LOVE LEFT

Couple on Street, London UK 2006 from the series UKOK

All reproduction rights reserved Wm. Greiner

I went out the back door

and you didn’t even see.

There’s just no love

left for me.

The lights are on,

the engines still running.

Look up, turn around

why can’t you love me.

We walk in circles,

round the kitchen sink.

I say hello

while you just stare and think.

No love left for me,

I just toss and turn.

The nightmares this causes,

why can’t I learn.

I went out the back door

and you did not see.

There’s just no love left,

not for you or me.

These Were GOD'S PEOPLE

A Bible History, New Orleans LA 2005

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Katrina-

I prayed you would never come and when you did

that you would not hurt anyone.

RUN

Route 98 at Dusk, Seagrove FL 2011
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can i run away today

can i be alone

the noise of cars and

things in my head just

rattle and roll.

can i run away today

and play on boats and trains.

even if i get caught

in darkness flying the plane.

the sound of rain

in my sleep, wakens

me, awakens me. the thunder

in my head, makes

me run away.

shattered glass

seems so hard to see

and when I sleep

it all reminds me,

to run, run away.

I see

Lost, Pacific Palisades CA 2009 from the series CALI DAYS

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“I always mistrust everything which I see,

which an image shows me, because I imagine what is beyond it.

And what is beyond an image cannot be known”

Michelangelo Antonioni

The Gray Ghost*

Abandoned Building, New Orleans LA 2003

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He is known around New Orleans, as the gray ghost. Some people love him and some hate him. Since 1997, he has driven around town in his van, with a bucket of battle ship gray paint covering anything resembling a tag or graffiti. People have varying opinions as to whether tagging and graffiti is art or vandalism, but it’s safe to assume the gray ghost considers it the latter.

*Fred Radtke , aka The Gray Ghost, was arrested and convicted in 2009 of defacing private property and waging his own personal crusade against grafitti. However, he is still active in the New Orleans area

Losing Diane

Diane on vacation, circa 2005 from the series CRUISE

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Diane was my mother's much younger step sister.
I was always close to her but as executor of my mother's estate, she lost i.e. “stole” millions of dollars. We sued her and her defense was temporary insanity, because at the time she was trying to quit smoking and she was taking some experimental smoking cessation medicine.

It went to trial and the judge found her guilty. She was placed in a mental facility outside of Baton Rouge, La. As I said, I was always close to her so even though she betrayed me, I would go visit her at the hospital. The hospital looked like some small suburban Baptist college campus. If it had had tennis courts, I could have seen myself residing there.

In any case, when I would go visit her, she would talk on incessantly about nothing. She appeared to be playing the part of crazy very well. Diane was there for about a

year and one day she disappeared into thin air. They still have not found Diane.

REMEMBERING RUSSIA

Birds, St. Petersburg Russia 2010 from the series CRUISE

All reproduction rights reserved Wm Greiner

I am not sure how many people can say that they watched each of their parents die. My mother died a few years ago, in a hospital, from complications of surgery. I held one hand, my sister, held the other and with one last breath our mother was gone. It was peaceful and not unexpected.

My dad has made the most of it since her passing. He has traveled a lot, mostly with one or two of his grown children in tow. Last year almost to a day, it was my sister and I with him on a cruise to Russia. My dad , although in good shape for his age , was 89 years old at the time.

We had spent all morning walking the grounds of a Russian palace. In the afternoon, we proceeded indoors, and up the long stairway to the second floor. My dad seemed to grow weaker, losing his breath, face turning ashen. He sat down, then passed out, falling to the floor. Shallow pulse, no color and not breathing.

I have learned that Russia is not the best place to get sick. I am just not sure about health care there, or at least emergency care. The nurse finally showed up with smelling salts and a stiff back hand. Yes, she slapped him, yelled at him and thrust the salts under his nose. I was positive he had expired.

In the moment, the only thing I could think to do was to turn my attention to my sister and console her. We had already done the death watch once. Ironically, my dad started to breath again, a pulse returned as did his color. After a bit of observation and a wait for the bus, we returned to the ship. He had no idea what had happened. He looked at us and said, "I'm hungry, you all ready for lunch".

I had no appetite that day and I never want to visit Russia again.

Jay McSorley RIP

Cane Field, Baton Rouge LA 2005 from Baton Rouge Blues

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Jay loved this photograph of mine and he was in the process of writing a story about it. Unfortunately, a story I can now only wonder about, but will never see.

Jay McSorley died today , in Iceland, of a heart attack.

Rest in Peace Jay.

A Better kind of War

Rugby Match, Reigate UK 2010 from the series UKOK

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I have always thought that all conflicts, wars, social unrest, feuds or personal disagreements should be fought on a playing field rather than a battle field.

The Dirt Road to Niceville

Dirt Road, near Niceville FL 2011

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It was either the beginning or the end of the road. I had passed it many times, but on this occasion I stopped. It was a hot and humid Florida morning. The kind of day that as soon as you shut the engine off, and the air conditioning stopped, you started sweating.

The lure of this location was the beautiful red dirt, the kind that blankets parts of Alabama. Except this sinuous country road was in Niceville, FL. How does a place get a name like Niceville? Is it because everyone smiles, waves as you pass or offers you lemonade if you stop, I wondered?

I began to make a few pictures in the very bright morning light. It was not ideal for making color photographs, too much contrast. I first heard the pick up truck coming, before I could see it. My first instinct was to start walking back to my car, not more than 30 yards away, on the main road. On second thought, I didn’t move but kept shooting pictures, or at least pretending I was.

I could now see the truck as it approached. It looked like a 1950’s Ford, partially painted this weird turquoise color. There were two men in the cab and two sitting in the back. They passed me without a look or a nod. It was as though I was not even there! I made a few more pictures, got back in my car and continued on my journey back home. It was a forgotten moment by the time I hit the Louisiana state line.

Months later, when I had returned to the Gulf, traveling down that same road, I stopped at a gas station. I overheard the convenience store clerk telling another traveler about the gruesome execution style murder which had occurred, a few months early.

It turns out, that road led to the camp of some right wing, separatist militants. The four guys in the truck, that I had seen that day, were headed out to kill someone. Anyone they considered a bleeding heart liberal. All I could think, is it was a nice day to be invisible in Niceville.

Thinking about Garbage

Dumpster, Baton Rouge LA 2011

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Looking at this photograph, I was wondering about all the things people have unintentioanlly thrown in the garbage. Money, art, gold, jewelry, diamonds, coins , mementos, keep sakes…photographs. And this made me think about all the children who spend their days in the garbage dumps of Brazil, searching for scraps and hoping to find such treasures. And this made me think about Vic Muniz, the photo based artist, who grew up dirt poor in Brazil and has worked with all these materials and more. And this makes me wonder, what really is garbage……..

WHEN IT'S ALL SAD and DONE

Building Facade, Baton Rouge LA 2011

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I cannot help but wonder, has it all been done?

I am speaking in terms of what in the world has not been photographed a million times in a million ways.

SEEN TO BE INVISIBLE

Thrift Store, Baton Rouge LA 2011

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I make photographs everywhere of everything with a real camera. Yesterday at a gas station/convenience store I started to drive away but I could not pass up a pick up truck parked in front. I was now double parked, blocking it and a parking space next to the truck. I snapped away, as a car slipped by me and parked in the spot.

A man got out of the car and into the pick up truck. He started his engine, as if it were possible he did not see me.

SMOKING CRACK

Tennis Court, near Seagrove FL 2011

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I often describe my addiction to tennis as a crack habit.

However, I realize I am as addicted to making photographs.