jeffrey byrnes 2/26/19 jeffrey byrnes 2/26/19

Red: A photo essay

Every so often when I get a chance to take a break from work to focus on making images for me I like to shoot what I see. That ideology is similar to the pervious post “Night Photography: Snow,” that I posted a few nights back. When I first started my career as a photographer I had a lot of these moments. These were the good ol days of just shooting purely for fun and for testing. Testing ideas, locations, types of work, and cameras. I could calculate out all the images I’ve made, all the time I’ve spent making them, but there is not real value in doing that because every time I make an image now, it is a reflection of those moments.

One seemingly colder than usually day in November I took a walk around Northampton, Ma with my Fuji X-Pro 2. This was before I discovered that I could just pop the lens back into place and make all right again with the planes of focus. When I parked the car I grabbed my camera and a spare battery and proceeded to take a walk. I had no plan in place. No set goal or idea of what I would like to photograph. I looked over my should just as the car door shut and I saw this image.

I didn’t see the bullet holes until I was processing the shoot. What I saw was the color red, brilliant and intense. The shadow stood out the most as a dark red image overlaid on the exterior of a defunct dinner. I decided in that moment I was going to shoot the color red. If I saw an object, person, or scene with red, it would be composed in my lens.

This was not an exercise in red. This was not a red car syndrome project. It was, however, an afternoon of walking around and identifying elements around me that I could tie into photographs I had just made. Had I stepped out of the car and saw the color blue or a old bicycle, they could have inspired me just as much as the red shadow crawling up the side of the Diner. When a photographer takes time to un-think and clear their minds to create work just for the purposes of creating, they are free to see, free to produce, free to re-think and see. I can’t say that every image I make inspires the next, but when I take time to make photographs like this, when I have a few hours or a day, or when I travel and shoot, I produce work that will in some way affect my future work. That is the nature of creativity.

Desaturated red brick with strong shadow of a lamp.

jeffrey byrnes 1/6/18 jeffrey byrnes 1/6/18

"In a New York Minute"

"I think one of the most iconic songs about New York City, I'm sure this could be debated, is Billy Joel's 1976, "New York State of Mind."

I think one of the most iconic songs about New York City, I'm sure this could be debated, is Billy Joel's 1976, "New York State of Mind." I would like to imagine that he wrote this song while ridding through the city on a rainy night, in a cab. Sitting there being bounced around as the cab cut through traffic, Billy longingly looking through the window, focusing past the raindrops composing the lyrics to what would become an iconic song. The thoughts on his mind are his and will forever be an inspiration that only he can recall, thoughts he would never share, but are felt through the sound of the piano keys and the lyrics that guide you through the monochromatic streets of Manhattan.

For me a "New York State of Mind" is a head full of inspiration and a heart full desire. For the dreamers, New York City is a playground of opportunities. You will not be granted an ounce of opportunity unless you prove your worth. Doors do not open unless you make them, by hard work, chance, and an unparalleled desire to be the best you can be.

There are certain times of the year when the city is a magical place, a wonderland of lust and desire, a place of magic and happiness. The weeks leading up to Christmas and the Holidays is one of those times. The city that never sleeps is illuminated by the glow of holiday decorations, lights that twinkle, sparkle, change colors, and dance through a motion of displays to entice shoppers, tourists, and New Yorkers alike. Christmas tree vendors take up space on the corners of streets, the steam rising from the streets adds texture to the ambient glow of the surroundings, the sounds of holiday music are pumped through the crisp air. Out door markets come to life as people shop for friends, loved ones, and anyone they desire to give gifts too. When the snow falls, it changes the environment drastically, creating what can only be described as a film set.

My wife and I locked arms as we walked across The Highline after exiting Chelsea Market. She had never been and I wanted to take her. The snow fall was at its peak when we were strolling across the slippery surface of the walkway. Carolers were singing, being filmed, people were stopping to make photos, myself included. The snow was accumulating and filling the streets, covering the holiday decorations, and creating a romantic backdrop. I took a few minutes to make some photos during our stroll.

I had with me my Fuji X-Pro2. It is my walk around camera, travel camera, and camera that I can depend on in in-climate weather. I wanted to make images that captured the essence of the pictorial set we were in. The Highline was the perfect backdrop to do so. With a little bit of direction I posed Sue in the environment, I used the ambient light, the snow, and the shapes of the environment to create environmental portraits.

