Before the winter break my room mate, Anthony, left a note in my cereal box:

Pete, We were supposed to go driving today… It has been snowing since 2:30 AM. Tho
ugh beautiful, even I would not drive today.

By the way it’s about 7:15 AM.

I spent my night in the kitchen watching the snowfall. I feel at peace here, alone with the ovens on and their doors open for heat. It’s so toasty. The sun is rising… cannot see it though… the sky is turning a pretty pink. It was beautiful transition, though… the snow I mean. At first… it didn’t stick… just covered the limp green in a hypothermic frost…man… I would hate to be the grass… then, the green turned to white. It was slow at first … but it caught on very quickly… then the roads… cars… buildings, until everything was white… Is White. Perfection.

The best part… footprints. Watching people walk to campus… leaving harsh black imperfections in the snow… only to see them covered with the forgiving and patient white snow. It’s as if… the endothermic reaction that occurred upon compression failed to blush the reputation of winters; a soft handed realization to an unyielding life. I hope to someday share such a transition with you.

All is white except the ground under the post… orange form the light above. One can sense the jealousy that quivers between the filament to filament; time-and-a-half pay to disrupt the process.

“Just stop trying. You’re embarrassing yourself… stop! PLEASE!”

But, boy… is it pretty. Street lamps turn off…one… by one…by one.

Lights, camera…action! Friday has begun.

I want you to take one thing home with you this holiday.

Can you do that? A piece of knowledge if you will.

You’re an inspiration and it’s an honor to know you. Just promise me one thing…

Promise me… you’ll never let the snow cover you up.

With more love than this world can count on,

Anthony Petrella.

P.S: You know they say that the people who stay friends forever meet in college?

You and me kiddo.


Cold Feet?

I always get this chill at the back of my spine every time I find myself gathered in a circle of individuals sharing his and hers aspiring occupations. Maybe, every time it’s only my ears that hear the sound of crickets conversing in the wind after I announce what my profession is going to be. It often feels as if at the moment I’m done stating what I do, a man cloaked within a nearby bush, will hop out and scream “seriously?”, as if what I just said was a joke. It’s not just me because I can see it on people’s faces. When I’m standing in a circle among future doctors, lawyers, and teachers, and I blurt out “photography” as my future, they all give me this “he must be crazy” look as if I’m dress up as Santa and a calendar just flipped its pages until it stopped on July. Still, I guess I’ve been sort of questioning the importance or should I say significance of an artist compared to teachers, doctors, and lawyers in the world today. To be blunt, I couldn’t see past the mountains of importance they have. I couldn’t see why an artist could even consider themselves just as important as the other choices, because I didn’t see it saving someone’s life, or teaching kids, or even providing someone justice.

The Climb

Now, I’ve opened my eyes a bit, and I’m starting to see what was gleaming all along beyond those mountains; expression. I imagined a world without artist and all I could perceive was a dull place cursed in a colorless, monochrome for entirety. Perhaps that was a bit extreme. Regardless, I saw everyone as the same  much like robots, walking in lines, proceeding every action in a well oiled, precise and scheduled motion. On the bright side, nothing was out-of-order and all the restrooms were clean, but simultaneously on the bad side, everyone became lifeless; walking, breathing, and living Dead.

I think we take for granted the roles of artisans and their ability to shape, create, and manipulate the World as if it were just another medium used for expression. They are just as important as other jobs, and if anything, they are more important. If I’m wrong, then tell me, however I’ll only ask you one thing: “If Art isn’t important than what is?”


Bars

Bars

I shot Bars this summer, and I was supposed to use it in a project for Seventy Seven, however the timing wasn’t quite right for me to be able to commit to the assignment. In fact, I couldn’t even edit this great shot because my computer would often terminate Photoshop on the slightest alteration of the curves adjustment.

I don’t know if this sounds like it makes sense, but the photo was a photo before it even became a photo. What I mean by that is I knew exactly what I wanted to capture ( this happens often when I go out to shoot) before I set up to even try to get an image out of this scene. Often times the set ups for what I would think are great shots fly in and out of the terminal of my mind and some of them stay, awaiting the faithful day that I put them in motion.

Now for the image itself, in it’s simplest concept; it emits the feeling of a prisoner whom has accepted her fate, yet she still clings to the bars gazing beyond at the only thing that could illuminate her face like so, the only thing that could make her choke the necks of the bars because she doesn’t know how to give it up; but then again who would know how to give up their freedom? I hope you all just caught that, and I hope this image captures that.


Special Post

I never really believe my posts are anything special, just a little some of what I’m feeling at the time. Locked jars of my thoughts, they are; mostly, what I find impossible to ignore. The sheer annoyance of thoughts buzzing around the hive of my ears like childhood friends wondering when my mind will come out to play, only makes me unable to resist dipping into the temptation of possibilities.

These days my mind has been in a rather awkward position, standing its two left feet on the dancefloor and locking hands with the thought of what it takes to be a man. I know it means well but this dance only gets worse when I think about it. And here it is, yet again, rearing it’s pestering behind, tapping it’s foot because its ready to tango…

However, I’ll save our encounter for a future post. Now, at the risk of contradicting myself, because I bet you’re wondering why I even entitled this post “Special Post”, I’ll explain. Well, it’s really because of that the photo below; WEEDS. I never really talk about my photos or should I say explain them and I feel that’s a mistake on my part because often times a picture’s focus can be something that not even in the shot. In other words, our eyes are sometimes going to have to look a bit deeper in order to truly understand what’s exactly there.

WEEDS

WEEDS is an appreciation for the wild yet tame disposition of nature. Here nature is a caged bird, yet it still seems to be willing to spread it’s wings, or should I say, stems despite its contained state. Nature is trying to escape by climbing like tiny solders up and over. I believe it’s a nice shot and I bet the weeds must seem like a bit more than just weeds now.


The Cage

A few weeks ago, I freelanced a baseball game. It was definitely exciting. I never knew I would enjoy watching baseball like that. The irony was that the team I was shooting actually lost the game… by a lot. Nevertheless they sure made some great pictures out of a horrible outing for them.

The Cage


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