Designed to resemble a paddlewheel steamboat, this ferry is the only way to visit historic Fort Sumter from Charleston. I abstract the scene, including part of the circular paddlewheel casing and featuring the silhouettes of four passengers standing on the ferry’s covered upper deck. The first shots of the American Civil War were fired upon Fort Sumter at 4:30 am on April 12, 1861, as South Carolina became the first state to secede from the Union. Charleston residents, sitting on balconies and drinking salutes to the start of hostilities, watched the bombardment. The Confederate guns overwhelmed the Union soldiers in Fort Sumter, who offered only token resistance. Captain Abner Doubleday, who later was said to have “invented baseball,” was given the honor of firing the Union’s first shot. He missed.

Named after Revolutionary War hero General Thomas Sumter, this fort was built following the War of 1812 as one of a series of fortifications along the southern US coast. Construction began in 1829, and the fort was still unfinished when the American Civil War began with an attack on these very walls. The fort was virtually destroyed, but has been rebuilt according to its original specifications. In this scene, children view the 100-pounder “Parrott Rifles” that were installed here after the Civil War. A massive concrete blockhouse was also built inside Fort Sumter’s original walls in 1898 to protect Charleston during the Spanish-American War. It never saw combat. I composed this image to compare the innocent curiosity of the visiting children to the massive cannons surrounding them.

An orange gun port creates a striking color contrast to the purple gun carriage, presumably the very same colors that were displayed here during the Siege of Fort Sumter in April 1861. Such vivid colors seem almost whimsical when viewed in the context of deadly combat. The original cannons defending Fort Sumter were scavenged by the victorious Confederate army following the Fort’s surrender. This 100-pounder Parrot rifle was installed following the Civil War, but it never saw combat.

The Yorktown, built during World War II, replaced its namesake that was lost at the historic Battle of Midway in 1942. It earned eleven battle stars in World War II, launching air strikes on Tarawa, Makin, Kwajalein, Truk, Saipan, Guam, Okinawa, Iwo Jima, and Japan. It later served during the Vietnam War, and as the recovery ship for the Apollo 8 space mission. It went out of service in the 70s and is now a National Historic Landmark museum ship at Patriot’s Point in Mt. Pleasant. I made this photograph from the deck of the Fort Sumter ferry, comparing the mighty aircraft carrier to the pleasure boats moored in front of it. The scale incongruity is striking, while the masts of the boats in the foreground echo the vertical thrusts of the jet fighters on the deck of the aircraft carrier, as well as its towering mast.

Unlike some museums, this museum welcomes photographers to photograph its exhibits. I made about twenty per cent of the images in this gallery in this museum and in the two historic Charleston houses in its care. The Charleston Museum, founded in 1773, is commonly regarded as “American’s First Museum.” Nowhere else in Charleston did I find as broad a range of historical subject matter as I did here. Among the earliest pieces in its collection is this cannon, one of the very few existing Revolutionary War cannons that were made in the colonies. (Ironically, most American armaments were made in England.) I moved in on the barrel here to stress the elegant engraving on its barrel. Much of the detail falls into soft focus, suggesting the passage of time. The image is dominated by the extravagant “US” proudly etched in brass. I framed the image so that the spear-like diagonal moves from upper right to lower left. It is only fitting that this cannon has ended its journey in Charleston, South Carolina. The city was the focal point of the American Revolution in the south. Charleston patriots protested the English taxation of tea by confiscating and hiding it. Charleston was twice the target of British attacks. One attack was turned back at Fort Moultrie. The other was a disaster – after a long siege, 8000 redcoats under Charles Cornwallis conquered and controlled the city until the end of the war.

I moved in on the face of a 19th century clock, emphasizing the insets representing what might be a prized race horse and its owner. My off to one side vantage point makes the horse larger than the person, and my selective focusing stresses the nature of time as the numerals get larger and sharper while racing around the dial. I converted the image to black and white to give the image a better sense of period.

