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The Salton Sea is a shallow, saline, endorheic rift lake located directly on the San Andreas Fault, predominantly in California’s Imperial and Coachella valleys.
The modern sea was accidentally created by the engineers of the California Development Company in 1905. In an effort to increase water flow into the area for farming, irrigation canals were dug from the Colorado River into the valley. Due to fears of silt buildup, a cut was made in the bank of the Colorado River to further increase the water flow. The resulting outflow overwhelmed the engineered canal, and the river flowed into the Salton Basin for two years, filling the historic dry lake bed and creating the modern sea, before repairs were completed.
Bombay Beach is a small community located along the east shore of the Salton sea. Although still inhabited by a hearty group of residents, it has fallen on hard times and many of its vintage mobile homes and travel trailers are now unoccupied and facing the ravages of time, salty air and vandals. photo a blog bombay5.jpg photo a blog bombay6.jpg photo a blog bombay8.jpg photo a blog bombay7.jpg photo a blog bombay3.jpg photo a blog bombay10.jpg photo a blog bombay4.jpg
A Volkswagen station wagon! photo a blog bombay2.jpg photo a blog bombay 1.jpg
Tens of thousands of bleached fish skeletons litter the beach
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From ancient petroglyphs to modern jumbotrons, man has felt compelled to leave a sign of his passing upon the landscape. While I usually focus heavily on neon, I also love ghost signs, graffiti and just about any other artistic mark that humans leave upon their environment, especially where it concerns commerce.
Here are a few more from our trip through Arizona and New Mexico. photo a sign blog1.jpg
Try as I might, I just can’t get away from those damn banjos!! photo a blog sign3.jpg
It is actually “Barn” Again, (In a barn) next to the Burger Boy photo a blog sigtn2.jpg
Just great vintage neon photo a blog sign6.jpg
I don’t think this development ever really got off the ground- (alongside an abandoned stretch of old Route 66) photo a blog sign5.jpg
**** note the strange little box in the right hand corner*** photo a blog sign 8.jpg
Left over from an old windmill- wish I could have brought it home photo a blog sign10.jpg
Let’s get Fluffy right over!! photo a blog sign 4.jpg
This is some great graffiti on an abandoned water tank photo a blog sign 9.jpg
I think this about says it all


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We recently took a trip to beautiful San Diego. While my significant other toiled away in the bowels of the city’s splendid convention center, I was left to my own devices to while away the daylight hours. The sky was blue, the temperature a soothing and constant 70 degrees, and the quality of light was a visualist’s dream. I averaged about 4-6 walking miles a day, and there was literally too much to possibly fit into this abbreviated blog, but here’s a small sampling, divided into a few brief sections.  photo a blog san diego faces.jpg
Faces were everywhere- and not just the ones on the people I met photo a blog Balboa .jpg
It had been over 30 years since I was last in Balboa Park, and it remains an oasis of beauty
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San Diego is in a huge boom of new building and renovation, but the remnants of an older existence are still to be found if you keep your eyes open photo a blog san diego 2.jpg
New and old architecture, side by side photo a blog sandiego water.jpg
….and of course, San Diego is a city whose livelihood and identity are linked closely to its historic status as a seaport city.


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On our recent visit in a southerly direction, through Winchester, Harrisonburg and Staunton, Virginia, we happened upon various reminders of these town’s genteel and charming pasts. While the usual strip malls, big box stores and detestable chain eateries were very much in evidence, churning out their oh, so regimented and reliably bland totems to mass consumerism, we also encountered the quaint and polite charm of a by-gone era, along with the reminders of the individual American spirit that is so often overlooked today. photo ablogold9.jpg
The Scales of Justice, Harrisonburg, VA. photo ablogold7.jpg
The DIXIE Theater, Staunton, VA. photo ablogold1.jpg
Home after a hard day’s work, Winchester, VA. photo ablogold5.jpg
George’s, Harrisonburg, VA. photo ablogold2.jpg
Cleaning up in Winchester, VA. photo ablogold3.jpg
The skies the limit in Staunton, VA. photo ablogold4.jpg
When a car dealership really meant something, in Harrisonburg, VA. photo ablogold6.jpg
Now this is a home worth coming home to!


