There is an Island in the midst of Paris….
and just like the rest of Paris, it’s magnificent! True to my HDR….I had to shoot it for HDR—the skies summoned me. I’ve sadly run out of time to process, but I have to rework this. It’s classic HDR, but it’s got that sullen moody HDR mood. When I think of Paris it’s anything but sullen—it’s vibrant and artistically perfect. For now… “we will always have Paris…”
more later.
B
“Knock, knock. Paris calling…”
When opportunity knocks; be ready to open the door and run with it! Getting to go to Paris with my friends Kalebra and Scott (and shoot) on short notice was nothing short of a bunch of miracles linking up; like links in a chain to forge the way. I approached each link with an attitude of optimism and hope, and was rewarded with link after link falling in line….miraculously so. It was down to the wire and nothing was certain until I finished my last leg of my four day trip (on time), dropped off my flight case, and raced to the gate for my flight to PIT and began the adventure. “Paris here I come!”
This wasn’t just any simple group of photographers getting together to shoot: these were the big dogs! Scott Kelby and Jay Maisel were filming on location in Paris for three new Kelby On-Line training classes. Both huge mentors! This was a dream come true!
I’ve been to Paris two times before…but until this trip? I’d never really been to Paris. Kalebra is the kind of friend, I feel like I’ve known my entire life. She’s amazing: funny, intelligent (who learns Chinese while running a business, raising two kids and leaning to fly—all at the same time?), sings in a band (at least twice a year) and she’s a really good person too! I can’t begin to thank her for inviting me to join this adventurous group that took Paris by storm. It was the trip of a life time, and I will never forget it.
The group was the best: Scott is simply defined as freaky talented. He writes a couple of books (it seems like every month) every six months, lectures all around the country, does Photoshop World twice a year, films Kelby training classes, raises a family, takes his adorable wife out on date nights all the time (how cool is that?), plays in a band (at least twice a year), and is a freaking amazing photographer! Jay Maisel is a legend! Mike was a plethora of interesting behind the scenes stories. The film crew were fantastic! Brad, Scott’s Assistant is not only talented but a total nut! Serge, the local host/guide and photographer made the trip! He welcomed us all to Paris like we were long lost cousins. He knew the best angles for the best shots—and he shoots HDR….how cool is that?
We hit the streets each day at nine and rolled back to our hotels at midnight each day. My feet were tired but my soul was satiated! It wasn’t until today, I even got to really look at my images and revisit Paris. Thank you Kalebra and Scott for the trip of a life time!
This is the first image I’ve been able to process. It’s a Corinthian pillar from the St. Germain des Pre’s in Paris. The history of the church is a bit tumultuous. The original church was built around 500 B.C. and was to house a relic of the True Cross that Jesus was crucified on, that was being delivered from Spain. This present church incorporates repairs and enlargements that represents various eras. The bell tower and these Corinthian pillars are the only examples of the original beautiful Romanesque architecture. These carved capitals on the tops of the pillars are not the original capitals. The originals are kept in the Musee’ National du Moyen-Age.
I’ve always loved the ornate pillars from the Greek and Roman empires. I’m fascinated by how perfect and ornate they are; standing the ages of time and built with only primitive tools. The Roman architect Marcus Vitruvius believed that the builders should use mathematical principles , “for without symmetry and proportion no temple can have a regular plan.” It’s those great rules and principles that allowed them to create these architectural wonders. The early columns were constructed out of stone—some out of a single piece of stone and others out of multiple sections of stone that are mortared or dry-fit together.
This pillar is from the Corinthian order which is the most ornate and elaborate of the three orders. Corinthian pillars exhibit a greater refinement and elegance than the other two styles of columns. They are characterized by slender fluted columns and elaborate capitals decorated with acanthus leaves and scrolls. The columns are ten times as tall as they are wide, making it appear much more slender. The shafts have 24 flutes and the ornately decorate capital.
The Corinthian order is of Greek origin and was created by Callimachus, an architect and sculptor who was inspired by the sight of a votive basked that had been left on a grave of a girl. An acanthus plant was growing through and around the woven basket, creating an inspiring pattern that later became the capitals on the Corinthian pillars. Although Corinthian pillars are of Greek origin they were seldom used by the Greeks and later used by the Romans.
Time for sleep…..
