Country Vet: II

I have finally finished shooting my semester long project on Dr. Nichols, which is a load off, although I am ambivalent about this chapters conclusion. This story has had a more pervasive effect on me than any before. Between being wrist deep in dog blood and welcomed over to share Thanksgiving, my time with the Doc and those at the hospital has exceeded the boundaries of involvement on a typical shoot. While I intend to return and call socially, I’ll miss my routine and the hours spent with the Doc. I expect my experiences to remain with me for quiet some time. Indeed, this is by far the most personally memorable piece that I have ever completed. These are only some photos taken since the previous post, and not the final edit. When it is complete I will post the finalized piece. Lastly, thanks so much to every one who put up with my shooting and suffered through editing.

Sorta Green

Here is my coverage of last nights local Syracuse elections. I was holed up with the Green Party in a well-worn storefront over on S. Salina. I find that area charming but Kaitlyn was very edgy about getting jacked, cause well, it is technically the ghetto, and Syracuse sure knows how to ghetto. More to come. Have to run. But guess what… they lost. Oh, and plus five points if you get the B. Lear reference.

 

Country Vet

This past weekend I participated in the Newhouse photo dept. Fall Photo Workshop (http://thefallworkshop.com/) in the beauteous, rich, white town of Skaneateles, NY, just a half hour or so west of not so beauteous Syracuse. Essentially this meant for three straight days I did little else besides take and edit endless photos, surviving on cold pizza and three or four hours sleep. I focused for the entire duration on one Dr. Robert Nichols Jr. I will preface this by saying I have never endured such an emotional and intense photographic experience. Nichols is an old-school, pragmatic bad-ass. He saves the lives of animals ’cause that’s his job. He has been doing it for over 30 years in the practice started by Robert Senior eons ago. Never have I before met someone so abrasive and yet so loved and revered by nearly all. I was taken aback at first by his blunt opinionated diatribes and his assaults on my politics, homeland and education. He peppered me with quiz questions ranging from Latin, American History to Chemistry. But after spending day after day together, the more I enjoyed his conversation and company. The zenith of the weekend came about when a badly injured dog came in. With no else around to assist he instructed me to put down the camera and grab a leg. I helped position the dog for two separate operations. First we addressed a badly gashed knee for which I had to rotate and hyper-extend the leg. I had miked an I.V. stand so as to interview during the procedure although this slowed him down apparently and before long I found my self trying to wrangle a convulsing dog while Nichols raced to finish the stitches. Next we had to address an abscess on the dog’s hindquarters which turned out to radiate from two sources and went nearly six or seven inches deep. According to Nichols it was the worst he had ever seen. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the carnage. Blood, puss and iodine sloshed over my hands and forearms. It was horrifying but necessary (feel free to google the remediation of an abscess). Eventually it was done.. This is only a fraction of what I experienced during this assignment and it goes without saying that I will continue to document the life and work of a man with whom I now share a mutual respect.

When We Were Young and Killed Computers

Super throw back-time. This is from second semester of my freshman year. After more than two years of incessant pestering by Ben and Daniel, (see Prague posts for pictures of both. Ben with the hair atrocity and Daniel in the synagogue), these photos are now available. It all started with one of those obnoxious developmental photo assignments on motion that I have, over the years, completed no less than six times. For a stop motion shot I rounded up the boys and a few old computers over spring break, one of the o.g. Macs and a newer Dell from the Salvation Army, filled the car and bee-lined to the nearest storm drain. Once deep in the Highlands wilderness I supplied bats and gave the word. This is what ensued. On Ben’s first swing, the vibrations from the wood slugger pitifully failing to breach the full inch thick glass of the old school Dell monitor nearly destroyed his guitar strumming hand. It was so funny I had to stop shooting. Something invariably primal emerges when you give boys implements and condone destruction. So f*cking awesome. If we had more junk to break and batter, we’d probably batter and break fewer people. Hope this shuts y’all up finally…

Dublin is Sweet! Who Knew

To close out the year abroad in style, my friend Megan proposed a grand tour of the Ireland, both north and south, thus helping me check of the McDonald’s-esq geographic monopoly monopoly that is the U.K.+ the dissenters, although leaving her just shy, without Wales you know. We actually tried to hit Wales then take a ferry over but it overcomplicated things so we flew straight into the museum of dank and dour that is Londonderry, the eternal monument to the troubles (what a hilariously British term for something so violent and atrocious, the troubles. It sounds more like a toddlers fit or some crusty 50 year old dudes slang for menstruation). Once the venue for Bloody Sunday, Derry hasn’t let much change since then, except for adding a few murals, ultimately the highlight of the city. Boy do they carry the torch of bitterness. Long story short, never, ever, ever go to Derry, except to make everything else you do in Ireland seem that much better by comparison, which might partially be why we, unlike many of out peers, loved Dublin so darn much. These are my favorite pics from Dublin. The old Irish lady sipping her Guinness like a Lazarus serum is conveniently doing so in The GRAVITY Bar, which is the pinnacle of The Guinness Storehouse experience. Pretty friggin’ contextual, right. More to come.

