Year in Review: Presenting Brian Eden’s Best Photos of 2024
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Best Photos of 2023
It's time once again for my annual photography year-in-review. A chance to pause for reflection. To look back at an entire year's worth of fractions of seconds and discover what themes emerge.
Then take those random moments, psychoanalyze them like an armchair therapist, and try to conflate their meaning into something profound.
This year's selection does not disappoint.
They say photography holds up a mirror to both the photographer and the subject. Given the less-and-less-hinged state of 2023, it's fitting that this year's collection of images reflects that.
In January, I was diagnosed with Celiac Disease—an autoimmune disorder that makes it dangerous to eat even trace amounts of gluten (wheat, barley or rye). And, therefore, dangerous to eat in most restaurants due to cross-contact.
As a man whose diet consisted mainly of gluten on gluten with a side of gluten, who arranges entire travel itineraries around rumor of a particularly promising bagel, this diagnosis was a very bitter gluten-free pill to swallow.
It would be melodramatic to say that it turned my life upside down. But it certainly turned my lifestyle.
Between this personal lifequake and the *waves-hand-at-the-state-of-the-world*, it's not a huge stretch to read meaning into this year's photographs:
Disorienting images that raise more questions than answers.
Photos that grasp for different angles, perspectives and ways of seeing to try to make sense of it all.
A search for tranquility.
Let’s break down the threads.
Late last year I started an ongoing New York project called Post No Bills. The images are unintentional artist collaborations between Advertisers and New Yorkers. The construction wall is their canvas and the layers of peeled-off posters create serendipitous art through reduction. A collage in reverse.
Looking at this year's photos, there are a lot of images that feel inspired by that project.
Last year also marked our ten-year anniversary of living in New York.
Having taken tens of thousands of images of the city, my goal now is to show New York differently.
No longer how it looks, but how it feels.
Chaos and Jazz. Beauty in disorder. A sensory smorgasbord.
(Fortunately, I haven't yet figured out a way to try to capture how New York smells. Although my ongoing Crud project comes close).
In July I converted one of my cameras to infrared. This lets you capture wavelengths of light that are invisible to the human eye. The raw files look like they've been taken through old-timey 3D movie glasses.
Once you have the image, you have to open it in Photoshop and tell Adobe that the sky is blue. That's when magic happens. On a sunny day, the light reflecting off foliage becomes gold or coral. The pictures are mystical.
Are the infrared shots symbolic of the familiar world feeling more and more foreign? Or an attempt to make sense of it all by literally looking at things in a new light?
The disorienting and otherworldly work is balanced out by the macro nature photography of flowers and frost. There's a quiet tranquility in those images. A deep cleansing breath among the collection.
But more than anything, the theme that stood out most from this year is flying. Birds. Planes. Shots taken from higher vantage points.
Maybe it's because I traveled a lot for work this year and took more shots from airplane windows.
But in the spirit of this annual review being all about reading far too deeply into my photography, flight must be symbolic of something.
At first, I thought it might represent feeling distant. Far away from simpler times and a more familiar life.
But then I googled the symbolism of flying.
In literature and dreams, flight represents freedom from struggle and limitations. Rising above. Finding hope and peace.
That was a lightning bolt.
Like an infrared conversion, it made me go back and see this whole collection in a different light.
When I started putting this post together, I expected this Year in Review to represent conflict, turmoil, and a world, in some ways, that became unrecognizable.
Now I realize that’s not it at all.
This year’s collection is flight.
In the face of everything, it is a celebration of life, resilience, and optimism.
With AI images taking over the world in 2023, and the ability to create literally any of the images you’ll find on this website in just a matter of keystrokes (but with better lighting, sharpness, and composition) it got me thinking more fundamentally about photography and why I love it.
Jay Maisel said, "There are two kinds of photographers - those who like photographs and those who like photographing."
I've always thought the reason I love photography is the way I can capture memories. Time is fleeting, but photography can freeze it. It’s like a superpower.
You can hold onto moments, even if only for a hundredth of a second. To look at old photos is like stepping into a time machine. Some images immediately transport me back to a memory. I can hear the sounds. Feel the breeze. Taste the gluten. Photography is a living museum exhibition of my life and it lets me remember it with vivid fondness.
Capturing memories is why I love photographs.
But if I had to choose between Jay’s options, the truth is I love photographing.
This year I had an epiphany about why.
