Friday!

I Gotta learn to type. Next week is casting call!

Monday...

With out words...

That's a wrap!

Today was spent in the studio in an attempt to film a 20 second sequence for this spooky trailer I’m putting together. Well, it didn’t even go as planed and I stopped the shoot. If it isn’t coming off spooky enough then we stop, beat our faces with badminton rackets until it IS spooky enough!!! I cut for the day and went to my old stand by still photography and played for a bit on the computers. I came up with this. Now why can't I convey this on film!!! Good ‘ol photography… Film is just that much harder….I’ll be back!

Cant see the trees for the ....Forrest?

Ah! Here it is. My infamous Christmas card stunt from the 80's. Like I said... I had produced this image in the studio and mailed it out to everyone on my Christmas list. The next year, I got about half as many cards. What? Erotica and Christmas trees don't mix?

The Little Door in My Room

My door is never opened, and its rarely even acknowledged. I make an effort when I pass to ignore this little hatch of an opening. Only looking quickly to ensure the lock is in position as it need be. During the hustle of the day no one ever seems to question this tiny aperture in my room. But as day surrenders to night and I retire to my room, I pause to feel my door with the palm of my hand. I gently touch my door, feeling for changes that may present for my convenience on such occasions. As I lie in bed embracing the cover of darkness I squint to see the outlines of my special door. I watch for subtle changes for that only I can see. We have an understanding my door and I.
I speak in whispers of daily troubles and reveal to my door those who crossed my path during the previous days. I never truly see my door in blackness of night.
When sun crosses my face I stretch and rise. I look to my little door and see that it is ajar but just a few inches, the lock open as if telling me all is well. As I smile and embrace the new dawn I can only grin, knowing that all my troubles are taken care of. My smile fades to a stare as I think how much every one will search… but no one will ever find them…they never do…

Hello...Who's there?

Waking to hour that no one desires to visit. Sleep departs the body like whaling stands of mist above a still pond in the pale blue moonlight. Dare not move as the touch of a phantom-like presence embraces all surroundings. Never to call out, nor acknowledge such a wave of fear that resides within ones physical walls tonight. Move to reach for such an unwelcome visitor in the murky cold night air will only confirm all uncertainties and haste the harsh reality of what is so very near. Eire unrecognizable shadows from winter limbs cast disturbing figures upon walls that seemed so kind by the light of day. Back to sleep, as this must only be the minds eye clouded with uncertainty and the soul perplexed by such an unholy hour. As sleep begins to grace over the body once again, and dread flows back to its residing pool buried deep in the subconscious, peace returns as if to flow from under the door filling the room once again. It is only then, you hear a faintest of whisper, only audible over owns beating heart. “Who is there?” A voice hisses, “Who is there?”…

Dont let the good looks fool ya...

Happens every time I take my own photograph...