Dominique James, Photographer

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The blue of distance …

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Airscape #2

Airscape #2 • Photography by Dominique James

Rebecca Solnit, A Field Guide To Being Lost:

The world is blue at its edges and in its depths. This blue is the light that got lost. Light at the blue end of the spectrum does not travel the whole distance from the sun to us. It disperses among the molecules of the air, it scatters in water. Water is colorless, shallow water appears to be the color of whatever lies underneath it, but deep water is full of this scattered light, the purer the water the deeper the blue. The sky is blue for the same reason, but the blue at the horizon, the blue of land that seems to be dissolving into the sky, is a deeper, dreamier, melancholy blue, the blue at the farthest reaches of the places where you see for miles, the blue of distance. This light that does not touch us, does not travel the whole distance, the light that gets lost, gives us the beauty of the world, so much of which is in the color blue.

For many years, I have been moved by the blue at the far edge of what can be seen, that color of horizons, of remote mountain ranges, of anything far away. The color of that distance is the color of an emotion, the color of solitude and of desire, the color of there seen from here, the color of where you are not. And the color of where you can never go. For the blue is not in the place those miles away at the horizon, but in the atmospheric distance between you and the mountains.

Blue is the color of longing for the distances you never arrive in, for the blue world.

I’m very pleased to share with you, these—come, take a look at a set of 22 photographs I call “Airscapes” at http://bit.ly/1neW8XU.

Also, if you aren’t subscribed yet, please consider signing up (and invite others to sign up as well) to my free short-and-sweet monthly photography email newsletter at http://eepurl.com/QBGCv. Thanks!

[Note: All photos from the official www.dominiquejames.com photography website are now directly available for download and print order for personal, editorial, and commercial use.]

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Midnight in Manhattan

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Midnight in Manhattan

Midnight in Manhattan (Photographs by Dominique James)

Geographically speaking, the Empire State Building is not the center of New York City. That distinction belongs to a little-known pastoral patch of grass in the lower portion of Central Park called Sheep Meadow.

But the art deco-designed Empire State Building, a 103-story skyscraper occupying a considerable city block that intersects Fifth Avenue and West 34th Street, with a full height of 1,454 feet—once the tallest building in the world—might as well be, the center of New York City.

As far as anyone in Manhattan is concerned, the Empire State Building is unquestionably the heart of New York City.

For most New Yorkers (and visitors alike), the Empire State Building is the one true compass on which to navigate the city without a map. From street level, those who are a little lost and wanting to geo-locate might simply look up to see where the Empire State Building is; and then, from high up the Observation Deck, on a clear day, one can visually map out the sprawling lay of the land for thousands of miles, not just the boroughs but across other states.

Movies such as An Affair To Remember, Love Affair, and Sleepless in Seattle, among many others, have established the Empire State Building as a major cultural icon.

And above all else, the Empire State Building is an office building.

Of its many notable tenants, Filipinos might find one to be of particular interest. The Filipino Reporter, a weekly newspaper founded on July 2, 1999 by Filipino newsman Luigi Andrei Eusebio, catering primarily to the Filipino-American community in New York City (the only ethnic newspaper that holds the distinction of being a regular member of the New York Press Club), has its office at the Empire State Building.

A compass, a cultural icon, an office, the heart of the city—very few buildings can claim to be all that, and more.

Yes, there is indeed so much more, so let’s add one bit: the Empire State Building is a veritable magnet to photographers.

Countless shutterbugs have been to the top of the Empire State Building to take pictures of the spectacular 360-degree view. Because of the ubiquity of the pictures taken from its perch, even those who have never been up the building, or in NYC for that matter, can have some imagined sense of what it might feel like to be up there. (Although of course, as with anything else, nothing really comes close to the experience of actually being there to see and experience it for one’s self.)

The Observatory Deck of the Empire State Building is open to the public from 8 AM to 2 PM. In 2008 alone, over 110 million people went up to marvel at the grand view all around down below—many of them with camera, of course.