While listening to an interview on Simon Sinek's podcast, A Bit of Optimism, they said one of the most powerful ways to foster happiness and peace of mind is through acts of gratitude. If you practice gratitude and make it a habit to notice the good and beauty in the world, it forces you to be more present and creates joy.
I realized that's why I love photography.
Photography is an act of gratitude.
Every time I press the shutter, it's a gesture of appreciation for something remarkable on the other side of the lens.
Thanks for indulging me in this year's Year in Review.
I hope you enjoy all of the good that I've noticed.
In the spring my company moved offices from Chelsea to 42nd Street. On a sunny day, the light changes constantly, reflecting the most amazing patterns in all of the windows. That’s my office building in the first image, mirrored in the windows of the Chrysler building.
I hope you enjoyed this year’s Year in Review. Thanks for reading!
If you enjoyed this post, please consider donating to Beyond Celiac to help find a cure for Celiac Disease.
And if you want to see more, you can check out the other years in review:
2022’s Year in Review
2020’s Year in Review
2019’s Year in Review
2018’s Year in Review
2017’s Year in Review
2016's Year in Review
2105's Year in Review
2014's Year in Review.
Best Photos of 2022
It's been two years since my last photo year-in-review.
In 2021, photography took a back seat to life. We bought a house. We moved. I left my job and started a new one. We successfully (mostly) parented two tiny humans during a global pandemic. Though I did manage to take some pictures in between, editing them was a different story. There are entire folders of photos that I've never touched. Hopefully, someday I'll get around to editing them. Until then, 2021 was The Lost Year.
2022 was a return to form. Or at least form-ish.
My favorite thing about these recaps is discovering what they reveal. Themes emerge. Deep insights are gleaned. I get to find out if I’m getting any better at photography or if I’m getting worse. (It’s debatable!) Sometimes, as in 2020, these collections are a surprisingly good reflection of the state of the world and my place in it.
So what grand lesson did I learn from this year’s recap?
To be honest, I don't know.
This group of images has me a bit stumped.
While I’m proud of this collection, it definitely feels a little less cohesive.
This year, I was drawn to busier, more chaotic, less perfect scenes. In reviewing my contact sheets, some of my favorite images are objectively the worst in the series. But there's something I like better about them, in all their imperfection. They do a better job capturing not just how things look, but how they feel. They have more soul.
Overall, my photos this year tended to be more graphic. The compositions were more about the individual elements than the subject itself – shapes and patterns. Light and shadow. Color. And one color specifically: yellow. So much yellow!
Maybe there’s deeper meaning in that?
I decided to look it up. Here’s what The Internet says about the symbolism of yellow: caution, fear, sensationalism, happiness, optimism, positivity, innocence, cheer, sunshine, enlightenment, creativity, sickness, anxiety, betrayal, impatience, warmth, wisdom, wealth, faith, joy, and mourning.
That's not terribly insightful. But also, pretty accurate.
This fall my 7-year-old daughter Hazel started taking an interest in photography. During a trip to the city she discovered that if she moves fast while taking a picture, the result is something unexpectedly abstract and painterly. In photography, this is a technique called ICM (Intentional Camera Movement). Hazel calls them "blurry-on-purpose-pictures."
Looking back on this year in review, maybe my photography was a little blurry-on-purpose too.
PET PROJECTS:
Before I get into the best-of images, it’s worth calling out some longer-term projects. This year I added a lot of photos to some of my ongoing Fine Art projects. I also started a few new ones. You can click the images below to visit the galleries for each one.
PET PROJECT: UNMOORED
I started “Unmoored” with my flower photography in 2020, but I've never shared it.
By removing the stems in Photoshop, flowers become gravity-defying otherworldly creatures, full of movement. It's impossible to look at them without your mind trying to fill in the gaps of how they're floating. Some blooms become spinning helicopters. Others pulse like jellyfish. It's a fascinating mind trick.
PET PROJECT: CHAOS
The more I add to this project, the more I come to love it. This collection feels like New York. My approach for these photos is the exact opposite of what I’m usually trying to do. Instead of removing elements to give an image a focal point, this series is about making the frame as full, random, and frenetic as possible.
PET PROJECT: POST NO BILLS
I started this new project this year, featuring images of tattered construction wall wild postings.
It's like creating a collage. But instead of deliberately adding layers, these images are created serendipitously, by what someone has torn away.
