"Mont Saint-Michel at Night" (2011)

It took far longer than expected to get out of Paris, something to the tune of about 2 extra hours. After sorting through the traffic and navigation issues, my companions and I slowly made our way from the city to an isolated tidal island on the coast of the English Channel called Mont Saint-Michel. The island has a long history, due to it’s convenient coastal location. Before it was settled as a monastery in the 8th century, it was a cultural hub of what was left of the Roman-Breton civilization. Once the monastery was established, the abbey was expanded over time to include heavy armaments and defensive structures. The fortification of the island was so successful that William the Conquerer used it as his base of operations in the 11th century when he claimed the English throne, and it proved to be unseizeable by England in the Hundred Year’s War. So when I say that this island has some serious defensive capabilities, you have some idea of what I’m talking about.

If one can make it to the island (it used to depend on whether it was high or low tide), there’s only one way to enter the medieval city; the front door. But there are about three “front doors” in the first section of the city’s entrance; clearly layers of doors to help increase it’s barricading abilities. If one was able to get themselves through these doors, they’d find themselves in a small enclosed area with archers lining the adjacent rooftops. But hey, let’s say the archers took the day off, no worries about them. Still, one has to make their way through what is essentially an inner front door, complete with an iron gate with spikes that lowers on command. Oh, and then there are those pesky wooden doors again, two to tree layers thick, that one would have to make it through as well. But if one can get through all of that, congratulations, the city is their oyster. Oh, but wait…

Mont Saint-Michel isn’t just an island; it’s an island that is essentially one giant hill. As I made my way through it as an invited guest (they don’t have many other kinds these days), I found myself quickly winded. The paths on the island traverse their way to the top up to the city’s crown jewel, the Chapel. And of course, the climb up doesn’t get any easier the closer you get to the Chapel. But once up there, I had a great view of the city and the English Channel. But the amazing view didn’t happen until after sunset, when the city lights up to highlight the island’s best features. This is a view of the city from the narrow land bridge that connects it to mainland France. As I was waiting for the 30 second exposure I used, I couldn’t help but think how much Disney ripped this place off. But at least imitation is a from of flattery? Either way, Disney didn’t do it justice.

"&" (2011)

It was my last day in Dublin, and I was walking the streets with my travel companions. We had just finished up at the National Photographic Archive, looking at their latest exhibit on childhood in Ireland from the late 1800′s to the early 1900′s. As we dodged and wove between streets, we saw a tremendous amount of graffiti lining the alleyways. Most all of the graffiti is very well done, beautiful in fact. But there was one style that appealed to me more than any other, Maser’s. He’s got work all over the city, especially in Smithfield, where I was staying. But walking through Temple Bar, I found a well known piece of his from the “They are Us” exhibit that he did in 2010. The piece reads, “I’d rather trust a dealer on a badly lit street corner, than a criminal in a three piece suit.”

After stopping to admire his work for a moment I continued down the alley. As I rounded the corner, I found another piece, one more rare and less seen that reads, “Greed is the knife, and the scars run deep.” The message was intriguing, but I was really interested in the aesthetic that Maser used, particularly on the ampersand. I still enjoy this images, without the entirety of the piece. Actually, it’s the screen saver on my phone at the moment.

"Silent Meditation" (2011)

This little man sits on his stone perch in the gardens at The Belvedere House in West Meath, Ireland. He’s just one of many sculptures that occupy the grounds. The Belvedere House has a vast estate that include very elaborate Victorian Gardens that have been meticulously restored and maintained. This was not my first trip to the house, or its gardens. I had been to visit on my trip to Ireland in 2009. It was one of my favorite estates, and I remembered it well.

I made my way through the gardens, slowly walking the paths with its multitude of ponds, fountains, sculptures and plants. I took time to appreciate some of my favorite parts of the garden, particularly it’s more tropical plants. Because the garden is walled, it’s able to keep very foreign plants well maintained, even over the winter months. But while I was walking around to look, I still had an agenda. I was on my way to the newest addition to the estate, the Faery Garden. It’s a small garden tucked in the farthest corner of the estate, beyond the original stone wall. The Faery Garden has the largest array of sculptures, most of them matching the name of the garden. Scattered amongst the faeries, there are a few gnomes and gremlins that line the path that cuts through the garden. As I walked over the tiny bridge in the center of the garden, I made my way to my favorite sculpture that rests at the bridge’s end; The Little man, Perched in Silent Meditation.

He sits, calmly on his tree trunk made of stone, in quiet reflection. It’s quite a juxtaposition from the other, more lively characters that live in the Faery Garden. And as I was there the day before the Autumnal Equinox, the colors around him looked more like fall than anywhere else in the garden. One of my favorite parts of this image reflects that with the small leaves that are falling to the ground just by the little man’s left knee.

