bmorebedell

From the streets of Baltimore to the plush curtains of Washington DC, Daniel Bedell Photography has landed! Boom! All up in your Honorable Mention at DC FOTOWEEK.

Got this in the mail a few weeks ago an wanted to do something fun with it. Seriously though, it was great o be honorably mentioned. The competition had over 5,000 entries, so not bad.

This particular photo was taken when I traveled with Andrews University to India in 2006. Our group was taken to the backside of the Taj Mahal when visiting Agra. There I found these boys herding goats.

Like kids all over the world they were happy to find a diversion from their work and in India no diversion was more popular than cricket. I saw kids strike up inpromptu matches on mountain roads dodging traffic, in between guiding camel tours on desert dunes and while watching goats in the shadow of India’s architectural gem. A great trip, a spectacular country, I want to go back soon!

Passing time behind the muffler shop. Talk of days gone by, fishing, religion, politics, kids, parrots, pranks and of course cars.

The art of hanging out is still alive. It may have taken a beating from TV and video games. It may not be as strong as it once was. But, if you seek you shall find. In the barbershop, the local tavern, behind the muffler shop you can find the old art of swapping stories, soap box rants, telling jokes and good ole fashion passin time.

I live in Washington D.C. now and sometimes I’ll still see groups of people practicing the art of just hanging out. Somehow there seems to be an exclusive nature to it in the city though. It’s often minority groups, immigrants to a new land, people who have come together to find comfort in similarity.

Albritton's Barbershop. This is the barbershop of my childhood. There used to be a boar's and alligator's head on the wall. The barber would give me pennies after my haircut that I could go use on the one cent bubble gum machine. Old guys would sit around talking and play checkers. Citrus was for sale in the front. It felt a bit like a time machine and despite rarely liking my haircuts I always wanted to go back.

In a small town though, outsiders are of interest, a certain degree of entertainment. In my wanderings over the town I’ve been amazed at people’s welcoming of me. In the city you often feel you are interrupting people. In Avon Park you feel people got nothing better to do. Things are a bit slower, a bit more Mayberry.

I see why old timers look back so fondly on the days when hanging out was the thing to do. Whether it was cards, dominos, checkers, hair, food, drinking, smoking or arguing that brought people together it was about being together. It was being part of the pack, if for just a while. We are lot more lone wolf’s these days. Avon Park makes me miss the pack.

The Wild Turkey Tavern. A fixture in driving South to Sebring. It's painted cammo, there is a dinosaur outside, and always funny rightwing sayings on their billboard.

Update number two for operation Avon Park. I’ve been exploring, meeting people, making contacts, renewing old friendships. It really has been going far better than I imagined it would.

I’m finding that my project has two veins. Seeing old things through new eyes and exploring new things with…well just my normal current eyes. The first of the two has been really strange. Growing up there are so many things that you take for granted and pass by and never really see.

As for the things I knew not, this time up; Lawnmower Racing. Apparently, would be lawn jockey’s from miles around flock to Avon Park, just off of 64 to race mowers. It sounds ridiculous, and to some degree it is, but when you see a mower fly by at 45 mph, well you can’t help but be pretty impressed.

The show goes on…

I feel like I spend every blog post talking about how I haven’t written a blog post in forever. I guess such is the relationship between I and blogs. It’s a bit of the love/hate nature.

On to the point of this entry. I have started a project. A good ole sentimental sappy one at that. I’m going back to my roots. Avon Park, Florida to be more specific. I moved to the little hamlet when I was but a wee lad starting first grade. I went to one school for the next 12 years, a small Seventh-Day Adventist academy that when I started was WMJA and when I left was WMA.

Growing up in Avon Park was pretty idyllic. Swimming and skiing on the local lakes. Long hours shooting hoops with neighbors. Bike rides exploring backroads. Candy at the Stop ‘N’ Shop. Trips to the ocean on the weekend.

For those 12 years I managed to stay mainly in the bubble created by my church and school. As a kid I was somewhat aware of this, but as an adult it became clear how little of the place I really knew. What were the main industries? How did they operate? Who were the characters that shaped the town? Where did they hangout? Who were the people who’s backs the town was built on? Who were the people beaten down? Who were those exalted and why? I could go on, but I’m sure you get the point. I came back looking for town which I knew not.

I also came as an artist in search of another kind of roots. I suppose I came hoping to grow some photographic roots.

I didn’t grown up thinking much at all about art. I remember two events shaping the end of my being an artist. The first was an art contest for the local schools. It was one of those things where anyone can put in a piece and it get’s displayed at the local mall, from there winners are chosen. I submitted my masterpiece, a sketch of a room with a rocking chair and a cat on a rocking chair, groundbreaking work needless to say. The time came to go see the great works of art we had all created at the Lakeshore Mall. I made the trek down with the parents and began the search for my piece in the sea elementary and middle school art. It was no where to be found. My lost Mona Lisa.

I finally knew the art jig was up though was when I traced a photo for my father, left it on his desk and waited for my father to discover the wonder. He mistook it for trash and threw it away. I was officially done with art.

And yet, as life often will have it I have found myself down a path I never dreamed of. In fact a path I didn’t even really knew existed as a profession, that of photographer.

It’s been a fun ride. Full of new experiences, new people, new worlds and also new problems. The problems of trying to be an artists, whatever that is. Are you a maker of beauty?A technician? A teller of stories? A creator of fantasy? An advocate for truth? A liar? A searcher? A questioner? All of the above? None of the above?

So I come back home searching. Not sure I’ll find answers or not. Maybe I don’t even need answers. With any luck though I’ll get some great images along the way.

I’m shooting medium format film for a lot of the project. I can’t totally let go of the digital though, for capturing quick small moments and even better, METERING! So here are some of my digital notes along the way.

Wow it’s been a busy past month since my last post. Lot’s of photo shoots and lots of change. Change including my move to from Baltimore down to DC. It’s been a bit bitter sweet. I really grew to love a lot of things about Baltimore and met a lot of really great people there. Thanks to work though I’ve been up in Baltimore every week since leaving so I’m not really all that gone.

One of the photo shoots that pulled me back up to Baltimore turned out to be one of the most fun that I have done in a long time. It started with a job I did with Nana Projects shooting their parades at Artscape. On the way to shoot the parades though I came across the Baltimore Rock Opera Society’s presentation. There was fire, spandex, fake blood and of course rock opera. It was magnificent and you just couldn’t take your eyes off of the people.

Remember when we were kids and you’d go “play” something? You’d play house, or cowboys, or cops and robbers, or ninja turtles or dinosaurs. At some point you stop playing things in life and just start doing them. The stakes become higher, the rose colored glasses are discarded and you start accomplishing things. It’s the goal of growing up, but it’s also kind of sad to lose the ability to play.

Unless of course if you join a rock opera society. If you’re in the market I’d highly suggest the BROS. From what I’ve seen you get to learn how to play again. You get to make costumes, you make music, you get to be ridiculous and it’s all okay because you’re one of the BROS.

That’s why after seeing them I decided I really had to take some pictures. It just so happened one of the founding members was Aran Keating, half of the band AK Slaughter which I had worked with in the past. So a few emails here and a few emails there we all got together on a Saturday.

After a little sorcery, a little nudity and a lot of laughs we got some of my favorite photos of the year. Hope you enjoy!

Introducing the BROS

Aran Keating

Dylan Koehler

John Marra

Mark Miller

Jen Tydings

Chuck Green

John DeCampos

Jared Margulies