The Charleston Museum has a strong collection of low country textiles on display, including costumes, quilts, and needlework. Beginning in the early 19th century, Charleston became a prominent commercial and cultural center, and set the fashion for its region. These vintage fashionable hats create a triangle of primary colors displayed on and around an incongruously futuristic mannequin.

Known as Charleston’s “Huguenot House,” this house was built by a wealthy rice planter in the early 19th century. A national historic landmark, it now belongs to the Charleston Museum. The Manigaults descended from French Huguenots who came to American to escape persecution in Europe. One of Charleston’s most graceful structures, its rooms have been restored to their original colors. In one of its upstairs rooms, a decomposing mirror reflects an elegant chandelier. I made this faded abstracted image of it as a reminder that all grandeur is fleeting. The faded colors and dream like blurring within this reflection suggests the passage of time itself.

The stairs leading to the third floor of this historic house, as well as the third floor itself, is a work in progress. It is under renovation. A toy horse, some blocks, and a doll seated at a miniature tea table were placed at the foot of these stairs to symbolize the presence of the children who once lived here. I see this image as a bridge into the past. Today young children still play with toy animals, blocks, and tea sets. These somewhat primitive looking toys seem right at home on the rough unfinished original steps – a distant century laid bare.

This building was Charleston’s first “skyscraper,” erected in 1911 as the home of the People’s National Bank. Many residents saw it as a sign of “progress,” while others claimed it ruined the city’s historic skyline. Visitors came to it just to ride in its elevators. In 1936, the bank closed and was purchased by the Southeast Securities Company. To mark the transition, a pair of marble leopards was installed at its entrance. Carved in Italy, they were brought to Charleston from an estate near Boston. I photograph one of them with a 24mm wideangle lens, matching its pair of massive paws and heavily muscled legs with the gleaming pair of pillars in the background. I processed the image in black and white, which best expresses the beauty of the monochromatic subject matter. The building has recently been converted to luxury condos overlooking the entire city.

Remnants of the Old Provost dungeon that once held pirates and soldiers captured during the American Revolution can still be visited in the basement of the Old Exchange, Charleston’s most important colonial building. Life sized period mannequins express a feeling of despair that almost certainly pervaded these premises in the mid to late 18th century. The prison pre-dates the Old Exchange Building. It was built upon the ruins of the original walled city of Charlestown. The dungeons are said to be haunted. In this image, two imprisoned pirates are commemorated in mannequin form, expressing the mood that characterizes such a place as this.

The most valuable original furnishing in the Heyward-Washington House is the priceless 1770 Chippendale-style Holmes Bookcase, considered by “Antiques Roadshow” experts as the “finest example of American-made furniture.” I did not want to describe the bookcase itself. Rather, I wanted to emphasize its function. The bookcase, which is in the Heyward-Washington House “Withdrawing Room,” is filled with leather-bound 18th century books. All of them are said to be original to the house. I moved in on some of those books, and photographed them stacked behind what is either a cracked pane of glass or a fortunate reflection implying great age. I finished the image in sepia, which adds a patina of time to the scene. This image is less about the bookcase, remarkable as it is, and more about the nature of what it has caring for over the last 250 years.

What does Charleston feel like in the middle of a June afternoon? This image makes us experience its intense heat and stifling humidity. Both of these pedicab drivers are steering with one hand, as one cools off with ice cream and the other quaffs a cool drink. Even one of the passengers, luxuriating in deep shade, is downing a soda. I liked the way the driver’s blue shirts echoes the blue trim of the pedicabs. The old trolley car in the background adds a bit of vintage Charleston context to the image.

I spent a morning shooting with a local photojournalist, who was also a tour guide. She took me to the ruins of an old building. It had no roof or floor, and its interior had been turned into a parking lot. Yet the character of Charleston’s past is expressed through the colors of the brick walls that still stand. An empty window frame holding a planter gave me an opportunity to create a symmetrical frame with a frame within a frame picture. The planter in the first layer is the key to the image. It tells us that people care very much about the appearance of this ruin. This wall is not left to decay – it is preserved as a token of Charleston’s past. A second layer frames the door of another reminder of Old Charleston.

