Just Pixels

And so it goes...I walked across a stage in MacCasland Fieldhouse today, signaling a kind of graduation-induced transformation from naive student to mature adult.

I guess...

I was the last to cross the stage and the word STUART hung in the air at the close of the Gaylord College of Journalism and Mass Communication convocation. And really it feels quite amazing to be done. Whew. Doggie. It's really over. Really.

So some photos, of course...


Me and Krista pre-ceremony. I worked with Krista at the yearbook. She was the cool head-honcho boss editor, and was (and is) a lovely individual. And starting June 1 she will be the nifty associate editor of a magazine in Dallas that's somehow related to D Magazine. I think that's right at least. So much for accurate journalistic details. But go K-dogg...gainful employment is always nice.


This is Graham. Before walking in for the ceremony I looked to my immediate right. Behold, Graham Reynolds. Ol' G. Rey and I played trombone together at Irving Middle School (go Cougars!) in sixth grade. Sadly Graham has since lost "the faith" of tromboning lore and told me he sold his horn for a paltry 40 bones recently (*tears*). But, regardless, it only seemed fitting to end my academic career with someone who I basically started it with. Best wishes, hombre.


The old grip-and-grin shot with the J-college dean. I got some bonus cheers I think for being the last one across the stage. Daddy Stu was representing as cameraman. Thanks, Pa.


The framed shot. Red cons just felt right for the occasion, you know?


The fam post-graduation. The oldest two siblings defaulted on attendance, and really, can you blame them? They've been through all this shenanigans before. It's kind of a beating if you're not the center of attention.

The sis' new look.

A short drive to OKC on Saturday gave me the opportunity to experience my first ever Quinceanera mass and fiesta. My friend Ariana asked me to take pictures at the quinceanera, which signified her god daughter Reyna's entrance into womanhood, and I accepted. I'm glad I did. The experience proved rather interesting and I had a great time trying to speak Spanish and being obviously not one of the locals.


The ceremony starts with mass. It was all in Spanish and I felt a bit awkward roaming about during the service being one of three gringos in the house. In the end I decided it was only as awkward as I let it be, so I just rolled with it and didn't think about my contrasting cracker complexion and anglo-saxon roots. It's interesting how quickly one can feel alienated when detached from familiar surroundings. I think it's good to experience this isolation.



The mass was at an all-Spanish-all-the-time Catholic church in OKC, which interestingly employs a priest of east indian descent. Partway through the mass he launched into heavily accented english at which point I readily discerned his country of origin. I could barely understand some of what he said and I'm thinking a lot of the latinos picked up even less.


We took some more pics near the Myriad Gardens in OKC after the mass. I quickly realized that wedding-esque photography would be required of me and curbed my initial impulse to cease all photomaking immediately on principle. Thankfully the experience was enjoyable and the pomp and circumstance kept to a minimum during the session at the park. I'd shoot another Quinceanera, but I could not handle doing a wedding. In this genre I feel like every picture I take is cliche'. Perhaps I'm just a photojournalist snob at heart...



Some charming little ninos were chomming on these fried pretzelish things after the mass. I don't remember what they're called.



The fiesta lit up about five and there was plenty of amazing food, beer, tequila and dancing to go around. This is the traditional first dance with all the damas and chambelanes surrounding the couple of honor.


More dancing.


There were plenty of very friendly locals at the fiesta. And very little Ingles being spoken. I liked the atmosphere of multiple generations mingling and enjoying quality time with one another. Despite my lack of street cred and shady Espanol skills I felt very welcome and comfortable.



Did I mention the food was crazy good? Massive vats held untold amounts of the pork, rice, beans and CORN tortillas. I was good for two plates of these vittles and wanted more though my estomago told me otherwise. Classic American suds were also in quick supply. I went for a pair of brews before getting the cheap-beer shudders toward the bottom of my second Bud. What can you do?

But all in all a choice meal and evening. If you have the chance to check out a Quinceanera you should strap on a bolo tie and cowboy hat and boots and make it happen. You won't be disappointed.

Step 1: get a chip.


Step 2: load chip with homemade hummus (my cooking repertoire is now almost ten items long, but hummus is decidedly in the fruit/nut food group so I'm still in my element for sure).

Step 3 (not pictured): repeat.

Some nice times in the park on a Saturday afternoon...

It recently has come to my attention that the awesomest rock band of the 80s (that regrouped only months ago after 20 painful years apart) is going to be performing in Dallas in June.

Since a young age of 16 years this trio has occupied a special place in the 80s music portion of my heart (and it's pretty crowded in there -- Toto, Paul Simon, Huey Lewis and the News, Fleetwood Mac, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, etc). And basically I really want to be at this concert. How powerful would it be to hear Sting belt out Every Breath you Take and to hear ol' Stewart Copland shred it up on Message in a Bottle? These are life changing experiences, people.

They play on June 26-27. It costs $50-60. Can I get some sidekicks? I'm sending out an S-O-S...

a haiku:
pomp and circumstance
too much smiling - give me cash
five years are over?

