So far, this pregnancy (and therefore the blog) has been devoid of belly pictures. Well, not any longer.

On Sunday, Hailey had a henna artist — Amy Swagman, who has her own henna design business — come over and paint a beautiful henna tattoo design on her baby bump. There was no deeper reason for doing it. Just a “hey, that would be fun for the baby shower” kind of impulse. And since I haven’t gotten around to doing maternity pictures … well, here they are: our documented evidence of what pregnancy with Baby Xerxes was like with six weeks to go.

Amy began with a peacock design over the belly button, and the design emanated from there.

Our babe is a real roller. Loves to kick, tumble and do gymnastics all day. Made for an interesting spectacle as Amy tried to apply the design. Crazy kid.

As the design transpired, I bounced between taking pictures and watching the J-E-T-S! Jets! Jets! Jets! defeat the Chargers. That was awesome.

And here is the final design. The ink dried, and then came off in the morning with the wrap that went over it. Now Hailey has this beautiful tattoo for the next two weeks, at which point it will fade away.

But by then, the Olympics will have started, and then once the Olympics are over, the bags will be packed for the hospital and we’ll be on guard to the finish line. Not sure how many blog posts I’ll get up there before then….

If you are interested in any kind of henna design, look Amy up. Here is her website: http://www.hennadenver.com.

Love of one’s country. What is it exactly?

A soldier in a foxhole in Afghanistan? A local guy running for town mayor? A musician writing a protest song? A volunteer at a food bank?

Love of one’s country — at least in American terms — is an action.

It’s doing something, whether modest in scope or monumental in sacrifice. It’s a pretty wide continuum.

I bring this up because I recently went to Williamsburg, Virginia, a place of immaculate preservation and where love of one’s country is expressed by wearing a petticoat and a three-pointed hat. I don’t say this with sarcasm or to make it seem silly alongside other examples of patriotism. But I find it compelling how the people who work and live in this town an hour east of Richmond do more than just an acting job to bring colonial America to life. It’s done with love for the United States of America and a curiosity for our compelling past.

In short, their expression of this love is what keeps the place from feeling like an amusement park.

After four days of excessive eating, imbibing, and Super Mario Brothers on Wii, Hailey, her father, her brother Jason, her sister-in-law Ali and I packed into the car and drove to Williamsburg to see a sliver of the American experience. We were there for three hours, which allowed for a small taste of the place. I’m told that to really feel the slow sway of American history in the area you need to see Jamestown and Yorktown, too. Plus, it helps to pay $58 for a Freedom Pass to gain entry to the historic sites. Another day, another visit.

Christmas in Williamsburg is a big deal. One easily can surmise why when considering this universal truth: any place with historic architecture seems to have its romance amplified by Christmas decor. Just look at Santa Fe’s adobe cubism decked in farolitos. In Williamsburg, the decor of choice is the wreath, where they take its artistry to a whole new level. And thank God. Usually when someone says “Christmas decor” and “whole new level” in the same sentence, I think of these nutjobs.

Nearly every door in Williamsburg was crowned by an elaborate wreath, the best ones labeled with a ribbon from a competition they had just held. Many are truly stunning works of art, like the two I’ve posted above. As I photographed them in the slanted winter light, I was sure I would discover some quaint story as to why Williamsburg was so wreath happy (or pineapple happy for that matter). Wreaths must be a tradition from colonial times…. Maybe they warded off ghosts…. Maybe they were delicious offerings for the town drunkard…. Surely Thomas Jefferson had something to do with it.

Turns out, they caught on in the late 1930s. You can read all about it on the town’s website, but I warn you, it’s not nearly as interesting as my imagination can make it.

As for the pineapples, the same website says they’re “native to South America” and that by 1681 they “became a Christian symbol.” OK. I’ll bite. Why?

Well, they’re kind of like pine cones, which as we know, the Romans used as a symbol of faith in the judiciary, thereby relegating them to imperial prowess. They also distribute seeds, which reminds one of fertility, propagation and survival.

I could make a sarcastic comment, but who am I to talk? After all, my generation of Americans does this at Christmas time.

Now I’m like many men: give me a box to wrap and you’ll end up with a wrinkled 7-sided mass of gift paper covered in 80 strips of tape and an off-kilter bow. So I’m easily impressed when it comes to delicate arts involving careful assembly. But the wreaths of Williamsburg would impress even the most cynical observer. They’re an act of love. Love for community and love for tradition. The roots of patriotism, really.

So what happened in Williamsburg? Why is it significant? On this day, I had no idea. We didn’t buy the Freedom Pass, and with only three hours to tour the massive historic quarter, I wasn’t all that interested. I’ll learn later, I told myself.

I know: sounds terrible for a photojournalist to say that, but it was actually kind of liberating as an artist to just compose a place without any baggage, motives or agendas.

Williamsburg was the capital of Virginia back when it was a colony of England (Jamestown was too buggy to be capital) and it is home to the second oldest university in the United States, the College of William and Mary. It was the sight of the Gunpowder Incident (I wish all historic events were so bluntly named), which was one of many precursors to the American Revolution. During the Revolutionary War, it lost its stature as capital because the Governor, Thomas Jefferson, felt it was vulnerable to British attack.

Oh, and they now have a Busch Gardens nearby.

Hailey is now seven months pregnant, so walking around in the cold for three hours staring at doors is more exhausting than it used to be. Just as we all hit a wall, we came upon the more modern downtown of Williamsburg, and the college campus. A gourmet food store overflowed with customers, kids played in the square, shoppers walked around with bags, and perspective diners read menus.

With Jason and Ali an hour away, it became clear to me that I wasn’t done with this place. We could easily come back, hit Jamestown and Yorktown, drive the scenic and tree-lined Colonial Parkway, and make a bigger photo story of it. I resolved to make a story pitch in the near future.

It was just then that Jason and I got arrested for Public Defamation of the Queen of England.

On the outskirts of the historic quarter lies a re-creation of the Great Hopes Plantation. I would have poked around, but a woman dressed in period clothing wanted to see my Freedom Pass. Entry wasn’t permitted without it.

Love of country. It’s a broad continuum: some get dressed up in period clothing to express it. Others uphold the rule of law. Some do both.