PET PROJECT: LITERAL STREET PHOTOGRAPHY
This is one of my oldest ongoing projects, where the street itself is the subject. I love how the textures and color blocking create energy and modern-art-inspired compositions.
AND NOW…THE BEST PHOTOS OF 2022
Without further ado, here are some of my favorite photos from 2022:
A LITTLE BIT OF HISTORY REPEATING
A few shots from this year had “echoes” - similar scenes and elements from much different times and places. Click on any of them to see them bigger:
I hope you enjoyed this year’s Year in Review. Thanks for reading! And if you want to see more, you can check out the other years in review:
2020’s Year in Review
2019’s Year in Review
2018’s Year in Review
2017’s Year in Review
2016's Year in Review
2105's Year in Review
2014's Year in Review.
Or follow me on Flickr or Instagram.
Happy New Year, all!
Best photos of 2020
2020. Oy.
Usually, my year-in-review posts are filled with exciting travel photos, epic landscapes, and vibrant New York street scenes.
I also usually have free time, you know, to take pictures.
But with lockdown/kindergarten-homeschooling/working-from-home/raising a newborn… you can see where I’m going here. My wanderlust these days is to someday be able to go to Costco again.
So I was pleasantly surprised to find that, despite this complete dumpster fire of a year, there were still some good photos to come out of it. I was expecting a D, and am relieved to present you with a solid C+.
The most interesting part of this annual collection is trying to make sense of it all. What does this random collection of fleeting moments say about the whole year?
(Yikes.)
Despite never showing anything overtly related to the pandemic (no facemasks, social distancing, etc.) this collection is a surprisingly and unintentionally good reflection of my year.
Our dog passed away in January. Seven days later, my wife gave birth to a beautiful baby daughter. A few weeks after that was COVID, quarantine, washing bananas in the sink, the end of our lease in Brooklyn, and a new chapter in the New York suburbs.
You don’t need a psych degree to make sense of the themes in these images. Solitude, chaos, tunnel vision. Darkness. A literal rollercoaster. An old life out of focus and disappearing in the rearview mirror. New beginnings. Glimmers of hope.
When shelter-in-place orders were announced in March, we left New York and moved to my in-law’s house in Maryland for three months. Needing to create, but with none of my go-to subjects to work with, I found inspiration in one place I’ve never really looked before: nature.
I’ve frankly never understood the appeal of flower photography. But with a social-distancing-friendly Botanical garden nearby, I put on a macro lens and some extension tubes and dove in, spending nights studying flower photography tutorials on YouTube and early mornings practicing with new blooms around the yard.
I realized, despite the still-life scenes, I could try to approach flowers like street photography. I tried to create images with energy and movement. To find subjects with personality. To capture that elusive quality that Jay Maisel calls “gesture.”
I took hundreds of nice, quiet portraits of single flowers. But it was the frenetic, busy frames that drew my eye the most.
Maybe it was just a symptom of missing the crowds and chaos of New York. A desperate, frustrating longing to recreate the feeling of a rush-hour F train when all I had in front of me was a field full of daisies.
You can take the photographer out of New York, but you can’t take the New York out of the photographer.
Without further ado, here’s a look back at the very best photos of the very worst year.
Click on any of the images below to see them large in Lightbox mode.
I took this photo in SoHo in early January. I liked the way the geometry of the signs and the buildings lined up perfectly. I also liked the tension of everything pulling you in opposite directions. It felt like a Fred Herzog, Stephen Shore, or Joel Meyerowitz composition.
Now, looking back at this photo, it has something else that I couldn't see when I took it back in January: it feels like foreshadowing.
I took this rollercoaster photo on the same day as the clam. Little did I know how heavy-handed of a metaphor this would be.
I took a few angles of this roadside prayer stop, but I liked this one best - the way the building became 2-dimensional and how the telephone pole shadow formed a cross, pointing to the lawn chair pews. I also like how dark and ominous the rest of the scene feels - the sunlit building a beacon of light for anyone needing to pull over and take a minute.
When shelter-in-place orders were announced at the end of March, we moved to Maryland to live with my in-laws. We set up a temporary work-from-home space by a window in their bedroom, overlooking the woods. This was the view from my desk. It was mesmerizing to watch the forest come to life as winter turned to spring. In the evenings, the sun dipped behind the trees and the new leaves on the tulip poplars lit up like strings of fairy lights.
