Photo
Roxy Repeat on Flickr.Night shot in Nashville, Tenn.
Polaroid SX-70
Impossible Project Cyanograph film

Roxy Repeat on Flickr.

Night shot in Nashville, Tenn.
Polaroid SX-70
Impossible Project Cyanograph film

Photo
Some Time After Midnight on Flickr.Nashville, Tenn.
Polaroid SX-70
Impossible Project Cyanograph film

Some Time After Midnight on Flickr.

Nashville, Tenn.
Polaroid SX-70
Impossible Project Cyanograph film

Photo
City on Flickr.Brooklyn, NY
Mamiya 645 Pro TL
Mamiya Sekor C 70 mm F 2.8 C
Kodak Portra 160

City on Flickr.

Brooklyn, NY
Mamiya 645 Pro TL
Mamiya Sekor C 70 mm F 2.8 C
Kodak Portra 160

Photo
Krappy Self Portrait Pinhole on Flickr.Soho Photo Gallery, New York
Zero Image 69, Kodak Portra 160

Krappy Self Portrait Pinhole on Flickr.

Soho Photo Gallery, New York
Zero Image 69, Kodak Portra 160

Photo
Wendell’s on Flickr.Wendell’s Restaurant, Nashville, Tenn.
Mamiya 645 Pro TL
Mamiya Sekor C 70 mm F 2.8 C
Kodak Portra 160

Wendell’s on Flickr.

Wendell’s Restaurant, Nashville, Tenn.
Mamiya 645 Pro TL
Mamiya Sekor C 70 mm F 2.8 C
Kodak Portra 160

Photo
Fallout Frigidaire on Flickr.Zero Image pinhole, Kodak Portra 400, ~8 seconds

Fallout Frigidaire on Flickr.

Zero Image pinhole, Kodak Portra 400, ~8 seconds

Photo
B Is For Cycle on Flickr.Brooklyn, New York
Zero Image pinhole, Kodak Portra 400, ~5 seconds

B Is For Cycle on Flickr.

Brooklyn, New York
Zero Image pinhole, Kodak Portra 400, ~5 seconds

Photo
We All Get There Eventually on Flickr.New York Subway Station (forget which one)
Zero Image pinhole, Kodak Portra 160, many minutes, converted to B&W in photoshop

We All Get There Eventually on Flickr.

New York Subway Station (forget which one)
Zero Image pinhole, Kodak Portra 160, many minutes, converted to B&W in photoshop

Photo
Where We Walk on Flickr.Brooklyn, New York
Zero Image 69, Kodak Portra 400, about 6 seconds, cropped square
Image used to recreate an album cover for Crowded House’s “Platinum,” located here.

Where We Walk on Flickr.

Brooklyn, New York
Zero Image 69, Kodak Portra 400, about 6 seconds, cropped square
Image used to recreate an album cover for Crowded House’s “Platinum,” located here.

Photo
Little Pink Houses on Flickr.Brooklyn, New York
Zero Image 69, Kodak Portra 400, about 4 seconds

Little Pink Houses on Flickr.

Brooklyn, New York
Zero Image 69, Kodak Portra 400, about 4 seconds

Photo
Myrtle/Wyckoff Ave (L/M) Station on Flickr.Bushwick, Brooklyn, New York
Zero Image 69, Kodak Portra 400, ~2 minutes
Converted to BW in Photoshop with blue filter preset

Myrtle/Wyckoff Ave (L/M) Station on Flickr.

Bushwick, Brooklyn, New York
Zero Image 69, Kodak Portra 400, ~2 minutes
Converted to BW in Photoshop with blue filter preset

Photo
St. Nicholas Scott Troutman on Flickr.Brooklyn, NY
Zero Image 69
Kodak Portra 400
The man clearing the snow didn’t show up in the image, but graffiti boy did.

St. Nicholas Scott Troutman on Flickr.

Brooklyn, NY
Zero Image 69
Kodak Portra 400
The man clearing the snow didn’t show up in the image, but graffiti boy did.

Photo
Under Over on Flickr.Queensboro Bridge from Roosevelt Island Tram
New York City
Polaroid 360, Fuji FP-3000B

Under Over on Flickr.

Queensboro Bridge from Roosevelt Island Tram
New York City
Polaroid 360, Fuji FP-3000B

Photo
Power Bridge on Flickr.Double exposure, Roosevelt Island, New York City
Polaroid 360
Fujifilm FP-3000B

Power Bridge on Flickr.

