Stu Jenks' Fezziwig Press: Blues

April 03, 2018

Fezziwig Press Images, New & Old, from 17 External Hard Drives...

I've been going through all 17 of my external hard drives, part of a house cleaning and studio cleaning before Alexa and I move to North Carolina (Due to some hickups, looks like it won't be until September of 2018 when my wife and I move to Greensboro.) While doing that, I revisited some old images, and found some discarded images that deserved a second look.

Also, the images from my new "Two Newlyweds" series are in this post as well as some other new stuff. Hope you enjoy them too.

And as always, everything is for sale, either as a digital file or as a print. Simply contact me at [email protected] for prices.

Happy Spring, y'all.

Stu

Posted at 11:40 PM in Ancestors, Arizona, Art, Astronomy, Blues, California, Canyons, Christmas and Winter Solstice, Coalmine Canyon, Current Affairs, Deserts, Earth Spirals, Emotions, Faith, Family, Fezziwig Press, Fire, Flame Spirals, Forgiveness, Good Folk, Hope, Infrared Photography, Medium Format, Moon, Mountains, National Parks, Night Photography, Nocturnal Photography, North Carolina, Panoramics, Petroglyphs, Photography, Pictorialist Photography, Pottery, Sepia, Sexuality, Sky, Snow, Spirituality, Star Circles, Stars, Stu Jenks, The Border, The Road, The West, Tucson, Valleys, Virginia, Washington, DC, Wildlife | Permalink | Comments (0)

May 08, 2017

From the road, south, east, and west...

[One of the best images from my trip south I think, because you can make up your own story about this woman and this chair. Mystery and magic are good things in art and in life.]

[John B. was largely unbanked, and had much hidden gold or so folks thought. I couldn't find his small headstone, but I think John would have found this image amusing, given his views on God, the financial markets, and the world at large. Rest in peace, John B.]

[I worked as a magician at Tweetsie Railroad, near Boone, in 1981. I lived in a mice-infested house just up the hill from Noah and Effie's graves. My old house is still there, looking about the same. Still kinda shitty.]

[Note to those wanting to be professional landscape photographers: Sit in one spot and wait for the light to come to you, and take tons of images. I took around 30 images to get the desired depth of field and to get those green pine needles in the mirror in proper focus. It just takes time, like all good things.]

[A rare moment at the Lincoln Memorial, when there wasn't a ton of people. Perhaps it was because it was late in the day and raining. One of my favorite spots in the District. Fun fact: My mother saw them building the Memorial when she was a child, living just across the river in Alexandria.]

[I bought these silk flowers at a Walmart in Oklahoma expressly for my mother's grave. My mother liked the color purple for it was the color of royalty. Been thinking many kind thoughts about my deceased, very complex mother. She was mostly a pain in the neck, don't you know, but she taught me some wonderful things when I was a kid, and frankly, she, along with her mother Nannie, were the only family members who gave a damn about Little Stu. Fun fact: Mary gave me $30,000 in 2008, before she got sick, so I could quit my day job and be a photographer and a writer full time. It was 10% of her worth at the time. That was very generous. The money is gone now but it gave me a very good kick start. Rest in peace, Mary. The Nannie's Mirror series is now as much about you as it is about your mother.]

[Was this image photoshopped? You bet your sweet bippie it was.]

[An incredibly tragic thing happened here. Google it and read all about it. Ghosts wander these plains.]

[I trespassed and spent all of ten minutes at John's house. The property is now owned by the man who owns K3 Lumber. K3. Get it? A very strong unwelcoming vibe was all around me, both at the house and all throughout the town. I'm guessing they has all heard the S-Town podcast by now. The property felt especially haunted and I don't use that word lightly. Everything is gone from John's house and his clock workshop. I didn't even go searching for the hedge maze, I was that spooked. I said a prayer for John, took photos of a lonely wooden chair on the porch and the three old chimneys and made my exit. As I drove away, I blew a kiss at the South Forty Trailer Park sign and made my way to the Cahaba River. Rest in peace, John B. and much love to all the folks in Shit Town, the good, the bad and the in-between.]