As I started to find my style in flower photography, I experimented with getting closer and using an extremely shallow depth of field. I liked the way the soft-focus created a sense of movement and a more painterly look. It also turned the process of making images into more of a scavenger hunt - to find and emphasize individual petals, unique details, and tiny graphic elements.
This bit of hot pink on the tip of this peony petal was the only color variegation on the whole flower.
Good photos are everywhere. This yellow cosmos flower was growing next to the driveway.
One of the unexpected joys of quarantine was taking hikes through the woods with our daughter. It was a whole new world for a city kid. We found morel mushrooms and deer, patches of bluebells and this creek filled with hundreds of tadpoles.
We came back each week to check on the tadpoles and see how much they’d grown. (It was the only proof we had that time was actually passing)
I tried to take a picture to remember the ritual, but with the sky reflecting on the water, it was impossible to see the tadpoles. I held out my had to shade the glare and took this one photo. I ended up liking the image a lot more than I expected.
This peony is a slow-motion explosion.
Brookside Gardens has an amazing rose garden with hundreds of hybrid varietals, including this one, the “scentimental rose.” It looks like a graffiti artist snuck into the park overnight and tagged the petals. The way the stamen orbit around the center of the flower is hypnotizing.
Love-in-a-mist is a flower from the Nigella family. I’ve used the seeds for cooking before, but I’d never seen the flower. I must’ve taken 200 pictures of this one small patch. If they ever discover life on other planets, I wouldn’t be surprised at all to learn that every flower looks like this one.
With more common flowers like tulips, I had to find interesting ways to shoot them to make it even worth making a picture. After all, how many straight-on tulip photos does the world need? These tulips were growing in a tall planter, so I was able to get much lower and show them from a bug’s eye view.
Speaking of bugs, this little guy was weaving his way around the flower petals, munching on those crumb-sized pollen balls. I didn’t stick around, but I assume he went on to eat through one slice of chocolate cake, one ice-cream cone, one pickle, one slice of Swiss cheese, one slice of salami, one lollipop, one piece of cherry pie, one sausage, one cupcake and one slice of watermelon.
I love the energy in this shot. It feels like the flowers are sprouting before your eyes. To create the effect, I sandwiched the hero flower between blurred ones in both the foreground and the background.
All of the flowers in this little patch had straight stems except for this one squiggly one. This image feels more like a painting or botanical drawing than a photograph.
At the end of July, we left Brooklyn and moved to Westchester county. When autumn arrived, the fall colors were incredible. After living in cities for the last 20 years, it felt like l’d suddenly relocated to Vermont. There were still some leaves on the trees in mid-November, so we took a trip to Rockwood Hall Preserve, a former Rockefeller family estate along the banks of the Hudson River. I like the way the trail weaves through the forest, disappearing around the bend, way off in the distance. An S-curve that just keeps S-ing.
Flowers have both male and female reproductive organs. While looking for keywords to tag this image, I learned that the fuzzy bits are the male organs, called “anther,” which comes from the Greek word for “flowery or blooming.” But the word for the female reproductive organ (seen in-focus in the center here) is the “stigma.” Holy misogyny, botman.
During early quarantine, I started a little container garden patch with my daughter. We planted cherry tomato seeds on the kitchen counter in April, moved them outside in May and by June they started to bear fruit.
When I realized how the sun shining through the trees created this incredible glittery background, I took about 50 images of this little tomato. I had to make sure I got every little hair on the tomato vine sharp.
This great blue heron liked to hang out by the lake at Brookside Gardens. I set my camera to take 8 frames per second, waited and got lucky. The fish, unfortunately, did not. Tough year for seafood.
You can’t hear it, but the little daisy in the bottom left is saying “woohoo!”
This Rock Cranesbill belongs on that alien planet with the Love-in-a-mist.
Two weeks after moving to the suburbs, I bought a kayak and named it The S.S. Midlife Crisis. This was its maiden voyage.
I took this image during low tide at Marshlands Conservancy, a nature preserve in Rye. I liked the way the rock formations looked like cresting waves and how they mirrored the shape of the coastline.
I took this shot just a few minutes after the one above. These nearly-bare trees made an amazing silhouette against the gray sky. But it’s that one curvy tree among all the perfectly straight ones that makes the image. I don’t know if its trunk curves because it’s a different species of tree, or if it had to grow that way to find the white space among the crowd.
I took this photo December 13th as the sunset over Rye, our new hometown. This final shot of the year is the closest thing to a return to form of my usual work. Here’s hoping 2021 brings a lot more images like this one, and a lot fewer smashed clams.
