Fast forward four years. As of Monday, Apocalyptica had released six albums, every single one of which is fantastic. The only one I took issue with was Worlds Collide, where they collaborated with a whole bunch of other musicians to create an album that was much more commercial (although, honestly, no less packed full of talent) than their previous efforts. You see, Apocalyptica is a group of Finnish cello players, that use their cellos (and one drum set) to create a classical/metal blend that sits up there with some of the greatest music out there. They’re finally getting the recognition they deserve (thanks to Worlds Collide), and just released their 7th album on Tuesday, titled 7th Symphony. It has all the raw energy and refined playing of their other six albums, and is worth every penny.

On Thursday, I went with one of those two friends that took me to the first concert (along with a few new people, including Brandon), and saw them on the new tour, this time at the Royale Boston. The venue, in case you’ve never been there, is a good three times bigger than Paradise, and they still filled the place really well. Dir En Grey, the opening act, was solid but, honestly, not my cup of tea (or, I guess, my pint of beer. This is a metal show, after all). When Apocalyptica took the stage, the crowd went nuts, and didn’t stop going nuts until the second encore (their rendition of “Hall of the Mountain King”) ended and the band finally walked off stage admist cheers and rollicking applause. It was an awesome show.

Naturally, I bought a t-shirt (because I am a consumer whore). I took a picture of the front of it and posted it as my Thursday Photo of the Day. According to some notice that was hanging up at the merch booth, this was a limited edition tour shirt that was only being sold no more than 35 times at each show. When you have hundreds of kids, 35 is not a high number. Luckily, I was able to grab one in my size, and now I can proudly show the world that I’m a fan of a group of Finnish metal cellists that went on tour with a Japanese metal band that features a tiny screaming shirtless Japanese man.

Life is a wonderful thing.

Tom

This particular photo is from a larger set. I haven’t done much in the way of shooting with models yet (this marks my third, although I have a fourth lined up with ideas for a fifth and sixth), so I’m always excited when one sort of just appears on my radar with a unique idea or situation. This friend of mine apparently spins poi, which from my understanding means ludicrously bright flags that make really cool snapping sounds as they make their circuits around her. If you’ve ever seen fire dancing, this is sort of a minor league version of that (I believe).

It was kind of a windy day when we took these, so the flags are doing some cool puffing and flapping in the breeze in a few pictures. If you’re interested in seeing the larger set, you can find it here. I plan on expanding that as we find new places and new equipment for her (such as flags lined with LED lights). If you have any ideas for cool spots in or around Boston we could use for something like this, let me know (comments, e-mail, messenger pigeon – whatever works). You know me, I’m always open for new ideas.

Tom

Oh, and in case you’re wondering: the book in question is The Pebble in the Sky by Isaac Asimov, a sort of prequel to the Foundation series. Foundation was better, though.

Tom

Drinking it’s easy enough, and playing in it can be a lot of fun. But getting it in pictures can be tricky. Not standing water, mind you – I mean moving water. Rain. Fountains. Rivers. They’re tricky because of the motion, because there is a way to get moving water that captures it in still without sacrificing its movement that can give people problems. Sometimes, though, you get lucky.

I don’t know how many photographers are willing to admit how big a piece luck plays in their work. I may ruminate on that later, but for now I will say that I am one that is more than willing to admit that luck is probably 90% of my work. The other 10% is applying what I know (or, sometimes, what I think I know) to try to capture the picture when Lady Luck hands me a moment.

In the words of Woody Allen: “90% of life is just showing up.”

With all that in mind, I found myself standing at the fountain in the Christian Science Center in Boston, camera in hand. So I did what any normal person would do: I took pictures of the water. At first, I did it with my zoom lens on, then I switched back to the kit lens. They each got photos that the other probably couldn’t get. What you see below was taken with the zoom lens, remarkably enough.

If you want to see the rest of the set, head on over to here to check it out. There are more pictures of the fountain, and a whole bunch more of the Center itself. I hope you enjoy it all.

Tom

This picture was taken last weekend, when HP and I went on a bit of a cleaning and decorating binge. It marked the first time I’ve combined pictures into larger frames, and I think it went rather well. The pictures in there were all taken in Boston – from the Public Gardens, the Christian Science Center, the 4th of July fireworks over the Charles, and after the fireworks, when I had a wonderful view of the skyline of Boston. If you’re interested in seeing full size versions, those links will lead you to the respective pictures.

