15-04-15 Wordless Wednesday


10-30-14 What’s Your Favorite…

The other day, someone asked me the question: “Of all your photographs, which is your favorite one of the Hudson?” I explained to them that I had no idea. I used to believe that I could tell you my top 20 but I don’t even believe that anymore. We had a long and fun discussion around the topic.

Is it the image that has sold the best? Well money is a good thing but that is actually the image that other people seem to like the best, of the images that I have released back into the wild. Is it the image with the most personal resonance? Well, yes, but that changes daily or weekly. Is it the most technically successful? No, this I am sure of. Is it flawed but emotive? Maybe. Does it conjure up memories and ideas? Well, yes but more than several fit that description.

In other words, I have no clue. I worry that I am supposed to know this if I expect to be taken seriously but then I say, the hell with that and put my head back on straight.

Recently this image has moved into the front of my mind. I went away from it for a long time but due to a project I am finalizing I have been drawn back to it.

RSJohnson_Hudson_ 101111-49


11-18-12 Catching Up With Myself

I decided to visit November 18th as I try to catch up with everything I have shot over the past month. That day, I took a walk down to the river and saw a way to brighten up a basement apartment or my first sign of Christmas.

November 18 Walk-1

Luckily the river offered no such conundrum.November 18 Walk-2

I have no idea what I said above that caused this but WordPress is recommending I tag this post with Taylor Swift…Who am I to argue?

3-11-12 No Drama Sunday (Brewster Edition)

Cape Cod is the bared and bended arm of Massachusetts: the shoulder is at Buzzard’s Bay; the elbow, or crazy-bone, at Cape Mallebarre; the wrist at Truro; and the sandy fist at Provincetown, — behind which the State stands on her guard, with her back to the Green Mountains, and her feet planted on the floor of the ocean, like an athlete protecting her Bay, — boxing with northeast storms, and, ever and anon, heaving up her Atlantic adversary from the lap of earth, — ready to thrust forward her other fist, which keeps guard the while upon her breast at Cape Ann.


Before heading home we took a little walk on the beach.


3-11-11 Broken Engine 2