I hope you enjoyed this year’s Year in Review. Thanks for reading! And if you want to see more, you can check out the other years in review:
2019’s Year in Review
2018’s Year in Review
2017’s Year in Review
2016's Year in Review
2105's Year in Review
2014's Year in Review.
Or follow me on Flickr or Instagram.
Happy New Year, all!
19 Best Film Photos of 2019
I fell in love with photography in the post-digital era. So even though I grew up with film, I never really learned to shoot it, beyond snapshots and disposable point and shoots. But lately I’ve become more and more intrigued by the look, and the more-considered process of shooting film. This year I finally dove in headfirst, and somehow collected a dozen old film cameras along the way. (Apologies to my wife for completely taking over our closet with my toys.) I’m just getting started, but I’m pretty pleased with the results so far. Here are my favorite analog photos from 2019. You can also keep up with the new gallery of 35mm and medium format film photography here.
20 Best Photos of 2017
Year in Review time!
Having done this a few times now, it seems like it should get easier. But the Fourth Annual “20-best” has been the hardest to cull by far.
This is for two main reasons:
1. I took a lot more photos this year and
2. I’m getting a lot worse at self-editing.
Long story short, “The 20 Best of 2017” is now “The 36 Best of 2017.”
The process of reviewing a year’s worth of photos is always interesting, because common themes always emerge. Last year, I was all about geometry, primary colors and umbrellas. This year, I apparently had a thing for dramatic lighting, pictures of things framed through windows, and wildlife photography taken at dangerously close proximity.
Another big change for this year is that I started work on some longer-term photography projects. These will all be ongoing, but I’m happy to share three works-in-progress. You can follow the links below to see the full galleries:
"Holiday Windows" is a sentimental portrait of people’s reactions to 5th Avenue’s enchanting holiday window displays.
"Crud" is a germaphobe’s eye view of the cringe-worthy, yet strangely beautiful “crud formations” in NYC subway stations.
"American Palace" is, well, that one's pretty self explanatory.
Without further ado, here are my top 20... er... 36 photos from 2017.
As the sun set over the Grand Canyon, I spent a half hour cursing these guys under my breath to get out of my shot. (Photographers spend an inordinate amount of time trying to harness the power of telekinesis to move strangers in and out of their compositions. It's not normal.)
Eventually the mind trick worked, the guys left, and I had a clear scene.
Of course, when I got back home and downloaded all of the photos from the series, I liked the one with the people in it better. (Although I'm still cursing the guy on the right for wearing his sunglasses on the back of his head like Guy Fieri.)
The hardest thing about taking photos of iconic locations like St. Paul's Cathedral in London is that they've been photographed TO DEATH. So you have to work a little harder to try to find something more original than the typical postcard shot.
After taking a dozen photos of this scene, I noticed the traffic pattern and had an idea. Using a trash can as a makeshift tripod, I waited for a double decker bus to pass by on its route, then left the camera shutter open for ten seconds – long enough to create these bus-shaped light trails.
During Fleet Week, Naval officers are nice enough to wander around New York in uniform and sit in front of things, making every photographer feel a bit like Alfred Eisenstaedt.
I wish I could say that I saw this photo coming together, dropped to the ground and snapped it. But the truth is, I was awkwardly crouching, cheek to the pavement, trying to compose a shot for the stripe and the scooter. Then this guy who perfectly matched the bike (right down to the fur hat and shoelaces) just wandered into frame.
"Some have said that if you take a great picture in color and take away the color, you’ll have a great black-and-white picture. But if you’re shooting something about color and you take away the color, you’ll have nothing." - Jay Maisel
I took this photo at the edge of a triangular island of sidewalk in Notting Hill, London. It's my favorite photo yet in my ongoing Literal Street Photography project.
Moments after I took this photo, this group of kids took off sprinting across the beach. Pure joy.
"A window covered with raindrops interests me more than a photograph of a famous person." - Saul Leiter
The Louvre is another one of those locations where it's really hard to make an original photograph. After spending the morning walking around the courtyard searching for a unique angle, I found it in an unexpected place - the back seat of the Uber on the way back to my hotel.
I traveled halfway around the world to Cape Town and one of my absolute favorite shots is also the most mundane.
I took this photo in standstill traffic at the tunnel entrance to Zion National Park. Hey, you've gotta pass the time somehow.
