Sunday musings. See story BurnMagazine.org So I didn’t move today and for this picture taken just now I did not get out of my chair by the fire. The afternoon light always does amazing things in my house . Different every day. Here is Mike Halminski’s “Seashell” and some slides that need filing and my grandmother’s chair and pillows from India and woven women’s belts from Maya Guatamala and my dad’s sled and my photo from college and my nearly beyond repair fave porch swing..Not much going on here. Perfect. Sunday musings.
Monthly Archive for March, 2015

BEACH GAMES
For me this is a lazy Sunday afternoon. Seems I don’t get many lazy Sunday afternoons. Yet I am cherishing this one. It’s cool outside, I have a fire going, and I’m just talking to my cats. They do not seem to be listening, which is fine.
I have been shooting quite a bit in Rio since 2010. First with a NatGeo piece on Rio. Straight up documentary photojournalism. Then with my book, (based on a true story), which does not mention “Rio” at all. Why? Because my personal life was mixed in the with pure documentary and I did not want anyone to think (based on a true story) was a “report” about Rio de Janeiro. It was all documentary, but it was not journalism.
Now with the upcoming BeachGames zine (photos here) I went all out and didn’t make any attempt at mixing a reportage coverage with the life I was living. So BeachGames is on the same stage as (based on a true story) except that it is a true story. Again, not journalism at all, yet a personal diary of my 3 months of shooting within the last year. Black & white. Conventional wisdom told me not to go back to the same well. Suicide creatively? Trying to do the same thing twice? Yet I felt like doing it, so I did it. No other justifications. I will take the critique.
Yet now I am done. Finished with my photographic romance with Rio. Will I return to Rio? Sure I will. For vacation, for workshops, to see my good Carioca friends. Yet I know when I am finished shooting something. In this case, it took two books to finish. Both with different moods, both with different things to say. Both taking me away from conventional reporting and closer to the novella mentality, where I think I will stay. In the end, novelists interest me more than reporters. I see a type of truth in fiction. All barriers lifted. Nobody really makes things up. You cannot write about or photograph something well if you have not lived it. I will leave straight reportage for others who do it so well.
After years of using one place as fodder for work, when its over there is some sort of post shoot nostalgia. A sweet exhaustion. The way we all feel after we have put everything into something. Knowing we did all we could do, yet always wondering if we could have done more. Yet I feel I really squeezed the lemon. No more juice left. Time to move on. Cuba? Cartagena? or just my own Outer Banks world? I cannot know right now.
Ok time to go take a hike in the dunes. Late afternoon light beckons. My cats will follow me. Rio seems far away. Yet always always near.
-david alan harvey-


Today I went to l’Île de la Cité, when I came to the point, I saw a lady dancing by herself under a big weeping tree. It was very mysterious. She was dancing with the tree. @burndiary #paris @michella_bredahl
Carnaval, Rio de Janeiro. Part of a series of my Brazil work for Leica M magazine upcoming. Leica M9. #Rio #carnaval #leica

Marylin sleeping. Riding metro line 11 from Belleville to Châtelet #paris @michella_bredahl







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