I was one of them.

According to NASA, Manhattan’s bright city lights at night, bounded by New Jersey, Brooklyn and Queens, is visible from outer space. It glows a collective, bright amber.

Because of this bit of curiosity, instead of the usual and far more common daytime images of Manhattan’s sprawl, I decided I wanted to go up there (again) after dark to take pictures of the city down below, bathed in millions and millions of electrical pinpoints collectively battling darkness with valor. Armed with a compact camera, up I went on a chilly spring evening, determined to snap at whatever there is to see of the city at night.

Of course, I wasn’t disappointed. From that clear evening, close to midnight, I was able to take many, many pictures all around, and from it, a set of black-and-white landscape photos that has more in kinship with abstract paintings than realistic photographs.

Lacking the many telling details visible in daylight, and with no colors, one can only glean hints of the familiar shapes of the buildings and of the streets silhouetted in countless glimmering, shimmering lights. You are keenly aware of the city’s palpable existence down below, even if most of it is shrouded in darkness.

The black-and-white, abstract-looking pictures, stark in minimal shades of gray, informed only by specific arrangements of lights to suggest forms and structures, with most everything hidden in shadows, turned out to be a fascinating representation of New York City at night—a seeming state of incompleteness. Naturally and quite automatically, viewers cannot help but imaginatively fill in and map out the blanks of familiar nooks and crannies. Even if the individual frames of pictures were to be stitched to form one grand panorama of Manhattan in the dark, it would still appear incomplete, and one would still strive to imagine the personal, familiar blanks.

But there is another interesting way of looking at the incompleteness of each picture from this black-and-white photo set—for me, and for many others who have lived and called New York City home for quite some time, the experience of the place is somehow encapsulated in each of those largely incomplete photos—in the low-lying buildings, in the bustling city streets, in the city corners, in the patches of parks, in the soaring skyscrapers, and in the pinpoints of light everywhere, which, while appearing to be expansive, is actually well-contained and constrained in each of the finite frames. If there’s anything true about New York, it is a city unto each and every one’s own.

Pulling back a little, if we are to impose some sort of organizational structure to this set of photographs, we can divide them into two subsets.

The first obvious subset will have to be the almost vain attempt at photo-realism, where every image is a stark, clear-eyed impression of the sprawling urban landscape from a bird’s eye view. These are pictures that, although they are, almost aren’t.

The second, and perhaps less obvious subset, would have to be the painterly depiction of the views. These pictures, consciously taken with longer than usual exposure times, even deliberately moving the handheld camera in certain patterns or directions of motion while the digital sensor is being exposed, produced artful blurs that are somewhat impressionistic.

But despite the distinctiveness of the photographic approaches, styles and techniques, all the images, individually and as a set (or a subset), aims to invoke yet another facet of what New York City is all about—or whatever it might be—to the hopeful transients and transplants attempting to dig in and latch on to its granite foundation, to the wandering, wide-eyed tourists gawking at everything with undisguised awe, wonder, and curiosity, and to the jaded New Yorkers themselves who long ago have been blinded to everything around them.

For me personally, during the almost 4 years that I lived in New York City, and from out of the countless photographs I’ve taken of everything I’ve seen there, this set of black-and-white nightscapes is nothing but an open embrace of the ravishing, glittering bejeweled city that I’ve fallen madly in love with, which to this very day, I happen to be still madly in love with.

So, New York City, I love you … still.

Come and take a look at my set of “Midnight in Manhattan” black-and-white photographs at http://bit.ly/1nokw5c.

Also, if you haven’t already, please sign up (and do invite others to sign up as well) to my brief monthly photography email newsletter at http://eepurl.com/QBGCv. Thanks!

[Note: All photos from the official http://www.dominiquejames.com photography website are now directly available for download and print order for personal, editorial, and commercial use. Thanks!]

Airscapes!

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One of the images from a set of 22 photographs taken from the window seat of an airborne commercial jetliner.

