Alix Passage » Fine Art

a few more from nyc

photocrati gallery

Though my favorite image from my day trip to NYC was used in my last post, I wanted to share a few others that I like from that day.

Like. Not love.

Each image has at least ONE thing I like about it. I like the prominent foreground, middle ground and background of the man hailing the cab. I like how the dry cleaning can either draw your eye left to right/back to front, or right to left/front to back.  I like the bicycle and it’s shadow; the Z shape created by the architecture, ladder and orange cones. I like the old woman’s precarious, flat-footed gait and her red handbag against the stark horizontal lines. I could go into what I don’t like about these images, but I’ll save you reading the next 5 pages of me ripping apart my own work. Just trying to focus on the positives here…

February 11, 2011 - 11:21 am

Ray Yeager - Love the guy calling for a cab!

Winston, on lunch.

Ex. Trap. O. Late.
Extra. Polate.

What syllables! What sounds! What a FABULOUS addition to WoW! Extrapolate is a wonderfully harmonious juxtaposition of long, sensual vowels bookended by hissing X’s and T’s. I like the seductive way I have to use my tongue and pout my lips, it gives me smarts AND sex appeal!

Extrapolate is one of those words you can add to your regular vocabulary without sounding pretentious like Dawson’s Creek or Dennis Miller. Oh Dennis, though your attempt to bring Monday Night Football’s education up to a High School English level is appreciated, it’s not worth ruining your career over. Football is a game for WARRIORS not language geeks. That’s why they’re kicking each others asses on the field and we’re up here with our faces buried in thesauruses looking for the perfect word to encompass it all.

My title, “Winston, on lunch.” (an homage to Orson Wells’ 1984, one of my all-time favorite books) encompasses what I infer from this image. What do you EXTRAPOLATE?


I’ve got a secret. And its dirty.
Not dirty like a $500 purse or the crush you have on your cousin. No. Dirty like HATE. Hate for that soiled and tortured part of my being. The part that my lip curls for, yet without it I would fade into the dreaded, menial throes of mediocrity. It’s dirty like an oil slick of shame that coats my soul, I wear inferiority and guilt like a brand. Sometimes I find myself gasping for air under the hand of self-loathing that clutches my throat.
While I sip french-pressed coffee with my pinkie in the air talking shit about hipsters, players, degenerates, hicks and money-hungry workaholics the hottie in the Aviators is talking shit about me.
The man with the handlebar mustache is snickering to the waitress.
I feel more transparent than the cheap condom that resulted in your birth. You’re even judging me while you read this. It makes me want to slice my flesh to the bone with the wall charger for my computer, then re-stimulate my dead muscles with my stolen electricity.
Just for affect.
I’ve got a dirty secret called despair. And I can’t live without it.
January 16, 2011 - 12:09 am

Ray - Your way with words is wonderful, now if you could only feel that way. The winter is a tough time. The way I look at it, get past January because February doesn’t really count. Then spring is staring you in the face. It’s only temporary, life is a circle and sooner or later the good feelings come around again.

FUNKy diva

No, this is not a reference to En Vogue’s 90’s era hit album. I’m feelin’ funky but not in a diva kind of way.

I’m in a funk. A wintertime, self-loathing, uninspired, why am I even trying funk.

My head is bursting with great ideas, but when I go to carry them out they are never as grand as I imagined. The worst part is, I don’t know what I need to get out of it. Shooting is obviously not helping. I took a drawing class a couple of weeks ago which didn’t have the effect I was hoping for. I’m craving travel, but financially it’s just not possible right now. Uuughhhh, that thought isn’t helping either. I feel alone, like I’m the only one who feels like this; like I’m some sort of circus freak who’s side-show is not being able to keep it together. Even now, I feel like I’m the only one who feels like the only one who feels like this.

Stupid, I know.

Ever the journaler, I originally wanted this blog to chronicle my crests and troughs as a photographer in search of creative enlightenment. Why do I feel like every post has to include a photo? Can’t I just vent a little? I’m emotional and wear my heart on my sleeve, maybe the more I share the better I’ll feel. Then again, maybe the more I share the more self-conscious I’ll feel until one day my social anxiety completely takes over and I just don’t get out of bed. I guess I won’t know till I try. I’m tired of pretending that everything in my life is hunky dory, sometimes I just gotta hate. I also don’t want to sound like I’m just bitching cause really, my life is pretty kick-ass.

Again, funk.

So here it is, my personal therapy in stream of conscious form. You can judge me or hug me, I’m gonna try not to care.

January 26, 2011 - 1:01 pm

Steph - “Cabinet,” pronounced, cab-ih-net, thanks to my 9 year old (at the time) sister.

A Taste of Ginger

Who doesn’t love a naked woman? Pretty much anyone can appreciate the natural beauty and sensuality of the female body, so when The Gallery 13 of Asbury Park, NJ where I am a resident photographer chose the female nude as our November exhibition, I was more than ecstatic. But I knew that I didn’t just want to shoot your typical, hourglass, long-legged, plump-breasted woman. I wanted someone with character. Someone with quirk. Someone real. When a friend introduced me to Ginger, I knew I had met the woman I was looking for; 4’5″ tall, 85 pounds and bald. Tres bonne! I am pleased with what I got during our wonderfully smooth session – most of which was done in my bathroom – and I share a few of them here.





January 26, 2011 - 1:19 pm

Christine - these are AMAZING! so unique and just breathtaking!

T w i t t e r
P u r c h a s e