Einstein in the Snow

Einstein in the Snow, photographed in Washington, DC in February 2010 by Shannon Finney

One of my favorite monuments in a town full of great monuments is

tucked away in a grove of holly and elm trees on the grounds of the

National Academy of Sciences in Washington, DC. The twelve foot

tall statue of Albert Einstein, by sculptor Robert Berks, has a rough-hewn

quality that makes it look as it were cut from treebark. To sit there

with Albert is a magical experience.

Ice, Ice, Baby!!

Leaf in Ice, from An Ice Storm series, photographed January 18, 2011 by Shannon Finney

Winter is my favorite time of the year to photograph. The skies are a

hundred different shades of grey, or the brightest, clearest blue when

the sun breaks through. I could hear the icy rain on the rooftop all

through the night, and when I awoke, I found the landscape outside my

door transformed. This leaf seemed to emerge from under 

its icy blanket. 

View more images from this series by clicking here.

Happy Birthday, Aunt Lucille



Aunt Lucille, photographed July 2007, Upper Marlboro, Maryland by Shannon Finney

My Aunt Lucille was always larger than life. She was tall with large hands and bright,

big eyes that barely hid the mischief behind them. She was my maternal grandmother

Sarah's,sister, and watching the two of them together was curious to me, as
I imagined them as young girls, two sassy women fussing with each other
and laughing with each other.  On the day that I took this portrait of Aunt
Lucille, she spied me approaching with my camera just as she was bumming
a cigarette from one of her nephews. Smoking had been Aunt Lucille's constant
vice and her children tried their best to get her to kick the habit. She smiled
at me as she sat tall and strong, her right hand gripping her walker,

her left hand clutching her cigarette, with a look on her face, a look

that I had seen her give my grandmother all of those years ago. A look of
defiance and mischief. My grandmother has long since passed away, and
Aunt Lucille died a few years ago, but what makes me smile is imagining the
first words that passed between these two as Aunt Lucille crossed the
threshold of those pearly gates,  welcomed home, a cigarette in her hands
and that rye smile on her lips.