Airscapes! (Photography by Dominique James)

At the airport before boarding, while checking out the weather on my flight’s path with the iPhone, it did cross my mind that I might get the chance to take one or two decent pictures through the airplane’s small window; but I didn’t really make any plans for serious picture-taking. The best I could ever hope for was that I might be able to catch some interesting cloud formation or capture a really nice sunset view taken from an airborne aircraft, and I’d be perfectly happy with that.

It just so happened that I got a great window seat with an expansive enough view, and luckily at that time, I was also attentive enough to look out at the right moment—that’s how I was able to realize the readily unfolding photographic opportunity before me. The photographer’s studied reflex, from years and years of professional shooting experience, kicked in and simply took over.

I am a hundred-and-one percent sure of the fact that I’m not the first person (and also most certainly not the last!) to look out an airplane’s window while in a cruising altitude, to snap pictures.

With the ever-changing panoramic landscape below, looking a bit more grand from an elevated vantage point, all the while chasing the daylight time zone by time zone, I couldn’t resist turning on my iPad’s camera (the only thing conveniently available on hand at that time since I happen to be reading a magazine on it) to click away into timeless photographic stillness the magnificent views before me.

I could only hope I didn’t annoy my immediate seat mates at the strange body contortions I was doing as I tried to shift around (which might have seemed to them an uncoordinated acrobatics in a seat-belted chair) not only in order to get the photo compositions right but also to avoid cabin light leaks and reflections, flares and glares and all that, while shooting through the thick, heavily built window glass. As we jetted towards our destination, I took as many shots as I can in under an hour, praying I didn’t miss anything good on the flight’s path.

What I saw in that tiny window of photographic opportunity captivated me. I was in total awe of nature’s endlessly breathtaking revelations. It felt as if Mother Earth herself was directly and personally communicating with me. And though I cannot presume to fully comprehend what she was actually saying, I was utterly taken in by her radiant beauty and majesty. That feeling has never left me since.

I’m very pleased to share these with you—come, take a look at a set of 22 photographs I call “Airscapes” at http://bit.ly/1neW8XU.

And also, if you haven’t already, please consider signing up (and do invite others to sign up as well) to my brief monthly photography email newsletter at http://eepurl.com/QBGCv. Thanks!

[Note: All photos from the official http://www.dominiquejames.com photography website are now directly available for download and print order for personal, editorial, and commercial use.]

Go West …

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USS Hornet (Photo by Dominique James)

USS Hornet (Photo by Dominique James)

I knew right away that I’d be staking a place in New York City when I moved to the United States in the fall of 2007. Part of the thrill of being an immigrant, of starting all over again, is that you can be who you want to be. I decided I want to be a New Yorker. At least, that was my plan.

But as you only all-too-well know, plans have a way of not happening as, well, planned.

Though I did live in New York for the better part of 5 years, I actually ended up traveling to many different places all over the continental United States. I traveled by plane, by train, by car, by boat, by bus.

Where did I go? Mostly, I went to places where I knew someone. Filipinos, after all, are really all over, in the US and in the world. With that as my sort-of-guide, off I went merrily gallivanting from place to place, spanning sea to shining sea.

The great state of California, which has the largest geographic concentration of Filipinos in the United States, happened to be one of those places. With a Filipino population of about 1.5 million (according to a 2010 census), it’s not entirely impossible for a Filipino American such as myself not to know someone.

And yes, it so happen that I know someone from San Francisco, Los Angeles, San Diego, and actually, in most every where else in California—friends, associates, relations even! And along the way, I met even more Filipinos. (Filipinos love to get-together, to hang-out, and to party!)

I have so far traveled to California more than 3 times (one reason or the other), and I intend to keep going back every chance I get. In my trips, I’ve somewhat randomly snapped pictures of places where I’ve been to. I never had a firm photographic plan (not sure if I should regret this, remember what happens to plans?) or theme, for all the places I’ve gone to so far in California, that’s why my collection of pictures look eclectic at best. There’s really no storyline there if you’re looking for one, but rest assured, there’s a Filipino there, somewhere where I went. And  yes, I’ve got the pictures to prove it.

