© anita aguilar
Showing posts with label night time. Show all posts
Showing posts with label night time. Show all posts
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Sunday, June 10, 2012
pretty city, paris 2012: night drive
from the back of a paris taxi...
cafe des beaux arts, 7 quai malaquais 75006 paris
may 27, 2012
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Saturday, November 12, 2011
read a good poem: the white
These are the moments
before snow, whole weeks before.
The rehearsals of milky November,
cloud constructions
when a warm day
lowers a drift of light
through the leafless angles
of the trees lining the streets.
Green is gone,
gold is gone.
The blue sky is
the clairvoyance of snow.
There is night
and a moon
but these facts
force the hand of the season:
from that black sky
the real and cold white
will begin to emerge.
--Patricia Hampl via the writer's almanac
photos © anita aguilar
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Saturday, May 21, 2011
paris postcard: from the balcony, night 1...
the tour maine-montparnasse was, until 2011, the tallest skyscraper in france. at 689 feet (59 floors), this monolithic slab dominates the view in montparnasse (and it serves an effective landmark for us, but skyscrapers were banned in the city center two years after its completion).
may 19, 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
read a good poem: the antilamentation
"regret nothing."
Regret nothing. Not the cruel novels you read
to the end just to find out who killed the cook, not
the insipid movies that made you cry in the dark,
in spite of your intelligence, your sophistication, not
the lover you left quivering in a hotel parking lot,
the one you beat to the punch line, the door or the one
who left you in your red dress and shoes, the ones
that crimped your toes, don't regret those.
Not the nights you called god names and cursed
your mother, sunk like a dog in the living room couch,
chewing your nails and crushed by loneliness.
You were meant to inhale those smoky nights
over a bottle of flat beer, to sweep stuck onion rings
across the dirty restaurant floor, to wear the frayed
coat with its loose buttons, its pockets full of struck matches.
You've walked those streets a thousand times and still
you end up here. Regret none of it, not one
of the wasted days you wanted to know nothing,
when the lights from the carnival rides
were the only stars you believed in, loving them
for their uselessness, not wanting to be saved.
You've traveled this far on the back of every mistake,
ridden in dark-eyed and morose but calm as a house
after the TV set has been pitched out the window.
Harmless as a broken ax. Emptied of expectation.
Relax. Don't bother remembering any of it. Let's stop here,
under the lit sign on the corner, and watch all the people walk by.
***
nyc, jan 2010.
photo © anita aguilar
***
Regret nothing. Not the cruel novels you read
to the end just to find out who killed the cook, not
the insipid movies that made you cry in the dark,
in spite of your intelligence, your sophistication, not
the lover you left quivering in a hotel parking lot,
the one you beat to the punch line, the door or the one
who left you in your red dress and shoes, the ones
that crimped your toes, don't regret those.
Not the nights you called god names and cursed
your mother, sunk like a dog in the living room couch,
chewing your nails and crushed by loneliness.
You were meant to inhale those smoky nights
over a bottle of flat beer, to sweep stuck onion rings
across the dirty restaurant floor, to wear the frayed
coat with its loose buttons, its pockets full of struck matches.
You've walked those streets a thousand times and still
you end up here. Regret none of it, not one
of the wasted days you wanted to know nothing,
when the lights from the carnival rides
were the only stars you believed in, loving them
for their uselessness, not wanting to be saved.
You've traveled this far on the back of every mistake,
ridden in dark-eyed and morose but calm as a house
after the TV set has been pitched out the window.
Harmless as a broken ax. Emptied of expectation.
Relax. Don't bother remembering any of it. Let's stop here,
under the lit sign on the corner, and watch all the people walk by.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
supermoon, take 2 (the big white ball)
i love my camera (a canon rebel xsi) and my lenses (a sigma 50mm 1.4 and a tamron zoom), but i was pretty sure neither lens, nor my little g10, would be able to offer a proper "picture" of the supermoon, as big and bright and clear as it was to my eye last night. but i went for it anyway.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
super duper
by the time i heard about last evening's supermoon (hat tip to mfw), the clouds had come out to shroud it. was the moon BIG, the night clear, a few hours earlier?
well, here's the view from 38th street/park at 10:03 pm.
super? maybe not.
but not too shabby...
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
the scene: fire on first avenue
i try always to have a camera with me, even if it's just a point and shoot...
my friend, mary and i were finishing dinner downtown, when this scene started to unfold. engines and ladders and mervs (mobile emergency recon vehicles)--it was a big fire.
we didn't see it, but could see the firemen with flashlights in one of the apartments on the top floor.
and we could smell the burn.
my friend, mary and i were finishing dinner downtown, when this scene started to unfold. engines and ladders and mervs (mobile emergency recon vehicles)--it was a big fire.
we didn't see it, but could see the firemen with flashlights in one of the apartments on the top floor.
and we could smell the burn.
i feel strange saying this, but i like some of these shots, especially the one of the girl with the fur-lined hood on the bicycle and the one of the red bike (lonely in the right frame), mostly for the drama of all the artificial lights against the cloudy sky. they are not crystal clear--i probably needed a faster lens or a tripod for that. but i think they work somehow.
hopefully no one was hurt.
shot with the canon g10
december 22, 2010
all photos © anita aguilar
Monday, December 20, 2010
night in the city: stride along
fifth avenue, nyc. dec 19, 2010.
fifth avenue, nyc. dec 19, 2010.
photos © anita aguilar
Thursday, December 2, 2010
detour
at the start of every work day, i step off the 5th floor elevator, say hello to shawn, our receptionist, tap my picture id on a small, square black pad by her desk, and swing through our office's glass double doors. i take a several rushed steps. my eyes are always drawn to the wide windows on the right, windows that overlook union square park. i might smile a bit every day because of them.
but i always make a left, down a high and long, artificially bright corridor, to my dim, windowless cubicle. those front windows--all that sky, sometimes the sun-- tease me all day, every day. from time to time, on my way to or from a meeting in our conference room, i'll stop and have a lookout. (it's fun to be the one towering over the trees. i like seeing how we new yorkers move.) but i don't allow myself time every day to enjoy it. i'm not sure why. i should never be too busy to appreciate that view.
i stopped tonight:
not a great picture, but a good idea.
i stopped tonight:
with the g10. union square park, dec 2, 2010.
will stop again, soon.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Sunday, November 14, 2010
monochrome class: the high line
jen and sheena
my turn (thank you, sister)
november 13, 2010
all photos © anita aguilar
Monday, August 16, 2010
and the city was bright
in the night-time, like day...*
(or rather, nice and just bright enough. july 9, 2010)
*"the prodigal son" by james weldon johnson
Sunday, August 8, 2010
kids, all right
two cameras and i made the trek out to governors island last night for the local natives show on governor's island. i took a few snapshots with the g10, because it was beautiful dusky ride.
video and photos from the show to come...
look at all the kids...
i was reminded of cinco de mayo dinner with handsome writer friend. i, running characteristically late, sent an apologetic text to him, waiting at the bar/restaurant.
he responded with understanding, but then described the scene: "crowded with youth."
i laughed out loud. we went elsewhere.
***
video and photos from the show to come...
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