a baseball game for my birthday, which I'm sure they had very little interest in (the baseball, not the birthday). It also happened to be about 33 degrees and raining. But my mom is always ready to laugh at a less than ideal situation. The more absurd the better. And my dad quietly takes it all in stride, a smile lurking just beneath the surface alonside a chuckle for my mom's silliness.

Thanks for all the laughs, among other things.

Congratulations

A couple of my friends recently had children and I got to take some photos of them in the hospital right after the births. It's an interesting atmosphere. Usually lot's of family and friends around, crowded into a smallish room. Baby gets a turn in each of the visitors arms but usually doesn't bother waking up. The excitement of the birth has worn off and Mom and Dad can't do much but wait around for further instructions from the staff. We talk about little details regarding the birth and Laura sneaks a peak at Baby's chart strictly out of professional curiosity. They get phone calls here and there from people who couldn't make it in person but still want to wish them a congratulations. The lights are down. It's quite, a bit anxious, and happy.

Laura Watched

This was an interesting night. We were in the living room and thought we smelled a campfire. Turned out to be more like a house fire. Our backyard neighbors' chimney had caught fire and by the time we got out there, the crowd was pretty large. It was a Sunday night, so there were lot's of folks from the church around. The people who lived in the house were standing by patiently, not distraught, just waiting for the whole ordeal to be over with. It wasn't an inferno, just a bunch of smoke and a few flames licking out from under the awnings. We'd lived in our house a little over two years and but that night was the first time we'd met those neighbors. Not very sociable, we are.

Of course there's not much about a house fire in this photo. Except perhaps the isolated and exposed feeling you would have if you were watching your own house burn.

Arms

A little psychoanalysis. My mom would say that I like photographs like this because of my need for fairness and justice. Stay with me a sec.

When I played sports as a kid I hated being on the wrong end of a bad call. I couldn't stand being accused of something I didn't do and the injustice drove me crazy. Similarly (I think), I still don't like games where random chance plays a large part in determining the outcome. If someone is dominating for the whole game then a roll of the die turns winners into losers, it's simply infuriating. Where's the fairness in that?

And of course the injustices don't remain confined to sports and games. The show up all around us. So occasionally I need to take all of the random occurrences I see around me and and put them neatly in order. After all, justice is, in a sense, putting things back in the proper order. Nice straight lines. Subjects placed simply in the center. No mysterious abstract forms. Everything cleanly in focus. Ahhh.

Too much of a stretch? Aw well. My mom would understand.