Looking up at the falling snow, The Highline Entryway

A photograph does not have to be sharp, in focus to provide detail and tell a story. An image can stand alone, tell a story, and evoke a sense of mood and time within an environment. Such has the case with the following photograph. If you have been following along for the last few months, my Fuji X-Pro2 has a bent lens on it. Like I have mentioned before, I am in no hurry to replace it. While I can not manually adjust the f stops, the auto focus will work and put areas in focus while creating a gradation of focus fall off based on the distortion of the lenses damage.

The colors of the lights and the soft focus as the snow diffuses the city creates a tangible and soft scene. Moving from The Highline we slowly made our way towards Rockefeller Center to see the tree. Due to major traffic issues, we drove past the area and could not stop. Fighting the traffic and getting through hotel police barriers we made our way past Columbus Circle. Enticed by the charm of what we saw, we parked a few blocks away and walked back to the out door market. Browsing around and admiring the food, all good looking culinary delights, mostly carb based items that I can not eat the moment, I took in the sights and smells.

With the amount of snow that fell I was eager to walk through the park and experience the moment. The fresh snow was nothing short of cinematic and simply beautiful. Quiet. Peaceful. Tranquil. Still. The park didn't have a lot of foot traffic. A group of men ran by in what can only be described as the most inappropriate running gear possible. With a temperature of about 2-5 degrees, they were wearing shorts. A group of people were clam backing inside a zipped up pedicab. Children, couples, and families were ice skating on the rink. An adorable family was sliding down a self made path near the pond. The snow danced between the lights as it gently fell. Out side of the park the sounds of the city could be heard.

We weren't far from the tree and Rockefeller Center. We decided to walk down. I was on a secondary mission, find some nuts. If you never had those sugar coated cocaine like nuts, warm and delicious, you're missing out. If you have a nut allergy and can not eat them, let me describe even further so you know what you're missing out. They are both soft and warm, occasionally there will be a firm one. They are coated with a sugar that not only enhances the flavor, but widens your pupils and sends endorphins coursing through your body. Each is tightly wrapped and ready to be consumed at once. There is no saving and enjoying later. There is only, take a hit and repeat or take a hit and pass the bag and share with the person you care the most about. I needed to find some of those nuts. I figured I would find them next to the park. Wrong. It took another 30 mins of searching before I found them. The search was worth it.

After having found my nuts, the food kind, as I was still very cold...we made our way over to the tree just in time for the ice to be cleared off as a couple got engaged. Aww. Meandering around and looking at the lights and happy faces, I was happy. I felt the spirit of Christmas come alive within me, and I was excited to share in the happiness and the joy of the thousands of people around me. If you have never been to that are during the holiday season, suck it up, get over your fear of crowds and go. Don't worry, everyone, mostly everyone, is there for the same reason. To see a big ass Christmas tree with thousands of lights. Go. Take the kids. Take your wife, husband, girlfriend, the girl or guy you're crushing on, stand next to that big ass tree with thousands of lights, steal a kiss, give a kiss, or just hold hands and let the spirit and energy of the moment pass between you.

"In a New York Minute," "In a New York State of Mind," "As only New Yorkers know, if you can get through the twilight, you’ll live through the night, Dorothy Parker" There is an energy and a passion that you either have or don't have about New York City. You love it or you desperately despise it so much that you are vocal about it. A sense of love that can be express in words that inspire people to visit, move, become a New Yorker, or a sense of dread so thick that no amount of convincing will ever break the level of hatred. People from the farthest corners of the globe travel countless miles to see the city that never sleeps. Some never leave and some keep coming back. New York City, if you open your heart is an alluring and charming city with a world of adventures, sights, sounds, and tastes, ready to be had.

I am sure there are still generations of true New Yorkers, names of families that are permanently etched within the steel and concrete fabric of the citie's architecture, that still live, work, and walk the streets hopping galas, galleries, fine dining, shopping, and the next talked about social event of the season, that still call New York their first home. By the same measure, I am equally sure there are New Yorkers that are also into the generations that are transplants. Migrant families, immigrants, and people from other parts of the US that call New York City home. People that have helped shaped the city to become what it is today. New York City is comparable to Rome, a metaphorical example I defined and explained to Sue as we were exiting the park. Rome is a melting pot of cultures, much like New York City. Rome is an old world city with an expansive and visible history. It is one of the only cities in the world that I have walked through that has so much living history. New York City, like Rome, just on a much younger level is the same. One bridge is made of steel and bed rock while others are made of steel and asphalt. Glass towers made of steel cast shadows on buildings built of brick, laid by hand of migrant workers looking for a better life. Like the flash of a strobe, "In a New York Minute," the city changes.

