Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?
The Shadow knows.
The Shadow knows.
This week’s Thematic Phantastic is “shadow.” The idea of these exercises is to get out there and capture the moment. In this case, the moment is shadow.
Perhaps I will encounter something shadowy this week, and maybe I’ll have the camera. But if I don’t, there is this, the wall of my dining room in early August.
Carmi’s theme this week is “sweet.” I’ve devoured my fair share of sweet in the last six days, but I haven’t photographed any of it. I did, however, shoot this BMW M3 a couple months ago.
I was on my way home from work and the sun was in that good place, and I wanted to shoot the car in it. This little nook of dumpsters and back doors butted up against the raised roadway of 99E. I loved the graffiti.
I have of course pumped up the volume on the contrast, but I like the balance of light and dark here. I like the messages contained in that light and dark.
Like the Merely Oversized 3, BMW is facing upheaval. Unlike them, the Bavarians make a fabulous automobile. I wouldn’t one to own a new one for more than three years, I don’t care about BMWs that are not sedans or vintage motorcycles, and I can’t speak for the firm’s other things, but the BMWs that are sedans are fantastic sedans, agile and crisp and fully prepared for driving at the limit.
This one had much bigger testes than I.
Sasha is 1.5 years old, a drooler, and darling far beyond mildly blurry black and white. But she sure does make a nice front page.
I am discovering the urgencies associated with the onset of a child. I am developing that sense of understanding put into motion through a phrase repeated by any person who knows: There is never a right time.
The world has begun to swell in a way that affects me far deeper than I ever would have suspected. It is the urgency. Fatherhood is an urgent affair. It cannot not be, forever.
The Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance is a slightly ostentatious cocktail party for cars, and in August we all celebrated 100 years of General Motors. Yay, General Motors, look at all that great 1950s spacecar design.
GM is in a way these days, deep, and thick as thieves with the rest of Detroit. This is an amazing period in the American auto industry, the troubles of which are broad and rooted, even ridiculous. There is in fact a lot of “amazing” going on right now in America.
And the response brewing in America—through policy-makers, through people who make their livelihood somehow by the car, through my barber, who drives a Toyota but certainly understands what Chevy represents as a national brand—that evolving dialog is enormous.
I don’t know a right answer, but my two-cents would include things like “the American auto industry is necessary,” “the American auto industry must be restructured to advance its thinking in efficiency, from corporate to powertrain,” and “the American auto industry should really stop building trucks for a while. There are enough trucks for a while. We can drive three-year-old trucks.”
Shot this before a recent two-stroke ride, on which I rode the Burro. This is not the Burro, but it is some lovely chrome.
There is nothing quite like unblemished chrome.
I am still on the lookout for images about rows. I remembered this one from the not-so-deep archive and judged it appropriate. You can’t not know this car.