Come, take a look at my collection of West Coast photographs at http://bit.ly/1soVY2r

[Note: All photos from the official http://www.dominiquejames.com photography website are now directly available for download and print order for personal, editorial, and commercial use.]

30474

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30474

Gazebo By The Lake

In the fall of 2007, I migrated to the United States from the Philippines. I moved in with my family in the small town of Vidalia in Georgia.

My stay in Vidalia lasted only a couple of months. I went on to travel to several other American cities in both the East and the West coasts. Eventually, I settled in New York City.

By way of Interstate 16, Vidalia is nestled somewhere midway between Atlanta and Savannah, approximately three and two-hour drive each opposite way.

Vidalia’s zip code is 30474. It is one of two assigned to this somewhat sleepy American southern municipality. If you must know, the other is 30475.

Vidalia, the principal and largest city of a micropolitan area (as opposed to metropolitan area) in Toombs and Montgomery county, has a population of 10,971 living in a total land area of 17.4 square miles—that’s according to the year 2000 census, the latest available. It is serviced by one Wal-Mart superstore, open 24 hours, in a location rumored to be where the first sweet Vidalia onions were grown.

Yes, if there is one thing Vidalia is famous for, and appropriately recognized by the food channel and the cooking network, it is the sweet white onion. Vidalia’s sweet white onion is in fact guaranteed by an official trademark. From historical accounts, we have farmer Mose Coleman to thank for, who in the early 1930s, made the observation that the white onions he was growing in Vidalia was much sweeter than any grown elsewhere.

Each spring, around mid-April, in honor of Coleman’s discovery, the annual Vidalia Onion Festival is celebrated. This year, it will be its 37th—with a parade, a rock concert, a cooking contest, and several other onion-themed activities—all in sweet anticipation of the bountiful harvest of the state’s official vegetable. Of course, Vidalia is also very well known for pecan and tobacco, but somehow these two other crops have been eclipsed in popularity by the incredible sweetness of its white onions.

Compared to a lot of other American cities and towns, there isn’t that many pictures of Vidalia, and the ones that you will most likely come across are typically of obscure historical nature. Very, very few, if any at all, are pictures of contemporary Vidalia. It’s as if people just didn’t bother enough to take any picture at all for quite some time. There is a palpable gap.

And so, after returning from New York City where I lived for almost 4 years, I decided to undertake a personal project: to take pictures of Vidalia. I went around a few days merrily snapping away with a pocketable Leica, all the while doing my best to ignore the often curious stares of locals peering out of trucks, perhaps baffled by what it is exactly I’m doing, pointing and shooting at all directions and all angles. In any case, my primary goal was to give Vidalia its cache of contemporary images.

From this, I was able to produce a modest collection of color images of present-day Vidalia, my personal photographic ode to a city so named by Central of Georgia’s president, William M. Wadley, at the time when the town was first founded in the 1880s, in honor of his daughter, Vidalia Wadley.

The resulting collection of Vidalia photographs from my little excursion is by no means exhaustive. I don’t even have a picture of onions! There’s more to Vidalia than a few days worth of photo go-arounds in a single season by a single camera-toting individual. What I came up with is a glimpse of what and who she is. I’ve managed to capture only a facet, so to speak. Hopefully, Vidalia residents and visitors alike with cameras will be inspired to follow suit and take pictures in order to come up with a bigger, more complete picture. For sure, and in time, many fascinating, intriguing things will be revealed.

There is one song you may have never heard of that pays tribute to Vidalia—the city, not the daughter—a 1996 song by Sammy Kershaw entitled, what else but, Vidalia.

Hopefully, though not musical by any means like Kershaw’s tribute, but through a visual essay, I am able to pay tribute to Vidalia as well.

So, come and take a look at my pictures of Vidalia, here.

