Photographing this event was more intense than I expected. There were about 30 couples huddled under the Piedmont Park pavilion on a rainy Halloween night. I was in the very middle of the crowd during the vows, trying to get as many angles of as many couples as possible. Before I started shooting, I wanted to watch these couples. They looked into each other’s happy, watery eyes like there wasn’t a soul for miles. They were all absolutely in love with each other.
One of the Atlanta Pride Festival’s sweeter traditions is the commitment ceremony. This year’s event took place in the Piedmont Park pavilion and was open to the public. For $25, couples could register to be “committed” to each other. Both a priest and a rabbi oversaw the ceremony as everyone said their vows at once, huddled under the pavilion away from the rain. Then all the couples kissed to make it official.
The Masquerade held a Halloween costume party throughout all three of its venues on Oct. 30. A few hundred people showed up for the Halloween-style rave as some danced with light, some hung from silk and all were treated to the techno sounds of the live band.
I photographed Decatur-raised rapper, B.o.B., at Smith’s Olde Bar on Oct. 18 with little knowledge of his music. I spoke to some people about him before the show and heard that he was “the new Andre 3000,” and that “if the recession hadn’t hit, he’d be multi-platinum by now.” No amount of hype could have prepared me for those next two hours of live music. B.o.B.’s talent was immediately clear. What was more endearing was that he was having fun. He tore on to the stage, rapping and playing guitar, and had the whole crowd grinning ear to ear.
The highland games took place Oct. 17-18 in Stone Mountain, GA. The event featured a Scotch-Irish family clan banner march, bagpipe band marches, sheep dog demonstrations, and Highland Man competitions that involved throwing heavy things as far or high as possible.
In the second of CL’s series of videos chronicling mayoral candidates you’ve probably never heard of, Duvwon Robinson, who grew up in notorious housing project Bowen Homes, talks about cleaning up the streets (literally) and using confiscated drug money to create jobs for the unemployed.
I watched this woman resting in front of this downtown building long enough to see countless citizens pass her by without a glance. Finally, two women approached her to see if she was OK. Ten minutes later the sleeping woman was awakened by a policeman. She shuffled off in search of another place to rest.
A benefit auction on Aug. 14 held at Eyedrum Gallery was intended to help the much-loved art gallery with its uncertain future. From 7-10 p.m., jazz music, silent and live auctions filled the space.
I was excited to shoot the dancing, art, music, and multitudes of happy people at the Gentleman Jack event this past Saturday. With all the different elements at Art, Beats + Lyrics, it’s hard to sum it up in one image. I think this one does it the best.
This photograph was taken in front of The High Museum, where a gallery show titled History Remixed: Road to Freedom and After 1968 was on display. I couldn’t help but try to get a shot of these two men holding hands walking past the gallery’s sign on the museum, which depicts Martin Luther King Jr. holding hands with fellow peaceful protesters. Alas, I wasn’t quick enough to get the shot. Instead, I decided to simply capture a moment between the two of them.
Wordsmith’s Bookstore held a fundraiser in Decatur last weekend. I arrived as The Sea Lions, a fantastic local indie/pop band, were just beginning to charge through the second half of their set. The two members of the band both take care of lead vocals and switch guitar and bass usually after every other song. The true charm was that all of their drum tracks were being played off of their iPod. Instead of shooting the band, I decided to turn my camera to the eclectic group of audience members. About half young hipster-folk, and the rest older women and men. Some drawn into the bookstore by the band, some there with the sole interest of saving the bookstore. The vibe was strangely harmonious. No rebellion from the younger folks and complete understanding and acceptance from the older folks. Truly something that could only be found in the neutrality of a bookstore.
This is a photo of the construction being done on and around the 14th Street bridge, which crosses over I-85. Word is it won’t be done ’til winter 2009. You can get all the info you could ever want on this project here.
Atlanta saw a record high temperature of 98 degrees this Sunday, beating out 1995’s June 8 record by one degree. This kind of heat is not just uncomfortable, it can be down right debilitating. So to combat its force, I went to my local swimming pool that is owned by a neighborhood friend, Margaret Harrington. Also in her 90s, Margaret has kept her retro backyard pool open to neighbors and friends for nearly sixty years. The number of people who she’s taught to swim and dive (including myself) is legendary.
Photographed is Lily, doing what every Atlantan wished they could have been doing this past sweltering Sunday.
We combined two CL forces of nature — Editor in Chief Ken Edelstein and intern Dustin Chambers — and went out amongst the coffee-drinking people of Little Five Points to ask a very important question: what’s your problem?
Answers varied but, strangely, no one seemed to have a problem with McDonald’s filming a commercial that morning in the same parking lot that houses Aurora Coffee and Junkman’s Daughter. Go figure.
This photo was taken during a peace vigil that followed a choral concert at All Saints’ Episcopal Church in downtown Atlanta. The All Saints’ choir performed a stunning suite of music entitled “The Armed Man: A Mass For Peace,” written by Welsh composer Karl Jenkins in 1999. Each of 13 movements takes us into, through and out of war, ultimately denouncing it. Photographed is Carol Miller, a fellow Atlantan and purveyor of peace, who, like many of the other attendees, stood in reflective silence and watched her candle’s flame grow stronger as the city’s light began to diminish.
