"Springsteen," New York January 2006

Strumming

I had just bought my new digital SLR after the New Year and was itching to use it. The cold, gray winter days didn't provide much inspiration, but I did stop at a park overlooking the Hudson River during my lunch break on one sunny day. I took pictures of the George Washington Bridge, the New York skyline, Yonkers, and even leaves on the ground and cracks in the sidewalk -- anything to try out the camera.

But then I saw that the New York Guitar Festival was going to open with a tribute to Bruce Springsteen's Nebraska, a bare-bones solo acoustic album he put out in 1982 but recorded on a four-track recorder in his bedroom in 1981 (thus the "25th anniversary" arc for the festival's staging of the songs). They brought together a collection of artists to interpret each track as they wished, so we decided to go, for free, to hear a great album played live. And I figured I'd get to really try out my new camera.

I also had a slight suspicion that Springsteen himself might drop in.

At one point, I left my wife standing off to the side where it was less crowded and there was a wall to lean on or sit against and moved into the crowd to get a clearer shot of the artist on stage, Laura Cantrell, who was signing "Used Cars." As I lowered my camera after taking this picture, my cell phone rings. I see it's Casey, who is no more than 50 feet away. I'm already heading back to her, so I don't answer it.

"He's here!" she says to me. I turn around to see that I'd just passed him. I retreat and approach him, brushing him on the arm to get his attention. (It may have been a bit of a "grab," but I don't think it was that extreme.) He stops and turns, we shake hands and I simply say I love what he does and thank him for doing it. He responds, though I have no idea what he says. It may have been along the lines of, "Thank you. I appreciate it," as his wife, Patti, smiles and says hello.

I then leave them alone and take a few pictures of their silhouettes in the darkness of the Winter Garden at the World Financial Center in Lower Manhattan. Though he was recognized, maybe only one or two other people approach him. Had I not reached him while he was still walking in, I doubt I would have, either, choosing instead to let them enjoy watching other artists interpret his work from nearly a generation ago.

As the album nears its end -- the artists came out to perform them in the order they appear on the album -- Bruce and Patti make their way to the side of the stage, where he goes over some lyrics with the festival's founder. Then he gets on stage to sing Woody Guthrie's "Oklahoma Hills" with the full roster of musicians.

It put the perfect cap on a magical musical night.

"The Nebraska road," May 2006

The Nebraska road

Nebraska Route 71 seems infinite, a straight line to the horizon, disappearing over the slightest bulge in the landscape, no doubt continuing straight on the other side.

"Route 71, Nebraska," May 2006

"Route 71, Nebraska," May 2006

The road challenge was sent out just five days before I stepped on a plane bound for Denver and a week-long road trip with my college roommate. So although my photo archives are stocked with road trip pictures and, like this one, literal images of the road, I wanted to wait until I was back from the trip to submit to this challenge, even if it was a few weeks late.

This may be a common, even pedestrian shot to represent the road, but it's the one I decided to go with because of that in some ways, and because this is an image that brings up questions: Where is this? Where does it lead? Why am I here? Such an open and empty stretch of road -- in such an open and sparsely populated section of America -- is no doubt well-known to those who live on or near it, relying on it to get from their homes to any number of places. A map of the region shows that there are only so many options when traveling by car in southwest Nebraska.