I've been jumping around time-wise, so let's get back to post-Iceland. Immediately post-Iceland.

I had been debating on taking a trip down to Austin for SXSW for a few weeks, but decided that Iceland would be enough... that is until I saw that yet another one of my photographer friends was making a last-minute trip down to Austin. As it turned out, he was going to fly into Dallas on Thursday, rent a car and drive to Austin. I was still in Iceland, but it sounded like a fun time to me to try and coordinate. Flights were $220 from NY to Dallas, so I thought that it would be a definite go.

That is until I looked the next day and airfare had jumped up to $500. That was a definite no-go. Just in case, I started planning with him and with my other photog/musician friends who were already down there and shooting/playing. So when I came home from Iceland Thursday morning, I checked in with my Getty editors and I looked at airfare again to see if I could get a flight out that night or on Friday. Sadly, it was already too late for Thursday, but Friday? Friday had jumped back to $220 and shooting for Getty was a go! Done. Bought Thursday after noon, leave Friday night.

Now, the problem was that Casey had already flown to Dallas and rented the car on Thursday. So... Greyhound from Dallas to Austin on Saturday morning it was! 3.5 hours? What could happen?

Another problem? My flight would get in at 11:30 p.m. Friday night and not only was the Dallas Greyhound station in a sketchy place, but the shuttle didn't run from the airport to the station that late.

So, my good friend and super photog, Roger Kisby, asked one of his best friends, Dan Fields, if there was anything he could do. Dan, being the nicest/sweetest person on Earth, offered to both pick my last-minute butt up from the airport, allow me to crash for the night and take me to the bus station in the morning.

When Dan and I arrived at his house, I met his beautiful wife, Amy. Spending the rest of the night on their porch, we all got to know each other over a bottle of wine and the cool Texas air (and sweet and spicy pickles!!!). I had known then, that no matter what happened later in the trip, that I had made the right decision to come down to Texas.

Fast forward to the a.m. - we missed the original bus I was supposed to take into Austin, but who cares? Neither one of us had had breakfast and breakfast was completely in order. Time for adventure! Dan took me to a great little place called the Market Diner, where ordering the banana bread french toast was a must for me (above). Banana bread french toast!?! Who thought of doing that? Deeeelicious.

Longer story shorter... my next dirty Greyhound ended up being two-hours late. Yes, I missed at least three SXSW shows I was supposed to shoot early Saturday afternoon, but I made some eclectic new friends waiting in the Greyhound line, which I will not go into detail about at this time. I didn't end up getting into Austin until 3:00ish, but at this point, all of this was just getting silly.

Including the fact that Roger had to get to his next shoot and couldn't pick me up from Austin's Greyhound station. So... enter the second of Roger's incredible friends, Mr. Greg Browning. Greg picked me up and the rest is history! Or rather more to follow with the next few entries!

Photo: The wonderful Dan Fields and banana bread french toast breakfast at the Market Diner in Dallas, TX.

I don't know what these things are actually called (is it a wreath??), but it was all in good humor.

See ya later, LCD Soundsystem. Good run, good run.

LCD Soundsystem/Madison Square Garden/New York, NY/4.2.11.

Final song of their first arena show at their final show ever: "New York, I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down"

LCD Soundsystem/Madison Square Garden/New York, NY/4.2.11.

LCD Soundsystem/Madison Square Garden/New York, NY/4.2.11.

Francis and the Lights. Holy cow. This is probably both my favorite show and my favorite live music photo of 2011.

Not to be too confusing, but we are now jumping back in time, pre-Iceland.

The first day Bon Jovi played the Garden this year, February 24th, I was already committed to photographing this dude* at Le Poisson Rouge in the West Village. I knew there was a potential conflict, but I also knew that if I didn't go shoot Francis Farewell Starlite of Francis and the Lights now, I might not get to see him in an intimate environment soon, or without too, too much of a crowd. I also knew that Jen Bilec would punch me in the face. Fortunately, all's well that ends well.

The only downside? Running from the Garden's dressing room hallway to the A train to Le Poisson Rouge in the pouring rain. By the time I got to the green room, I was drenched and Francis was looking perfect. My new friend, Nick, of Fenway Recordings introduced me to Francis and we did a quick, five-minute portrait session (below). No time for the elaborate speedlight set-up I had planned, but I think it all turned out just fine. Minor jesting was involved, but to be honest, I was still out of breath from my unplanned jog and a little too focused on getting something I liked. So my sincere apologies to both Nick and Francis.