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On a recent roadtrip to Staunton, VA., we came across yet another tranquil oasis and resting place of the departed on the outskirts of town. Here are but a few of the interesting bits of funerary art that helped fuel my creative mind that day. photo abloggraves2.jpg photo abloggrave8.jpg photo abloggrave6.jpg
They do love and respect their dogs down here in Virginia- photo abloggrave4.jpg photo abloggrave7.jpg
A more apt name was never seen photo abloggrave3.jpg
Crossing Over photo abloggrave1.jpg
Remember the Maine! Don’t see many of these photo abloggrave5.jpg
Knock, knock, knocking on heaven’s door


Although it seems that I am primarily a photographer, back in the day I was first and foremost an artist. My hands were permanently stained with India ink, and my second finger had a divot that took two years to regain its normal shape. While searching through some old files, I came across these examples of my old craft, and now, with renewed vigor, I hope to once again create images in pencil and pen. Enjoy! photo afbIMG_1743.jpg
The Short Stop Diner, in Wheaton, MD. Long gone, the building awaits yet another owner photo afbDSCF1704.jpg
Counterman with cigarette photo aIfbMG_1734.jpg
The Silver Spring Tastee Diner, 1985 photo afbIMG_1739.jpg
Christmas Card with The Summit Diner, Somerset, PA.


On our way to cover the NEA JazzMasters in NYC every year, the intrepid Miss Julie and I always make a point to stop along the way, take a break from the New Jersey Turnpike, and have an invigorating breakfast at the Hightstown Diner. It may not be the original, classic structure, pictured on so many vintage postcards, but it is friendly, charmingly local, the coffee is good, and the experience is what we all go to diners for! Just off exit 8, the sad and long abandoned Mom’s sits in the shadow of the new exit overpass, the reminder of tasty pancakes from my youthful trips to Maine, but an extra 5 minutes into town still yields the goods of small town eats in a wasteland of fast food franchises. Check it out, it’s a great treat! photo ablogdiner2.jpg
Long closed, Mom’s! the name said it all! photo adinerblogIMG_7005.jpg photo ablogdiner3.jpg
You gotta love the art at Mom’s photo ablogdiner8.jpg
Even though the new “Enviornmental” style facade can’t really compete with the original, it still has certain charms photo ablogdiner5.jpg
A great breakfast and never-ending coffee,with plenty of bacon  photo ablogdiner6.jpg
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We only stop here once a year, and run into this fun & friendly father and son every time! What are the chances? Dad, checking out the chicken sandwich on a diner’s plate- “Somethings wrong with that chicken!” Son “What?” Dad- “It’s DEAD!” Same joke every year, too funny.


On a recent visit to New York City to photograph the National Endowment for the Arts JazzMasters awards, I was fortunate enough to have a few minutes of down time to wander the nearby streets of the city. Although the sidewalks and streets bustle with the swirling masses of humanity, and every face is a new and interesting study in the massive diversity of human-kind, in this instance I chose to train my lens on the fascinating and never ending array of faces that reside on the facades of the buildings surrounding Central Park West. Here is a small sample.




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It was a rare day in Washington, D.C. The fall air was cool and crisp, the sky was a clear, deep shade of blue, and the rumble and static of the voices from Capitol Hill was muted and the desire to commune with nature and enjoy an afternoon of tranquility seized my very soul. Where to go? Why, the cemetery beckoned, of course, and having neglected the famous gentle hills of Congressional Cemetery, in the shadow of the ever popular D.C. Jail, we set off for a stroll through the tombstones of the famous and powerful. Unlike nearby Oak Hill or Rock Creek cemeteries, Congressional is sadly lacking in unique or interesting funerary art or style. These are, after all, politicians, and this is one of the few places in Washington where the pol’s are silent, but so much like their living counterparts, they still do nothing. Which came first? A fitting tribute to the concept of term limits, it appears that many past Congressmen lived short lives, 35-45 seems about average in many cases, so perhaps our contemporary politicians could take a cue from their forefathers!
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No humility here
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Muted and classic architecture of death
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Congress is in recess- The remains of Congressmen past
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A beautiful fall day in Washington – an opportunity for reflection
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The other side of America- A stunning totem pole in Washington’s Congressional Cemetery
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We can only pray that our elected officials will finally grow up, act like adults, and try to work for the betterment of the country


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Out along the Lincoln Highway, about a half an hour’s drive from Ames, is the little crossroads community of Colo, Iowa. On our recent cross country odyssey, in route to Bozeman, Montana, we had the good fortune to stop in at the Colo Motel and Niland’s Cafe. A lovingly restored gas station, bus stop, motor court and Cafe, this oasis stands as a beacon among the corn fields and silos, within earshot of the cross country freights that sing their lonesome songs late into the night. The owners and workers here are friendly, outgoing and treat you with all the care and love that is normally reserved for long lost family. If you’re ever driving across Iowa, pull in, have a milkshake and give yourself a rest before hitting the highway again. You’ll be glad you did!
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