Ecuador | 10 Places | 20 People

With such a beautifully diverse landscape, wandering through this small South America country was an incredibly unique and demanding experience. Ecuador may only be the size of Colorado but what it lacks in size it certainly makes up for in character. 

Traveling 14 miles from Quito, the worlds second highest capital in terms of elevation to a nearby hot springs “resort” nestled deep in the woods took hours. And once there, traversing the hilly terrain at an altitude of 12,000+ feet was no easy task. But soaking in volcanic runoff, eating trout caught moments before being prepared and sleeping next to a humming waterfall eased all hardships faced. Heading down the mountain to the coast provided a challenge that could break any seasoned adventurer. Just imagine spending 10 hours overnight on a crowded bus where only women were allowed to use the bathroom and that’s only after they convinced the driver that no solid waste would be expelled. On top of that, every so often disco lights and blaring music would fill the cabin as well as the noise of a restless passenger who would yell “Pelicula. Pelicula” whenever he woke from a nap. This is how some prison camps are portrayed in your favorite Hollywood blockbusters.

When the bus finally reached sea-level, we hopped off into the pre-dawn darkness that is 5 a.m. It was pouring, and after some sleepy negotiation we jumped into electric tricycles that could barely handle the muddy streets of Puerto Lopez. We eventually made it to the apartment we were staying in with the gracious help of our Italian ex-pat host Giuseppe. It took him only moments after arriving to offer to sell the place to us for $150,000. Oh did I mention, that in addition to the four adults (including myself) traveling, we we’re also carting along a 2 year old and nine month old?

This is just a glimpse into the two weeks I spent in Ecuador this past winter with my wife, daughter, our two friends, and their son. Please check back soon for a full trip report.

Puerto Lopez, Ecuador

Puerto Lopez, Ecuador

Puerto Lopez, Ecuador

Papallacta, Ecuador

Antisana, Ecuador

Cuenca, Ecuador

Guayaquil, Ecuado

Quito, Ecuador

Progreso, Ecudor

Playas, Ecuador

Puerto Lopez, Ecuador

Puerto Lopez, Ecuador

Puerto Lopez, Ecuador

Puerto Lopez, Ecuador

Puerto Lopez, Ecuador

Puerto Lopez, Ecuador

Puerto Lopez, Ecuador

Playas, Ecuador

Puerto Lopez, Ecuador

Puerto Lopez, Ecuador

Quito, Ecuador

Cuenca, Ecuador

Quito, Ecuador

Puerto Lopez, Ecuador

Quito, Ecuador

Guayaquil. Ecuador

Cuenca, Ecuador

Cuenca, Ecuador

Quito, Ecuador

Quito, Ecuador

Amish. The Long Way Home.

Late last September, after a shoot in Harrisburg, I decided to take the long way home through Pennsylvania’s Amish country. Despite having lived in PA on and off since 2001, I hadn’t visited this storied step back in time since I was a kid. With no real frame of reference, I typed the one restaurant I remembered from when I was ten into my GPS and set out for the Good and Plenty. The 45-mile journey would take me through the heart of Lancaster County and into the warm and welcoming past.

I never did make it to the Good and Plenty. The landscape was so inviting and accessible, I decided to pull off the highway and ramble through the farmland. Like John Muir supposedly once said, “Throw a loaf of bread and a pound of tea in an old sack and jump over the back fence.” While I may not always live by this philosophy, when the opportunity presents itself, I go for it.

I came across all you would expect to see in Amish country: children innocently riding scooters (they’re not allowed to ride bikes), horses pulling families slowly and deliberately down a country road and livestock lazily grazing in the late summer sun. I wandered through fields of corn that were indeed as high as an elephants eye, came to a clearing that was swarming with more bugs than there are stars in the sky and watched a hot air balloon softly sink below the distant tree line. The one oddity that caught my eye was the horse and buggy only section at the gas station. Although It was fully equipped with a garbage can and shovel.

