While I don’t use Instagram as much as I did years ago, every once in a while I find a photographer whose work says, “yeah, that’s the good stuff.
Kristopher Shinn is one of those, sharing scenes from Pudget Sound ferries. It made me think of my recent summer vacation trip to Mackinac Island aboard Shepler’s Ferry.
The light is everything. We rode along at the perfect time of day, zipping along Lake Huron.
Swimming and hiking and bonfiring.
Drinking and s’more’ing and eating some more’ing.
Finding the nature therapy you’ve long needed. Spending time with family. Introducing places like Mackinac Island to the kids, and bringing back memories with you on the ferry ride across Lake Michigan.
Climbing to the top of a 10-story lighthouse along Lake Huron. Braving the pouring rain or the biting mosquitos.
Grabbing your camera and capturing the last remaining light of a busy day.
It’s more than a checklist. These are all the elements of a great summer vacation.
Lately, I’ve had the itch to get out and shoot more. Sometimes, hobbies can come and go in waves – often depending on what else is going on in life. Right now feels like a crest, where I want go make more photos.
Saturday evening at Sandhill Crane Vineyards was a good chance to shoot. It was a lovely summer evening, with off and on clouds, and the sun was popping in and out of the clouds. As soon as it popped out during sunset, I took a walk around their mini festival to see what I could see.
And something different: I strapped a EF 28mm f/1.8 to my Canon EOS M, using the EF-to-M adapter, for a ~42mm field of view. 40mm tends to be my comfort zone. Even though the camera felt a little front-heavy, the FOV was perfect.
So was the light, and the setting, and the music and drinks all around.
This weekend, I lost a brother and a best friend. Rest in Peace, John Neff.
John seemed to be everyone’s big brother, really. He took care of people, was considerate, and tried to help whenever he could. He led our fraternity during difficult times. He provided invaluable counsel and wisdom. We always joked he was an old man, even in his early 20s – maybe “old soul” is more appropriate.
But for me, Neff really was my big brother. In our fraternity, Alpha Tau Omega, he helped induct me. He taught me so much and got me out of more than one scrape. One time he even had to drive me to the hospital after a diabetic episode. Many other times, he rescued me from my own bad decisions. And with big life decisions, during and after college, he was there to lend an ear and some wisdom. He was the brother I never had.
Neff was a rabble-rouser, a lover of education, a trivia nut, and a music appreciator. A fellow Mac and photography enthusiast, it was Neff who sparked my joy of “fancy cameras.” We had so many adventures together taking photos – whether in freezing cold downtown Chicago, boiling hot downtown Toledo, or in and around the Cleveland area.
Neff was the best man at my wedding. He was there a few days before Jaime and I got married, and sure enough, we took our cameras and explored a bit of Jackson County together. I was proud to have him by my side, acknowledging my special day, and joking around with the rest of the fraternity family we rarely saw. I was proud to be in his and Laura’s wedding too – long before I was ready for something as mature as marriage.
A few of us were lucky enough to take in one more ball game in Cleveland with Neff last summer. I’m so thankful we did. One last night at John and Laura’s house, one last big breakfast at a local diner together. And while we only saw each other every year or so, Neff and I talked constantly: fun, inappropriate text conversations, or a call to catch up. He was kind enough to check in, and each time we talked it was like we had never been apart.
It feels like he’s still there, just waiting to reply, “Oh, Dave” with that chuckle of his. An in-joke here, an Adrian College memory there. Now suddenly, he’s gone.
With Laura and his girls, Neff had a beautiful family. I feel so much for them, and I can’t imagine how much it hurts to lose a husband and a father. I love the entire Neff family. I loved John in the way that two people who share a bond as strong as right itself do.
It’s too soon, brother. There were still so many more memories to make.
Love and respect, Neff. Always and forever.
“Go touch grass” is such a meme these days. And for good reason – after almost three years of pandemic isolation, we could all use some fresh air. We probably spend too much time online, especially on social media, and it can affect our wellbeing.
This year, I’m trying my best to get outside more. During the pandemic, I made taking a walk at lunchtime a new habit to help my mental and physical health. But “outside” can also mean away from the internet, or away from your everyday. Now is always the best time to see or do something new.
And while you’re at it, grab your camera and capture what you experience.
April is our time to wake up and get outside. The birds are chirping, the leaves are sprouting, and the sun comes out to visit again.
For my last two big portrait projects, Artists In Jackson and Musicians In Jackson, my goal was to interview and photograph local creatives and assemble those stories into a book. Prep, execute, deliver – all in one big thing.
I had the thought: what if, instead of treating them as projects, I treat them as platforms.
Instead of disappearing for a few months and coming out with a deliverable – like Moses carrying down a photo book carved in stone and delivered by divine inspiration – those projects become a channel that has regularly updated photos and stories. Instead of releasing a set of stories as a book, I keep releasing stories and never really finish.
Now, I could collect those stories and photos – say, every 20 – into something like a book. But the book isn’t the point. The doing is the point. It keeps building, more like a seasonal Netflix show than a daily newspaper.
This would relieve some of the pressure of feeling like I had to make a collection of something. As an alternative, I keep writing and making pictures and posting something when I have time. These projects become more like living, breathing websites than printed, finished books. The stories then become material for social media, newsletters, and website updates, rather than the reverse.
I’ve been collecting lists of creatives that I missed out on the first time around. By building and adding to that list, I can keep the stories coming – as long as I’m alive to tell them, potentially.
Not projects. Platforms.
We had a record ice storm hit Michigan last week. It swept across the U.S., but on Wednesday night, it struck the Great Lakes with particular fury.
That night, we listened anxiously while tree branches cracked and fell, breaking power lines all around us. We had an oak tree snap in half and block our street because of the weight of the ice. I braved falling branches the next morning to go around the yard and document everything sheathed in a clear coat. By the afternoon, all the ice had melted. The storm swept in and swept out quickly.
For two nights, we huddled in the basement as a family, wrapped in blankets while the temperature inside the house dipped to 47° F. We only got the power back on Saturday, and what a relief. But driving around town and seeing all the wreckage, we were lucky.
That’s life in a northern town.
