Linda Donahue Photography

Death Takes a Holiday

lbndonahue — Fri, 18 Jan 2013 20:36:57 +0000

I find myself lost in a forest of tombs. A flock of earthbound ravens part as I walk by them on the cobbled path. Some fly to the bare tree limbs above, while others continue their foraging, undisturbed by my presence.

The dead surround me, but I sense no discontent, no malice. Even beneath a canopy of gray clouds, gloom has no home here. Instead, there is serenity. The only souls haunting this place belong to the living.

NOTE: Visit the HiP Paris Blog to see more of my photos of Père Lachaise, along with my story on the cemeteries of Paris.

In Case You Didn’t Know

lbndonahue — Mon, 07 Jan 2013 15:26:28 +0000

Paris isn’t usually about stating the obvious. But sometimes even Parisians have to call it like it is.

Flâneur

lbndonahue — Mon, 07 Jan 2013 00:06:28 +0000

In Paris, walking is an art form, a past time, and a means of transportation. This man seemed to be combining all three as he made his way across Parc Monceau. I was tempted to follow him and see where he was going.

Merry Christmas

lbndonahue — Tue, 25 Dec 2012 04:37:26 +0000

Wishing you and your family all the best and most joyful tidings of the season!

Busted

lbndonahue — Wed, 19 Dec 2012 05:47:10 +0000

Inspiration is everywhere. Even at a holiday party at a Miami restaurant, where the lighting, shadows, and subject matter all conspired to distract me from the festivities.

Give Me a Sign

lbndonahue — Wed, 12 Dec 2012 02:14:49 +0000

Paris is a moveable canvas. It’s not just the iconic sites or the romantic architecture that inspires me. It’s also the textures, and the colors—and when the two work together, I find the result to be startling. A mindless meander through the Marais, for instance, revealed this little vignette one November afternoon.

The Old Men of Istanbul

lbndonahue — Thu, 06 Dec 2012 04:44:55 +0000

I never gave much thought to it. Not before my trip to Istanbul, that is. But there is something incredibly fascinating about old men. Their faces have been defined by time and life. In Istanbul, this seems even more evident. The old men there move differently than their younger counterparts—but not in a way that speaks to infirmity. It’s as if they know a secret that is only to be shared with their peers. Perhaps it’s wisdom, or amusement, even.

The Multi-Colored Flea

lbndonahue — Thu, 01 Nov 2012 05:36:49 +0000

I’ve always been intimidated by the Paris flea market at Clignacourt—also known as Les Puces. It’s huge and overwhelming, full of winding alleys that seem to meander without intent. But after being led by one of the fabulous Divas of The Antiques Diva (thanks, Toma!), I discovered that the puces really did have some semblance of order. In many places, in fact, some markets resembled showrooms more than flea market stalls. And the colors … ah, the colors. Here is where Paris really pops its style.

Bliss

lbndonahue — Mon, 01 Oct 2012 05:52:19 +0000

When life is relentlessly assaulting me, sanctuary is only a few minutes away. Here I find my troubles washed away with the waves, if only for a few minutes.