Old Charleston was founded as an English colony in 1670 during the reign of King Charles II, at the height of a period known as the Restoration. Puritanism had lost its momentum, and the arts flourished. Charleston became one of America’s most culturally refined cities, and reminders of that time can still be found among the lavish gardens that embrace its historic townhouses. The image originally was dominated by the lush green color of the vegetation. I converted the color photograph to a somewhat faded sepia tone, aging the image in the process.

We are used to seeing the color of a house or a building as a predictable single unifying theme. This image of an old house in Charleston’s historic district, which is probably being renovated, becomes an impressionistic watercolor. The lush greens and browns that surround the house play against the strikingly incongruous mottled red tones that partially cover most of what once was a beige building. The longer we look at this streetscape, the more startling it becomes. It allows our imaginations to take over, and make of this image what they will.

These headstones stand in the oldest English burial ground in Charleston. The featured headstone, bearing the name of Susan Branford, was erected in 1895, exactly 200 years after this cemetery was first established. I photographed it not only for its elegant typography, but also for its Victorian sentiments. It contrasts in color to the headstones placed around it. My framing attaches these darker slabs to the Branford headstone, creating a seamless wall of marble and granite. The photograph expresses the concept of a “wall of eternity” -- an impervious shield of marble and stone, intended to forever recall those who are buried beneath it.

The oldest public cemetery in Charleston, Magnolia was established in 1849 on the banks of the Cooper River. Many of its lavishly designed tombs and mausoleums date from the years of Charleston’s greatest prosperity, just prior to the Civil War. Today some are still carefully tended, but others have fallen into decay. This mausoleum’s door had disintegrated. I entered to photograph the fallen door, the debris on the floor, and the huge rings that offer access to the crypts that lie below. Although the space was tight, my 24mm wideangle lens allows expansive coverage at short range. I converted the color image to black and white to complement the stark and gritty subject matter. The resulting photograph reminds me of something from an Edgar Allen Poe story. Time shows no mercy – and this image expresses that concept.

Established in 1681, St. Philip’s is the oldest religious congregation in South Carolina. This church, which still dominates the city’s skyline, is the congregation’s third building. It was built in 1836, and the spire was completed in 1850. The tower also serviced as a lighthouse for many years. In this image, I use the spire to pierce the cloud cover overhead, revealing a patch of rich blue sky behind it, and suggesting a church’s heavenly aspirations. My 24mm wideangle lens coverage allows me to move in to emphasize a pair of wrought iron fencing decorations to flank the spire and add a foreground layer of context to the image.

I return quite often to the simple idea of contrasting the concepts of life and death in my photographs. I do this in many ways, often by juxtaposing foliage with graveyard headstones. I do that in this image, framing an old and almost illegible headstone with rhythmic repetition of the delicate vegetation surrounding it. The leaves seem to be gently stroking the headstone, symbolically expressing the continuing process of nature’s lifecycle.

Two illegible headstones in the process of being covered within a bed of ivy provide subject matter for a richly colored expanse of repeating shapes and textures. The scene also symbolizes the ultimate dominance of nature over man. If I had discovered this particular subject earlier, the ivy would not have yet begun its inexorable climb along the stones. If I had come to it too late, the stones would have already vanished below the ivy, making the most important subject – the stones – invisible. Fortunately, I arrived at the scene on the perfect day – the ivy has begun its ascent, scaling the face of the stones, as well as already creeping along the narrow space between them. Yet the graceful pair of arches within the rectangular stones is still quite visible, and communicates the passage of time itself. I carefully frame the scene tightly, creating great tension between the stationary stones and the advancing ivy.

While threading our way slowly through heavy downtown Charleston traffic, a pedestrian standing in the street seemed to guide us safely towards an oncoming stop sign. He holds an empty cup in one hand, and patiently gestures with his other as he peers at us over his spectacles. It was a spontaneous act of courtesy, very typical of Charlestonians. His courteous gesture was appreciated -- our rental car was large and unfamiliar to us, and the street was congested. My daughter was driving, and I made this image through the front window, and waved back at him in return. The photograph gives us a modest look at the human side of Charleston.