I fall into the camp that loves New York City. I will not go into details as to why or what my favorite parts of New York City are. Rather, I will say, if you are reading this on January 6, today or tomorrow January 7th, I am in the city with Sue, building upon the wealth of experiences we like to collect. If you love New York City, we have commonalities and would probably be friends. If you have New York City, Im sorry. I will never try to convert you. I will respect your reasons why, but that doesn't mean I won't make great photos and share them with you. Keep a look out for the article about this weekends trip.

jeffrey byrnes 12/10/17 jeffrey byrnes 12/10/17

Snow: Black and white

Black and white photos of snow.

After finishing up some work yesterday afternoon I took a walk in the falling snow. I have been dreading the upcoming winter and snow over then past few weeks. We've had so many warm days this fall that I just did not want the warm weather to disappear. I had been grumbling about wanting to go back to La to escape the weather and just work in the sun. But the moment the snow started to fall I turned into a little kid again and couldn't wait to get outside. After finishing up some editing I grabbed my Fuji X-Pro II with the busted lens and went out to a hidden spot.

Its a well known hidden spot. There were quite a few people out walking in the snow. I made conversation with a few people as they passed by me. It was quite, peaceful, and beautiful.

jeffrey byrnes 1/27/16 jeffrey byrnes 1/27/16

From the Wall

My career as a graffiti writer was short lived but plays a key roll in my photography. I was introduced to graffiti when I was 14-15 by a friend who showed me a legal wall. Painted from top to bottom on an expansive wall, ironically across the street from the police department, there were characters, lines, colors, every single element of a well composed piece by a reputable crew of talented writers.

At that time I had just finished my first photography class and was already hooked. I made a point to go back and shoot some photos of the painting. Walking in a straight line, left to right, I framed up sections of the painting until I captured the entire piece. Did I mention I did this with an old 35mm film camera and stitched the pano together in camera. When I received the 4x6 prints I taped them down to a piece of cardboard. I still have that photo, 16 years later, sitting in the studio.

i began documenting the places that had the best paintings. I always went alone, never when anyone was painting. I would photograph the paintings that I admired, by the artists I admired. I started doing research, bought sketchbooks and markets and gave myself a name. In high school I was known for drawing, the graffiti. I always had a camera around and was always drawing graffiti. Occasionally Id scribble on a desk, but mostly in my books. Chicks loved it, so did a few of my friends Id skate with. Graffiti went hand and hand with skateboarding. I introduced the medium to a few friends, some of whom either curse me commend me for getting them hooked because they are still at it.

Where I grew up was a haven of writers for years. In the backgrounds I would follow the artists by photographing their work. During that time I began painting, developing my style, learning and researching. I once came across a few paintings on website. I searched the interwebs, way before Google was around, and found something beautiful. The paintings always stuck with me. One eventful day I climbed through a fence, walked down an embankment, stepped onto the train tracks and looked at the wall. I was flabbergasted to see the same paintings I adored. I somehow thought these painted existed in some far off place in the world, not anywhere close to me. I began snapping away. I maneuvered around and kept shooting. There were two sets of tracks and a train quickly approaching. I was in awe and hadn't noticed the impending freight train. What seemed like inches away, the train engineer blew the horn, scared the crap out of me so hard I graffitied my underwear and ran for my life. It was a close call, but I caught some amazing paintings.

For years I followed one group of artists. I was never in their league, not even close. I had a few friends that knew them, but I never met them. I kept my silent distance and photographed their work. Of the group there was one artist in particular that I was inspired by. I admired his work, his style, his bold use of paint. Over the years I heard the rumors of the trouble he got in, the time he did, and that one time a judge let him off by painting a piece right behind the courthouse that had a positive message, "The future is in your hands." It was a beautiful painting of a pair of hands extended from a character the artist made.

