Tag Archives: street photography

Mojo Nola

Posted on by Bill Chance

Banjo Player on Royal Street in the French Quarter, New Orleans

(Click for a larger and more detailed image on Flickr)

I only had a dollar left
and I gave it to the
Beautiful Girl
Playing the Banjo
on Royal and singing a simple sweet country tune.

My little dollar joined the sparse cluster of crumpled green in her banjo case on the sidewalk
– I saw there was a kazoo in there too
What else is there to spend your last dollar on?
Except for bus fare home. So it looks like a long walk on some sore and tired feet.
I wanted to take her picture and I didn’t want to do that without leaving at least a dollar.

I would have left more, but, like I said, that was my last. I wonder if it would mean anything to her – the banjo playing girl – if she knew it was my last dollar?

In the St. Louis Cemetery #1 there is a vault that was donated and is dedicated to the musicians of New Orleans that can’t afford to pay for their own burial.

Banjo Player on Royal Street, French Quarter, New Orleans

(Click for a larger and more detailed version on Flickr)

Writing in my Moleskine Journal outside the Mojo Lounge, Decatur Street, French Quarter, New Orleans

(Click for a larger and more detailed version on Flickr)

Plaque on the Musician’s Tomb, Saint Louis Cemetery #1, New Orleans.

Faces in the City

Posted on by Bill Chance

 

 

“Man was made for joy and woe
Then when this we rightly know
Through the world we safely go.
Joy and woe are woven fine
A clothing for the soul to bind.”

― William Blake

Barista in the Mirror

Posted on by Bill Chance

At Opening Bell Coffee

Barista in the mirror

May the embers from the open hearth warm your hands,
May the sun’s rays from the Irish sky warm your face,
May the children’s bright smiles warm your heart,
May the everlasting love I give you warm your soul.

—-Trad. Irish Blessing

 

Tattoo U

Posted on by Bill Chance

Man has no Body distinct from his Soul; for that call’d Body is a portion of Soul discern’d by the five Senses, the chief inlets of Soul in this age.

William Blake – The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, plate 4, “The Voice of the Devil”

Next Stop

Posted on by Bill Chance

Spring Valley Station, DART

””And we are put on earth a little space,
That we may learn to bear the beams of love,”

William Blake From SONGS OF INNOCENCE

Free Tacos

Posted on by Bill Chance

At the Main Street Garden Park, Dallas, Texas. I don’t know why they were giving out free tacos.

The Cutest Fans

Posted on by Bill Chance

Two little girls ran down to the front of the crowd at the Hard Night’s Day concert. The band said they were their, “Cutest fans ever.” Hard to argue.

At Main Street Garden Park

Posted on by Bill Chance

I rode my bike through Downtown Dallas, stopping at a few spots here and there to take some shots. This is at the Main Street Garden Park.

Main Street Garden Park, Dallas, Texas

Bring me my Arrows of desire

Posted on by Bill Chance

At the Cottonwood Art Festival, Richardson, Texas.

William Blake, from Milton a Poem (better known as the anthem Jerusalem)

And did those feet in ancient time.
Walk upon Englands mountains green:
And was the holy Lamb of God,
On Englands pleasant pastures seen!

And did the Countenance Divine,
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here,
Among these dark Satanic Mills?

Bring me my Bow of burning gold;
Bring me my Arrows of desire:
Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my Chariot of fire!

I will not cease from Mental Fight,
Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand:
Till we have built Jerusalem,
In Englands green & pleasant Land

Tyger

Posted on by Bill Chance

At the Cottonwood Art Festival, Richardson, Texas.

Click for a larger version on Flickr

William Blake – The Tyger

Tyger, Tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears
And water’d heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger, Tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?