It was nearing dusk and I had no idea how far I was from home so I hopped into my car and set the GPS for Philly. Turns out I was only 68 miles away. After about five miles on this single lane “highway” I was met with a road closed sign and was forced to reroute. I circled around to investigate and discovered the reason for the closure of this bustling thoroughfare was a parade. Guess John Muir was calling again. It took a few more loops but I finally found a parking space next to a few horses tied to a fence.

I walked the few blocks down the road towards main street and tried to blend in. This was no easy task with a giant camera dangling from my neck. I was clearly an outsider there acting as a voyeur. I’m usually not shy or apprehensive when it comes to shooting strangers in a strange place but I didn’t want to come off as if I was on Amish safari. I was genuinely excited for this parade and just wanted to document the experience. That however can easily be construed as exploitation.

The crowd was about twenty percent Amish, five percent minority and seventy-five percent civilian white (as in not Amish.) I posted up near a family who clearly claimed their spots much earlier in the day. I’m pretty sure they had eaten breakfast and lunch there and were just moving on to dinner. A friendly gentleman wearing an Eagles hat to my right who was not with the group pointed out that I was facing the wrong way and to get my camera ready because the parade was set to kick off any minute. He asked where I was from and when I told him Philadelphia he gasped. He’d lived in this town his entire life and had never been. Need I remind you I was less than seventy miles away? He asked if it was difficult to park downtown and what Reading Terminal Market was like. I told him he should come see for himself. This he took as an invitation to meet up. We exchanged emails then a parting handshake. I’m still waiting to hear from him.

The parade finally began. The Grand Marshall’s Dick and Jean Risk kicked off the festivities followed by generations of tractor drivers and the Lancaster County Alternate Dairy Princess. The last glints of sunshine were fading fast so I turned my camera on the crowd for a few final shots before heading home. As the golden hour turned to dusk I drove off but not before stopping to get a few more shots to properly close out my day. I guess the beauty of living in Pennsylvania can be summed up by the fact that you can spend the day shooting portraits in the middle of a “city” then stumble upon an Amish farmer plowing a field by horse at sunset. 

I also feel this post might best be enjoyed while listening to this song by PHOX. The whole afternoon had a rather slow motion sort of feel to it.

Christmas Sunset in Truro

Christmas out in Truro on Cape Cod is always unpredictable when it comes to weather. We’ve seen flurries, blizzards, squalls, drizzles and this year summer. Temperatures peaked close to 70 and by 4pm I was able to lure everyone down to Corn Hill Beach to witness this extraordinary sunset.

Christmas Day Sunset

Christmas Day Sunset

Christmas Day Sunset

Christmas Day Sunset

Christmas Day Sunset

Christmas Day Sunset

Christmas Day Sunset

Christmas Day Sunset

Christmas Day Sunset

Christmas Day Sunset

get on your bikes and ride NAKED

After years of missing out I finally made it to Philly Naked Bike Ride. It’s like a festive cartoon come to life. Although after 8 hours of riding through the city streets with this bright bare bodied bunch I was destroyed. It was quite the day though. Thanks to all the riders covered in color, pride, love and passion for a mightily photogenic pilgrimage.

 

Derek and the Puppets

Meet Derek (Bagel) Bakal and his puppets. They’re an odd yet wildly entertaining and very photogenic bunch. If you’d like to learn to make puppets you should reach out to Derek.  He’s a brilliantly creative teacher/ mad man.

