I exist because of this river.

A perfect autumn Saturday afternoon, along the Merrimack River here in Lowell.

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Merrimack River
Along Pawtucket Boulevard


Trying to outdo “Counting Down”

Always carrying the camera gives me an excuse to play these stupid games.

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Bunch o’ Signs
Cambridge & Boston


Feeling kinda melancholy on a perfect autumn day.


Today was one of those perfect fall days. Blustery, cool, sunny, dramatic sky. The sounds and smells of walking through crispy leaves brings back memories.

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Fort Hill Park &
Shedd Park

I can’t picture building these systems without computers.

Tiny, precision gears and gear works from the textile history museum…

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American Textile History Museum


I’ve worked in two museums, so I know stuff.


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The artist transforms his self portrait into a minimalist flow of whiteness; in the process he bares his soul in spray strokes of pure light. Bringing an almost brutalist sensibility, he exposes technique without ornamentation, without excess, without apology.

The installation does not merely enhance the portraiture. Rather, it serves to ground the artist’s work in the context of additional connective senses. The precise geometric placement of the receptacle — the so-called ‘Dumpster’ — joins in time and space with the ancient wall of brick and mortar to excite the nose and evoke aromatically linked memories as ancient and wild as the space itself.

A further study of the painting reveals more sensual distortion. The subject’s eyes, traditionally considered the locus of the visual sense, are here metamorphasized into a child’s representation of hearts, traditionally considered the locus of the emotional senses. Thus, the eyes literally become the connection to the heart, the lens to the soul.


Behind the gray dumpster
Harvard Square


I work in Harvard Square.

Harvard Square in Cambridge is disorganized. The streets and sidewalks are filled with punks, students, street people, hipsters and hippies, bankers, construction workers, hawkers, office workers, tourists, retirees, signature collectors, fast food cooks, musicians, stoners, artists, police, and professors. The weird and the bland. And it all spills down into the gigantic Harvard Square Red Line Station underneath it all.

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On the left, normals trying to spread god-magic. On the right, a college kid busking classical violin.

Harvard Square T Station
Upper Unpaid Concourse