Papitooos!!! (file under music)

This past Sunday I had the opportunity to go out and support a friend's band. Papitooos!!! is a mix of Brazillian, funk, carribean, and hip-hop flavors that had everyone swaying if not out-right dancing. More surprising is they accomplished this immediately following the drawn out angst ridden should-be-on-suicide-watch crooning that was the preceding act.

Heavy on percussion they jammed out with their first number and kept the energy high , filling the upstairs of Pianos on Ludlow Street with an excitement that was contagious and soon had the room crowded as downstairs patrons followed the music up. Check out http://www.myspace.com/davivieira for more information and performance dates.

Princess (file under fairy tales.)

This is a story of a young woman who took a nap and was awoken to the faint sound of something tap-tap-taping. At first she thought it must be the sound of her heart beating in her ears, but toss and turn as she might as soon as she would start to drift off again, there the noise would be. Faintly tapping. always tap-tap-tap.






She sat up, to clear her mind. There, she thought, that did it. She waited a moment and couldn't hear it anymore. Thankfully she lay back down and closed her eyes. As her mind started to drift off she thought she heard it again. No, it can't be, she murmered to herself, it's just in my dream. No wait, there it is again tap-tap-tap. This time a chilling thought gripped her, what if there was someone else here? Someone playing a game on her ... or maybe, someone trying to make sure she was asleep! The thought alone gave her goose bumps and she grabbed her blanket closer to her. Oh please no, she begged of the dark corners.




But the shadows just seemed to get deeper, and darker as she stared into them. Finally she couldn't take it anymore. If something was indeed there, she told herself, it would be better to go find it then to wait scared and sleepless. She got up and rummaged around until she happily found a flashlight. A simple little thing, but it meant everything to her just then. Timidly she braved the dark recesses of the room, but as she knew there was nothing to find. She breathed a sigh of relief and thought herself foolish to have been scared. Really, it must just have been my exhaustion. Happily she congratulated herself for saving her sleep, she could have lay there sleepless cowering in her blankets. She smiled at the flashlight as she flicked it off, and faintly in the distance there came, tap-tap-tap.



Her blood ran cold. There, behind a door, another door. She had missed it when first she searched, but now she knew where the sounds were coming from. Slowly opening the door she found an old stair case, the flights spiraling down out of sight. She could hear clearly now the tap-tap-taping.

Her throat felt dry as she involuntarily swallowed. She took a first shaky, tentative step, her body rebelling against this foolishness. Clenching her fists she willed herself forward and down.


Flight after flight

she continued,

barely noticing each step,

as the tap-tap-taping





grew ever faintly louder.





Soon she was nearing the bottom with no sound


or sight of possible mischief awaiting her. The only evidence of anything out of the ordinary was the unceasing tap-tap-taping.


She began to relax, scared as she was and as creepy as the stairwell was, she was now confident that no one was waiting in the shadows.

She rounded the last flight, the tap-tap-taping was close now. Her flashlight's beam searched frantically for the author of the noise that had called her from her cozy bed and sent her down dark, chilly stairs. She spotted a shimmering gleam of wetness and let out a gasp. Followed a moment later by a frustrated yell at the sight of what had caused her such worry and trouble.

Georgia on my mind.

Today as I spent most of the day looking after my daughter, I couldn't help thinking of Hoagy Charmicael's Georgia On My Mind. My son had school this morning and my wife had many meetings today, trying to figure out his kindergarten future. I once was told that Hoagy wrote that song while he was babysitting his daughter Georgia. It seems Hoagy was so focused on his music that he had to write Georgia in order to keep her on his mind. I've always loved that story, but, unfortunately it's not true.

Seems a friend of his wrote the lyrics about Hoagy's sister. Which makes me think of other stories that have entered into the realm of urban myth. Like the photo by Robert Doisneau of a young couple kissing. Many people were convinced it was of them on vacation. One couple even sued him over it. Forcing him to finally reveal the truth in 1993 of a mystery he had kept secret since the picture was made in 1950. That he had posed the shot with models. A friend of mine was heart broken when she heard this and said she'd never look at that picture the same way again. Not me, I loved the picture before I knew, and still love it. I guess to me it's like reading a fictitious novel, or watching a horror movie. You know it's not real, but that doesn't matter, you enjoy it for what it is. The best part of the Doisneau story is one I just read, the lady in the picture received a print as part of her payment. She sold it at auciton in 2003 for 155,000 euros!

So now, even tho I know the truth of Hoagy's Georgia I think I'll still remember it whenever I

watch my little girl. It's such a cute story I can't help myself.

I have finally arrived

I was just cleaning out some e-mails from my aol account (apparently 1000 is the max) and re-read an e-mail I received Monday. This little bugger isn't going to get deleted anytime soon. Better than any of the dozens of penile or breast enhancement (that'd make for a fun evening) e-mails. Or the hundreds, maybe thousands, of prescription drug e-mails. I have finally received my first shamwow e-mail. I am sorely tempted to indulge the child consumer in me. With a subject line that says "You'll be saying WOW! Everytime with shamwow," how could I possibly resist? Ooh you clever little shamwow you knew exactly how to get me with your budding cult appeal.

First things first

I'd like to take a moment to thank the internet for this opportunity. It always seemed to me the only real way to make your voice heard was an op ed piece. With the internet and places like google, now anybody can. For whatever reason, whatever time of day. I can't promise that I won't ramble on, or make any sense. I will try my best to post at least weekly.

My name is Harry Pocius. I've been a photographer in New York City for a number of years. My specialty is photography. I've shot portraits, food, still life, babies, etc. The only thing I haven't tried yet is cars. I've worked as a photographer, second photographer, digital tech, and assistant. I was even, for a short time, an ARMY photographer. My goal as a photographer right now is to make beautiful and cool environmental portraits.

The above image is of MacheteLatte mm#895892 and is a perfect indicator of the work I strive for. She was wonderful to collaborate with and had plenty of fluid movements and poses. I firmly believe the more time you spend communicating with a prospective portrait subject the easier the shoot will go. Sometimes you don't have that luxury and it's easy to become anxious, especially if you don't have the lighting worked out. In those moments I rely on the words a cantor once told me. He said "most people tend to speed up when they are nervous, especially with public speaking. Don't do this! Slow down, take your time. It may feel slightly awkward but it's a million times better than triping on your tongue." I've found his words go beyond speaking or reading publicly. It works with anything you may have an audience for. Anytime you feel nervous in front of people, slow down just a little. Remember to breath. That should get you by.