I don't take a lot of photos deep with symbolism. But there's a lot going on in this shot. You've got Jesus in the foreground faltering under the weight of the cross, gazing out longingly from between flea market trinkets (including an empty decanter of wine). His plight is completely unnoticed by the crowd of onlookers. And in the background, the weirdly devilish-looking salesman hides a blood-red cloak under his jacket and has ACTUAL HORNS on his truck.
Art historians, go nuts.
When I visited London, the Tate Modern was hosting "The Radical Eye," an exhibition of Sir Elton John's extensive photography collection. Just beyond the ticket window, I captured this shot for my own collection.
Horseshoe Bend is not a great location to visit if you're a photographer who is also afraid of heights. I honestly don't know how those rooftopper people do it. I was sitting a good five feet back from the edge, and just holding my tripod near the cliff was making me sweat bullets.
The photographer's tour of Antelope Canyon is great, because the guides idiot-proof it for you. They tell you what camera settings to use, then show you just where to set your tripod to get all the best angles. Like this heart-shaped skylight in the canyon ceiling.
I was in Cape Town for two weeks in November, but we spent most of the time in meetings or on location for a film shoot, so I had to find photo-ops wherever I could. Fortunately, this was the view from our pre-production meeting.
I've admired these magical photos of light shafts in Antelope Canyon for years. Peter Lik's version of this shot is the most expensive photo ever sold, fetching $6.5 million dollars. (For the record, I'll happily take ten grand for mine if anyone wants a print. I'll even sign it with Peter Lik's name).
The thing I never knew was how they get that ethereal misty effect in the light beam.
Here's how: a photo tour guide chucks shovelfuls of sand into the air, then tells you to take a picture.
I've been documenting the September 11th Tribute in Light for seven years now. Each time, I try to find a different vantage point. This year I photographed the lights from Staten Island. The shot from over there was nice. But this perfectly-aligned view of the lights haloing the World Trade Center during the Ferry ride back to Manhattan was a total surprise.
See? I told you I had a thing for things in windows this year. I took some nice shots of this scene from the overlook a few miles down the road too. But so did ten zillion other photographers.
The Grand Canyon is another location that's easy to take a great photo of, but really hard to shoot in an original way. Putting people in the frame helps. So did framing the canyon through this window inside the Desert View Watchtower.
...that said, when you get a sunrise like this, you can get away with being a little less original, because, wow.
Do you think this tree has any idea how good its view is?
I took this photo of an Elk with a 23mm lens (35mm equivalent. For reference, that's just slightly more zoomed-in than your iPhone camera) while crouching in the grass on the side of the road in Kaibab National Forest.
It is without a doubt one of the dumber things I've done.
This photo was also taken with a 23mm lens. Which means this kitty was well within booping distance.
I just love the skepticism.
I took this photo from the passenger window of our production van in Cape Town, while going about 30 mph. (Which I think translates to around 190 kilometers per hour).
I took this long exposure of the seaside chapel at Ender's Island, a catholic retreat and sanctuary at the southern tip of Mason's Island, Connecticut. If I were Catholic or in the market for a retreat, I would totally book a stay at this place. It was stunning.
The only thing more remarkable than capturing this photo was not being pooped on moments later as these pigeons took off flying over my head.
This shot at the Louvre in Paris is solid addition to my tourists project
This is pretty popular and well-tread location for taking photos of the Tribute in Light, so I can't say this shot is breaking massively new ground. Although I've never seen the water on the East River calm enough to reflect the lights quite as well as it did this year.
Because I've shot the Tribute in Light so many times now, I'm always trying to find original vantage points. I love this one, framed through the window of the Staten Island Ferry, en route from St. George Terminal.
(Because the window thing.)
This shot of the Eiffel Tower nearly got cut from the list because the photo is a little postcard-ish. But one little detail does makes it much different than what you typically see: there are no people. (The lawns on the Champ de Mars were fenced off for the winter).
"Hey Mike. What do you think we oughta call this porno shop?"
I usually keep my family photos and my year-in-review photos separate to spare you all from cute baby overload. But this shot of my wife greeting my daughter at the bottom of a slide is objectively one of my favorite shots of the year.
Sometimes you get really lucky, turn a corner and happen upon a pre-lit, period-piece film set.
The driveway to the historic Mount Nelson Hotel in Cape Town is lined with palm trees. From the right vantage point (that is to say, smushed awkwardly up against a lamp post) they provide the perfect frame for Lion's Head Mountain.