So I snuck off to this wood pile and snapped a shot of the setting sun.

Hailey and I just returned from Richmond, Virginia, where we spent Christmas at her brother Jason’s house. There is definitely a different feel to nearly everything these days (obviously, because of the baby we’re expecting). This is particularly noticeable with the holidays. A year from now, Christmas will be very different, and it will only get better I’m sure, as we introduce our child to Santa, giving gifts, cookies, ornaments with stories behind them, and all the other traditions.

I thought I’d do a quick post on the holidays, starting with pictures Hailey took on Cookie Day. Above is her mom, Diana, and our sister-in-law Amy, enjoying a surplus of chocolate.

And here is Isaiah, our nephew, carefully decorating a gingerbread cookie, bedhead and all.

While coordinating this annual tradition, Hailey emailed my mom with the subject line “Cookie Day.” My mom noted that at first glance she thought Hailey was using a new nickname for our baby. And so, December was the month that “Xerxes” became “Cookie.”

Below is our nephew Andrew, and my personal favorite: oatmeal-craisin-and-white-chocolate-chip cookies.

I missed Cookie Day this year, but my brother was able to attend, and here he’s giving the annual reading of the Christmas Cookie Sprinkle Snitcher. This is one of my favorite books from growing up … sadly it’s out of print, but you can buy it used on Amazon for $288.

Fast forward two weeks, and we’ve arrived at Christmas morning in Richmond. We had a large group to celebrate with this year, including Hailey’s grandmother from St. Louis, her aunt and uncle from Chapel Hill, and her cousin Diana (below, wearing a Chinese paper hat we all received in our stocking) from Brooklyn.

The King/Goerner families have turned stocking stuffers into an art form. Despite the lack of children (until next Christmas at least), they all give each other cheap toys and fun games that usually entertain until noon. Here’s Jason showing off his rubber-ball-and-paddle skills (if you can call them “skills” … we all were pretty clumsy with them). Hailey and I gave out the fun noisy balloons we bought in Mexico back in April. You blow them up, let go of them, and they make a high-pitched buzzing sound as they fly around the room. Smudge — Jason and Ali’s dog — killed our balloon on it’s second flight, to howls of laughter from all.

Another King/Goerner family tradition … the Christmas Day jigsaw puzzle.

Hailey’s cousin gave us some adorable baby clothes and bibs (we’re amassing quite the haul by now), and on Sunday night, some of Ali’s family came to visit for dinner. Hailey’s mom got to play Nana for a bit with Ali’s niece, little Gracie.

OK, so I have to admit. I’m funny about dogs. Most people who know me well know that I’m … shall we say “averse” to most dogs. I like to chalk it up to the fact that I’ve been attacked by them three times in my life (twice as a toddler, and once this past year while riding my bike). But the fact is I don’t like stepping in poo and the sound of barking simply grates my nerves.

But I hereby grant a lifetime waiver to Minnie and Smudge, Jason and Ali’s incredible two dogs. They’ve done an excellent job training them, and they are the best behaved puppies I’ve ever met.

Minnie (below left) is particularly sweet. A natural lap dog who wags her tail 5,614 times a day, she’s also one tough pooch. In 2003, she was hit by a semi. She lived as a stray for another 8 or 9 months before a shelter took her in. Her back hip was so destroyed, she was about to be put down. That’s when Ali adopted her, hired a surgeon, and rehabbed her back to health. She has the slightest limp to this day, but knowing this story — and seeing that happy little tail wagging all the time — is enough to melt my cynical, dog-loathing heart.

As for Smudge? He’s the biggest optimist I’ve ever met, human, animal or otherwise. Stroll through the kitchen or by the dining room table, and there he is, on his hind legs, silently begging for food with a smile on his face (below right). His success rate is roughly 1 in 88 begs, but that doesn’t stop him. Doe eyes, dangling tongue, a paw tugging at the air … The mutt is a frickin’ comedian.

And finally, here’s a close-up of Minnie in front of the Christmas tree. The yellow spots in her fur? Yeah, that’s hair dye from when Jason dyed her burgundy and gold for a Redskins game. Let’s just say that at 4-11, even happy little Minnie is disappointed in the Redskins.

Pretty soon I’ll be posting images from a day trip we took to colonial Williamsburg, Virginia. Ah yes, travel photography. Good to get back at it. Look for that soon.

I’m about to implement a serious revamp of www.tanagerphotography.com, which will include my 2010 wedding and portrait packages, as well as an overhaul of the galleries section by splitting weddings from portraits. While I was at it, I decided to take another look at the travel galleries, which got me thinking about whether I should include Ecuador in my portfolio, which got me thinking that Ecuador isn’t anywhere on the blog, which got me thinking how much I want to go somewhere pretty much at any moment now, which made me realize I’m not going anywhere for a while … what with the baby and all.

Just because I’m not traveling doesn’t mean I can’t spice up the blog with photos of faraway places here and there. Ecuador has been on my mind lately because of the birds and monkeys. Impending fatherhood naturally lends itself to daydreams of future adventures with the kid, and tops on that list is looking for animals in a rainforest, be it Costa Rica, Panama, Peru or some Caribbean Island.

We visited this magnificent country in April and May of 2007, visiting the Napo Wildlife Center in the Amazon, the capitol city of Quito, the Otavalo Indian Market, the rainforests of Mindo and the hot springs of Papallacta. Conspicuously absent from that list are the Galapagos Islands. Too much time, too much money, and being the mountain boy that I am, I’m always going to pass over islands to insist we see something like the Andes.

My lasting memory of Ecuador was a place of insane topography. Ravines inside canyons wedged between mountains with volcanoes on top. Quito’s size and scope was unfathomable because of the way the land buckles and swallows the city. It is amazing place to see from a window seat on arrival.

But right now, I’d bypass the Andes, the volcanoes sitting on top of them, and pretty much anything to do with that dusty wrinkled city, for a little hut in the rainforest and the sound of howler monkeys and parrots piercing the air.