The youngest nephew at work.

Last night as the final notes of Duke Ellington's Take the A Train resonated from OU's 12:30 Jazz Ensemble, a chapter of my life came to a close.

As a member in good standing of this jazz ensemble, those last notes represented the finale of my musical career at the University of Oklahoma, and my last concert in Paul F. Sharp Concert Hall.

And I've had a lot of quality memories in that place with multiple ensembles: Trombone Choir, Symphony Band, The Pride, Jazz Band, Norman North Band, Norman North Choir, and the list continues. There have been a lot of concerts, and a lot of powerful musical moments.

But I also remember concerts from the early days -- the CODA Honor Band in middle school, back before I had my trusty Conn 88H with an F attachment. And I think we all nostalgically remember back to that milestone in our childhoods -- the day we got F attachments on our trombones. Such a good day...

And I recall the summer after 10th grade playing Berlioz's The Damnation of Faust with the Oklahoma Honors Wind Ensemble. I popped out the phrase of fourth-ledger-line high B-flats like it was cake. It was double forte and I nailed it. Shazaam! I'd be lucky to hit those notes at all now...

But these are good memories. Memories of rhythm and texture and timbre -- of brass and of voices. And there are memories of people -- blending voices and instruments of individuals to make collective music. And of course, the jokes backstage before the concerts were a good time.

Playing in musical ensembles has been one of the most enlightening experiences of my life and of my time at OU. I would be a different person without these experiences.

And I don't know when or if I'll play in Sharp Hall again on the resonant pine stage. But I'm thankful for the music that I helped to make there, and for the people I know as a result.

So here's to music. And ensembles. And people. And a lot of time well spent.

I have lived in Norman for about 18 years. This is a long time. And as a Normanite I've always been interested in The Chouse — the church/house on Boyd Street near Chautauqua Avenue. It used to be a church, but a number of years ago someone converted it into a house.

Last week I got to traipse every dog-hair covered inch (the owners have 12 dogs) of the 1926 structure while on assignment for Boyd Street (it's a glamorous life, really). The inside is pretty cool. The walls are 18 inches thick and the last church service was held there on Easter Sunday in 1979. I can't imagine what the heating bills are like for the place, but it's a smidge more interesting than the other college cribs I'm accustomed to documenting.








This door is from a church in Oklahoma City that was damaged during the April 19 bombing. The Chouse owners purchased it sometime after the bombing and slapped it up inside their own churchy digs. The door has a massive crack running down the length of it from the bombing concussion. Kinda creepy...


One of twelve canines that reside at The Chouse. The Missus of the family works at Second Chance Animal Sactuary and apparently has a soft spot for old, mangy pups that don't have a home. I don't remember this one's name.







(photos copyright Boyd Street Magazine)

With Lent coming to a close I'm back on the blogging scene. And it's good to be back. Thought I'd kick off the action afresh with some pics from Saturday's scrimmage. I would offer some type of football analysis here with thoughtful insights into how our team performed and what we can expect in terms of a team showing in the fall, but I have a problem. That problem is that I basically don't know anything technical about football. Thankfully one doesn't have to be in the know to capture an American football game with a camera. I'd be up a creek if this were the case...

At any rate, some shots from the scrimmage:








The Bob offering some polite words of wisdom to a pair of eager-to-learn troops.


2006 Big 12 Championship ring, as seen on the hand of former quarterback Paul Thompson.


Shout out to my 'bones.




If Owen Stadium is a temple then this man is the High Priest.


Our friend Adrian hamming it up for the networks and sporting some bling that really blings.

(photos copyright Boyd Street Magazine)

Just married.


The bride and groom with the ushers. I was recharging my smile and got caught unawheres...


The awkward reception shot.


Bizarre Bride.


Off to Cozumel.

The U.S. Jazz Ambassadors were in OKC on Saturday. They are the top-tier, professional jazz ensemble of the army, based out of D.C. My army band sponsored the event, acting as ushers and for the fortunate ones, parking lot "security." I scored that job and stood around in the parking lot for an hour before the concert, chatting with my four fellow "security officers" while the other band members were tearing tickets and showing people where to sit. Score.

It proved an amazing show though. Much better than the Chair Force's Airmen of Note ensemble when I heard them a few years ago.

These Ambassador guys are good. Rockin' 'bones, squealing trumpets, grooving rhythm section. The real deal. It would be pretty cool to play in a group like this. They play for Prez inaugurations and travel a lot. Cross the country, overseas. The whole bit. Not a bad gig. If you can hack it. Unfortunately, I can't.


I think a bigger flag would really accent their stage presence. This one's just not quite big enough...

Mateus Moyneus (de Canada)


Potato Canon.


Hottest board game in the Mid-West.


Shot this for High School Sports the Magazine. This gal plays for my alma mater. Being back in the romping grounds of my youth proved odd and laden with interestingly immature memories. The camera on my neck and $75 in my pocket for my services helped me through it...