I see pretty... It's in the details

On Sunday afternoon, armed with my camera, a zoom lens and a tank of gas I headed out to shoot some pictures. I knew I wanted to hit the beach, but other than that I had no plan and decided simply to let the car lead the way.

I'm a details girls. I've always seen things a bit differently. I don't look at the world through a panoramic lens, rather a macro lens. I don't want to see the city skyline, I want to focus on a particular aspect of the skyline, a tiny detail in a rooftop, water-tower, spire... a window and what lies behind it. It's the details that fascinate me... the details that tell such a story.

I was driving around a month or so ago and saw a rundown van in a junkyard. I was immediately taken by this van and vowed to return to see it again. The next time I would do so with my camera. I didn't see a pile of junk. I saw beauty. I saw art. I saw color. I saw fun. I imagined a bunch of children really, maybe teenagers, having fun painting, laughing, creating memories. When I look at this van I see happiness. I see art.

By stark contrast I saw this well in a wide open field. I simply had to stop the car and shoot!

Shortly thereafter I found myself at a small semi-private beach that I adore. It was quite cold that afternoon with winds blowing off the water. The beach felt Wintry. I was not properly dressed (although I'd been hot just a few minutes earlier in town) and while the sand was warm underfoot, my fingers were starting to get stiff from the cold air.


I was taken by this towel, hanging from a tree. I loved the contrast of the bright colors of the towel against the fairly bland colors of the sand in the distance. Even more so, I was taken by this towel floating from the branch of a very naked and bare tree. It seemed quite paradoxical, in fact.

I love everything old. I love things weathered. I think there's nothing more perfect than something that's imperfect. I think this old chain is spectacular!

I spotted this chair while I was driving. I simply had to pull over. I imagined an old man, resembling Hemingway, sitting in this chair, staring out to see... completely lost in his thoughts. The old man must love his chair with its fantastical views because if you look closely at the bottom he's taken careful attention to ensure that no one dares to try to remove it from it's post.