NPR’s Morning Edition ran a great story on a Brazilian farm town’s efforts to restore the Amazonian rainforest and balance nature with farming. The soundtrack alone transported me back to Ecuador this morning. Soon enough, we’ll get back out there …

Aunty Amy … married to my brother Ben and mother of Andrew, Isaiah and Jeremiah

(Click on each image for a larger view)

A few months back, I mentioned on the blog that we were working on a series of photos for our baby’s nursery. We just entered the third trimester, and we now have a crib (minus the mattress). Above the crib is a wide wall that can accommodate 10 frames at 8′x10′.

So here’s the concept: We want our child to know that they always have their family close by. So, beginning in August with Hailey’s brother and sister-in-law, we’ve been photographing them on a white backdrop. Rather than do just a headshot, we thought it would be fun if each image captured the playful, inner child of our parents, our brothers and sisters, and our nephews. On Thanksgiving Day, we completed the shoot. This post is devoted to the ones we’ve selected to frame.

Uncle Benji and Cousin Jer’

Cousin Andrew

Cousin Isaiah

Grandpa (Hailey’s father)

Nana (Hailey’s mother)

Funpa (my father)

Oma (my mother)

Uncle Jason (Hailey’s brother)

Aunty Ali (Jason’s wife, Hailey’s sister-in-law)

There are more images of Jason and Ali from a post I did in September.

What I’ve come to realize is that these images are a family heirloom, something to treasure more than any antique. At age 1 or 2, just as our son/daughter is beginning to figure these relationships out, these pics will be their guide. By the time they’ll be in high school and college, this will be a snapshot of who we were back then. Such an awesome family … we’re thankful for each person within it.

Can’t decide whether we should complete it with pictures of the two of us being playful or not. I don’t know … the kid’s going to be seeing plenty of us!

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On Saturday, Hailey and I did a family portrait shoot with the Halls — Bryce, Marni, Oliver and Harrison — at their Centennial home. Marni is my sister-in-law’s sister; she was the maid of honor at Ben and Amy’s wedding while I was the best man.  So we’ve known each other for roughly 15 years, and it’s such a treat to see her and her wonderful family these days, especially since Hailey and I are expecting in March, making their two-month-old son Harrison an automatic play buddy for our baby.

We did much of the shoot in their front room, which for me was conveniently empty and east facing, making it very studio-like with lots of natural light (yes!). Their two-year-old son Oliver took only a few minutes to warm up to us (after all, it had been a few months since we last hung out). He showed us some of his awesome toys in his play room, and then he had fun jumping off an ottoman onto a massive, pillowy, stuffed sheep chair. He’s also a natural in front of the camera. Look at that smile and pose!

Harrison was born just two months ago, and he’s at that super sweet age where his eyes search everything and he’s smiling a bit. The blanket in these images below was knitted by Harrison’s grandmother, Linda (Bryce’s mom).

After the shoot at their house, and a little lunch, we all went to the Colorado Railroad Museum in Golden. This place is awesome. Locomotives and cabooses of all kinds, a Galloping Goose engine that makes circuits, and all sorts of memorabilia in the gift shop. I’m not a model-train collector by any stretch, but we’re definitely hitting this place up when our child is old enough to love it like Oliver does.

Thanks to Marni and Bryce for such an awesome shoot. Really fun, really engaging and easy-going. What more could a photographer ask for? We had a blast!

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Last Wednesday, I joined my first Meetup group at a Northglenn studio to learn a few high-key photography techniques. Pretty cool group. It was lead by Bill Murphy and our model for the evening was the lovely Julie Jensen.

There were quite a few photogs on the scene, which took some getting used to for me. Julie had to bounce around a bit to keep track of the paparazzi vibe, but in the end, we all learned a great deal and had a great time in the process.

The set-up at North Denver Photographers Studio was fantastic, and it is available for rent (and quite affordable, too). Certainly plan to do headshot, modeling and family portraits there in the future… They have a white cyc wall, which is a perfectly curved, seamless wall. There were also a variety of umbrella and softbox lights to illuminate not only Julie but also the wall, which creates this bright, sunny effect (aka high-key). Let me know if you are interested in a customized shoot similar to this one.

Thanks to Bill, Julie and the other photographers. It was tons of fun.

(Click on images for a larger view)

Things just got a lot more interesting with Tanager Photography. On Wednesday, our new camera arrived: the Canon 5D Mark II, an upper echelon camera with an incredible 21.1 megapixel full-frame sensor and HD video capabilities. Paired with the Canon 40D we’ve been shooting with, we now have even more expanded coverage for weddings, portraits, events and of course, our travels.

So its been an interesting week beyond just the new camera. What’s Halloween in Colorado without 14 inches of new snow … in the city? We carved a pumpkin last night (OK … Hailey carved a pumpkin last night), and I plopped it on the porch to photograph it (above). I was blown away at how the 5D balanced the inner glow of the pumpkin, the moonlit sky, the street light, and the streaking traffic on Holly St.

Hailey is knitting a baby blanket for our child, which made for an interesting test subject. Same with lighting a match. On day one of the blizzard, Hailey baked some beer bread, which I promptly photographed fresh from the over. I feel like I’m just scratching the surface on this camera’s capabilities.

So here’s the big deal with the Canon 5D for me. The camera shoots at high ISO settings with little trouble. ISO basically means how sensitive the sensor is to light. The higher the number, the more sensitive, the better the camera does in lower light (like churches, indoors, dusk, etc.). Many cameras (40D included) do OK through 400 ISO. At 800 ISO, you are pushing it and asking for a bit of post-production work to have less grainy, less noisy images. I pushed the ISO to 3200 on some of these images, and experienced very little grain or noise in the image.

I’m sure I’ll be posting a lot of new stuff in the coming weeks. Hailey and I might even do a maternity shoot together. We’ll try to avoid cliches, but we certainly have a lack of baby bump images. Stay tuned.

Adam Huggins (below) is one of my best friends. We’ve known each other since our freshman year in college, and we really shouldn’t be friends anymore. Nothing personal. It’s just that freshman year was the only time in our lives that we lived near each other. He transferred to Wake Forest, and has lived in Birmingham, Richmond and now Nashville. Friendships normally don’t survive that, even in the era of Facebook. For God’s sakes: we were 18 the one time we hung out consistently.

