Continuing the great Unterberger tradition of Great American Three-Day-Weekend vacations, we packed up the pooch and headed to the most income-unequal metro area in the country. Jackson, Wyoming! Snark and snoot aside, we actually went for Yellowstone, but that doesn’t make for good clickbait. Regardless, it far succeeded all expectations. The land was gorgeous, the bagels delicious, and the geysers surprisingly punctual.
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When NASCAR’s finest descend on the finest (and only?) short track in the great state of Virginia, the YETI comes out and so do the Unterbergers. This being our first racing experience, however, neither of us knew what to expect. It was raw. It was ratchet. And it was absolutely RAD. After two hours of ear blasting badassery, I walked away unable to wipe the goofy grin off my face. Also, I walked away with a 99.7% screen printed Richmond Raceway Tee. So that was rad too.
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One of the first things I heard about when moving to Virginia was the legendary Chincoteague Pony Swim. Problem is, that’s about all I heard. Few knew anything about the event, and even fewer knew someone who had attended in person. In my head it all went down on some island, far from civilization, where cowboys led wild ponies into the ocean towards greener pastures. Turns out, I wasn’t all that wrong. But just like the folks who told me “you should go!”, my daydreams were simply lacking in details.
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Last November I had the distinct pleasure of traveling to Victoria, Texas. What’s in Victoria, Texas? Well, The Museum of Costal Bend and The Indianola Ghost Town, but more importantly, Two-Time World Champion Barrel Racer Brittany Pozzi. Yup. Saw her gold buckle and everything. Even managed to make a few photos of my own while filming a spot about her for Purina. How’s that for a humble brag?
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Lauren has heard every story from my childhood trips to Yosemite. 17 times over. For my birthday this year we decided to add new chapters the mythical canon. Highlights included hiking Vernal Falls. Turning around while hiking Vernal Falls (sadly, the mist trail was closed). Following the river to the Ahwahnee. And the 18th telling of childhood stories.
More Yosemite after the break.
I sold myself short. At the end of Blackwelder St. Shapour sits outside at 3pm waiting for his driver. Rain or shine, torrid or tepid, he’s always out there. Dressed like a boss. One day I time it right and ask to take his portrait. Weeks go by, I print a few in the darkroom, and hope to give them to him the next time I see him. When I finally do, he asks “How much do I owe you?” What a sweet heart. I tell him nothing, and that it was a pleasure to take his photograph. He smiles and thumbs through the prints, stopping at the last one. It’s my favorite. An artsy little number that doesn’t include his face. “This one’s no good,” he says. I think to myself, “that’ll be $50.”
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What did we do? That was the name given to the Sunday BBQ after Lauren and I made it official. While the question was rhetorical, it didn’t really matter as the younger generation wasn’t ready to answer morning after, about the night before. Luckily, there’s no better remedy than pulled pork and shenanigans.
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Saint Nick done good this year. In addition to everything on the wish list a minty Xpan appeared under the tree. OK, appeared might belittle the gift buying process. Regardless, I am the proud new owner of Hasselblad’s panorama picture making machine. To celebrate I thought I’d post images made with a different version of the same camera from New York (along with the SUPER wide 30mm—thank you Sarah Elliott!) I loved it back then, lusted for it ever since, and can’t wait to put this one through its paces.
More Xpan after the break.
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When the momma is away, the boys will play. Oliver seemed puckered about the impending move. He needed stress relief, I had a few frames to burn, so we filled the tub and jumped in.
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I tend to agree with the photographic philosophy of letting your photos “sit.” I don’t lean them back the La-Z-Boy, peel open a TV dinner and work on their inner spudliness. But i like to let time pass between shooting my images and editing them. In theory the practice removes the excitement of “the moment” and allows for a more objective assessment of the “goodies.” You become lean, mean, and focused on nixing everything in between. Rationale aside, my family would say it’s just an excuse to be lazy. Case in point, Cuba, a killer trip that’s now surfacing after a year of “sitting.” Blame it on the embargo.
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[gwu] Graham Whitaker Unterberger 