"Occupy Cbus" (2011)

Today’s image was taken yesterday, at Day 1 of Occupy Columbus. Protesters from the group assembled on the sidewalk outside of the State House downtown to air their grievances about current government. There were a wide variety of signs there that ranged from political to nonsensical — my favorite was “I have a watermelon.”

I’m not sure what I think of the whole Occupy Movement, but while I was there to photograph the event, I noticed the reflection of the state house in the skyscraper on the opposite side of Broad St. It was a great image, even without context. With the protestors and the reflection of a state building off of a corporate building, it’s just too interesting to walk away from.

For an interesting and hilarious take on the current Occupy Wall Street movement, check out what Jon Stewart and The Daily Show have to say.

"Looking Up" (2011)

I was on my way back to my room after the boat tour, when I walked underneath the Eiffel Tower for the last time. The lines of tourist from earlier in the day were still there, although much much shorter than before. The crowd wasn’t anywhere near as thick as it was before sunset, so I took advantage of the extra space and started to wander around a bit. The tower itself is incredibly imposing, especially when you’re only a few feet away from its base. I spent quite awhile simply marveling at the scale and weight of the structure. Honestly, I was happily surprised that I could get so close to the tower itself. I thought it would be a bit like Mount Rushmore, where you can get close enough to see it, but you’re kept a good distance away from the actual monument.

It wasn’t until I was ready to leave that I took a moment to look up. I was somewhat startled by how beautiful the view up the tower really is. With a monument of this scale, I didn’t expect the guts of it to be pretty. The geometric patterns design for structural stability, coupled with the expert lighting created this lovely view of the Eiffel Tower’s ‘insides.’

"Mousseux La Tour Eiffel" (2011)

After walking around the Champs de Mars and Jardin du Trocadéro, I decided to take a sunset boat tour of the River Seine. My timing could not have been more perfect. I boarded the boat with my companions right before dusk, which comes and goes quickly in Paris during the early Fall. As we drifted up and down the river, the city began to turn it’s lights on.

The buildings on both sides of the River Seine are expertly lit to highlight the best bits of each structure. The National Museums and Galleries, governmental buildings, and even the Notre Dame are more breathtaking at night than they are in the day. But nothing shines quite so nicely as La Tour Eiffel, which literally sparkles. For the first ten minutes of each hour, the Eiffel Tower turns on the sparkling light display that was installed for the millennium celebration. As the tower’s lights and sparkles reflect off the surface of the River Siene, it is difficult to not be enchanted.

"La Tour Eiffel at Sunset" (2011)

The Eiffel Tower is so well known, I expected that the mere sight of it in person would call up too many clichés for me to clearly be able to experience it for myself. I was wrong. La Tour Eiffel looms over and throughout the city. You can see it from Montemartre and any other place where you can get somewhat of an aerial view of Paris. For a the first couple of days, I kind of ignored it. The tower just seemed to be so ever-present, I didn’t see much point in venturing out solely to see it. But eventually I decided to go, thinking it stupid not to see something so quintessentially Parisian when I’m so close.

Walking through the Champ de Mars, the park area just to SouthEast, I saw the familiar sight of the tower immediately. As I got closer and closer, the tower seemed to remain the same size; huge. Slowly, I made my way through the park and to the tower itself, which was teeming with tourists trying to ride the elevator to the top. They busily hurried up to wait in line for a spectacular aerial view of the city. As I had just been to Montemartre, I didn’t feel the need to fight with other travelers for a view that I had already seen, so I just kept walking. Underneath and past the tower, over the bridge is the Jardin du Trocadéro and the Place du Trocadéro, which was originally a concert hall in central Paris.  Rebuilt in 1937, the new Place du Trocadéro has served many purposes from entertainment to housing national museums. Some of it’s most well known uses was the when Hitler was pictured there touring parts of the vanquished city in 1940, and in 1948 the United Nations passed the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. But more than that, it might be one of the best vantage points to see the Eiffel Tower. ”La Tour Eiffel at Sunset” captures the view from said angle.

"Columbus Skyline" (2011)

This amazing view greets me daily on my way to work from Grandview.  I was on my way home late in the evening last winter, on the day where the moon was closest to the Earth. Through my rear view mirror, and felt compelled to stop to take a photo. The way the moon gracefully hangs over the city, combined with the rainbow effect that the building lights had, made the sight simply too beautiful to ignore.

There isn’t much of a story behind this one particular image, as much as there is a story on my love affair with Columbus. I was born and raised here. I’ve spent most of my adult life in Columbus, even though I’ve done short stents in other cities and traveled extensively. No matter where I am, it’s never as good as Columbus. The music, food, arts, education, culture, business and other communities here combine to make a magnificent city. Columbus is the Goldie Locks of American cities… for me, at least.