What happened next? We wrapped and walked out the door to the stage and a sold-out house.

*calling Francis "this dude" is my subtle way of saying "an artist who I've been obsessing over since JB sent me the 'Darling, It's Alright' video."

Francis Farewell Starlite of Francis and the Lights/Le Poisson Rouge/New York, NY/2.24.11

A while back, I posted a video of single-take music video edited with light by a group called Francis and the Lights, which Jen Bilec had sent to me a few months ago.

Fell. In. Love. With the music, with the lights, with the edit, with the dancing.... Oh man, the dancing...

This show in particular was just Francis, his piano and a drum machine, which was more than awesome. However, being that the full band wasn't there, who was to anticipate that Francis, during his final song, "Darling, It's Alright," was going to strobe the lights and bust some moves?!

Not me, I can tell you that much.

But who cares!? It was fannnnntastic. Everyone in LPR went bananas. I was wishing two things in that moment:

1. That Jen Bilec was dancing on stage with him and

2. That I had changed my frickin' lens!

Following the show, I walked back to the green room and the first person I saw was Francis. Before I even excitedly congratulated him on the show, like a huge nerd, I said, "Dude! That was awesome! I wish you would have told me you were going to do that! I would have changed lenses!"

I don't even remember what he said back to me, but I do know there was a smile and a laugh -perhaps a coy shrug as well.

All you crazy Coachella kids best be going to see Francis and the Lights in a few weekends. I don't know when he plays, but I do know that he probably sounds just as good on the west coast as he does on the east coast!

Francis Farewell Starlite of Francis and the Lights/Le Poisson Rouge/New York, NY/2.24.11

Not a nickel you don't owe me, cause you told me to let it go

You said it's time, said let it go

You said it's time.

"My Goals" - Francis and the Lights

I've actually set goals because of this song.

Francis Farewell Starlite of Francis and the Lights/Le Poisson Rouge/New York, NY/2.24.11

I checked out of my hotel in the morning to afford me a few more hours of museum/gallery hopping. While that was an excellent idea, I still found myself getting distracted on my walk back to the hotel to hop the airport shuttle bus.

On previous walks through the city, I kept meaning to take a few photographs of the doorknobs. I'm sure that they are standard issue in most of the hardware stores, but every time I went to open another door, all I could think of was my favorite Bukowski poem, "The Area of Pause."

I'm pretty positive I've written out this poem on this blog before, so I will just make reference to the stanza that was living in my head:

few have the ability to stare

at an old shoe for

ten minutes

or to think of odd things

like who invented the

doorknob?

Sometimes the things that stick with you are strange, but I suppose things reemerge from time to time for a reason. For whatever reason, this line about doorknobs sticks with me.*

A last note about Iceland? I don't know how many of you watch "No Reservations," but this is the first time that I whole-heartedly disagree with Anthony Bourdain's sentiments toward a place, its people and its food.

Except for the shark. The shark is terrible.

*Just if you were curious: Osbourn Dorsey is credited with inventing the doorknob in 1878.

The most popular hot dog and hot dog stand in Europe. It's so small that I walked past it about 10 times. And the hot dog? Either the rest of Europe really doesn't have good hot dogs or people go crazy over the crunchy onions on this hot dog... I can't really decide what makes it great. Then again, I'm not the best judge of hot dogs.

The last time I had one? July 2008 at Coney Island.

3.16.11.

Last day in Reykjavik.

3.16.11.

What's on the counter at Café Haiti:

Food: An Icelandic pastry/donut called a kleinur.

Drink: A fair-trade Haitian roast, with a touch of milk and agave nectar

Café Haiti is owned by a Haitian woman named Elda, who imports her beans directly from Haiti and roasts them herself every day. I had read a bit about her and didn't really expect to actually see her, but I suppose if you roast your own beans on a daily basis, that probably means you are going to be there every day. She had a quiet presence and a kind soul and while we didn't share many words, I enjoyed being in her company.

Photo taken on 3.16.11.

Following my day-long bonding session with Jasper, I finally was approaching my last evening in Reykjavik. Tonight was going to be the night of the all-out, fancy-pants dinner. I perused many a menu to finally decide on a place downtown called Einar Ben. I liked Einar Ben because it had both great food and a good story. A noted New York chef, John Mooney, had actually been at the restaurant over the weekend, preparing a special menu for the Food and Fun Festival, as well.