B
Another perfect day in Paris I slept in a bit this morning and now I am heading out to get my Pain Chocolate and caffe. Today we head to the Palace if Versailles. Can’t wait…… IPhone shot.
Another perfect day in Paris
I’m no Kalebra Kelby; she’s truly the master IPhoneographer. With that disclaimer, here’s a couple of my IPhone shots for the fun filled day spent shooting, sipping champagne and nibbling on Crete brûlée on the Champs Élysées, and concluding a perfect day in Paris watching the sunset over the Eiffel Tower.
~Gooney Bird~
I waited for three sunrises to capture my elusive Gooney Bird parked on the flight line, as if posed waiting for me. There was a low misting of fog, a brilliant sunrise, dew on the plane and a feeling in my heart that made me fall in love all over again. What can I say? I’m a push over for the Gooney Bird. I owe my career to a beat up old DC3 that changed my life. You could say we have a history.
The 747 is just a little plane….
I just finished a brutal butt kicking 5 day, 20 leg trip. Simply put it’s only: 20 departure procedures, 20 arrivals and only 20 approaches. I’m beat!
In the midst of the machine like performance of flight duties, it’s hard to reflect on the spectacular moments this crazy job affords me. Last week, was one of those moments. I got to experience the thrill of riding on the upper deck in this big beautiful flying machine to TLV. To watch her land, it seems as if she is barely moving as she gracefully floats with the grace of a ballerina meeting the runway.
Life always has its mechanical moments and it’s important that we all stop the machinery and purposefully enjoy some of the simple moments that are meant to be savored. It requires being deliberate and patient because it is in those moments that we truly live.
Many years ago I was flying props in Florida, the Bahama’s and Cuba. It was a crummy company, hard work, low pay and pure heaven every day! I started each day with a smile and ended like a whipped, sweaty work horse. I’ll share two special moments. Airline pilots are required to complete an extensive amount of training for each new company, new air craft, new seat (Captain/ First Officer, etc). I had just completed my training and passed my check ride at my first airline job. The next step is to fly your first trips with an IOE (Initial Operating Experience) Check Airmen. They help you to assimilate your training to practical airline operations and ensure you are prepared for this. I will never forget how hard I had worked and how proud I was to have passed my check ride. To say I was ecstatic my first day of IOE, would be a gross understatement. My smile was from ear to ear. I’ll never, ever forget my first leg out of Miami (MIA) on IOE. I was taking off of the runway, and punching threw little puffy Florida clouds all the while thinking “This is the most amazing job ever!” It was ethereal—it was that perfect.
Many months later I still faced each day with the same passion and affection. This little prop plane, a Beech 1900 seated 19 passengers and didn’t have a flight attendant. As the first officer it was my job to greet the passengers while they boarded the plane, brief them on seat belts and emergency exits, etc. One day a grand mother and her 8 year old grand son were walking across the tarmac to our plane. The little boy was very apprehensive and his grand mother informed me he hated to fly. He chimed in and said “I don’t like it and I’m not doing this anymore!” I looked up at the hurt in her eyes as she explained to me that this meant, she’d hardly ever get to see her darling grand son if he wouldn’t fly anymore. It was a beautiful Florida clear-blue, smooth day. I took the time to explain to him that it was going to be a great day for flying, showed him the flight deck where the captain entertained him with an assortment of “whoop whoop’s” and other cool effects. We got his picture in the seat with a captain’s hat on, and I asked him if he would be willing to help us. I explained to him that the adults were notorious for not complying with seat belts and cell phones. I asked him if he would be willing to be an honorary captain, and keep the adults in line. He eagerly accepted his new position and I pinned on his plastic wings. The short flight from Tampa to Gainsville was beautiful as promised. When my honorary captain and his grand mother deplaned she grabbed my hand, and began to pierce my soul when she thanked me for all that I had done. “My grandson told me he wasn’t going to fly to see me anymore on the way to the airport today. I don’t drive and I couldn’t bare not seeing him. I can’t begin to thank you for all that you did. He told me he will fly to see me any time but only if that nice women pilot is his pilot.” It’s little things like that, that make it all worth while. I think we all need to be reminded every now and then, be deliberate, compassionate and realize what is truly important.