"Macabre Beauty" (2011)

I can’t remember when I first learned about the catacombs in Paris. I’m sure I saw it on television, probably one of those PBS or National Geographic type things that I’m so fond of. What I can remember is that as long as I’ve known about the catacombs, I’ve wanted to go into them. So when I started planning the things I wanted to do in Paris, seeing the catacombs were on the top of the list.

It’s a strange place, the catacombs. They occupy most of the space beneath the city, with the occasional exception of a metro line. They’ve been around since before the 13th century, in one from or another. At first, they were just around the old city walls, but over time Paris grew; the catacombs grew with it. Some of the tunnels were used as parts of a sewage system at one point, others were underground monasteries, gathering places, and more. It wasn’t until the 1800′s, when Paris was running out of space in their cemeteries, that the tunnels became a storage place for the people of France — literally.

No one knows exactly how big the catacombs really are. There are simply too many intricately woven tunnels to able to say how much space they occupy in any accurate way. But, explorers have estimated the catacombs at about 185 miles of tunnels (then add in the 1,300 miles of sewer system and 124 miles of Metro lines). Luckily, there is a renovated section of the catacombs that is open to the public. At first, I was reluctant to take a walk-through tour, as I usually prefer to go off the beaten path, but eventually decided to leave the spelunking to professionals in this case.

As I made my way through the catacombs and the over 6 million human remains interred there, I couldn’t help but be amazed. Another blogger, Joe Kissell, put it best when he described the catacombs,

“What at first appeared to be walls built of small stones were in fact huge, orderly piles of human bones. Tibias and femurs by the thousands were stacked neatly, interspersed with rows of skulls, which were sometimes arranged very artistically in a cross or other pattern. There were no intact skeletons; the goal of the arrangement had clearly been maximum compactness. I could only assume that the ribs, spines, and other bones filled in the spaces behind the walls of large leg bones. Most of the stacks of bones rose to a height of about 5 ft. (1.5m), and while some were just a couple of yards deep, there was at least one area where the bones stretched back for a good 20 yards (18m), as you could see from the narrow gap left on top. The tunnels of bones stretched on and on; many side passages were blocked with locked gates, but even the path designated for tourists was about a mile (1.5km) long.”

But as Joe notes, it’s not just the size of the catacombs that make it so impressive, it’s also the artful skill that was required to make something of this magnitude. The bones were clearly treated with care when they were arranged. Many sections of the catacombs were actually decorated with the bones that they house, like in the photo for today “Macabre Beauty.”

The photo is grainy, dark, blurry — just like the catacombs themselves. The aesthetic reminds me of old “lo-mo” photographs, and seemed fitting to it’s subject matter. I was trying to capture the beautiful simplicity in the design of the catacomb monument.

"Tiny Charley's Angels" (2011)

Dublin is an interesting, if not slightly magical place. You can see everything from a street buskers to death masks. It’s a city that has a surprise around every turn. Set outside Jervis Center (near Smithfield), is just such a surprise; The National Leprechaun Museum. Yes, you read that right. Granted, it’s a bit more oriented towards storytelling than it is actual leprechauns, but it’s still a brilliant little tour. My travel buddy Kristen and I were sent there by our friendly Dubliner, Gavin. He even gave us instructions to say hi to Mark, the museum’s manager.

After hearing about the Leprechaun Museum from Gavin over a few drinks at the pub, we made our way there first thing the next day. It’s tucked into an unassuming building where, were it not for the flags alerting its presence, one would hardly notice is was there. We walked up to the tiny counter nestled close to the front door and bought our tickets. Then, we asked for Mark. One of the attendants asked, “Why? Who’s asking?” We replied, “Our friend Gavin sent us here, he said to tell you ‘Hi.” “Brilliant,” he exclaimed. He ushered us into the waiting area for the rest of the tour goers to gather. About 5 minutes later, Mark came round to the entry way and gave our massive tour group (it was a whole 4 people) an introduction to the museum. We went around in a circle, naming off different facts we already knew about leprechauns, but ran out of facts within about 4 rounds, so Mark eventually gave up. He then escorted us to the first part of the museum, a long dark tunnel that acts as an entryway to the land of the leprechauns. The best thing about this tunnel is that it starts with quite a wide diameter and slowly narrows over the distance of the tunnel. What results is that at the end of the tunnel, I felt huge. Think Willy Wonka in the hallway that leads to the toy piano lock.

When I had gone through and looked back, I saw the light bouncing off the sides of the tunnel and how they bowed beautifully. As I was thinking about it (read: staring at the tunnel), Mark looked at me and said, “Would make a good Charlie’s Angels shot, yeah?” Well Mark, I completely agree.