One evening I was with a friend. At times he was a chill kid, other times he was a raging dick. That particular night he was a dick. He told me I should never pick up a can of paint again and that I should just make photographs of the writers and their work. He said the world needed someone to document the work and make the books instead of someone that couldn't paint. Id like to say that I took his advice, however I did not. I was not discouraged in the least. I continued painting and documenting what I saw. It would be a few years before I put the cans down. In full disclosure, I was never one of those offensive artists that would maliciously paint everything I could, racking up a case of vandalism. Graffiti for me, as it has been and always will be, is art.

Recently I found out from a friend of mine that the artist I idolized for so many years passed away. I was saddened by this news. While I did not know him personally, I took the loss in my own ways, knowing that another talented artist had left this world too soon. The day I found out about his passing, my long time friend, the one who loves to curse me for getting him hooked, was at an undisclosed location painting a mural with a group of friends. The mural was the last piece the artist was working on. They were painting it in his honor. He invited me down, but due to a shoot, I was unable to make it down. This past week I had a shoot in the neighborhood of the wall. I had a few minutes to stop and admire the work, so I did. I snapped a few photos and thought back to all those short years of the smell of Krylon, markers, discovering new paintings by the artists I admired, and that sensation I got from graffiti. It is sad to think that the artist I admired so much will no longer be producing work. There comes a date when we all retire from what drives us, the things we love and the work we love to produce. Enjoy the days you have and the work you make. Keep sharing, you never know who you will inspire.

The following photos are from the memorial mural.

jeffrey byrnes 1/20/16 jeffrey byrnes 1/20/16

Travel Photography: Key West, Florida

Key West is the southern most, final destination in the state of Florida. Key West is by all accounts a tiny island in the Florida Keys. My wife and I rented bicycles and were able to ride around the entire island very quickly. Before we got on our two wheels and made our way around the island we took one of those uber, not the car service, touristy trains. Being a tourist, you can hop on a freight train for the unadventurous and get a history lesson of the island from one of the plump drivers. While bopping around the seat, photo-bombing the group in front of us taking "selfies," I spotted a restaurant that spoke to me. I made a mental note of where the restaurant was based on how the driver navigated his choo-choo train.

From the moment we rode past Frita's Cuban Burger Cafe, it was my mission to eat there. The first time I had a cuban sandwich was in Boston. Not the most ideal place to have such a sandwich. It was lack luster, but when you eat something at the bottom of the barrel, that just means that when something is how it should be or when it is served in an authentic environment, it will be life affirming. Frita's would be both culturally relevant and decadent.

We handed over the credit card, signed the papers, and saddled up on the wheels that have probably been ridden more than a Brazilian prostitute. Our bikes moaned and creaked as we cycled our way around the island. Around a corner, down a street, up the block, to the left, followed by a right, we found a beach. Our bikes were equipped with locks, which we used to safely secure them to some bike racks. The water was beautiful. We had a swim, a few moments for photos, and a few minutes laying in the sand and we were off. During our train ride our the island I made a few photos of things we passed, mostly with my Gopro, photos I'll save for later. As we navigated around I built a map of the island, making note of visually appealing landmarks along the way. This mental database would be what helped me pedal our way to Frita's.

You should never judge a book by its cover just like you should never judge a restaurant by how many people are dinning. My wife was a bit reluctant when we rolled up Frita's. I was ecstatic because after half an hour and a wrong turn, we arrived. There wasn't a single person eating, drinking, or doing what people do at restaurants. I didn't hesitate or think anything none-the-less. I first learned about Frita Kahlo when studying Art History at The University of Massachusetts. I knew that if there was a restaurant dedicated to her, the food must be as well composed as her paintings were. I am by no means a food critic. I know what I like, love, hate. I am however one for a culinary adventure. I was eager to sit down, order, and stuff my face.