….B
36 Hours in Israel
I’m very spontaneous and especially if it involves travel and adventure. I’ve always been a ‘road runner’ as my mom use to call me. I actually get very antsy if I am housebound for an entire day and almost unbearably restless if it goes beyond a day. I guess being a pilot suits me.
It’s been waaaaay too long since I’ve ventured out of the country. Jack was getting ready for a trip to Tel Aviv and I was looking forward to a few days off. Matching our schedules is more luck than art. This time was definitely a lucky break because not only did I have the days off, the seat availability was excellent—both ways!
A trip to Barnes and Noble to get my Israel Guide book, and computer searches prepared me as best I could. I had 36 hours in Israel and my Nikon was prepared for non-stop shooting. The adventurer in me was a bit overly optimistic with my itinerary. The reality is that 36 Hours truly is only 1 full day, and a couple of hours the day you arrive. Traveling east always exhausts me. It required getting a full nights sleep on the flight so that I would be ready to maximize my time. It worked!
The first night there, I wandered around the Old Town of Jaffe. It was a quaint old part of town that was blooming with artsy shops and inviting restaurant and coffee shops. The streets were bustling with activity and people in costumes. Later I found out that it wasn’t a daily occurrence to see women dressed as bees and fairy princesses, but rather a part of the Jewish holiday, Purim. It’s a two day holiday, this year March 7th & 8th. It is a festive holiday that celebrates the deliverance of the Jews from their enemies. It’s not your typical religious holiday. Celebrating Purim is much like our Halloween with children and adults alike wearing costumes. Unlike Halloween one of the more unusual commandments of the holiday and Jewish law, is to get so drunk you can’t tell the difference between your friends and your enemies.
The next day we arranged to see Jerusalem and Bethlehem by tour. Wow! Amazing to see history and the bible come to life through the scenery and descriptive narratives given by our guide. It was an incredible experience and a very full day. The environment was difficult to shoot in. There were just so many tourists and big tour groups it was difficult to get a clean shot. We were totally engulfed in the spiritual and historical experience. It just means I have to return again for a much longer adventure and study abroad.
This picture is looking up at The Christ Pantocrator mosaic in The Church of the Holy Sepulchre where Jesus was buried and his resurrection. We began our day at the Mount of Olives then went to Bethlehem to see the the cave where Jesus was born; Mount Zion and saw the place of the last supper, walked the Via Dolorosa “way of suffering” that Jesus walked carrying his cross and ended our day here at the Holy Sepulchre. Before I return there is so much studying I wish to do, theology, archeology, etc.
Much more to share….
~Holy Sepulchre~ This image was created from a single, hand held shot. The light beaming in the windows—although, photographically blown out highlights are not preferred—in this case I felt it helped to enhance the holy experience with the almost ethereal beams of light. Hand held, single image pseudo HDR, processed in Nik HDR Efex.
The glamourous airline life…… I can remember as a kid waking up from an exhilarating night of flying. The mornings I recanted dreams of flight were always a bit euphoric and a bit ambitious but always memorable. I love watching the new Pan Am series. I’m always enamored with period pieces; however, there’s more to the show than it’s far fetched story lines of Stewardesses doubling as spies. There is glamor! Ladies wore hats and men wore suits. The luggage told an eloquent story about the traveler, not like the black trash bag carry-ons I’ve seen on cheap flights. I have to admit, each time the camera pans the JFK terminals, I get a rush of warmth pulsing through my veins. That was my terminal! I loved all of the chaotic drama that flying in and out of JFK most often brought. It wasn’t ever glamorous but it was always alive with stories and attitude.
I remember my first crash pad in Kew Gardens. The Female Captain who was running it painted a picture of a luxurious high rise, with doormen and penthouse views. (I envisioned 5th Avenue). She apologized that it would ruin me for all others and that she was shutting it down in 2 weeks. I begged her to let me sample the glamorous crash pad life—if even only for two weeks. Better to have lived the experience, than not.