I’m not bragging or trying to suggest that our friendship is made of brawn and steel. It is what it is. But somehow it’s stayed relevant and significant for both of us over the years (of course, a 72-hour trip to Hawaii to see U2 in 2006 — his idea, not mine — helped keep the glory days going).

So Adam is finally getting on with his life: he just finished his nine grueling years of med school and residency and is now a doctor — which means I expect to fly on his private jet to Ketchum, Idaho in the near future — and he met a wonderful girl, Tess, and married her in mid-August. Hailey and I flew up to Boise and drove to Ketchum for a spectacular four-day weekend to be a part of the festivities. Adam asked that I be one of his groomsman.

So as a wedding gift, we offered to photograph the rehearsal dinner, and these are some of those pictures. Adam was alright with it (he was hoping we’d get him a set of bamboo table runners from Crate + Barrel) as long as we enjoyed the evening at the same time.

First off, Ketchum is a gorgeous little town. It’s a special place for Tess, having lived there after college, and the way they did this wedding was perfect. They rented a big house for multiple families to stay in for the week, and then the backyard doubled as the ceremony and reception venue.

After we went through our ceremonial paces, everyone piled into a school bus for a one-hour ride north to the Galena Lodge for the rehearsal dinner. In the early evening light we passed through Hemingway’s country in all its glory — braided rivers, dense willows, robust pines and rolling mountains. Classic Idaho.

The Galena Lodge is a magnificent property. They ran carriage rides to the nearby ghost town on the hour, and the catering was pretty damn good.

Here are some images from the evening.

Adam’s Dad is also a doctor, and he gave a very moving toast to his son just before dinner. On a personal note, getting to know Adam’s family better was the highlight of the trip for me. Such a warm, kind, compassionate and generous group of people.

So as us groomsmen were standing around waiting for the ceremony to begin the next day, Adam brings up that he has an extra ticket to the U2 show, opening night, in Chicago, in early September. His friend Neil has to take a rain check and “it’s yours if you want it.”

“Thanks man,” I say. “Let me see what’s going on and crunch some numbers and see if I can make it work.”

This being Adam, yours if you want it quickly morphed into you’re coming, it’s been decided for you.

At the end of the night as we were saying our goodbyes and wishing the newlyweds the best, Adam shook my hand and said “I’ll see you in Chicago.” That’s Adam.

<<More on the Chicago trip in another post, but you can view video I shot of “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” on my Flickr page.>>

Well, I’m back. Been a long while since I’ve blogged, in part because of how busy things have been at work, plus, my Canon 40D needed to go into the shop, so I’ve been on a bit of a shooting haitus. And I’m not talking about a three-day stint at Metro Camera Service in Englewood for a sensor cleaning. I had to ship it to Canon’s Main Service Branch in California to have the shutter mechanism fixed. So, all is better now, as these test shots of cabernet grapes and backyard carrots indicate. However, the situation pushed me off the fence on acquiring a new camera, and so, this Wednesday, according to UPS, I’ll be getting a Canon 5D Mark II as my main ax. The 40D, loyal soldier from trips to Italy and Mexico, will still serve me, but as the backup and as Hailey’s camera, too.

So, just to update things, I thought I’d get these pics of our bumper crop online. Hailey faithfully tended to a veggie garden this year, and along with cherry tomatoes, rosemary, oregano and jalapenos, we had great success with carrots from seed. On Saturday, we pulled 50 out of the ground, and only stopped because we didn’t want them wilting in our fridge. Best to keep the last 50 or so in the ground and harvest them for Thanksgiving. And yes, we recommend washing them before cooking them. Less gritty that way.

In late August, we hosted Hailey’s brother and sister-in-law, Jason and Ali, for a few nights. They live in Richmond, Virginia, and they visit roughly once a year now that Hailey’s parents live in Boulder. You know me and my pet portrait projects — while they were here, I asked them to pose for some photos in front of the white backdrop. Something playful and childish … like blowing bubbles. Why? Because we’re working on a series of white seamless portraits for the nursery.

That’s right: Hailey and I are having a baby. March 4 is the due date, and we’re determined to have the little one surrounded by our loved ones every night.

Uncle Jason and Aunt Ali are naturally playful (heck, we even bought the bubbles at the grocery store on the way home from putt-putt golf).

The bubble gun came with a blue hippopotamus-type creature who exclaims “bubbles make me silly!” when you squeeze its stomach. This provided a good ten minutes worth of laughs from Jason.

Right now Hailey is beginning to show and the baby is making a few moves of its own. In 10 days, we find out if it is a boy or a girl. It gets more and more real with each passing day. I’ll do my best to make sure this doesn’t become a baby blog, but rest assured, this will be one of the most photographed kids in history.

We’ll be seeing Jason and Ali again for Christmas in Richmond, along with Hailey’s parents, her grandmother and her aunt and family. Should be an extra joyous occasion this year.

And here is the final set from Jacqie and Ken’s wedding. You can see parts 1 and 2 here. We did portraits at the church and then moved to their reception at The Ridge at Castle Pines North. Beautiful spot.

Congratulations to both of them. It was an honor to photograph their wedding … here’s to many happy years to come.

(Click on each image for a larger view)

Jacqie and Ken were married on August 12 in Castle Rock. Here is part 2, with images from the ceremony and immediately after.

At my wedding, my brother’s words to me before walking down the aisle were “on occasions like this, there’s no difference between the sacred and the profane.” Things don’t go perfectly, and that’s part of the fun. I love the spontaneity of shooting a wedding, and the pictures above capture one of those moments. During the ceremony, a bridesmaid’s hair clip got caught in the maid of honor’s veil. It brought a few chuckles in the front pew, and a round of smiles from Jacqie and Ken.

I’ll have more portraits and images from the reception later this week.

Jacqie and Ken got married on August 12th in Castle Rock, and Hailey and I were honored to be their photographers. You may remember their engagement setting at Confluence Park back in March. At that time, it was clear these two were meant for each other. Both were easy going, funny, and full of laughs, and amazingly enough, that’s exactly how they were on their wedding day, too.

Here are images from before the ceremony. I’ll devote posts in the coming days to the service, portraits and reception.

