Framing the Sound

Tag: music

  • Between Light and Sound

    Photography and music are the two most important pursuits in my life—though calling them “hobbies” doesn’t quite do them justice. They both demand focus, creativity, and time. And while I’d love to do them simultaneously, that’s not exactly possible (though it would be pretty great if it were). Finding enough time for each is always a challenge.

    It’s been a little over a month since returning home from our Epic Journey West, and I still haven’t been out with my camera. My Martin D-28 has stayed in its case, untouched. Most of my time has gone into culling (and editing a few) photos from the four National Parks we visited. I took more than 1,700 images—many duplicates (I shot nearly 100 frames of the iconic Moulton Barn in Jackson Hole), a few out of focus, and some that just didn’t work.

    This winter, I’m hoping to finally finish the culling process and carve out some time to pick up my guitar again—maybe even do a little recording with my two sons.

    I’ve also been dedicating time to take part in Blake Rudis’s Vision Session video series. My session is the final one in a set of six and will be available for f.64 Elite members to view in December. The Vision Session series will continue into 2026, featuring more members and their creative journeys.

    I plan to share a detailed post soon about The Vision Sessions and why they matter. Consider subscribing so you won’t miss it!

    View from inside the Chapel of the Transfiguration, Teton County, Wyoming

  • Light, Sound, and the Muse

    I’m trying to be a lot more precise with how I edit my photos. Why? Because I’m a visionary!

    Well, actually, I’m just an artist—photographer and musician—creating photos and music with a vision in mind: how I want my picture to look or how I want my original song to sound.

    Since joining f.64Elite back in June of 2023 and taking one of the member courses, Discovering Your Vision, I’ve become much more aware of how a viewer or listener might perceive my art.

    One important point needs to be understood when people look at or listen to my work: the vision I had when I created it might be very different from theirs. And that’s perfectly fine.

    But I don’t change my original vision—unless…

    Unless the muse demands it.

    Moulton Barn, Grand Tetons—a melody of wood, mountain, and cloud.


  • National Parks We’ll Be Visiting Soon!


    It’s been a dream of ours for years to head west and finally experience some of our country’s most breathtaking national treasures. We had planned to make the trip back in 2020, but like so many others, our travel plans were put on hold when Covid-19 changed the world.


    This time, the adventure begins in Cleveland, where we’ll see Alison Krauss in concert. Her music feels like the perfect soundtrack to set the tone for wide skies, mountain air, and days on the road ahead.


    From there, we’ll drive west for a couple of days until reaching our first destination: Badlands National Park. I’ve always been fascinated by its otherworldly landscapes—jagged peaks, layered rock, and endless horizons that seem designed for a camera lens.


    Next, we’ll journey on to three more iconic parks: Yellowstone, Grand Teton, and Glacier National Parks. Each holds its own promise: the geothermal wonders and wildlife of Yellowstone, the sharp, rugged beauty of the Tetons, and Glacier’s towering peaks and pristine alpine lakes


    As a photographer, I couldn’t be more excited. I’m sure I’ll come home with plenty of photos—some that immediately carry vision and others that will need time to reveal their meaning. Those quieter images will wait with me through the long, cold Northeast winter, offering me the chance to reflect and discover the vision I might have missed in the moment.

    Somewhere in Tennessee

  • Looking Back at My Love/Hate Relationship with Open Mic Nights

    Before “open mic night” was the thing where you nervously clutch a guitar (or your courage) while waiting for your name to be called, it was just a microphone in a coffeehouse, open to whoever dared step up. The tradition grew out of the 1950s–60s folk revival — places like Greenwich Village’s Café Wha? and The Gaslight Café, where singer-songwriters could play a couple songs, pass the hat, and maybe get noticed. By the 1970s, comedy clubs borrowed the idea, giving stand-up hopefuls a shot in front of real, often merciless, audiences. Fast-forward to today, and open mics have sprawled into every kind of venue imaginable — bars, bookstores, breweries, even Zoom rooms — still serving up that same unpredictable mix of brilliance, awkwardness, and “what just happened?” that keeps both performers and audiences coming back.

