Many Windows

I'm leaving today! A few days in London, many days in Bosnia with small trips interspersed to Slovenia and Croatia, back to London then to Paris. Needless to say, a very, very busy next 5+ weeks. I don't know what my internet situation will be, but I know I won't have a cell phone. So if you want to get ahold of me, e-mail me tahoe488@gmail.com or maybe even Skype me if I remember to sign in. And be looking for pictures! I'll have posts ready to go for a while of things that need to get posted, but don't worry, Europe will soon be on here!

The Oldest Cathedral in the New World

Man with the Cigarette.

Not many people in the Dominican Republic smoke. I don't know if it is because the culture finds it disgusting or because they just cannot afford a cigarette. Nonetheless, it is not a common sight although it must be more common than I imagine because people sit on the sides of the street selling packs out of suitcases on make-shift stands. Walking around the blocks filled with museums while attending a gallery opening, I came across a beautiful construction worker and begged him for a photograph. He was indifferent to the camera, but his friends fell in love and insisted that I follow them around the steel framed skeleton of a building to photograph the workers. I was able to get a few images that I liked, but this man pulled me aside and asked if I could take his portrait. I started to and then he pulled out a cigarette and wanted a photograph with it. He wanted to show off that he smoked, either meaning he found it to be quite cool or perhaps to show off how well he was to be able to afford a smoke. I have a series of pictures of him with his friends and a huge smile, but once he left the group he became quite serious and real, which is the real reason why I chose this image, because he felt more real in this image than any other taken.

Aaron Siskind on Remembering

“Photography is a way of feeling, of touching, of loving. What you have caught on film is captured forever... it remembers little things, long after you have forgotten everything.”-Aaron Siskind

The Butcher.

The butcher on my street.

The Barber Shop on my street

La Correo, The Post Office

No Comment.

Interiors of an Extended Family

Walking through the market filled allies near my house in Santo Domingo, there was a woman I wanted to photograph who insisted on only being photographed while holding an eggplant. Her name was Rosa Santana. As I got her to put down the eggplant for at least one frame, we began to talk as she grabbed my arm and started pushing me through people and under dripping clotheslines into what I did not realize were homes. These homes were behind service counters, through other homes, and up cracked pavement. These were the homes of her entire extended family. She was showing me each member of her family that lived in the area, asking me to please photograph them. I tried to explain that I was leaving and had no way of getting the pictures to her, but it did not matter, she wanted each member documented in somebody's history. This is one of her daughters who I met. Her name is long gone now, but this is her wall of portraits of her children. An actual photograph of her son, and two dolls representing each of her daughters. Perhaps this is why the pictures were so important, because this is all they have, and at least someone will have an actual image of their children.

These images are of two of her daughters (Maria is the seated woman in the first photograph).

Saturdays in the Dominican Republic

It is Saturday in Santo Domingo which means we head over to la peluquería owned by my Dominican mother's sister, Marcia. We get our hair washed in the little converted garage underneath their home by the different members of the family that run the little shop. They wash and style our hair for us because many people here don't have what they need to do it themselves. This is the only time that hair gets washed. I cheat, however, and wash mine one day mid-week so I don't look so homeless. Here are some photographs I took while Ivis was getting her hair washed three weeks back.

the Colonial Zone 2

this is what I really spent my time doing when I went to the Colonial Zone.

the first photograph is of Juanita, 90 years old. She made me sit on her stoop and chat with her for nearly thirty minutes before she would let me photograph her. I somehow managed to keep up a conversation in Spanish about our families and lives. She was absolutely fascinating and beautiful. then the two girls came by, wanting their photo taken and so of course I did. they then talked to me for a while as we walked around the streets, taking me on a tour of their little area.

The Colonial Zone

This is as touristy as I may get. ..Well, that's a lie. I've taking more architecture-ish photos of some of the sites around here. Just need to get around to posting them... I just like people too much to post boring pictures of buildings and monuments.


I couldn't decide between these two pictures. I like them both, and although they are similar they are very different at the same time. Eventually I'll probably narrow it down to just one.

The Jump Rope

As the electricity goes out for the 4th day in a row, we start to get anxious. We cannot sleep anymore during the day to try to keep cool, but we cannot bare the heat either. I don't mind a blackout for an hour or two a day, but all day and night for four days, with the only electricity lasting about an hour out of every 12, we cannot take it anymore. Socrates comes downstairs with an old telephone cord as we sit around the kitchen table, trying to figure out what to do. He is jumping up and down, using it as a jump rope. I go in to the kitchen to talk to Ivis when we hear screaming from the drive way. And our Dominican mother is making the two boys turn the cord for her so she can jump. We go out to join her, move it into the streets in which kids that I didn't even know lived here came out of their homes to join us and our old telephone cord.

Little Haiti

Some environmental portraits from Little Haiti, an extremely poor part of the Colonial District in town.

I have a photo essay plus some writing I did on this area with some of the same plus other photos going up on my newspaper's website, so check it out!

Welcome To My Life

A boy in Little Haiti, a poor Haitian district in town, trying to get my attention. I took a few candid of him at first, but this obviously worked too.

El Barrio

I wish I could describe how this place feels, because there is a magic about it that is amazing. Today was Workers Holiday, where nobody had work or school, so the streets were full of people riding bikes and sitting around talking on the curb. The apartments are close together and you can hear laughter and music from the streets below through the open windows and the thick hot air blowing in. I went for a walk around the neighborhood where I now live, and everything is so colorful. The people are so gorgeous, juxtaposed against the harsh poverty in which they live. The family that I live with is absolutely beautiful, and I have a new best friend: the 10 year old boy Socrates, with whom I’ve been playing games with all afternoon.
I’m going to try to write more on my blog posts, along with perhaps a Spanish version of the posts so I can practice. I’ve already learned so much Spanish and it’s been like 5 hours.