October 20, 2010

A Window with Ice Shanties

October 20, 2010/ A Restless Transplant

I slid across the ice. Accidentally at first, and then as my comfort grew, I evolved my technique from a means of avoiding a broken tailbone to a proper, Risky Business-esque maneuver. Building a head of steam, I scurried across the frozen lake aiming squarely at a wind-swept portion of ice. A few feet before the snow stopped, exposing the glassy surface, I hopped, landing squarely with the toe of my right foot touching the back of my left Danner Mountain Lights. For twenty feet, I slid. Across the lake, in a protected cove, a group of colorful ice shanties broke up the green and white horizon. Marching across the frozen landscape one slide at a time, I made my way towards them, camera in hand.

Months ago, I searched through flea markets and antique malls looking for windows. My interest in old windows as picture frames and not economic replacements was bewildering to most Mainers at local flea markets. After turning over many rocks, I eventually found some windows that were both aesthetically pleasing and practical as frames. Working with Tucker, we stripped the excess paint and applied a few coats of sealant to protect the frames.

Looking through my Picasa page for groups of photos, I quickly settled on my images of ice shanties. Drawn to the bright colors contrasting the bleak landscapes and the idea of being in a place you shouldn't, protected from cold and wind, I selected my 12 favorite and ordered them in 9"x7" archive-quality prints

Throughout the summer as I transitioned into my new life in New York, Tucker put the finishing touches on the window frame.

Red and White.

Outside of Skowhegan, Maine, one of my favorite shots.

Near US Route 1 on the mid Maine Coast.

Anchored to the ice near Canaan, Maine

Built on the concept that each frame and group of images will be unique, the finished window tells a story more complex and evolved that a singular image mounted on the wall.

The finished window is 40" high by 25" wide and has 12 9" by 7" color prints.

A lonely shanty Down East.

Frozen footsteps captured by thaws and freezes.

The Ice Shanty Window is the first of a series of my favorite images partnered with antique windows.

The shanties complement each other and providing context through repetition.

Offering a view to a distant world, my window with its twelve images hangs over my living room for the time being. If you are interested in owning the Ice Shanty window, or one of the following ones, please send me an email at foster.huntington(at)gmail.com.

Here are some more links,
Windows (ART),
Ice Fishing (ART).

October 05, 2010

Out of Reception: Summer Begone

October 05, 2010/ A Restless Transplant

The storm broke overnight. I awoke with a jump to the brisk morning air typical of early October. Attempting to prolong my rest and fend off the cold, I covered my head with my comforter and waited for my alarm. After twenty minutes of minor discomfort, I preempted my phone's obnoxious sounds and climbed out of bed. On my way to the shower I vengefully closed my window. For the first time in months, I ordered my large Americana sans ice from the friendly woman at Joe's. Steam escaped from my cup on my morning walk to work, and I paused for an instant pulling my iPhone from my pocket to change the song and snap a photo of the season's first steam.

Since adopting a professional schedule somewhat resembling a 9 to 5 but striking a closer resemblance to an 8 to 7:30, I rarely take my 5D Mark II with me on my commute and rompings around New York. Instead, I rely on my iPhone to capture moments around me. Along with maintaining a general level of overall ineffectiveness when making calls, my phone continues to produce some of my favorite images. Here are a few from the last four months.

A sunset in July.

Twilight in mid July.

A foggy sunrise at Popham Beach, Maine in late July.

Green in Central park in early August.

A view of Central Park on Forth of July Weekend.

Sunset on the Jaquelin Kennedy reservoir in mid June.

A view from the roll bar of a 1957 Willy's Jeep in Moiser, Oregon during Labor Day weekend.

The last rays of a mid September evening on the Upper West Side.

My two cameras in Early September.

A hazy September morning on my walk to work.

Jarad Hadi in Southeast Portland in early September.

An Indian Summer evening after work in Midtown.

A Saturday skateboarding at the Chelsea pier.

Tapping on the screen between sips of my tongue-burning coffee, I eventually settled on "Cortez the Killer." Turning up the volume, I shifted the tiny lens of my iPhone towards my coffee cup and fired away. Unfortunately, the image didn't turn out the way I envisioned, and I continued on my walk enticed by the steam of my beverage and the comfort of my Filson Jacket.

Here are some more links,
Out of Reception: Early Summer (Picasa),
Out of Reception: Life Changes Fast (Picasa),
Out of Reception: Last of Summer (Picasa),
Out of Reception (A.R.T.)

September 28, 2010

New Space

September 28, 2010/ A Restless Transplant

Moving away from the open spaces of New England has changed me. I noticed it first when I was home in the Northwest waiting for a table at a hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant. Standing four feet from the door, I chatted with my brother about the day's activities.

"Excuse me."

Turning in disbelief, I looked into the face of an early forties, Teva and sock wearing woman. With a pleasant yet affirming grin she motioned to the door.

Obliging, I stepped towards my brother and continued our conversation. To the suburban Oregonian, sharing this mere six foot opening with strangers after a fajita and local micro brew probably felt like an overzealous yellow lab attempting to follow a fleeing cat through a cat door. However, with my new found perspective as a four month resident of New York, I looked at this ample gap as a rare luxury.

This change in environment has affected not only my perception of space but also my aesthetic taste. Adapting less by choice and more by my insatiable curiosity about my surroundings, I look for colors and details in the interiors around me.

A bookshelf in the West Village.

Decorations courtesy of David Coggins at his Manhattan Apartment.

Chairs in Philadelphia.

Sunday morning light in the West Village.

Peppers from a rooftop garden.

Old wood floors near the Corner Bistro.

More of David's decorations.

Edge.

An adjustable fan.

I am glad to adjust my perspective of space and experience tight places for a while. This change of context and appreciation of different places makes my time away from the city that much more enjoyable.

Here are some more links,

Coggins (Picasa),

Sunday Morning (Picasa),

Gathering (Picasa).

September 21, 2010

Different with Film

September 21, 2010/ A Restless Transplant

Digital images always feel different from film. Regardless of the quality of a digital set up or post editing technique, the end result varies from that of an equivalent film rig. It's not a bad thing or a good thing.

This inherent difference sparked my curiosity. A few months ago I started taking a Polaroid Image Pro along with me on my excursions. Stockpiling film from eBay and Craigslist, I took photos much more intentionally than I would with my 5d Mark II. Instead of firing away like Stallone in the latest installment of Rambo, I took my time composing my shots and waited for the light. Here are some of my favorite shots from the last few months.