The bunkers used to store gunpowder at Fort Moultrie can still be seen. The fort was in commission for more than 170 years. Some of its gun emplacements date back to before the Civil War. Others show the fort as it looked from the late 19th century through World War II. This powder magazine is lined with replica gunpowder barrels. My 24mm wideangle lens embraces most of them as they carry the eye to the barred window at the back of the enclosure. The flow of barrels echoes both the flow of the boards on the floor as well as the boards that cover the curved ceiling overhead.

Miles of beaches line the shore of this barrier island. Today tourists and locals use them to enjoy surfing in the Atlantic Ocean. On the other hand, over the years this coastline has borne the brunt of nature’s fury. At least six Confederate blockade-runners were shipwrecked off these shores during the Civil War. In 1989, Hurricane Hugo flooded much of the island. It’s northeastern end, home to private community of Wild Dunes, has endured a severe erosion crisis. Rising waters all over the world are threatening beaches everywhere. In this image, I try to balance the pleasures of recreation against the threat of nature’s awesome power. I layer the foreground with vulnerable dunes, then move to a group of visitors towing their boards along the edge of the sea, and fill the background with the churning power of the ocean itself.

This image, which I made with my iPhone from an upper story balcony in our beach house, speaks of both tranquility and energy. The diagonal thrust of this barrier island's dune coastline slashes through the frame to the horizon. The explosive shape of the towering cumulous clouds adds dynamic organization and a dose of nature’s majesty to the composition. No beach is visible – the sea is at high tide, and what beach may still be there is invisible behind the dunes. Meanwhile, both sea and land appear silent and empty, accented by the small sail boat left seemingly abandoned on a sea of grass near the lower left hand corner of the frame. This incongruous contrast of form and content brings this landscape to life, and leaves us with a sense of place.

As evening shadows blend with a setting sun, a baseball leaves the hand of a pitcher and heads towards a waiting hitter. My shutter stops the ball in its flight just as it enters the notch connecting the pitchers mound to the batters box. It is exactly at this instant that the batter must make a decision. Swing or not? All is suspended in time. I made this image while spending a glorious evening of minor league baseball in Charleston’s Riley Park, home of the Charleston Riverdogs. The park was built in 1997, and seats 6,000 baseball fans. The Riverdogs are a farm team of the major league New York Yankees. They play in the Class A South Atlantic League. I was sitting so close to home plate that my 112mm short telephoto lens could easily encompass this scene. I had to shoot through the wire mesh backstop, which places a unifying texture over the entire frame.

The Riverdogs’ mascot was tossing free souvenir tee-shirts into the stands, and this five-year-old baseball fan, who happens to be my own grandson Jack, was hoping to catch one of them. Held firmly in his uncle’s grasp, he throws his arms skyward as I made this photograph from a low vantage point. I link his pleading fingers to the diagonal flow of the grandstand roof above him. Jack is already a student of the game – he lives in Brooklyn, and passionately follows the Yankees. The blue shirt he wears bears the name of the famed Yankee shortstop Derek Jeter. Unfortunately, no Riverdogs tee-shirt would come his way this evening.

The visiting Rome (Georgia) Braves were pummeling the host Charleston Riverdogs this evening, and I turned my camera to the fan reaction. This trio of Riverdogs supporters shows body language and expressions that convey a numb acceptance of the reality before them. It is late in the game, and they are still hanging around, but there is obviously no joy at “The Joe,” as Joseph Riley Park is known. The Riverdogs are losing about as many games as they are winning this year, but winning is not what minor league baseball is all about. Class A teams are primarily geared to player development, and in Charleston’s case, that means grooming players to perhaps someday play for the parent New York Yankees.

As the minor league baseball game between Charleston and Rome (Georgia) neared its conclusion, there was still some light in the summer sky. The overhead clouds reflect the colors of the setting sun, while a single light tower helps illuminate the field below. This image conveys a warm, nostalgic mood, the essence of baseball, our national game. This image offers a reminder that experiencing a game at a baseball park such as this one can offer us much more than watching a game on a TV screen.