As with all of my posts, you can view a larger version by clicking on each image … especially handy for the huge bridesmaid collage I have below.

Ah, summer. You roll in all seductive and lazy in early June and spoil us with rain, greenery, bursts of sunlight and the desire to barbecue everything in sight. You treat us well, and then seemingly overnight you abandon us to the moodiness of fall. We didn’t know what we had until we lost you.

Summer’s end is certainly weighing heavily on me these days. Not that I can’t handle the cold — it’s that I can’t handle the torrid pace of life. September: it’s next week. My God.

It’s been a snap-happy time for me and my shutter release. There was the trip to Steamboat Springs for the Balloon Rodeo, the remarkable reunion of the Reitzugs, a portrait session with Michaelanne Dehner, and three weddings (only one of which I’ve had time to post just yet). In the midst of it all, I managed to go backpacking zero times. I’m fairly certain I won’t even get a chance next summer either, but “woah is me.” I live in Colorado, one of the world’s most beautiful places, and I’m healthy and so is Hailey, and the future: oh, it couldn’t be brighter.

So, without more rambling, here are summer’s loose ends of photographs — little spare bits that didn’t quite fit into the story line of any blog posts, whether past or future. At the top, glacier lilies near Buffalo Pass. In early July, I went hiking with Tim Lamberton (below right) and bagged my 21st wilderness area — the midway point to bagging all of them in Colorado.

At left is me at my favorite place in Colorado — Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve. We stopped there en route to New Mexico for the family reunion. My cousin Nick, his wife Guilia and their adorable son Lorenzo (below) paid us a visit for a few days before hand, and since they were coming from Rome, well, how could you not see the Great Sand Dunes? We had to go, and Lorenzo had to fulfill his playing-in-the-muck quotient for this trip to America.

Once in New Mexico, we did countless things — among them the ambitious white seamless project, but we also did a half-day bug hunt with the fourth generation. That’s my nephew Isaiah (below right), pointing at the grasshoppers. The Nuggets jersey? His favorite piece of clothing. He doesn’t know who the Denver Nuggets are, let alone the first thing about basketball. He loves it because his favorite food is chicken nuggets. I love that boy.

And finally, a few golf shots from our recent trip to Idaho for Adam Huggins’ wedding. That’s Adam (below left), teeing up on the eighth at Sun Valley’s amazing golf course.

The views from the course — like this one from the second tee — were astounding. I love Idaho. Plan to go back when we have kids.

And as for golf course photography … yeah, I could definitely get into that.

Thanks for letting me have an indulgent and aimless blog post. Coming up: more from Adam and Tess’ wedding, a trash the dress shoot with Jodi and John, and a whole slew of great shots from Jacqie and Ken’s wedding.

(Click on each photo for a larger version)

Last week I was able to get a post up on my Mom’s amazing family, The Reitzugs — mainly, generations 1 and 2. Well, they’re back on the blog, this time, generations 3 (which I belong to) and 4. Rather than try to make sense of this massive family tree, I’ll just do this.

ABOVE: Elsa, daughter of my cousin Holly Rydel … I think I’ll entitle this sequence After Effects of a Blue Raspberry Lollipop.

ABOVE: Aidan, Jimmy and Nick Reitzug, sons of the oldest cousin in my generation, Joe Reitzug and his wife Stephanie.

ABOVE: Mark, Peter and Damian, three of the four Leonard boys (their brother Andrew, couldn’t make it to the reunion due to his house selling). As you can probably note from their choice in sunglass styles, they’re all outdoor-active types. Mark and Peter schooled me in soccer on the final night and they were, um … well, my teammates.

ABOVE: Mr. Andrew Gunnison Day. My nephew, my bud, and popular star of such previous blog posts as Us Kids Know and Christmas Cookie Sprinkle Snitchers.

ABOVE: Byron Lillie and Kate Balerud. Kate took the 40D from me at the tail end of the photo shoot and did a sequence of shots of Hailey and I jumping in the air in front of the white backdrop. Through no fault of Kate’s, they will not be posted on this blog. Let’s just say that I look like a complete bozo.

ABOVE: Alex Reitzug, son of Aunt Maria, trampoline extraordinaire and a fellow photog.

ABOVE: Isaiah and Jeremiah Day, my nephews. See also Us Kids Know and Christmas Cookie Sprinkle Snitchers.

ABOVE: Amy Bierman and Randy Rydel (left); Rebecca Reitzug (right). Amy and Randy are roughly the same age as Hailey and I, and we spent a good deal of time hanging out with them at the reunion, including two memorable meals in downtown Santa Fe. I also got to know Rebecca better this go around … we’re about 10 years apart, but with each reunion, those age gaps matter less.

ABOVE: Quinlan and her mom, Mary Beth TeSelle. At left, Quinlan is showing off her fabulous Fourth-of-July-themed rub-on tattoo.

ABOVE: Nick and Guilia Reitzug with their son Lorenzo (left); Stela Reitzug (right). Nick and Guilia live in Rome, and were kind enough to host us for a few nights when we visited last year. This year, we got a chance to reciprocate in Denver, and carpool down to the reunion in New Mexico (with a stop at the Great Sand Dunes). My cousin Stela is headed to Kosovo right now for missionary work. She’s originally from Albania, so the trip is holding great significance for her.

ABOVE: Elsa with her grandpa Mat (left); my mom Angie with her oldest brother Henry (right). OK, so this isn’t generations 3 and 4 as promised, but I had to include them because they are two of my absolute favorite shots. If you are wondering where my preoccupation with cameras comes from, look no further than the ‘Zugs.

And finally, I have to include a shot Hailey took of me with my mom Angie and brother Ben. Dad had to return to Denver the day before, so we’ll have to do a reshoot to get the true family portrait.

As soon as the family book and family tree are done, you know me, I’ll get another blog post up. I loved this gig, and am looking forward to shooting more family reunions, especially with the white backdrop.

Contact me if I can offer this service at one of your own family reunions.

(For a larger view of each photo, click on the image)

I’m finally getting around to posting images from a very personal project I did over the Fourth of July weekend, something that had been a year in the making. Hailey and I were in Los Alamos, New Mexico for the Reitzug Family Reunion, a once-every-threeish years kinda event that centers on my mom’s incredible family of 8 siblings (she has three sisters and four brothers) plus all their kids, grandkids and now great-grandkids.