Or you can always visit. Since I got this shot, HP hung up a poster-sized collage of pictures from his trip to DC. They’re all in black and white, and I rather think that our pictures class this place up pretty well. Don’t you?

Tom

I think this picture speaks for itself. Alternatively, it’s an existentialist nightmare. To each their own, I suppose.

Tom

Last week, I went on a road trip to visit one of my brothers out in Ohio (the other brother came on the road trip, as did my mom). On Wednesday, two interesting things happened. The first was that my bocce team won its first game! Whoo!

The second was that I got an e-mail from HP (my roommate, not the computer company). The subject line simply read “Whoops.” When I opened up the e-mail, I saw his message to me was “I did a thing.” Then there were pictures. So I clicked the first one, and saw this kitten staring back at me.

She is 8 weeks old (I guess 9 weeks now). We named her Sisyphus because, much like the character from mythology, she seems to repeat herself ad infinitum, regardless of the unchanging nature of the outcome (ie, she goes and eats my power cables, so I move her, so she runs right back to them again). We call her Sissy for short, because let’s face it, that is exactly what a 9 week old kitten seems like it should be named.

As a roommate, she’s pretty useless for paying bills, or maintenance, or really anything involved in renting an apartment. What she lacks in money making, though, she makes up for in loving to cuddle, chasing invisible enemies, and turning into a pure ball of energy and tearing through the apartment, making death-defying leaps to furniture and the top of my closet (I’m still not sure how she got up there, by the way).

I’ve tended to feel as though our major decisions in Boston have been generally blessed with good luck – we successfully paid for our Chelsea apartment, found decent jobs, had Evy and Ivy (aka Stripes and Fatty, the two cats we had in Cheslea) in our lives, moved to Brighton (because Everything’s Brighter in Brighton), and now we have Sissy, a playful, friendly kitten that likes to explore and seems to have no interest in getting out of the apartment. Now if only I can trick her into smoking so she will remain that size…

Oh, the size. Yeah. She’s a 9 week old kitten. For a sense of scale, here she is sleeping on my feet. Yep, she’s that small.

Tom

I’ve high fived a monkey and had a parrot hang out on my shoulder. This bucket list keeps getting shorter…

Tom

I was defining “professional” as “being published/contracted/what have you.” So, being amateur just means you’re not getting published. Which, even though I have had one picture put up in a travel website, means I am an amateur by these standards.

I have a number of creative friends – most of whom I know through Nano – and they responded rather interestingly.  Most seemed to do what I do, which is identify themselves as their creative pursuit (ie, writer, photographer, etc). At least one told me that when he tells people what he is, he uses his job and not photographer, as he doesn’t want to confuse people and doesn’t feel like having to explain. Meanwhile, a few others have it right on their business cards, even though their main places of work are not photography related.

I tend to go between things. When people ask me what I do for a job, I tell them my actual job. I tend to joke about it, but since it’s what I do for a living, it’s the one I use. But I am not my job.

What I do for a job is a matter of economy. What I do for myself is a matter of living. I am a writer. A photographer. A wannabe musician. A terrible poet. A drawer of stick figures.

My name is Tom, and I am a storyteller. Who are you?

Tom

Part of that reason is experimentation, obviously (I had never photographed fireworks before Sunday). Part of it is color (there is a lot). Part of it, I think, is the way fireworks invoke the inner ten year old in all of us. Even when I’m standing with my camera on the side of the Charles River, taking guesses at settings and hoping pictures I’m taking come out, there’s a part of me that’s Tommy, sitting on a blanket on the grass of the junior high school near my parents’ house, watching the town’s display, and knowing that when I get back after this, there are leftovers from the cookout to munch on, and sparklers to play with.

I love the Fourth of July, if only for those types of memories.

Of course, new ones are always being forged, aren’t they? This year I went go an awesome cookout full of awesome people (I’ll be talking a little more about that in a future post), and made my first professional(ish) feeling attempt at getting pictures, with all the right equipment. I wonder what next year’s will hold?

Tom