Double exposure, Roosevelt Island, New York City
Polaroid 360
Fujifilm FP-3000B

Photo
Making an SX-70 Cry on Flickr.What happens when you try to shoot Impossible Cyanograph film with an SX-70 that’s been in a backpack at sub-freezing temperatures for several hours? Well, in my case, this…
I tossed the SX-70 into my backpack before heading out to explore Manhattan this past weekend. It was about 20 degrees outside. That didn’t matter, the excitement of exploration warms better than any fire.
Riding the Roosevelt Island Tram I pulled out SX to snap a couple of images (I even prepped myself for the shock of shoving damn cold developing images into the balmy warmth of my armpit). I pressed the button for the first image, a shot of the Manhattan skyline in full daylight, and then waited…and waited…and waited. Finally, since nothing happened after 30 seconds, I assumed I had a bad film battery. As I relaxed and moved a frame rolled out of the camera (image on the left). I shrugged my shoulders and tried another, this time the inside of the tram. I waited again (but not as patiently). Again, after nearly 30 seconds, the camera spat out an image.
I cursed under my breath, “damn stupid camera.”
The camera spoke. 
I was shocked since I’d never heard my SX (or any camera, for that matter) speak. Its voice was high-pitched and androgynous. There was a soft, lilting quality. I quite liked it. 
“Why?” it asked.
“Why, what?” I responded. I noticed the other tram riders shift away from me slightly.
“Why have you brought me to this frozen hell? Why do you expect me to work under these brutal conditions? Why do you hate me?”
“This isn’t hell, silly. This is New York City. It’s winter.” More shifting by the other passengers, I felt the tram tilt slightly as nearly everyone moved to the opposite end from me.
“My point,” SX replied. Its voice rose an octave. “My point exactly! I’m supposed to be on a beach in Miami photographing models, or in the back alleys of a Mediterranean village chasing shadows, or in L.A. creating edgy headshots, or … you get the point.” 
The voice quivered. “New York in spring. New York in fall. New York when it’s not hot or cold and only if it’s not raining! Get it, pinhole jerk. I’m not one of your dumb boxes. I’m too smart to deal with this crap.”
There was a pause and then it sobbed out, “I’M BEAUTIFUL, DAMN IT, TREAT ME THAT WAY!!!”
My tears of responsive remorse froze on my cheeks. 
“I didn’t realize. Oh, I’ve mistreated you. You don’t deserve me. You deserve better,” I cried.
Removing my scarf, I tenderly wrapped up SX—it’s shudders visible through the material—and placed it back into my bag. 
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I love you. Please forgive me.”
The tram stopped as I closed the zipper and I watched as the other riders rushed out the open doors.

Making an SX-70 Cry on Flickr.

What happens when you try to shoot Impossible Cyanograph film with an SX-70 that’s been in a backpack at sub-freezing temperatures for several hours? Well, in my case, this…

I tossed the SX-70 into my backpack before heading out to explore Manhattan this past weekend. It was about 20 degrees outside. That didn’t matter, the excitement of exploration warms better than any fire.

Riding the Roosevelt Island Tram I pulled out SX to snap a couple of images (I even prepped myself for the shock of shoving damn cold developing images into the balmy warmth of my armpit). I pressed the button for the first image, a shot of the Manhattan skyline in full daylight, and then waited…and waited…and waited. Finally, since nothing happened after 30 seconds, I assumed I had a bad film battery. As I relaxed and moved a frame rolled out of the camera (image on the left). I shrugged my shoulders and tried another, this time the inside of the tram. I waited again (but not as patiently). Again, after nearly 30 seconds, the camera spat out an image.

I cursed under my breath, “damn stupid camera.”

The camera spoke.

I was shocked since I’d never heard my SX (or any camera, for that matter) speak. Its voice was high-pitched and androgynous. There was a soft, lilting quality. I quite liked it.

“Why?” it asked.

“Why, what?” I responded. I noticed the other tram riders shift away from me slightly.

“Why have you brought me to this frozen hell? Why do you expect me to work under these brutal conditions? Why do you hate me?”

“This isn’t hell, silly. This is New York City. It’s winter.” More shifting by the other passengers, I felt the tram tilt slightly as nearly everyone moved to the opposite end from me.

“My point,” SX replied. Its voice rose an octave. “My point exactly! I’m supposed to be on a beach in Miami photographing models, or in the back alleys of a Mediterranean village chasing shadows, or in L.A. creating edgy headshots, or … you get the point.”

The voice quivered. “New York in spring. New York in fall. New York when it’s not hot or cold and only if it’s not raining! Get it, pinhole jerk. I’m not one of your dumb boxes. I’m too smart to deal with this crap.”

There was a pause and then it sobbed out, “I’M BEAUTIFUL, DAMN IT, TREAT ME THAT WAY!!!”

My tears of responsive remorse froze on my cheeks.

“I didn’t realize. Oh, I’ve mistreated you. You don’t deserve me. You deserve better,” I cried.

Removing my scarf, I tenderly wrapped up SX—it’s shudders visible through the material—and placed it back into my bag.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I love you. Please forgive me.”

The tram stopped as I closed the zipper and I watched as the other riders rushed out the open doors.