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Stories Blog

One thing I try to do is write a little story about the subjects I photograph. If I don’t know the real story sometimes I just make one up.

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Saturday Night Fever

Karyn Planett

Priest Valley, California  2012

Priest Valley, California  2012

“Stop! Turn around,” I screamed to Geoff. “What was that? Is that what I think it is … a rugged old oak draped with a rainbow of panties and bras?”

“No, I want to get home,” he whined.

I said, “OK, just stop and I’ll walk back … this is too good to miss.”

And too-good-to-miss it was. Like the ribbons on a five-star general’s chest, this towering tree was a makeshift temple to young love, or lust as the case may be. Right in Steinbeck country, east of King City, this shrine to Saturday night fever was festooned with not only Victoria’s Secret but a whole host of other secrets, as well.

I’m imagining names like Tanya and Junior. And the bras even had the girls’ names and the date of their date written on them in indelible marker so a winter’s rain could never erase the testimony to their summer love.

Tears on the Hill

Karyn Planett

Northwest Passage, Canada  2012

Northwest Passage, Canada  2012

Hobbled by a stupid cast on my left foot, I managed to snag a lift aboard a muddied ATV to head out beyond the footpaths my more able-bodied friends explored. My reward was a chilly downpour, a drenched Nikon tucked inside my fleece vest, and a windswept cemetery far from the outskirts of “town.”

The people of Canada’s Northwest Passage are hearty folks, in life as well as in death, as this splash of color testifies. Not bound by the drab landscape, months of grey drizzle and wet wind, their final resting place is a color wheel of artificial flowers stuffed into the clutching grip of smooth rocks standing tall against even the strongest gales. This image and the sound of that pelting rain will live long in my memory, longer than my now rusted-out Nikon unfortunately.

Spinning Sisters

Karyn Planett

Rome, Italy  2010

Rome, Italy  2010

Alessandra announced to the world she could fly. Yes. After falling asleep night after night as the tale of Peter Pan eased her into slumber she felt her body lift from her bed and fly to the heavens. Peter and Wendy could fly, too, even Tinkerbelle.

All Alessandra needed now was a magic parasol. One for Giovanna, as well. Then on that warm summer’s day, near Rome’s Spanish Steps, someone magically sprinkled fairy dust on the two sisters and they took flight, as they knew they could, lost in a swirl of fantasy and color.