Let me preface this by stating how much I love New York. It’s authentic, colorful and in your face — no place like it. Where else can you get your nails done 24 hours a day? Or get Greek food, Italian, Indian, Spanish, Ethiopian all delivered to your door? NEW fabulous YORK! Kew Gardens houses more airline crews in crash pads than probably any other domicile in the world. I expected Pan Am glamour when I arrived at my new pad. It was a high rise. It had a doorman and it did have an incredible view of LGA to the and JFK airports, but it did not have glamour. It was a spacious one bedroom, one bath apartment. There were two sets of bunk beds, a paper oriental room divider in the living room that neatly obscured the view of two twin beds. The sofa pulled out and was yet another bed for a total of only 7 beds in a one bedroom apartment. (I refer to that as a ‘low density’ crash pad. Contrast that to the ‘high density’ with 30 or 40 crashpaders in an apartment). The bathroom had a dry erase sign up board mounted on the outside of the door. Totally, necessary and great idea. The top bunk on the left was mine and I also had my own drawer in the dresser. You hung your towel on a hanger because, obviously there wasn’t enough room on the single towel rack for all 7 towels. It worked.
Crew scheduling called me out on a trip my first night on reserve. I have to in all honesty say, that was the only time in my life I was truly excited to receive a call from scheduling. It was my first trip out of JFK as a newly upgraded captain. Life was great! That first night is where the stories began. I promise you, I love to tell stories and a little seasoning always makes for a better story—except these stories? I began leaving out details, lots of details, because the stories were so rich and spicy that they were hardly believable. These stories are real only the names have been changed. I know I stood at least two inches taller in my new captain’s uniform. I even proudly wore my hat, sporting the gold leaf embellishment (often referred to as the scrambled eggs).
My first trip was in deed memorable. My flight attendant was the most engaging and affable guy. He was funny and very outgoing but he clearly wasn’t like any I’ve ever flown with prior or after. He had a long stringy ponytail he twisted up like a girl and clipped hap hazardly with hair pins to the back of his skull. He was supposed to wear a wig to be in ‘compliance’ but knew all the supervisors were gone for the night. He talked incessantly and seemed to be missing a filter for appropriate boundaries as he gushed about way too personal details about himself and others. Our inbound plane was delayed and he started talking about what intersection on the jetways the plane should be at, altitudes, etc. He had all the intersections memorized. He went into the kind of details pilots don’t go into. I was impressed and told him so. He then recited various limitations and memory items accurately for our plane and then for 747’s. I asked him if he wanted to be a pilot and it surprised me that he had no desire to be one. The details he continued to regurgitate started to concern me how or why he would be so interested and then there was a bit of envy too. Envy that he had this photographic memory that I would die for! Odd man, but definitely not boring and very congenial.
I’ve digressed on my story of crashpads. And the glamorous life of an airline pilot. The picture above was my next crashpad. I had truly been spoiled by my luxurious high rise. I looked at several many being actually very nice but housing 6 or 8 in 3 or 4 sets of bunk beds per room. Some had ‘hot sheets’ which means they rent out to more people than there are beds. You don’t have your ‘own’ bed, but take what ever is available when you show up. I couldn’t do the ‘high density’ or ‘hot sheet’ pads. This was a tiny two bedroom, one bath little bungalow (I use the term bungalow loosely. It paints a prettier picture). The bedrooms were truly the size of a walk in closet and each—B a r e l y—fit two bunk beds with air mattresses. You would have to squirm around the beds to enter and leave. What it lacked in the glamourous department, it made up for in Safety, (what’s safer than Howard Beach?) convenience and great roomies. Flight crews were a novelty to the Italian community. We made guaranteed great tenants that were willing to pay top dollar in rental income. I loved the little neighborhood. It felt old world with the little Italian delis and the home made meatballs, chicken parm., sausages, etc. It was a short one block walk to the Air Train and in 5 minutes you were to JFK. I Miss JFK.
Tonight I’m sitting in one of a couple dozen loungers in my new crew room, waiting for the clock to strike midnight. At midnight my 6 hour shift of sitting airport ready reserve ends. (Airport Ready Reserve means you have to sit in the airport and respond immediately to a call from scheduling to take a plane out. Sounds enchanting? Fun?) I say my little reservist prayer, waiting for the final minutes to pass, “Dear God, please let the schedulers on duty feel flush with generosity and not take away my long call tomorrow and assign another airport ready instead. I promise to be good, and not grumble at the schedulers, just please not two back to back. Amen”
More later….
Buh bye….
B
Update: I checked out at the stroke of midnight. My reservist prayer worked, no add ons or schedule modifications for the next day which means, no back to back airport readies. 25 hours later, I stepped through the door back home to the most phenomenal 80 degree weather! I’m feeling blessed.
