Lately, I’ve really been enjoying the process of creating imagery to illustrate a series of food-instructional articles for POST, a beautifully crafted, Rochester, NY – based magazine. Thus far, I’ve spent time photographing for four such articles, three of which have been published in successive issues of POST, with the next coming in the September / October issue, and more planned down the road.
One chilly, Friday afternoon in early January, I had the fortunate circumstance of being able to work alongside chef Chris Brandt, of Wegmans Food Markets, in the cozy confines of the Test Kitchen at Next Door Bar and Grill. I was there to create images that would help to illustrate a magazine article being produced for Post, and was working closely with Sue Gardner Smith, who was gathering up all of the important details, and would be writing the article.
The blustery scene and biting, below-zero temperatures just now outside stand in stark, nasty contrast to the days last spring, when this body of work was created, and though I’m only separated from those Arctic-legit conditions by mere feet, the confines of my office stand as a warm, sound and cozy outpost in this barren tundra of Caledonia, NY.
Seeing the calendar reminder for tomorrow’s scouting mission at Seneca Park Zoo, in Rochester, NY, was the little kick that I needed this afternoon to begin sharing some of the past year’s work in a series of blog posts that have been stacking up for quite some time, now. So, let’s begin.
I honestly don’t know where the months go. I’m almost in disbelief that it’s been a year since my last post here, and with a new web site looming on the horizon, it’s high-time to get back in the habit of generating some fresh content. Today seemed like a great opportunity to get back on that path, because a couple of the really cool and fulfilling projects I’ve been involved with recently, hit local newsstands just this morning.
I’m pretty certain this will be my shortest-ever blog post, but that’s alright. I felt compelled, proud, and excited enough to take a few minutes and get it out before beginning to pack for a “work” trip to St. Lucia. The sun-block and flip-flops can wait for a little bit.
September has long passed. The seven-degree air and new-fallen snow on the boughs of the backyard fir trees seems so far removed from the dry heat of the desert canyons we camped in just a few months ago. Those canyon-river days are just below the surface, though, and if I close my eyes against the winter scene outside, I can be back there in just a few short moments.
It was a really nice little surprise to walk into Wegmans a couple weeks ago and see one of my images on the cover of the Edible Finger Lakes summer issue. The image of a bed of chard, (taken from woodchuck eye-level,) supports a feature article about the Wegmans Organic Research Farm in Canandaigua, New York.
When I think of what the past two years has brought, I’m simply fascinated by the fashion in which paths and lives intersect. The way dots connect, lines form and then branch off at different angles, each leading to new connections, collaborations, opportunities, and friendships. Energies collect, combine and build. All of it seems to just propel you forward.
I’ve just recently completed what is likely one of my all-time favorite projects ever. During the past few weeks, I have visited five different dairy farms in western New York that supply organic milk to Wegmans Food Markets, for use in various products sold under the Wegmans Organic brand. Popular products such as Wegmans Organic Milk, Half and Half, and Super Yogurt head the list.
This post has been a long time in the works. Not the mere writing of it, really, but the getting-into-place of the “necessaries” that all combine to make the post even possible.
We had truly been smiled upon these past eight days. Someone up there must really, really like us. I can’t explain it otherwise. I closed my eyes and turned my face to the sky, soaking it all in once more, taking one long breath. The water here was slow and slick. Only the warm breeze of the afternoon made its surface imperfect. And yet, still incredibly perfect. I turned back around to look at that one lone tree, half a mile off on the plain.