The Corner of My Eye

Woman with Oranges | Mark Lindsay

One of my first ever discoveries as a young boy was the vision out of the corner of my eye. It was a murky and mysterious perspective when looking at things from the fringes of my field of vision. I'd try to perceive as much of the world as I could without staring directly at it. I'd practice, practice, then practice some more—as hard as I could—trying to make things clear out of the corner of my eye. I suppose my early love of photography had something to do with this; my very first lens was my eye and I was fascinated with it.

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A Trip to the Dump

Birds and Man at City Dump | Mark Lindsay

The only way to get to New York was to drive past the dump. We knew this as kids as we rode along Route 46 in New Jersey. The dump was in Pine Brook and you could smell it about two miles before you got there. "Ew, Pine Brook!" we'd screech, holding our noses. Back then they would burn the garbage right there in the open air. The mingling of acrid smoke and rotting garbage created an odor like no other. Although we pretended to hate the smell of the Pine Brook dump, we secretly anticipated it—looking forward to the peculiar odor added a little drama to the otherwise boring ride. Ever since then I've always loved garbage dumps.

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Connection

Venetian Barber | Mark Lindsay

I am a shy photographer. Rarely do I feel comfortable carrying my camera in a crowd. I take great pains to be invisible and to make myself less obvious. But—once I get lost in the process, once the light is right and I find something that captivates me—I forget to be self-conscious. I forget my story. I get lost.

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After the Apocalypse

Icon in the Window | Mark Lindsay

May 21st had come and gone. I looked around and then I touched my toes. Yup. I was still here. The world didn't end. We survived yet another apocalyptic prediction. I learned in Grand Canyon that life on the brink is like a Technicolor movie. Maybe that's why these guys are always predicting the end of the world—they secretly enjoy the adrenaline buzz.

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Photography in a World of Terror

The Stare | Mark Lindsay

Bin Laden is dead. People went into the street and screamed. They chanted, "USA!" But the euphoria was short-lived. By the next day the world was shutting itself in again, preparing for retaliation, preparing for the worst. The men in flack jackets are back. An eye for an eye. Does this cycle ever end? It just seems to go on and on.

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