JV.

Take a deep breath, close your eyes. © Ryan Schierling

Turn around, relax. © Ryan Schierling

Here's to your health.

Many thanks to Anne, Michele and HCB Health for such a fabulous time Sunday night at their SXSW Interactive fête.  © Ryan Schierling

Franklin Barbecue.

Aaron Franklin of Franklin Barbecue. © Ryan Schierling

I went for the fast-becoming legendary barbecue. I came back for portraits. Thank you Aaron, Stacy, John and John for everything. 

(L-R) John, John, Stacy and Aaron. © Ryan Schierling

21 years and 627 miles.

(L) Gary, 1989. Emporia, Kansas. (R) Gary, 2010. Austin, Texas. © Ryan Schierling

B.C. (before coffee).

via iPhone, from the app that shall remain nameless. © Ryan Schierling

1700 S. Congress.

Dawn & Julie. © Ryan Schierling

The light through the trees.

1. The sudden light through the trees. 2. The light through the trees.

3. The light through the sudden trees. © Ryan Schierling

Jim Thomsen.

Jim Thomsen. © Ryan Schierling

I first met Jim when I was the staff photographer for The Bainbridge Island Review, oh, so long ago.

It was a small, twice-weekly paper with a tiny staff, a storied past, and a boatload of Washington Newspaper Publisher Awards. A great number of those awards were taken home by Jim for news and business stories, but the majority were for his elegant, eloquent sports writing.

One thing that's been stuck in my head for the past 10 years, is that Jim once used the word-pair "somnambulant wave" in the description of a shot on goal in a men's water polo game. Yes, yes. Bainbridge High had a men's water polo team. Pretentious? Perhaps. And could writing about a men's water polo match in such a manner be just a little bit pretentious as well? You betcha. I guarantee 98-percent of that wealthy, erudite Seattle-bedroom-community island went for their dictionaries that day, and I guarantee Jim had a broad grin (with just a hint of a smirk) when he picked up his WNPA award for "best sportswriting" that year.

Another thing I liked most about working with Jim was that he never, ever sat up in the press box at football games, even if it was 40-degrees and pissing rain sideways, which it usually was. He'd be pacing the sidelines, watching and listening with a bent ear, scribbling notes, squinting, occasionally throwing up his arms at a call he just couldn't believe. You never got a rote, play-by-play account of the game from Jim. You always got a well-tempered story.

I am also truly thankful he also never uttered the dreadfully possessive and supremely insulting words for a photojournalist, "my photographer."

When Jim got in touch with me to shoot some promotional portraits for his first nonfiction crime book, all I needed to know was when and where. These are a few of my favorites.

© Ryan Schierling

I had Jim write a quick bio for this:

"Jim Thomsen is a newspaper editor in Bremerton, Wash., who is hoping to transition to becoming an author of nonfiction crime books. Photos from this shoot will adorn his still-under-construction Web site (jimthomsen.com when it's ready) and the back cover of his still-under-construction first book, "Everybody Here Gets Out Alive."

© Ryan Schierling

Robert.

Hot Cross Bob. © Ryan Schierling

(Remembering his first bakery job as a young lad in New York City. Transcribed w/ Brooklyn accent).

"He broke the brand new gold-framed glasses my grandmother gave me. You ever get hit with bagel dough? That stuff's hard as a rock. Any kind of dough you boil has to be hard as a fucking rock."

"I pushed a 30-foot stack of crates over on him, but the motherfucker took off running. He didn't come back to the bakery for two days. Finally, his mother called and asked to talk to the manager. She said 'You tell them not to kill my son.'"

"So the manager tells me that I can't kill him, and I say 'Oh NO? That motherfucker's dead.'"

Jone.

Jone, Ghetto Melrose. © Ryan Schierling

Robes (7)

Isabella. © Ryan Schierling

Backyard.

Eric. Denver. © Ryan Schierling

The Colorado River.

River. Denver. © Ryan Schierling

et Al.

