Landscape plotted and pieced– fold, fallow, and plough;/And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.
--lines from "Pied Beauty" by Gerard Manley Hopkins,
These are photographs centered upon the things humans make--our buildings, but also our machines--whether simple or complicated, vintage or new, smoothly functioning or broken--and our patterns, and how all of these both reflect and shape us.
From a rusted fence to an assembly of red Radio Flyer wagons, I'm drawn to the lines and colors of the things we make, and how we interact with them.
Particular loves, at the moment, are trains, bridges, fences, walls, windows, doors, porches, and light. Also signs of various sorts, battered basketball hoops, and carnival rides. If I can capture the moon, the setting sun, or photogenic weather (e.g. rain, snow, mudpuddles) in relationship to any of these things, so much the better.
I have a notion that I would love to do a whole series on front porches at night, but I can't quite figure out how to do that without skulking through neighborhoods in the dark, which might be great artistic fun for me, but probably wouldn't thrill many homeowners, or their faithful guard dogs. For now, I content myself with occasional distant shots of lit porches that particulary touch or stir me for some reason. I suppose part of the draw is that porch lights at night speak of welcoming loved ones home to comfort and safety. They're the modern equivalent of a candle in the window--somehow both hopeful (you can return home) and sad (but you aren't here right now, and I don't know when or if you might be coming).