The Reitzugs, in many ways, are a classic American story — a family of German immigrants who sought opportunity in Indiana in the 1950s. My grandparents endured WWII in East Prussia, as well as the economic difficulties immediately after in West Germany where they settled. Knowing this backstory — and seeing where the family is today — is part of what makes these reunions so extraordinary.

This family never ceases to amaze and humble me with their togetherness, their charm, their love and their deep friendship with one another. I’ve oriented this post on the siblings, the eight children of Nikolaus and Elisabeth Reitzug, my grandparents. My next post will open it up to the fun and shenanigans we had with my cousins and their kids.

Above is my Uncle Mat (left), my Omi (center) and Uncle Rick (right).

This is Omi, my loving and kind grandmother. As I schemed out this portrait project over the last few months, this image of her was exactly what I was hoping for. A portrait of the Reitzug spirit — confident, charming, fun loving, good natured and compassionate. When it was Omi’s turn to step in front of the white seamless backdrop, she hammed it up a bit and gave me that smile she’s known for. This was about midway into the shoot, and by then nearly the entire family was gathering around to watch, laugh with and tease one another. It truly lightened the mood and made for an unconventional family portrait session.

Above are the two oldest siblings, my Uncle Henry (in the left photo) and Aunt Monika (in the right photo) with their spouses, Anne and Ed, respectively. Henry is my godfather and did a reading at our wedding. He’s an incredible individual who has volunteered with Northwest Medical Team, an organization that does similar work as Doctors Without Borders. Last summer he was in Darfur for a few weeks.

Monika and Ed live in Massachusetts and have four amazing sons spread out around the world. You’ll see a great shot of three of them in the next post.

Above left is my mom, Angelika, with my brother Ben. At right is my Uncle Rick with his wife Mary. Rick is a professor and is a passionate advocate for the rebuilding of New Orleans. He’s made several trips down there to volunteer in the clean up and rebuilding efforts.

Continuing down the line we have my Uncle Mat (left, with his wife Connie) and our reunion hosts, my Aunt Maria and her husband Bill. Both Mat and Maria were frequent visitors in Denver when I was growing up, so its always fun to reconnect with them at these events. Maria’s oldest son Alex is also a passionate photographer and he spent a weekend with Hailey and I in 2008.

Also last year, when Hailey and I went to Seattle, we were able to have dinner with Mat and Connie one night. They’re an extraordinary couple: two people you could chat with for hours. At this reunion, we dined out again with them, this time with their son Randy and his wife Amy, as well as Peter, one of Monika’s sons (are you confused yet? That’s really my goal). It was an epic two-hour dinner at my favorite place in Santa Fe, Cafe Pasqual. Look it up if you’re ever down there.

Moving along, the seventh sibling is Marcy, pictured here with her husband Gustavo and son Jacob. Gustavo is Ecuadorian, and at the last reunion, he gave us some perspective on the country we were about to visit in spring. This go around, we let him know how that trip went. I haven’t blogged much about Ecuador, mostly because I set the blog up more than a year later. It’s where we photographed the tanagers. Anyhow, Gustavo is always the star during the traditional Reitzug Reunion soccer game, although this year (sorry Gustavo) he might have been shown up by my cousin Stela. (Once again, are you keeping track of all these names?).

Finally, there is my Uncle Chris, the youngest in the family. He’s pictured above with his daughter Emily, and at right is his wife Sherri and their son Zach. I love that shot of them. For some perspective, Chris is a year older than my Uncle Henry’s oldest son Joe. There are pictures of the two of them, uncle and nephew, playing in the sandbox together. Again, I know that this must be confusing … all the more reason to do this kind of project and bundle it into an interactive family tree so that it makes sense. Not that I’m promoting a new product from the folks at Tanager Photography and HeyDay Creative or anything—

Chris deserves a huge thank you. On Saturday evening, his last evening at the reunion, he asked if I was going to set up my photo booth and do this project. I’d been on the fence about it all night — people were all spread out, and the kids were all ecstatic at the pile of Legos Maria had provided at her house. Bottom line, I didn’t want to bother people and I was psyching my self out. The whole project seemed overwhelming, and I was having too much fun just conversing with folks.

But Chris and Amy (my sister-in-law) gave me a nudge and offered to help set up and wrangle people together. It got the project off the ground, and I was able to photograph the few people leaving the next day. On Sunday morning, after that initial ice-breaker, I set up the studio all over again and everything just clicked. Most of the images in this blog and the next post occured in a one hour span before church.

So an enormous thank you to Chris and Amy for the big nudge to get going on this project. And a huge thank you to the entire Reitzug clan for diving head first into it. I really appreciate it, and hopefully, when the family tree and bound photo book is all done in the autumn, the Reitzug family will, too.

Here is part 2 from John and Jodi’s wedding. While it rained (and that’s putting it lightly … it poured for a good two hours), we headed into downtown Evergreen and called an audible. Our plan was to do the post-ceremony portraits at Elk Meadow Park, but, well … like I said, it was pouring.

So we stopped at the Evergreen Hotel (above) which has a good old fashioned Western lobby. These seats seemed perfectly situated for royalty.

We also did a series of portraits outside on the covered patio that stretches from the hotel to the Little Bear Tavern, a roadhouse bar with a raucous vibe. After the shoot, John and Jodi ducked into the tavern where a lot of their guests were already passing an hour or two between the ceremony and reception. The roadhouse band on stage crooned a bit of Elvis for the newlyweds, and they had the first of three first dances. Little was going accordingly to plan, but that’s weddings for you. Spontaneity is the key.

By 6pm, the party moved the Evergreen Lake House and the weather eased a bit. Here’s Jodi dancing with Dad. They had a tremendous band called Alive on Arrival.

The below cupcake was an additional treat to the cake, and Jodi and John were generous to include two for Hailey and I. I normally don’t care for sweets, but I’d drive 100 miles to eat one again.