Al. © Ryan Schierling

Al, formerly bearded, is the keeper of the mailbox, builder of aviation models and Wisconsin bringer-backer of the aristocrat of candy bars - Oaks Melty Bars. 

3600 Kelvin, Neopan 1600.

It doesn't really matter, does it? (L) Valgene, monorail. (R) Jane, lower Queen Anne. © Ryan Schierling

Lazy brown dog not pictured.

Robin Pecknold, Fleet Foxes. Sub Pop, Seattle. © Ryan Schierling

"A year of snow, a year of plenty" - French proverb.

Julie, Seattle Center. © Ryan Schierling

History.

Andy Jenkins, Girl Skateboards art director. © Ryan Schierling

Even though I'd never met Andy Jenkins, I knew him through his work.

From 1984 until 1989, Andy was the editor of Freestylin' Magazine, a periodical that, as a teenager, probably held more sway over me than my own loving parents. Along with Mark Lewman and Spike Jonze, the "master cluster" put together month after glossy month of everything cool in the freestyle BMX world. It was a much-needed lifeline straight from southern California to my hometown of Emporia, Kansas.

Then, in 1989, freestyle – and the industry around it – kind of dried up. And so did the magazine that had lovingly documented it from the beginning.

Eventually, everyone moved on. Andy went to Girl Skateboards as an art director. Lew went to work with ad agency Lambesis. Spike made some music videos, commercials and more than a few movies that you've most likely seen.

Fast forward 20 years.

When Julie and I finalized our trip to L.A., I knew I wanted to meet up with Andy and give him some prints, shake his hand and say thank you for all of the good times lived vicariously through his efforts at Freestylin' Magazine. After meeting at Girl, we had lunch in San Pedro. And before he went back to work, he asked if I'd gotten a copy of the very limited-edition "Freestylin' : Generation F" book, a case-bound 9"x12" retrospective of Freestylin' magazine's five year run.


Honestly, I never thought I'd even see one.

Thanks again, Andy. For everything.

"Oh Lord, bless this thy hand grenade, that with it thou mayst blow thine enemies to tiny bits, in thy mercy." And the Lord did grin.

Brother Maynard, the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch, and the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog. © Ryan Schierling

We celebrate two holidays here pretty religiously. Every fourth of July, we invite everyone we know over and we eat and drink and make some serious merry. Last year's Independence Day celebration included every type of hot dog you can imagine, and every type of condiment to go along with it. If you wanted a proper Chicago dog with sport peppers and neon green relish, you were in luck (right down to the homemade poppy seed-flecked buns). If you wanted that crazy sweet onion tomato-based topping that you can only find on a New York dog, we had it. Slaw dogs, chili dogs, perros caliente or a Chehalis Cor-Dog Bleu. We don't mess around.

And when it comes to Halloween costume parties, we're of the same mind.

This year will be the fifth annual Ghetto Melrose Halloween Party – the kind of party where folks begin planning their costume for the next year when they're swerving out the door and catching a cab at 3 a.m. 

We've had celebrities (Britney Spears, Drew Carey and Mimi, Clint Eastwood w/ "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly" theme music), we've had politicians (California governor Arnold Schwarzenegger, President Martin van Buren), movie heroes and villains (The Rocketeer, Jedi knights, Foxy Brown, Jay and Silent Bob, the rabbit from Monty Python's Holy Grail) and we've had some serious oddities (Dimebag Darrell, a Netflix DVD and mailing envelope, the greasy mechanic played by Billy Bob Thornton in "U-Turn").

And how often do you see a photographer in full ice hockey gear (including skates) shooting portraits? 

(Granted, I had to drop the gloves to do it.)

It's a grand time, and we wouldn't have it any other way.

(Clockwise from top left) Britney Spears and paparazzi. Nick Nolte. Mimi and Drew Carey. Aztec priestess. © Ryan Schierling

Gavin Rossdale.

For Seattle Metropolitan magazine. © Ryan Schierling