Yorkian Misadventures

Hello again. I have been negligent, so sorry, though with good reason. Since the last post I was submerged, drowning even, under a tar of academic finality (finals that is), and then flourishing in an Irish womb. More on Ireland soon. This is however yet another throwback, way, way back to my Odyssian zigzag home last December. Devotees (which consists, I’m sure, not even of me), will have expected this final chapter, the New York leg. Though meaning to visit with a certain friend during my intentional layover, complications waylaid and liminalized me. But hallelujah and sweet release, my trip was saved! First a whiskeyed night (for the record my first legal drinks in the U.S. having breached the twenty-one divide while in London), stuck at an airport motel deep in Jamaica Queens. Then my dear friend Jessica rescued me and we romped through the city like new lovers in an old land. I ate a real, American, bloody, precious, sacred hamburger after months without, or rather suffering through British bastardizations. She took me in. We stayed with her once removed familiars in a curious arrondissement of Long Island I had never imagined, thankfully devoid of irreverent guids, japs (not the WWII kind), and boys in boat shoes. I slept well, tidied on a plastic coated couch. We had a lovely breakfast. She, crab stuffed prawns, me, corn beef hash. Most of today’s pics belong to that morning. Then another pleasant city day, after which my birth brother, Eric Akashi (whose website is linked to your right), graciously permitted me at his downtown haven. I again slept well… after a lager lullaby. Morning came. Ominous jewels began to fall.  Bomb eggs benedict and coffee, then I headed south to Newark where I met Henry. We idled and then we prayed, prayed so very hard for two such waspy though irreligious boys, that we might escape the intensifying storm. Do you recall that inconvenient snow? We both managed to fly out, taxiing into better beds and showers, finally home… (and yes, god yes, I am aware how fudgey sweet, masturbatory and indulgent this post is, cut a boy some slack, eh!).

A Wall, Kareem & Deutsche Skating

And now for the final installment of my European winter. After Prague I visited Emily in Berlin. We ate very well (I think she used my visit as an excuse to try all the restaurants she’s been wanting to; I consider myself very fortunate), wandered the bitter cold city, went ice skating, stumbled into an archaeology museum within a palace, and stayed persistently active while generally all hyphy on gluhwein and chestnuts. I’m still astounded by the amount we accomplished. We arose early and kept up a steady pace. Aside from the oppressive frost, the trip could not have been more splendid. It was especially nice to spend time with Em, who I don’t get to see all that often. I previously travelled to Berlin in 2006, during the summer mind you, so it was nice to get a view of it during a different season and from a different perspective. Winter suits Berlin. The lacquering of Christmas markets drum up such a spirit of the season. From there I flew back to London, and then to the States, but not yet home. My stop-over in New York will follow.

Dobré časy v Praze (Good Times in Prague)

Here’s another throwback. These are my shots from Prague back in December. Daniel Goldfarb, Jack Madans and myself went to visit Ben Lear during his semester in the Czech Republic, at the end of our terms. It should be noted, I was so late for my plane to Prague that after the shoe bomb scanner I hadn’t even the time to re-sole myself. Instead I broke out running furiously, bare-foot, through two miles of terminal. I made my plane, all-though one shoe short. It had popped out of my bag, so upon arrival I had to hoof my way across the Czech Republic, braving Die Hard style glass and general post-Communist detritus, but my feetsies help up. I’m proud of my boys. I slept on some cold stone floors, drank a lot of Becherovka (which tastes exactly of Christmas), ate Smažený sýr (essentially fried cheese and mayo sandwiches that really soak up the pilsner), and generally did it up. Persistent imbibing of Becherovka, the Czech national liquor, prompted a theory. Every country without a mainstream national alcohol like whiskey or tequila, have adopted fundamentally identical anise flavored vodkas. Sambuca, ouzo, raki, etc. Think about it. Daniel and I also took an extensive tour of Jewish Prague, visiting several temples, museums and a graveyard. The shot of him is inside a synagogue where during WWII the names of the Jewish dead and missing, mostly victims of the Holocaust, were written on the walls in memorium. We managed to locate members of Goldfarbrova family, presumably his surname before being westernized. Prague’s cuisine especially impressed me. Lots of heavy sauced meats with dumplings and fountains of Pilsner Urquell. Just what endeavoring youths need to fight the cold. After a few action packed days I hopped onto a Berlin-bound train, off to visit my dear friend Emily. That post to follow.

Amsterdam

Here are some old pics from my trip to Amsterdam with Meg and Patty. I promised Meg I would get them up cause she really wants to get at the sandwich picture. In all fairness they were amazing sandwiches. We got them from a stand in the park fronting the Ryks Museum. It was overall a casual trip. Meg and I spent our time wandering, eating caramel waffles and frites, chasing that all important geld, enjoying beverages in the park and marvelling at the lost mitten fence. Oh yeah, also, the Anne Frank house is depressing, though more spacious than I anticipated.

Great Britons Pt. IV: Move to Australlia!

The fourth and final installment, which is all about the absurdity of British surfing. I mean come-on! It’s freezing. California water is too chilly for me outside of July. I guess I have to give it up, these dudes ( and potentially dudetts) are f^(%!#& badassss. Check out the one dude with a wetsuit hoodie. Me and Kaye sat and watched, cozy in our sweaters and coats, enjoying tea, for her a mocha, marvelling at the sheer audacity. This is certainly one way to affirm to mother nature who’s king. Eventually it got to be too much, so we went for a hike (photos from the hike are in the previous post). After that we drove to Truro and had tapas while waiting for my train. I messed up the times and got there a bit early, but passed the time playing poker with some Truro folk in pub. What a lovely last day. What a lovely trip.