Peter J. Crowley

Fine Art Photographer

Archives for October 2008

Backing up On The Empire Builder

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Jon and David Two of the highlights on the ride to Seattle.
I’ve spoken of them before at the dinner table in the dining car,
 there is a lot of mischief in those eyes.

Here is a story from Jon one of the Amtrak community between Minot and Seattle about the time zones in ND. “In ND the Missouri River is the boundary between the central and mountain time zones. Everything North and East of the river is in the central time zone and everything South and West of the river is the mountain time zone. However all the coal fired power plants, coal mines and the coal gasification plant which are south and west of the river operate on central time even though they are in the mountain time zone. A few years back people who work at these plants and mines got tired of working on central time but living on mountain time and they got a petition together to change the time in those counties to central time. They got enough signatures and put the measure on the ballot and it passed however it still needed approval by the county commissioners. Agriculture is still the number one economic sector in the state and the farmers in this area are mainly descendants of Germans from Russia, brought in by the railroads in the late 1800s. They are a stubborn lot, do not adapt to change well. So when the county commissioners met to decide on this issue the farmers convinced them not to change the time because if they did their cows wouldn’t know when to come in to be milked. As a result we are still working on central time and living on mountain time”.

I thought before moving on to Sacramento that this story would bring a smile to your face as it does mine. enjoy pjc

My Transparent Life

High on Harley’s and the Sandia Mountains

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Arriving on the Sandia Mountain top we struck up a conversation on old Nikon’s and Harleys. The air was thin but the conversation was full, for five minutes or so we spoke of film and times from our shared memories.

August Eighteenth and Nineteenth I traveled south as a voyeur having few long conversations, just observations. Almost every home be it a trailer or shack has animals, goats, chickens, sheep, horses. Nestled between the larger farms. There was little wasted space outside the cities between Olympia and Sacramento. There were many Amish people traveling and there was an aura of peace from them, warm smiles. A family got on in Salem, mom and a couple children came down to the cafe car in traditional dress except for the Nike’s and I wondered if fashion sneaked into tradition starting at the feet? I wish I had struck up a conversation beyond greetings and smiles but I was in a watching mood my lose for sure. I as an observation found them to be the most content of all the faces I saw, no underlying stress from the world. Portland was a 1/2 hour stop with many photos [there is so much more to scan] a man and his pipe, an Amtrak employee all obliging me with conversation and portraits. Next stop Sacramento and the depth of the journey returns. Ten years ago and last August my visits to Sacramento provided me with insight into different life’s, cultures and their mirror of my own life and America.

A note on scanning, I read on another blog recently that an image isn’t a photograph till it is a print. I like that, what is the value of a pixel?

From a print life blossoms

Lacey Wa. Train Station operated by volunteers

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Five decades on the road and rails creating visual and verbal images. A life in Photographic Art


A transplanted New Yorker heading back to Northern California. Lots of bearded serious faces on this trip. At lunch the other day with a couple of friends we were talking about the state of the nation and how it is portrayed by my portraits. The feeling was that of little motivation of fear and looking over your shoulder waiting for the next shoe to drop.



August 18 eleven am and it is back to more typical Washington weather. When we arrived in Seattle on the sixteenth it was in the low nineties bright sun. HOT HUMID
But as I headed south from Olympia/Lacey it was back to drizzle and upper sixties. Back on the rails headed south to the desert I wondered would the going south to LA crowd be as community oriented? What comes next? “Something always comes next.” She would say with her voice or eyes as we created in my studio or where ever the muse and I visited. A bit of rambling today, a similar feeling to August eighteenth drifting between here and there. The route to LA was broken up by train changes and bus rides, i-podian girls in there own world and less stimulating conversation as the passengers came and went with less of these travelers on for the full run. People seemed more cautious, but every image you make is a self portrait. I was more cautious focused on all the changes of connections. This train had an arcade car so as we rambled through the mountains you could kill aliens. The ride through southern Washington and Oregon was beautiful fog in the mountains and piles of ice in the shadows from a recent hail storm. Night brought an encounter with a man having a psychotic episode across from me in the cafe car. Yelling about Amtrak polluting his mind and he was going to jump. I think he didn’t even know I was sitting across the aisle. His stop became the next stop as with the same level of customer service he was calmly escorted to a seat by a group of Amtrak employees. Portland and Sacramento next faces from 1998 and 2008.
enjoy pjc

Tracks from Willi