Pupper Master Derek (Bagel) Bakal

Pupper Master Derek (Bagel) Bakal

Pupper Master Derek (Bagel) Bakal

Reflections on the Dead Milkmen

A couple months back, the photo editor of JUMP asked if I was available to gets some shots of The Dead Milkmen for the summer 2015 issue. I can’t remember what my answer was specifically but even If I was busy I would have cancelled whatever else I doing to make this happen. I was told that I’d be meeting with the band on a Tuesday afternoon after they performed an acoustic set at main branch of the Philadelphia Free Library. I put it on my calendar and set about my day. Fast forward to the Sunday before the shoot. It’s mid to late spring and I’m prowling around on my bike running random errands and wasting time. At around about 4pm while standing five deep in line at the Family Dollar I get a call from that very same photo editor. He frantically explains that when he told me Tuesday he actually meant Sunday. He begged my forgiveness and asked there was any chance I could get over to the library as quickly as possible. I really needed the crappy cleaner I was holding but dropped it where I stood and ran home. I originally had some big ideas for this shoot but there was zero chance of making any of that happen now as I was told they could only hang around for a few minutes after the show.  When I got home I quickly grabbed my camera bag and a reflector and rode out to the library in about three minutes. Normally impossible but not on that day. With no plan I was ready to wing it and just cared about getting a decent shot and saying what’s up to Rodney and the boys. We met up in the alley behind the library and I did my best not to gush. They were gracious but indicated that they wanted to make this happen quickly. I scanned the area and caught sight of the Swann Memorial Fountain. It was pretty still warm out and there were kids swimming in it. I thought it would be amazing to get the band to hop on it but that idea was shot down immediately. With patience waring thin I suggested the courtyard of The Rodin Museum. It’s pretty and looks like Paris so why not. We hobbled on over only to discover that they like to close early on a Sunday afternoon. A common thought of ‘shit’ resounded. Since we had just walked all the way over here I decided to attempt some shots with them gathered on the steps in front of the gate. The light was garbage but the mood was jolly so we gave it a go. After a few funny faces and some killer jokes the foursome started wavering and wandered off the steps. I wasn’t going to bug them too much more but asked for one more shot on the way back to the library. As we passed by the Barnes Museum I asked if they could line up behind the long rectangular fountain. While setting up to take the shot they started playing in the water and were picking up the little rocks. In no time a security guard materialized and reprimanded all of us and threatened to kick us out. This put everyone in the perfect mood and we finished up the shoot feeling a bit more punk rock that when we’d started.  Two minutes later and a whopping 15 minutes after we started everyone ran off in different directions and my shoot with The Dead Milkmen although rushed and rough around the edges was a success.  The only thing left to do at this point was to head back to family dollar for that cleaner.

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Mummers The Word | Happy 2015

2015 started off nice and wholesome with the annual New Years Day Mummers Parade and quickly devolved into a rollicking bacchanal. and yes i know one hundred is a ridiculous number of images to post. However, this event is quite the visual spectacle and is deserving of a gallery that reflects the shift from family friendly affair to freak show.

Two Creepy Kids in the Woods

Last month while visiting the in-laws, my wildly creative artist mother in law Deb Mell and I collaborated on some photos of her two grandchildren (and my niece and nephew) Zara (4) and Beckett (4 months). Earlier in the summer we had all visited D.C. and popped into a handful of museums including the Hirshhorn. At some point Deb and I found ourselves strolling silently through a photo gallery more or less unimpressed until our gazes became simultaneously fixed upon a single image of a harshly lit lone figure standing in the woods. It was delightfully creepy and I was not surprised when she asked if when I visited next we’d subject Zara and Beckett to a similar sitting. So here it is. Two creepy kids in the woods.

Forbidden Trail/ Devil’s Pool/ Wissahickon Creek

Natasha and I went wandering through the Forbidden Trail along the Wissahickon Creek the other day. We climbed steep slippery slopes (stairs provided to aid hikers), encountered threatening wildlife (some dog playing in the water) and forded the deep rushing whitewater river (wading up to our ankles to cross back to the side of the creek our car was on) All in all a lovely wander.

Walking the Forbidden Trail Walking the Forbidden Trail Walking the Forbidden Trail Walking the Forbidden Trail Walking the Forbidden Trail Walking the Forbidden Trail Walking the Forbidden Trail Walking the Forbidden Trail Walking the Forbidden Trail