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During my childhood, when I-75 was a divided four lane and Highway 41 was still the main road through town and smaller roads snaked over and between the hills, the Willowdale bridge crossed Mill Creek along one of those side streets. That is, until The Day The Truck Tried To Cross. On that day in the late 70s, a truck driver tried to drive too large a truck over too small a bridge, causing a collapse and putting the truck in the creek below. My dad insisted we go have a look, so into the car and on the way we went.  It was quite a sight for my young eyes and the memory still feels fresh. My wife, who lived nearby, remembers the event well, as I suppose all who saw it did.  Willowdale is also the site of a train derailment many years ago. Here's the story as told by Norman Blake: The bridge was decommissioned long ago and has fallen into disrepair. A walking trail has replaced the road, but the remains of the bridge still stand.

Photography has been a defining passion of mine for almost three decades. I began with a 35mm Nikon and a copy of " The 35mm Photographer's Handbook ," both purchased locally, as was custom in the early 90s. After many ups and downs during the learning process, I began to get results I was proud of. Medium format photography beckoned and I moved to a Mamiya 645, a truly fine camera of its time. I was on a roll. In time, I would return to 35mm and the wider range of accessories. In the early 2000s, I moved to digital and was struck by the immediacy of the format. No more waiting for film to be developed, prints made, etc. Photo editing software made it even more immersive to capture one's vision. Amazing stuff. A few years later, I stumbled upon a book about pinhole photography. I'd encountered the format once before, in 4th grade, when the class made our own cameras out of cardboard and black electrical tape. Most failed, mine included. A web search of pinho...

"Who is your model?" I was asked this several times when this photo was first published on the old site.. Truth be known, she never modeled for me. Her name was D'a-lal  and she was the muse of sculptor  Harold Cash . This piece stands outside the  Hunter Museum Of American Art  in Chattanooga. She stands arms over head, looking ever westward.

This photo is an example of what I call a happy accident. While wandering in a cemetery in Rome, Georgia, I found this stunning, weather worn sculpture. I took my camera (then a Nikon P-50) from my pocket, composed the shot and pressed the shutter button. It was an overcast day and the exposure was a bit longer than expected; also, the P-50 had noticable shutter lag. The result is this photo, in all its blurred, slightly offcenter composition. This happy accident is a much better photo than what I had in mind when tripping the shutter.

New Orleans is famous for its  cemeteries , and rightfully so. They are cities within a city, gathering places for the living in honor of the dead. Monuments abound, and the piece above was striking on an overcast June day.

On a mountain road in northeast Georgia, not far from the town of  Dahlonega , stands the chimney of a house long fallen. One wonders what became of the home and those who dwelt in it. This was gold country, home to the first gold rush, twenty years before John Sutter discovered gold in a creek in California. What fortune led to the building of this chimney, and what misfortune led to it being all that remains of a settler's dream?

Today's photo includes a ghost story, because I love this sort of thing! The Chickamauga Battlefield , known simply as "the Battlefield" to locals, is the site of a bloody three day battle  during the American Civil War.  Now a national park, it is home to an impressive amount of wildlife, history buffs, and monuments to the events that took place on site. The most impressive of the monuments is  Wilder Tower , named after Union Col. John T. Wilder, who led a successful defense of the hill against Confederate forces. Standing an impressive 85 feet high, spiral stairs lead to the top of the tower, giving those who climb an unmatched view of the park.  Legend has it that on a summer night many years ago, several young people dared one another to climb the tower (as a local to the area, I can attest to the likelihood of just such a thing occurring. Think of it as an intro to many "Hold my beer." moments). One young man took the challenge and scaled the l...

I recently purchased a small book of photography by Wynn Bullock . I got much more than expected. Not only did I get a book of photography, I received a whole new perspective on the art of photography. Bullock, considered a master of the art, was 42 years of age when he began making photos after realizing the camera records much more than that which is visible: The medium of photography can record not only what the eyes see, but that which the mind's eye sees as well. The camera is not only an extension of the eye, but of the brain. It can see sharper, farther, nearer, slower, faster than the eye. It can see by invisible light. It can see in the past, present, and future. Instead of using the camera only to reproduce objects, I wanted to use it to make what is invisible to the eye, visible. This philosophy places Bullock in the company of such photographers as Ed Weston , who approached the art with an almost metaphysical mindset. That photography is a powerful em...