Everywhere we turned there was portraits of Frita looking at us, greeting us, asking us what we were hungry for. Our table had a bust of Frita painted on it. No matter which angle you sat, she was looking up at you. No doubt the artist who painted her knew a thing or two about perspective. We sat outside, as it was a beautiful, hot day in Florida. Groups of people passed by. Occasionally the brave would stop and read the menu, but most people kept passing by. I kept thinking to myself, "are these people crazy for passing a place like this up, or are they just not in the mood to eat?" My camera was torn from the bag the moment we sat at the table. It was obvious by my behavior that I am not a tourist. Most people get that the moment they see my set up. I made a few photos of our surroundings and a few while the manager came out and took our order. I stood and approached the guy behind the grill. I asked if I could make photographs while he cooked our food. He obliged, even showing a bit of excitement for being photographed, sort of as if it made his day. Dewan from Bangladesh worked the grill like an artist, perhaps the same artist who painted Frita on our table. He was happy to tell us his story as to why he was in Key West, grilling our food. At some point we had a more personable conversation with the manager who took our order. He handed me a business card with his name and email address, so as I could forward him this very post, but during my travels, the business card slipped from my notebook and became a reminder of why I should also write things down in addition to taking a business card. Some book make that card was..

I ordered 2 Cuban Tacos, Sue ordered 1 Cuban burger, I had the ear of Cuban grilled corn, and we shared 3 churros. Like I said, I am no food critic, but what I can say is this, my life changed with every bite I took. The juxtaposition of each element of our food created sinful, lusting, flavor bombs of transcendence. Frita's is the type of restaurant where you will eat something that you will remember. Located off the main road and 90 miles from Cuba, you would think that your eating at a restaurant on the Havana Port.

jeffrey byrnes 1/18/16 jeffrey byrnes 1/18/16

Food Photography

I am not a food photographer. In September 2014 I produced and photographed a fashion shoot with the theme, "The Perfect Date." This shoot was a spin from a shoot I had done a year prior entitled, "The Perfect Picnic." Both shoots incorporated fashion and incorporated food. The food was just one small accessory to the shoots. Both shoots were fun. Other than that, when food has made an appearance in my work it is been brief.

In 2013 I filmed a photographed a Pop-Up Restaurant that took place a few blocks up from my studio. There I met Chefs Jeremy Kean and Philip Kruta. Together they own "Whisk," a pop based restaurant. One of my photographs of Jeremy from the night of "Deposit," the first pop I filmed, was featured on Guy Fiery's show, "Guy's Grocery Games." Later that year, in December I went to their small pop-up restaurant in the North End of Boston. The food was incredible. I tried a few things I hadn't before, such as black squid ink pasta and a sort of beet dish. Prior to that night I had never liked beets. How they prepared it changed my perception of beets. I was hooked on their food. Shortly after they closed their pop-up in the North End, they opened up another restaurant that I had never tried.

This past Friday night I went to their latest pop-up Restaurant, "Whisk at Fazenda." Located in Jamaica Plain, within a cafe, with plans to expand, this pop-up has been the culmination of their careers, as how I see it. I met with my friend and visual artist colleague Chris Davis. Chris is a super talented designer that I met when I attended the Art Institute of Boston for a short period of time. Recently Chris produced a new logo for me. I was in the middle of a visual rebranding and he was responsible for the new logo that is being attached to everything that gets mailed out, featured, shot, whatever I can put it on basically. I invited him to join me.

I must admit, the following photos were shot at the table with my iPhone 6. In addition, that was the first meal I had physically eaten in 4 days. Yes, that is right, first bites of food eaten in 4 days. Before you call me crazy, let me quickly explain. On Sunday I had watched a doc, "Fat, Sick, & Nearly Dead." The gist of it, he was sick, over weight, almost dead. He embarked on a 60 day course of drinking just juice. He lost the equivalent of a small human being, in terms of weight, stopped taking drugs that were prescribed to him, and became healthy. His work inspired people that he met along the way. As I watched, I said, wow, what a way to become healthier and lose weight. I figured, Ill give that a try. So I did. I set a goal and began working on it. I knew that I was scheduled to eat dinner on Friday night, so I figured that would be the only meal I would have and until then and after then I would keep a strict regiment of fruits and vegetables.

By the time I sat down to dinner I was starving. My brain knew food was about to be introduced into the body, well prepared fine dinning. I was beyond ecstatic. I chose the pescetarian option. It was a no meat but fish 5 course dinner. It was incredible. I am going to spare you the boring, wanna-be food critic breakdown of each dish and allow you to enjoy the photos.

NOTE: I am traveling to the Pacific Northwest at the end of February. I will be producing some travel photography work while we navigate around a few different cities in that region. In addition to the travel photography, I am going to be starting a personal project. When I return I will be sharing the details along with some of the images from the personal project. I am very excited for this project and I hope that you enjoy reading the photographs as much as I will be making them.