Desert Magic

        I had the privilege of being in Death Valley during August, when the temperatures routinely hit 90 before sunrise and hover around 115 all day. This kind of climate is not for everybody, but if you can hack it, the rewards are spectacular.
        The deserts of the southwestern United States are incredibly beautiful. The unique geological history of the region creates some of the most breath taking vistas on the planet. And there’s something mystical and spiritual about being there. The Native Americans knew this, and that’s why so many of those cultures required rites of passages and visions quests take place in the desert. I love the ocean, but I find the desert just as comforting and magical.
        Before I turned twenty-two, I had never set foot near a desert. I got my first taste when I traveled cross country with a few buddies the summer after I graduated college. But I was a different person then, and I didn’t really connect to it. But every time I went back to California, I inevitably found myself in the desert at some point, and it’s pull gradually made it’s way into my psyche.
        If you’ve never been, I encourage you to experience it. Death Valley and The Mojave National Preserve are amongst my favorites, but any desert will do. The next time you find yourself on one of those long, straight, single lane roads outside of Las Vegas, stop the car, pull over, and get out. Walk a few hundred feet into the desert and just stay still. See if you appreciate the stark beauty. See if you can connect to the spirituality that’s inherent there. See if you can feel something that wasn’t there before.
        Besides the sweat, of course.

The Mach 5

       At the Peterson Auto Museum in Los Angeles, they have a full scale replica of Speed Racer's Mach 5. I was tempted to jump in the thing, grab a crash helmet, and start going "ohhhhhh" just like Speed used to do every three seconds while he was driving. Way cool.

To see more great pictures of totally bitchin' cars, go to my travel website, www.clintsmayhem.com and go to the page "Around LA 2".

Phallic Ice

What the hell is that? I came across this giant phallic symbol in Vermont and had to snap a picture of it, even though doing so caused me to trespass (oh the risks we take for the sake of art). For the life of me, however, I can't figure out what it is. Maybe below ground, there's a humongous frost giant lying prostrate, his sexual appendage having broken through the earth. Yes, that's got to be it. That would explain everything.

Burlington Vermont

Another photograph in my Snow Obsession Series. I've been in dozens of different locations during snow storms, and Burlington, Vermont is my favorite. The downtown is picturesque and hip, with lots of unique shops, bars, and restaurants. And it possesses a terrific vibe. The campus of UVM is gorgeous, especially in the snow. The community combines the rustic beauty of nature with the atmosphere and architecture of contemprary yet old school small town urban chic. A beautiful alchemy as far I'm concerned. Especially during a snow storm. 

Frozen Ocean

        In January of 2003, and again the next winter, Buzzard’s Bay froze over. Completely. From shore to shore, the moving blue ocean that created the sound of summer was white, still, and silent. It was breathtaking. And quite other-worldly.
         I lived on the ocean, and because I looked at it every day, I took for granted that many people in town were actually unaware of this phenomenon. When it first happened, before it became local news and potential folklore, I would tell people about it and they would be stunned. I implored everyone I came across to see it for themselves. At the time, I was in a band called The Lost Boys, and I tried in vain to get them all to come down and get a picture of us out on the vast frozen whiteness. It would have been the perfect band shot.
        I, however, took advantage of this miracle of ice every day. I shot hundreds of photographs and walked out on it, sometimes as far out as a half a mile, virtually every day. For a snow and cold lover, this was nirvana.
        This photograph was taken on the 23rd of January, 2003, a little past noon. During the incredible three week cold spell, this was usually the warmest part of the day. Then, and only then, would the edges of the bay temporarily melt. When they did, the water by the shores would turn this amazing shade of turquoise. By late afternoon however, when the temperature retreated from the balmy low teens back to single digits, the shore would freeze over again. Then I would wait until just before dark and venture out onto the frozen ocean again. Crazy? Maybe. But I’ve already told you I’m a blizzard junkie. That kind of foolhardy behavior comes with the territory.

©2009 Clint Piatelli