A Camera Recommendation For You


I have gear lust. (There I’ve said it.)

Rarely a week goes by when I’m not browsing camera reviews and checking up on the latest and greatest digital photographic marvels.

But as we all know, it isn’t the camera that takes a good picture. It’s the person behind the lens and no amount of great gear is going to make one a better photographer if the talent and willingness to work hard isn’t there.

That said, one thing is for sure. If you don’t have a camera with you when the opportunity to take a good picture presents itself, you are dead in the water.

Cell phone cameras are getting better and better. No question about it. (The camera in the new iPhone 5s is one of the best.) Using your cell phone to capture a gorgeous sunset over the mountains is certainly better than nothing but, I submit having a pocketable powerhouse like the Ricoh GR is even better.

Check out the reviews online for this camera. It is the cult darling of street photographers. It takes a whopping 16 megapixel image and has a sharp 28mm fixed lens that is wonderful for landscapes and interiors alike. You can carry it in pocket or purse so it is always there when you need it. Its menu system is intuitive and really easy to use. In short you should seriously consider getting one of these instead of that heavy blunderbuss you will more than likely will leave at home.

In short the Ricoh GR is a piece of camera gear that is worth lusting after.

Mistaken Identity


Judging anyone by how they appear is a HUGE mistake we make all the time. Take the Maine artist Brian White for instance. Brian is about as “Downeast” as they come. He lives in rural Maine and if you think his lumberjack looks are the sign of a big mean tough-guy you wouldn’t want to mess with in a bar on Saturday night, you would be completely wrong.

Little Mussel Dress

Let me tell you a little story, in the not so distant past after we had just opened an exhibit of Brian’s sculptures, a lady walked into the gallery and asked if she could chat with me for a while about the artist. Of course I said yes, thinking she was a potential customer. 

She wasn’t at all. She was a psychologist specializing in women and was fascinated how a man could create sculptures that captured so well the feminine mind. I told her I had no idea and was pretty sure Brian didn’t either and probably never even thought about it that way. But I did know there are people who see and hear things others can’t and Brian was one of those.

Red Dress

Tsunami Shoes

For instance, would you ever think of taking a big dead lobster that had washed up on a beach and making it into a grasshopper.



I thought not.

How about a full size lamb out of whelk shells?

Not that either?


I rest my case.

Green Glass Pig


It was my father’s and sat on his bureau for as long as I can remember. He liked because it reminded him of the Porcellian Club and because it once held some sort of alcoholic beverage.

My dad was generally a nice guy and always an elegant dresser. A conflicted man who had a very hard time leaving the destructive sanctuary of his family.

When I looked at the little pig this morning lit by the sun through the frost on our window, I remembered my long dead father in a pleasant way.

Sunset Rockport Harbor


Analog Aardvarks

Telephones in Winter

Remember them? These yellow beauties were on Newbury Street in Boston until a few years ago. They got bushwhacked by cell phones and now there is an empty cut-out space in the brick wall where they used to live.

I don’t really miss these corded analog aardvarks. After all an iPhone is certainly more convenient and easy to use. But a pay telephone made the act of verbal communication a little slower and thus more considered and, needless to say, gave time for (hopefully) fully engaging one’s brain before putting one’s mouth in gear.

Always a fine idea. 



It snowed lightly last night putting a coating of wet sticky white on everything. This morning I slogged around the neighborhood taking early morning pictures of the black and white beauty the storm left behind.

Over the hill from our house is a graveyard. It’s a popular final resting place for us locals because it consists of a pretty tree-dotted field with old gravel paths between the headstones. There is an stone wall between the cemetery and the road and as I looked over it at the graves the thought occurred to me that the rounded organic shapes of the fieldstones in the wall were the ancestors of their carved cousins inside. 

Esthetically I liked the old guys better. They looked more comfortable in the bad weather..

Snowy Maine Morning

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