[Note: All photos from the Dominique James Photography website are now available for download and print order for personal, editorial, and commercial use.]

Homeless, no more …

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Screenshot 2014-02-28 10.50.45

For a longest time, my pictures online can be seen here, there and everywhere, but in fact, nowhere. I can point you a link here, there and everywhere, but where to really look can get really very confusing, really very fast.

The way it’s been going on, and the way I’ve been carrying on, you can say that I’ve been squatting online in too many places for far too long.

Of course, I’ve always wanted to have one of those incredibly beautiful, professional-looking online photography websites that many famous photographers have, where you can go and see all of my pictures. And believe me, it’s not because for the lack of trying. I tried it this way and that way, and then another way. But it just didn’t happen quite like I wanted it to.

I’ve known all along since early 2008, when I was living in New York City, that there is this one perfectly elegant way for me to do it.

The very first time (and the only time) I attended a group meeting of a small, special-interest photo club in New York that I was thinking of joining in the fall of 2008, Allen Murabayashi happened to be the guest speaker. He gave a talk about the best way for a professional photographer to establish an online presence. Yes, he was pitching PhotoShelter, of which he is the co-founder and chairman, but everything he said made very apparent sense to me. His talk definitely resonated with me, and I must have decided more than a hundred times thereafter that I’m going to go with PhotoShelter. Of course, it helped that Allen was so good-looking in his freshly-pressed white shirt when he delivered his talk.

I don’t know how many of the dozen or so people listening to Allen that afternoon signed up with PhotoShelter’s service, but I did sign up, and I did try their 14-day free offer. However, I didn’t follow through. Somehow, I was skeptical and hesitant, and I resisted the idea for as long as I can. I was always coming up with excuses, which was (thinking about it now), unnecessary and senseless. But all those times, through several photo projects and a number of photo industry events where PhotoShelter was represented, from New York to Atlanta, I never stopped thinking and considering an online presence with PhotoShelter.

In fact, I went on to constantly compare PhotoShelter with the many other online offerings of doing the same thing; and the more I did, the more I was convinced that going with PhotoShelter was not only the right way, but it was the best way. Always, and in comparison, all the other services fell short.

And so, about 5 years down the road, fast-forward to today, I told myself, enough of putting up pictures here, there and everywhere, but instead put everything together already in one, single place—a certain place online where you can see all of my pictures all at once, both new and old.

That place online, my place, on PhotoShelter, is now up. You can see it at www.dominiquejames.com.

With PhotoShelter’s Beam, each and every photograph in my portfolio is beautifully exhibited. But other than just providing an “exquisite wrapper” for my pictures online, PhotoShelter is doing many behind-the-scenes heavy-lifting that makes it easy and practical for an independent professional photographer such as myself to have a really amazing online presence. What’s more is that I can now focus and concentrate on being a photographer. And, more importantly, viewers now have a beautiful experience looking at my pictures, and directly from within my website, an easy, convenient and safe way of ordering photo prints and licensing the images for personal, editorial and commercial use.

Yup, my online squatting days are over.  I’m proud of my new online home. With PhotoShelter, my pictures are homeless no more.

Blank Slates

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Michael Lopp, Rands In Repose:

This New Year, I wish you more blank slates. May you have more blank white pages sitting in front you with your favorite pen nearby and at the ready. May you have blank screens in your code editor with your absolutely favorite color syntax highlighting. May your garage work table be empty save for a single large piece of reclaimed redwood and a saw.

Turn off those notifications, turn your phone over, turn on your favorite music, stare at your blank slate and consider what you might build. In that moment of consideration, you’re making an important decision: create or consume? The things we’re giving to the future are feeling increasingly unintentional and irrelevant. They are half-considered thoughts of others. When you choose to create, you’re bucking the trend because you’re choosing to take the time to build.

And that’s a great way to start the year.

Yes, indeed!

Written by dominiquejames

January 3, 2014 at 8:54 AM

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