When I arrived at the restaurant, the old house was far too dark to take photos. That or I was just tired of taking photos of food. I ended up with a whale sashimi appetizer and the arctic char for my main course. Sadly, they were out of the skyr mousse with blueberries, so I bailed on dessert.

After dinner, I walked around Einar Benediktsson's home, visiting all the rooms trying to imagine them as a residence rather than a restaurant. My deep conclusion? It would have been a lovely place to live.

My next task was to find a good dessert, but it was quickly aborted in favor of a little night shooting, as you can see above. There was nothing more appropriate for me to do on my last night. A quiet town on a Tuesday night - a stroll through the residential streets you've not yet explored, camera raised only when something catches your eye.

When I finally move from the city to the country, I would like to make these guys part of the family. Smaller than your average horse, the Icelandic horse is a five-gaited breed, which, if you are familiar at all with horses, you probably just got a little excited. In general, most horses are four-gaited with a walk, trot, canter and gallop. Most Icelandic horses carry a natural fifth gait called a tölt.

Here's a little bit about the tölt from www.icelandichorse.is:

The footfall of tölt
Here in this description:
1 = left hind foot
2 = left front foot
3 = right hind foot
4 = right front foot
In Iceland we talk about three types of tölt:

Clean tölt (tölt, hreint tölt, single foot, rack), with perfect four-beat. The beat you hear is 1-2-3-4-1-2-3-4-1-2-3-4 as each of the four legs step down.

Trot-tölt (brokk-tölt, fox-trot, trotty tölt), where you hear almost two-beat even though the horse is tölting. It becomes more up-and-down to sit on, and it's a mixture between tölt and trot. The horse wants to trot and does it if given free reins when brokk-tölting. 1--2-3--4-1--2-3--4-1--2-3--4.


Pacy tölt (bundið tölt, skeidtölt, stepping pace), where you hear two-beat even though the horse is tölting. It becomes more from side-to-side to sit on, and its a mixture between tölt and pace. The beat is still four beat, but nearer pace, you hear 1-2--3-4--1-2--3-4--1-2--3-4.

Only having a six-hour ride with one of these guys was a bummer. As with everything in life, riding has a lot to do with getting to know your companion. I will say, you get to know your companion a lot faster, when out of nowhere, you both are galloping through a hailstorm.

Prior to booking this ride, I called the stables and asked about the experience level one was expected to have to go on the longer rides. I had ridden when I was younger (a shout-out to Buttons at Pheasant Hollow!), but hadn't been on a horse in years, so I didn't want to sign up for a ride for which I wouldn't be fit.

The answer I received from the very kind woman at Íshestar:

"You must be able to know how to control your horse and will be required to keep up as there are some faster parts to the ride."

That was the first time that anyone at a stable was encouraging and allowing the rider to take the horse and ride to his/her ability. Not only that, but you were expected to both saddle and bridle your horse, which made me so, so, very happy. That never happens on a first ride at a stable in the States.

I've been waiting for this type of response for years, so naturally, in a really excited tone, I asked her to book me for the Monday ride.

Monday, as you know, was too rainy, so on what turned into Tuesday's ride, it was still cold, but looked like it would be decent.

Optimal? No, the weather was not optimal, but I'd never ridden a horse in the snow, let alone in a sideways windy hailstorm. It got so bad that at one point, when coming to a rocky pass, the riding guide, two non-English-speaking French riders and myself had to dismount and wait it out. The horses were great, the Frenchies were not.

In the end, one of the French riders ended up falling off his horse and the three of us had to circle back to help him back on. Eventful, eventful indeed. Speaking French definitely would have helped. Per the usual, German did not.

Photo taken 3.15.11.

Hi Guy! While this lovely fellow, wasn't my riding partner for the day, we sure made friends fast!

3.15.11.

Horse play. Just like a puppy rolling in the snow!

3.15.11.

I didn't exactly anticipate the response below, though knowing my father, I should have. I did, in fact, expect a simple, "Yep! Sure is, Al!"

But... I was wrong in the best way possible. Sometimes things you know to be true are best reiterated and solidified by your father, Jethro Tull, Bob Dylan and Ben Folds - even if it is the 100th time he's tried to tell you or the 1,000th time you've heard a song.