    And here’s where my love/hate thing kicks in. On the love side, there’s nothing quite like the adrenaline rush of playing to a room full of strangers who are actually listening. You can feel the collective heartbeat of the crowd, even if it’s only twelve people sipping lattes or nursing craft beers. There’s the thrill of meeting other performers — swapping stories, guitar picks, or mutual encouragement in the corner while someone on stage is absolutely nailing it.

    But then… there’s the hate side. The sound guy disappears mid-song. The guy ahead of you does a 12-minute free-form harmonica solo. The crowd thins to just the bartender and your cousin by the time you finally get called. And let’s not forget the mic that smells faintly of beer breath and mystery.

    Still, for all the unpredictability — the good, the bad, and the baffling — those nights left their mark. Somewhere between the awkward silences and the magic moments, I learned that open mics aren’t just about performing. They’re about belonging to this oddball little tribe of people who can’t help but put themselves out there, one shaky song or risky joke at a time.

    So maybe that’s why, even though I don’t go to open mic nights anymore, I still think about them. They were messy, unpredictable, and occasionally ego-bruising, but they were also where the sparks happened. Where I learned to roll with a dead mic, win over a distracted crowd, and sometimes, just sometimes, surprise myself. Love them or hate them, open mics are a reminder that art isn’t meant to stay safe at home; it’s meant to be shared, out loud, in all its imperfect glory.

  • Framing the Sound

    Camera and chords; two different subjects but one love for both. That’s my dilemma (it’s not really).

    I’ve been strummin a six-string guitar for over 50 years. My time pressin the shutter on a camera started around 20 years ago. I never thought photography would overtake my love of playin acoustic guitar.

    I wish I could say that I’ve played guitar in bands for most of those 50 years but I can’t. I’d guess 10 years, give or take, is about all the time I spent playin in bands. I still wonder where I’d be if, IF I had somehow managed to make a career of it. Not so much as a rock star, just a guitarist playin gigs, and earning enough for survival. And maybe, just maybe havin a chance to play with a national act once or twice.

    I also wonder what a career as a photographer might’ve brought. A chance to meet Ansel Adams or Diane Arbus? Perhaps. I’ve made a few dollars shootin a weddin or three and a few senior photo sessions for friends have been profitable. I made a weak attempt at startin a photography business but was immediately discouraged by the amount of time and effort required for self-promotion and gave up.

    So, I guess you could say I did what the average(?) American white male does – they either get a job right out of high school (I’m a Baby Boomer by the way), or they quit school and join the Navy. I missed the proverbial bus that might’ve carried me to a career in music or photography.

    In retirement now I spend time enjoyin both. They’re much loved hobbies, and every so often, I’ll make a few dollars at a gig or from a print. And that’s fine with me because I think doin what you love in retirement is just as enjoyable as the career might have been.

    That’s my dad on the left holdin the guitar, not sure of the year but lets just say it was a long time ago.
    That’s me on the left, playin djembe with a couple of close friends.
    Self-portrait, 2019, Winter.

  • It Just So Happens…

    That I placed my fingers and hand around the neck of a guitar long before they touched the shutter button on a camera. My guitar has always been close at hand and it’s been with me everywhere. Including 300 feet under the Meditterranean Sea during my time as a sonar technician on a nuclear submarine. If my guitar could talk (it does, but not like us) I’d probably have a lot of explaining to do and nobody would believe me.

    The camera is a relatively new instrument to my hands and fingers and I’m still learning how to “play” it. Having started my photography journey past the age of 60, it’s much harder to learn because of the Grim Reaper’s curse on my prefrontal cortex. I am taking the advice of my mentor Blake Rudis: “Combat this with: DELIBERATE and ROUTINE PRACTICE. REPETITION, PERSISTENCE, and CONCENTRATION.”

    My guitar knows me well enough that such routine practice sessions with it are more like performances. The camera hasn’t known me long enough to perform like my guitar. If only my guitar could communicate on some metaphysical level with my camera and let it know that I’m a little slower at learning things these days.

    Perhaps both instruments working together could cure my condition with a miraculous song, frozen in time and captured in a photograph.

    Delusions of grandeur

  • Fighting the Fear: Why I Haven’t Recorded Myself Yet

    I never have made a decent video of myself playing guitar and singing. I have a very nice studio setup to do it but keep shying away from actually making it happen. Why?