All in all, a beautiful day. You can see a bigger portfolio of images on my portfolio site, and please leave a comment in the box below if you are a guest and would like me to send you the link to their Pictage image gallery where you can see the complete set and order prints. Please be sure to include your email.

Congratulations to John and Jodi.

A few weeks ago, Hailey and I were honored to photograph the wedding of John and Jodi. They were married at Christ the King Catholic Church in Evergreen and had their wedding reception at the Evergreen Lake House on Evergreen Lake.

Jodi, John and I met back in April at a coffeehouse in Denver to collaborate and discuss the details. It was clear early on that their love of the mountains, the outdoors and nature was a central part of their lives and would be reflected on their big day.

So Jodi asked that before the ceremony, we get a picture of her dress hanging from a pine tree.

We had just enough time before the rains set in to do a round of pre-ceremony portraits. This has been an unusually wet summer in Colorado, and this day was no exception. The skies were fairly cloudy through about 2pm and then the rains came in for a good four hours. However, I’ve always heard that rain on a wedding day is good luck, and I believe it: It rained on my wedding day!

Jodi’s cousin Amy designed the programs to the wedding (above).

Later this week, I’ll post more images of the post-ceremony shots from the Evergreen Hotel, the Little Bear (a local hangout where they popped in for a bit) and the reception.

(Click on the images for a larger version)

And now for something completely different. After shoots #1 (simple, elegant) and #2 (girl next door), Mikey wanted to go a little more edgy and mysterious for the last shoot. It was a great opportunity to assemble the ABR800 ringflash I got back in February and turn it up to 11.

This set against the light blue wall are my favorites. The vibrant electric color works amazingly well with Michaelanne’s megawatt voice.

As is sometimes the case, the best shots happen when you are running out of time. We’d reserved the Eliot Street Collective from 5:30 to 8:30pm, and this whole last shoot happened in about 20 minutes.

Thanks to Michaelanne for her creativity, her collaboration and willingness to try so many different things during this shoot. It was a helluva lotta fun.

If anyone out there on the Front Range/Denver needs head shots, give me a call.

And if you need a singer in the Front Range/Denver area, I know someone who can shatter glass.

(Click on the images for a larger view)

Here’s more from the photo shoot with Michaelanne Dehner. With the second set we first aimed for a girl-next-door look that morphed into a more playful, energetic shoot in front of the white backdrop.

I’ll post the third and final shoot in the coming days.

(Click on images to see larger versions)

Michaelanne Dehner does it all: she rides show horses, she runs marathons, she climbs mountains, she acts and she can sing. And I don’t mean that she can harmonize with a song on the radio — she can sing. She can wail. She can sing in front of 50,000 baseball fans. Here’s a video of her performing the national anthem before a Colorado Rockies game at Coors Field. I was there, and it was the most rousing rendition of it I’ve ever heard.

This summer she’ll be singing the national anthem at Invesco Field at Mile High before a Denver Outlaws game. So, a few weeks ago, we met to shoot a series of headshots so she can land more of these types of singing gigs.

Our location was at the Eliot Street Collective in the Highlands neighborhood of Denver. It’s a cool little mixed-use space with exposed brick, gorgeous hardwood floors, bright colors and lots of natural light.

We did three shoots, with three different wardrobes, each striving for a different mood. Shoot #1 was going for simple, delicate, approachable, natural and mellow.

I’ll be posting Shoots #2 and #3 later in the week.

First off, a note on why this blog has been so unbelievably void of updates. I’ve been super busy with the usual summer things — weddings (both as a guest and as a photographer), trips (just did 36 hours in Boston), yard work — so I apologize that things have fallen off the snide. That will change shortly. Just did two very substantial shoots last weekend — headshots and a wedding, so those will be posted soon. I also have a Reitzug Family reunion this week in New Mexico, and I’m hoping to complete a white seamless portrait project with all 60-some relatives. More on that later.

While in San Miguel de Allende, Hailey and I took a class at the Sazón Cooking School. I thought I’d take a second and upload some images from it. Not much of a narrative, but it was certainly a worthwhile experience. Our instructor was Chef Paco Cárdenas (pictured at top) of the well-known and highly regarded El Petit Four Patisserie in San Miguel de Allende. He was incredibly energetic, passionate and thoughtful, and it made for a wonderful two hours on the Thursday afternoon we spent there.

He made a traditional homecooked meal of dried shrimp cakes with molé and romaritos (a grass-like herb) and topped it off with a buñelo, a deep-fried sugar-dusted Mexican cookie (below right). The class was quite affordable, and I’d highly recommend it if you are spending ample time in San Miguel de Allende. It breaks the mold a bit and its nice to head home with new skills in the kitchen.

Paco was very amiable, and the next day (Good Friday) Hailey and I stopped by his bakery for breakfast. It was incredible. Moist pasteries, good coffee and a clean, well-lit place to contemplate whatever.

On Saturday evening, as we walked the town taking pictures of doorways and the like, an SUV pulled up alongside us and honked the horn. It was Paco behind the driver seat, checking in to make sure we were enjoying San Miguel de Allende. The traffic was stopped behind him, but no one seemed to mind. Such is the spirit of the place.

{Note: I have created a slideshow of the best images from Good Friday on my portfolio website. Please visit, and let me know your impressions. Critiques are welcome in the comments box below}

Somewhere, buried in the emotions and endurance of Holy Week’s brutal processions was a story angle. A child walking in their first parade, an old centurion wearing his Roman helmet and armor for the 40th straight year, a devout gringo who signed on and was carrying a shrine to St. Peter. I wanted to know about them, understand them and retell their story in some way.

But as the stream of parishioners flowed out of Oratorio de San Felipe Neri into San Miguel de Allende’s streets, it was clear that I was only going to encounter these personal tales on the surface. I was wedged between a hulky teenager and a posse of expat Texas housewives at a nearby intersection, legs locked, with little mobility, and, oh yeah, little command of Spanish. The writer in me would never get to the bottom of these stories. I was merely an observer with a 200mm lens.

This was to be the ultimate spectacle of the week: the funeral procession of the savior. Hundreds of the faithful dressed in all black, or in the garb of period piece re-enactment, waltzing somberly to the slowest drumbeat on Earth. After high noon’s broiling crucifixion ceremony, standing through five more hours of slow-motion walking might sound like torture, but it wasn’t. All I can say is that sometimes the mystery of something can captivate you so much that time, bloodless legs and cooking skin are rendered insignificant.

