Death

Death, inescapable for us all, provides this life’s ultimate goad to step up and do something. Like move to an island. On this island, there isn’t more death, but there is more preservation of mortal remains. Aridity, and a dash of salt, works wonders. Most of the dead we find are partially mummified. Some of the dead have already been skeletonized, and those tend to be discombobulated; here a femur, there a rib, the scattered remnants of some living’s dinner. A very few are fresh. Every once in a while, my wife shouts, “National Geographic!” and she means that old-school. By now I know to drop what I’m doing and raise my glass, hunting for action. “National Geographic!” often means there’s an event unfolding that warrants a camera’s agenda-less witness. A Blau-Blau devouring a Striped Anole – but I missed that one. Or, Look!, a feral trail dog is catching an adult iguana and shaking it lifeless, before parading his prize. Sometimes the objects of these images are trainwrecks, a little gory, but sometimes they are simply beautiful, like an empty seashell. The lizard mummy was found in our apartment, resting peacefully on the hammock; yes, that’s some sort of insect larvae where its eye sunk in.

Lenses run the gamut, because death is tough to anticipate. I shoot what I see with what I’ve got snicked into the camera body, whether that’s a Canon EF 70-200mm f/2.8L IS III USM or my go-almost-everywhere Lensbaby Velvet 28. Add the Lensbaby Velvet 85 to this mix – it’s another fun walking-around lens.