    I’m sure everyone’s heard of “imposter syndrome.” It’s that nagging feeling of self-doubt, like I don’t truly deserve to be where I am or that I’ll somehow be “found out” as an undeserving rookie at playing guitar and/or making photos. I’ve even sold a few photos here and there and played in several local bands that are and were quite popular.

    But I still can’t shake the thought that maybe I just got lucky or don’t belong. It’s a common struggle, especially among high achievers, and it can creep in no matter how much experience or success you have.

    The Nike slogan says “just do it.” But if I just do it will I do it in such a way that makes me feel like I didn’t “just do it?” I suppose there’s only one way to find out. Maybe today’s the day that I just do it!

  • Have you heard what I saw?

    Since the name of my blog is “Framing The Sound” and the purpose is to write about my attempt to merge photography and music I think I should elaborate a little more about what that means.

    Music, specifically the acoustic guitar, has been a part of my life since childhood. One of my earliest memories of an acoustic guitar is seeing my father play. It’s probably one of only a handful of halfway pleasant memories I have from back then. He would sometimes have me or my brother hold a harmonica to his lips while he played. I guess the kind you buy in a music store weren’t widely available back then.

    Photography is something that came along years after I picked up my first guitar. After graduating in 2006 with a degree in English Writing I got a job writing a weekly gardening column for a local newspaper and needed photos of garden related things, mostly flowers. About this same time I met a garden writer from Mississippi, Felder Rushing. He took his own photos and I thought if he can do it so could I.

    My first guitar was a Sigma acoustic, Martin used to make them. That guitar went wherever I went, including on a submarine during my stint in the Navy. It now lives with my oldest son in Kentucky and he says it sounds and plays just as good if not better than any Martin guitar. I’m inclined to agree, but not entirely since I own and play a Martin D28 (which has always been the guitar I dreamt of owning).

    My first “real” camera was a Sony Cyber-shot DSC H1. It was quite an expensive camera at that time, around $400. (My Sigma guitar cost about the same in 1973.) The Sony camera was great and took really nice photos, I didn’t know anything about photography when I first got it. After using the photos in more than a few gardening articles, I felt like photography was something I’d like to explore a little further. And that led to my present day journey of “Framing The Sound.”

    It’s a journey I’m still learning to navigate. And I’m seeing sounds and hearing photographs that are urging me to combine and shape them into sounds and sights that you can see and hear too.

    My father is first one from the left.
    Sony Cyber-shot DSC H1
    Last summer’s forgotten pepper
    Sigma DR35, circa 1970s, if it could talk…! (Photo courtesy of Benjamin Conner)

    If it makes you scratch your head, leave a comment!

  • Before I Leave

    As each year comes and goes I find myself wondering when it’ll be my turn to depart this Pale Blue Dot? Along with that open-ended question, I’m sure you’re familiar with this one too: “Why am I here?” And this one: “What should I do with my life?” There are no easy answers for such existentialist ponderings.

    68 years ago, Act 1, Scene 1

    Someone told me several years ago that “it’s all just part of the movie.” Are we all just actors in the same movie? Kind of an interesting way to look at life isn’t it? Instead of trying to figure out why I’m here and what should I do with my life (or what I should have done) it’s much easier and less stressful to play the part.

    You might ask what that part is. I think it’s just being a good human. Nothing more, nothing less.

  • Sunday Funday?

    I used to write every Sunday over at my website and then email the link to my loyal readers. Doing so has gotten to be a little bit of a pain in the patooty as I have to email the link after writing. Also, folks didn’t have the capability to make direct comments as that feature isn’t available on my website unless I want to upgrade to a more expensive plan. I added a page on my website where folks could make a comment using a simple form and I’d get notified. It should be easy peasy commenting here instead of how you commented using the form on my website.  

     Another thing I used to do was blog right here. I wrote often and included photos. Back then I wrote about gardening mostly as I was a gardening columnust for a local paper. The paper is still published and I’d still be writing my column if not for all the free stuff “out there” these days. But there’s no more weekly gardening articles in that paper, just a seasonal piece compiled from “out there.”

    As implied by the name of my blog, my aim is to write about photogaphy and music. And probalby a bunch of other stuff too, because I have a creative itch that always needs scratched.