This is simply a father speaking to his daughter. If it interests you to read his eloquent train of thought, please do:

“Life is good and the universe is cool, right Jharv?” Your mother warned you not to ask me questions like that. Buckle up. Here we go on the roller coaster inside my head!

“Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup...” or so wrote John Lennon in "Across the Universe." Curiously, as physics now believes that electrons can be in two places at once and string theory abounds, the prospect of parallel universes seems to be reality. So it's entirely possible that in one of those parallel universes words can indeed flow like endless rain into a paper cup. Grab your cup and allow me to pour.

The first time that I actually understood Einstein’s famous equation, actually meaning that energy was simply matter moving at the speed of light, I was awestruck. “Wait a minute, you mean matter and energy are the same thing???” It struck me that none of what we believe is real, actually is, at least, in the form we believe it takes. This knowledge made me realize that we humans spend a lot of time worrying about things that simply cannot and do not matter and too little time actually seeing what surrounds us. I can recall sitting with Linda in front of the fireplace and saying, “The sun sure looks beautiful tonight.” She gave me that “What stupid ass thing do you have on your mind?” look that only Linda can give as I explained. It certainly is true that the fire in the fireplace releases energy in the form of heat and light as a result of the rapid oxidation of the wood. It is equally true that plants create food for their growth from the energy from the sun through photosynthesis. Ergo, the heat and light released from the fire is nothing more than sunlight that resided within the wood until I lit the kindling. (I am not sure if Linda was freaked out by the profound nature of my observation or my firm grasp of the obvious).

So nothing is real, or what it appears to be, or everything carries with it a bit of everything else, but that does not mean that everything is false. Our reality is no less real if it only exists in our perception. The Aurora is beautiful because we perceived it. Not in spite of it. Friendship and love are beautiful because we feel them. They are no less wonderful because they could not be explained or calculated. Even when the force of one tectonic plate moving above another is readily understood to be the cause of the massive earthquake, having the explanation makes it no less tragic. The betrayal of false friends mocking you from the comfortable confines of the tiny cube of space they occupy, the glow of computer screens as their only windows to the universe and armed with the computer key board and the desire to deprecate that which they do not have the vision to see, the soul to embrace or the courage to experience, hurts when you are the intended recipient and cuts to the quick when done as a cabal. They endeavor to nourish their spirits by picking at the flesh of those who actively live in the world, hoping to photosynthesize that energy into a beam of self superiority. (Here I was initially torn between quoting Ben Folds “Make me feel tiny if it makes you feel tall, but there is always someone cooler than you.” and the O’Jay’s: “They smile in your face. All the time they want to take your place” [Ironically, this O’Jay’s song is entitled “The Back Stabbers” and was recorded 22 years before O J Simpson’s trial. What more evidence does anyone need to prove that everything in the universe is intertwined?]) Make me laugh and you can be my friend. Love me and I will love you back. Reject me and it is your loss.

I think a fitting lyric for my view of life comes from Cat Steven’s “Sitting” in which he perfectly captures Nietzsche’s concept of the Übermensch in the verse: “Life is like a maze of doors and they all open from the side you’re on. Just keep on pushing hard boy, try as you may, you are going to wind up where you started from.” That verse fits because it captures what the “Tweebs” (my term for Twitter dweebs) and “Face...” (Still working on a proper pejorative for these users of Facebook) will never get: One’s universe, whether it be the cosmos, the earth, society, or personal relationships, is difficult to understand and often impossible to manage. Open this door and find joy and comfort in the arms of another. Open the next to a stunning landscape. On the other side of another, find poverty and suffering. Another simply opens into the abyss. In the end, whether we choose to open the doors and explore, look through the doors that others have opened or avoid opening doors altogether, try as we may, we wind up where we started. Ashes to ashes. Star dust to star dust. If we can open the doors and experience what is on the other side and laugh at the absurdity of it all when we open the door to the abyss, seems to me to be the measure of a life well lived. Don’t worry about what may be on the other side. Open the door. Whatever is there is what was meant to be there. Embrace it. Reject it. Deal with it accordingly. I am tremendously proud to have raised offspring who are willing to open the doors, wherever they may lead. I am gratified that some of the time, the doors are held open widely and long enough for the rest of us to look through. I feel sorry for the Tweebs because they really do not live.