Every year when I go back through all of my photos there are a few gems that I totally overlooked at the time. This photo is interesting, because I have absolutely no memory of taking it. I’m not even sure if I took it in Manhattan or Brooklyn.
Maybe it's because, as a picture, it’s not actually all that good. But as a representation of what it feels like and means to live in NY? It’s SO good.
Thanks for reading! And if you want to see more, you can check out 2016's Year in Review, 2105's Year in Review, or 2014's Year in Review. Or follow me on Flickr or Instagram.
20 Best Photos of 2016
Time once again for the annual struggle to choose 20 photos that best represent my year in photography. As any creative-type might imagine, the process of choosing images for the Year in Review is both rewarding (in sifting through the thousands of photos taken this year, I found a few nice surprises that I'd overlooked at the time) and torturing ("was last year's Year in Review better? Am I actually getting worse at this? Were these really the best shots that I got?")
In choosing this year's favorites, I noticed the following:
1) I took tens of thousands of photos of my 1 year old daughter this year, and not much else. There were just a handful of days this year that I actually went out to take pictures. New Year's Resolution #1 for 2017 is to get out there and shoot more.
2) I don't know if this represents an evolving personal style, but this year, a few things caught my eye much more-so than in years past: geometry, primary colors and umbrellas. Read into that what you may.
Without further ado:
I've been photographing the September 11th Tribute in Light for about five years now, and each year I try to find a new vantage point. This year, I planned to start on the Manhattan Bridge and make my way into the city to wander the streets around Lower Manhattan. But the views were so stunning, I spent 3+ hours on the bridge and called it a night.
Another one from September 11th. This one was taken a few hours later from the Manhattan end of the bridge. The graffiti in the foreground is Chinatown, and the smell from the bridge was amazing. After taking this photo, I called it quits and went for dumplings.
Presidential debate #2 between Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton was an especially dark, ugly and discouraging affair, sure to make anyone anxious-at-best about the future of our country. The next morning on the way to work, I climbed the stairs from the subway, stepped out onto Wall Street and saw this.
I'd love to say this moment just happened. But I camped out in this spot for about 15 minutes hoping a pedestrian would walk through the street instead of along the sidewalk.
Los Angeles' original Farmer's Market is amazing for vintage signs and old school Americana. I was taking photos of this great old soda shop when this guy wandered into my shot. Sometimes the photography gods just hand you a scene from a Wes Anderson movie and you just have to be there to take the picture.
Full credit for this photo goes to the graffiti artist.
I mean, come on. You couldn't have asked for a better car to be parked there. Even the colors on the Louisiana license plate match.
Downtown L.A. is weird. There are pedestrian overpasses connecting nearly every building so it's entirely possible to traverse the city without ever touching the sidewalk. It must make urban planners insane. On the bright side, the walkways offer some interesting perspectives, transforming the streetscape below into a living Mondrian painting.
In January, New York got the largest snowstorm on record with 27.5 inches falling in Central Park. Laziness prevailed and I only made it about four blocks from home before deciding it was too cold/windy/snowy and calling it quits. I'd make a terrible mailman.
This photo was taken about a half block down from the previous one. I told you I didn't make it far.
This was another intervention from the photography gods. I was working this scene, taking some really mediocre photos of the reflection of these umbrellas in the marble when this guy in his perfectly matching blue shirt walked out to take a phone call smack in the middle of my shot.
One of my favorite photographers, Jay Maisel, says that all great photographs are about one of three things: Light, Color or Gesture. Light and color are easy to understand. Gesture is a bit harder to explain, but you know it when you see it.
One of these things is not like the others. One of these things just doesn't belong...
We were staying at the Standard Hotel in Downtown L.A. for a quick work trip. I stepped out of the elevators and saw this.
I took this photo from the airplane window on the way to the LA trip mentioned above. Taken somewhere between Kansas and California.
While staying in Santa Barbara, I motivated myself to get out of bed stupid-early in the morning and go try to take some photos from the pier at sunrise. It was the right decision.
I took 20 or 30 shots of this kid running in and out of the surf. Not many came out. Not because they were out-of-focus, but because he needed the lightness of the waves crashing in the background in order to make out the shape of his silhouette.
The nice thing about taking the ferry to work is that, instead of crowding onto a train and being wedged into a stranger's armpit, your commute home looks more like this.
At the end of Brighton Pier there's an amusement park. This shot was taken at the trampolines.