“You’ve found the best spot in all of San Mee-gul. How’d ya know?” asked one of the Texans. She had bleach-blonde hair that was tamed into a bob by what could only be called an ample amount of hair spray.

“I guess its because we came early and scouted where we wanted to be,” I remarked.

“Well, you’ll get great pictures from here. I do every year, but you’ve got a better camera.” It’s true, I did, but I was paying for it with a spine that had been twisted severely from the awkward weight of my camera bag and its multitude of lenses. Such is the price of devotion to a hobby.

Then again, my devotion was nothing by comparison. Take for instance, the women in black. Caught between the need to dress sufficiently dark and somber, and the need to look graceful, many of them shouldered the weight of the massive altars on top of severe, four inch heels. The simple physics equation of doing so — on cobblestones no less — befuddled Hailey.

As the minutes passed, I came to realize that we may have had the best spot in the city for viewing the procession. It hung a sweeping left turn in front of us, affording a 270-degree view as it went by. An hour into the parade, the sun passed low enough down the street to allow for amazing backlighting conditions. Flooded with sun, my 24mm, 50mm and 200mm lenses were capturing an ethereal light that washed the images with warmth.

Nothing was done the easy way during Holy Week. Midway through, music was provided by an actually orchestra, who carried their instruments — from flutes to timpanis — through the streets. Eventually, the casket and shrine of Christ — a massive 10-foot tall structure of wood, brass, glass, plaster and flowers — was ushered through the crowd by 20 men.

We were 100 yards from the starting and ending point of the procession — the Oratorio San Felipe Neri — and after the casket and shrine to Christ passed, the corridor of people dispersed and reorganized to accommodate the parade’s return. Just as they did, the front of the snaking procession (pictured below) appeared down the street in the late evening light.

By now, we were three and a half hours in, and somehow, someway, each character in the procession remained true to their part, even the children.

We stayed until nightfall — five total hours — and quietly watched as the casket and shrine of Christ passed through a corridor of lit lanterns. The crushed plants that the angels had sprinkled on the pavement (a mixture of herbs and daisies) were scattered across the cobbles, a pleasing but biting smell of tarragon hanging in the air. But as the parade rounded the last turn to head back into the church, a cleaning crew — an army of sweepers and blowers positioned in a V formation around a sanitation truck — turned the tranquil, meditative street into a buzzing dustbowl. Good Friday had come to a close.

{Note: I have created a slideshow of the best images from Good Friday on my portfolio website. Please visit, and let me know your impressions. Critiques are welcome in the comments box below}

Just outside San Miguel de Allende lies a village named San Luis Rey, where the Passion is enacted with such brutal devotion on Good Friday, they actually tie three men to crosses and hang them up in the hot sun. Such is the intensity of faith in this part of Mexico.

But in San Miguel de Allende, it was appearing that Good Friday was just as much a spectacle for visitors as it was a community event. What had seemed like a sleepy hamlet in the middle of nowhere on Monday, had by Friday become the center of attention. El Jardin — the charming tree-lined square set underneath La Parroquia — was swarming with Mexicans on vacation, gringos clammering for a spot on the parade route, and Indian women aggressively selling dolls. By the time the procession began to flow from the stairsteps of La Parroquia, the hot April sun was directly overhead, the makings of a sunburn and a brain-boiling headache underway.

A steady drumbeat once again set the even and slow pace. Women in all black lead with a large altar bearing a sculpture of Mary, followed by a small boy in a purple tunic carrying a skull. More children followed, dressed as angels or wisemen with beards painted across their cheeks, and then the centurions — the brutish, stone-faced warriors who were so effectively played by the men of the town. They marched with a swagger and a touch of subtle arrogance, as if they were the embodiment of man’s flawed sense of justice.

Pontius Pilate emerged, a sneer spread across his face as the hot wind blew his white cape. He lurched from step to step, stopped, produced a microphone, and read the death sentence of Christ to the hushed crowd.

As the drum beat picked up and the procession threaded through the streets, barefoot men in purple robes with thorny crowns followed in twos bearing large wooden crosses, and just beyond them…

…two shirtless men, tied to posts with nails dramatically positioned as if they’d been nailed through their palms. These were the two thieves who had been crucified alongside Christ, and they were covered with rusty paint to signify their profuse bleeding.

Two centurions handled them with a taunt rope, and occasionally would unleash a ghastly flog across the men’s back. The audience gasped in horror, an exasperation of disbelief that these men were actually being whipped. Despite all of the gringo tourists (and I do not pretend that I was not one of them), Good Friday would not resign itself to a quaint cultural festival. This was the supreme sacrifice, a moment of deep meaning and transcendence, and by reenacting the cruelty of their savior’s death, these people were somehow closer and more intimate with his suffering. It was a level of devotion that was all at once remarkable and rare.

The thieves were followed by a richly decorated altar of Christ carrying the cross, and then more figures on more altars — St. Peter, Mary Magdalene, Joseph — each weighing a few hundred pounds and bearing the scent of lilies. Scattered girls dressed as angels dropped herbs and petals on the streets. It was a beautiful set of contrasts and juxtapositions. Pain, suffering, death. Beauty, rebirth and fragility.

The parade redefined our notions of endurance; we had thought we were enduring physical distress just by standing, locked legs, in the 100-degree heat. As the parade tapered off, we ducked back into El Jardin’s shade and I quickly deleted images I knew were no good. A blocked face here, an out-of-focus subject there. In a mere 45 minutes I had fired off 300-some shots.

As the procession circled back to the square, we headed back out into the sun and found a prime viewing spot for its return. The procession’s players were looking exhausted: the angels seemed restless, the men behind their fake beards were clearly melting, and the barefoot devotees who had carried their crosses through town for 90 minutes looked utterly spent.

And then again, there were the two thieves — one looking down the whole time, the other gazing into the distance. A centurion flogged the older of the two, who winced and then returned to his far-off gazing. Guilt spread on the centurion’s face, a moment of humanity in a role of utter brutality.