I do depart from Nietzsche, however, as I do not and cannot accept that God is dead. I sometimes think that this notion is born of the western view of the world in which our analytical tradition begins with the large and breaks things down into smaller and smaller parts in order to understand them. I prefer eastern thought and the spirituality of being one with the vast universe (or many with the universes?). The shape shifting of the Aurora occurs all around us in everything we see. And it occurs whether we as humans attempt to start it, stop it, or alter it. It is egotistical and vain to believe that anything our species does in the physical world will permanently improve or diminish it. Global warming? Really? One massive volcano blast or meteor hit and it is ice age all over again. (Although that little prehistoric squirrel really does crack me up.) To say nothing of a blast of energy from a distant quasar. (In my head I hear Humphrey Bogart saying, “The problems of one little species don’t amount to a hill of beans in this universe.”)

Although I do believe in God, I am entirely certain that banding together in various groups to invoke the favor or garner the attention of a deity, only to slaughter members of other groups in His, Her, Their, name or names is more about controlling other humans than grasping the point of a higher power. I readily concede that Jethro Tull’s Aqualung album in general and the song "Wind Up" in particular, released while I was in junior high, impacted my view of God. “I don’t believe you. You have the whole damn thing all wrong. He is not the kind you have to wind up on Sunday.” Reaffirmed by CS&N’s "Cathedral": “Too many people have lied in the name of Christ for anyone to heed the call. So many people have died in the name of Christ that I can't believe it all.” - in which you could insert the name of almost any religion in place of the word “Christ” in that sentence. Nevertheless, there is and will always be something magical about Christmas. A celebration of new life in the dead of winter. Extolling peace and good will. The very feeling the holiday brings. God is present in all of that and is with us everywhere and always. He was there with the cold girl in Iceland looking at the Aurora, as well as in that field in Minnesota as the yin-yang swirled over three cigar-smoking nude dudes. I don’t profess to know what God wants for us or what God wants from us. However, I am ever awestruck by the synonymity of God and the universe.

Jai Guru Deva Om

Nothing’s gonna change my world.
Nothing’s gonna change my world.

Although, I would add, that the world constantly changes, and thereby changes me.

P.S. This obviously was written in a parallel universe. How else could you explain two John Lennon quotes and none from Pete Townshend? And the O'Jays? Really? Where did that come from?

So since I can't always make myself as clear as my dad can, I will close this with the words of Mr. Folds:

So you can laugh all you want to,

But I've got my philosophy.

And I love you, you're my friend,

But you got no philosophy.

Now it's time for this song to end.

I don't know whose idea it was to eat that thing pictured above, but to whoever's desperate idea it may have been... thanks!

Monkfish: the consistency of lobster with the light taste of a fish. This was one of the dishes recommended as a must try by my dive guide, Finni.

Returning to Fru Berglaug (it's that good!) for dinner, here's what's on the table:

Pan-fired monkfish drizzled in a light dijon with parma ham, baked potato and arugula salad topped with melon, mango, bell peppers and a balsamic reduction.

Second favorite meal of the trip.

Note: Top photo was pulled from the internet. Not sure who to credit.

I had a conversation with my dear friend and roommate, Lauren Brown, the other evening. She's been debating career choices and we just got to talking about stress levels.

Stress is artificial. Sure, you may be busy, but you make it up on your own. Yes, of course I get stressed, but it doesn't run my career and it doesn't affect other aspects of my life - haha, anymore.

In my industry, the guy I look up to? He basically runs the largest events in New York and is always as calm as a cucumber. In that way, I respect him because he is a lot like my father. No matter what comes his way, he can handle it. I've learned the hard way that not everyone is like that.

I don't often panic either, but when I do? I go somewhere. I do something. I get out of my current situation. I respect my father and TP because they really have this down to an art. They don't need to go anywhere. They just are who they are in the most wonderful way.

Photo taken outside of The Reykjavik School of Visual Art on 3.14.11.

The local art scene playing games.

Photo taken outside the Reykjavik School of Visual Arts on my walk back to the hotel.

Photo taken on 3.14.11.

Haha, Monday's lunch looks like a pile of mush, but this was the most wonderful lunch I had during my stay. If you ever head to Iceland, give the traditional fish stew at Fru Berglaug a try. Made with haddock from the morning's catch, you can completely taste how fresh everything is. The rye bread was soft and warm as well.

Fru Berglaug is such a cozy place that when storm clouds rolled in and just dumped puddles on Reykjavik, I was happy to sit for another hour to people watch and sip a hot chocolate.

Photo: taken 3.14.11