Closed in 1975, Brighton's West Pier sat vacant and partially collapsed for years, until a fire gutted the structure in 2003. To get the ghostly effect in the water, this photo is a 28 second long exposure. I got this shot just in the nick of time. A few minutes later, those storm clouds unleashed a massive downpour and I went for fish and chips.
Thanks for reading! And if you want to see more, you can check out 2105's Year in Review. Or 2014's Year in Review. Or follow me on Flickr or Instagram.
20 Best Photos of 2015
In June, my wife and I had a daughter. Which means that 95% of the photos I took in 2015 were baby photos. Here are the best of the rest.
Click on any photo to view it in lightbox mode
In January, winter storm Juno was forecast to bring a major blizzard to New York City. The storm missed New York (sorry Boston!), but gave us enough snow for some magical twilight photos on Stone Street in the Financial District. I love the way the warm glow from the lights plays against the blue evening sky in the distance.
One of the most annoying things that can happen as a photographer is to frame up a beautiful shot of the last fleeting moments of the sunset only to have a bunch of thirteen year olds walk into said sunset shot and start posing for several hundred iPhone photos. After briefly cursing them and wishing that they would fall off the end of the pier, I realized I could use them to make a more interesting photo. I used a slow shutter speed to capture the flash from their iPhone, which cast a spotlight onto the girls while leaving the boys in silhouette.
Bahia Honda State Park in the Florida Keys is at the foot of an old abandoned railroad bridge. To get the smooth water effect and movement in the clouds, I used a three minute long exposure. Here's a shot from the other side of the bridge.
Here's another long exposure shot from the Florida Keys. This photo was taken at the Amara Cay Resort in Islamorada. This exposure was nearly six minutes long. It's also cool in Black and White
I guess I had a thing for water and pylons this year. This shot is taken at sunrise in Jamestown, Rhode Island. I love the ethereal mood created by the fog rolling across the harbor.
This was taken just before sunrise at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, DC. To get the reflection in the marble, I sat on the floor and set the camera on the ground.
It wasn't easy to get this shot from inside the Lincoln Memorial. There was a boot camp class with about three hundred people running laps up and down the stairs and weaving in and out of the pillars. Fortunately, I got enough of a break between runners to make it seem like a much quieter morning than it actually was. The lone runner created just enough mystery to the shot with the shadow on the wall.
Coney Island is magical in the fog. Especially on Christmas Morning. Something about this photo feels like it could have been taken 75 years ago.
I took this photo of the clouds draped over downtown Brooklyn from my office window in Lower Manhattan.
The new transportation hub at the World Trade Center is controversial because of its four billion dollar price tag. But it does make for some really great photo ops.
I took this photo of the World Trade Center from the back seat of a taxi somewhere in TriBeCa. The red glow is from another car's brake lights hitting the plexiglass divider in the cab.
I'd just gotten off a train from Washington, DC and turned the corner in front of Amtrak's Penn Station just in time to catch this incredible sunset. I love the way the neon lights along the side of Madison Square Garden blend with the purple glow in the sky and reflect on the buildings across the street.
In November, we edited a film project at a studio called Work in TriBeCa. This is the view from their office. Not bad.
Hard to go wrong with lighthouse shots. This one was from a trip to Newport, Rhode Island in November. I like the way the cracks in the rocky cliffs draw your eye down to the lighthouse. Classic leading lines stuff.
The trouble with shooting famous landmarks like the Lincoln Memorial is that it's photographed thousands of times every single day. And often by photographers with much fancier equipment. To avoid taking the same postcard picture everyone else took, I came out at sunrise to try to find a unique perspective. I found it in a tiny puddle of water on top of a metal wayfinding sign.
The September 11th Tribute in Light as seen from the waterfront in Jersey City, New Jersey.
This was shot from the Brooklyn Heights Promenade with my telephoto lens at 200mm, using the fence as a makeshift tripod.
Millenials.
I saw this scene while walking the dog. I have so many questions.
New Yorkers are a hard bunch to impress.
Thanks for reading! And if you want to see more, you can check out last year's Year in Review. Or follow me on Flickr or Instagram.
20 Best Photos of 2014
According to Lightroom, I took well over ten thousand photos in 2014. It wasn't easy to narrow those down to my 20 favorite photographs, but I gave it my best shot. I hope you enjoy them.
Here's to many more photo-worthy moments in 2015. Happy New Year!