Here is a sneak peak of my latest project — Italy, Remasted. In 2005 and 2008, my wife and I traveled The Sexy Boot of Europe and discovered that Italy is indeed better than the hype.

For a combined five weeks we toured Northern, Central and Southern Italy, shooting and eating our way through such magnificent icons as Rome, Florence, Siena and Venice, and such lesser-known gems as Bolzano, Varenna, Val d’Itrea, Matera and Sestri Levante. Italy has a firm hold on our heart, and the images I have from there are some of my most cherished possessions.

Italy Remastered (working title) will be a self-published book via Blurb.com. Whether I sell it or not, we’ll see, but Blurb does such an amazing job of providing photographers innovative, clean layouts and quality printing, I can’t pass it up. So, for the last four weeks I’ve been chipping away at the images I have from Italy. It’s like a rock band going back into their catalogue and remastering a great album to enhance each song’s various elements. Since I’ve improved so much at post-production in Lightroom over the last two years, I’ve been pleased to see my images — both old favorites and rediscovered shots — come alive in a new way.

More to come soon.

Who cares about Capri? That’s what I was thinking when we were planning our 3-week trip to Italy back in 2008. What I knew of it was that it was a Mediterranean hoity-toity haunt for the rich. Maseratis, casinos and Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, right?

“Mariah Carey has a house there,” my wife added. Thanks … all the more reason to keep my distance. We had other priorities: Positano, Sorrento, Matera, Puglia, Rome, Umbria, Tuscany…it was already a long list.

So when we rolled into Sorrento at the start of the trip — at the end of what my wife and I will forever refer to as The Longest Day in Human History: an 8am departure from Denver, an overnight flight from Philly, a rental car debacle in Rome, a two-hour train ride to Naples, a transfer to Sorrento on the stop-every-50-feet Circumvesuviana, a two-mile hike uphill to the hotel — Capri was not on the agenda. It wasn’t even close to creeping onto the agenda.

And yet within an hour at the Hotel Minervetta in Sorrento, we were decompressed. The boats in the Bay of Naples bobbed like sleeping ducks. Mt. Vesuvius crowned the horizon, looking like it had been in a good mood for a few decades. Authentic Campagna-style pizza and red wine filled our bellies. This corner of Italy was pretty damn special. Maybe we should see as much of it as we could.

A few days later, we left Positano and the Amalfi Coast so that we could take the afternoon ferry ride to the mystical island that gave us caprese salad and short pants. We had three hours — not much time — but upon pulling into the harbor, we knew this excursion would be worth it. Chalky cliffs rose in all directions, and a pastel village with a humble expression on its face hugged a low, green saddle that separated the island’s two peaks.

We beat feet to the depot and took the second hair-raising bus ride of the day: the precipitous journey from Capri to Anacapri, a landlocked town located high on the island’s rocky shoulder. The bus was standing room only, filled with — surprisingly — a lot of locals. Below us lay a sea whose color can only be described as cerulean. Between us? Air and vertical rock. Not much else.

Anacapri was pleasantly sleepy and clearly removed from the outside world. It’s town alleys ensconced us in white wash, and our feet tripped here and there on uneven pavers. With the exception of the school kids who skipped and sprinted around the piazza, the town was largely silent. We giggled at yet another Amalfi Coast restaurant named “Il Saraceno,” had ourselves some gelato, took fashionable pics of each other leaning stylistically against white walls (ahh, the days before kids), and then boarded the Dare Devil Bus to catch our ferry.

We missed a lot on Capri: the Blue Grotto, the Faraglioni sea stacks, P. Diddy and his yacht… But that was perfectly fine with me. For an island that has such a larger-than-life reputation, it’s quite small, and yet we still found a corner where local life felt like … well, local life as you see it elsewhere around Italy. For a blitzkrieg three-hours of observation, we got a pretty good sense for the place.

What prompted this post? Steve Jobs.

“Oh c’mon!” you must be saying. “If I read another tribute to that guy, I’m gonna——”

I should say that one of Jobs’ most unsuccessful products, one of his “biggest failures” — Apple TV — is prompting this post. We bought one of these devices back in July so that we could run slideshows of our travel photography on our TV. For under $100, its been worth it, and so I’m going back through the archives, and retouching photo sets for the upstairs boob tube.

Is this blog timely? No, not always. So what. The whole reason to take pictures is to capture a story so that you can retell it forever.

Tanager Photography is temporarily grounded (i.e. the baby is due in less than three weeks), so I figure a retrospective is in order — how about the most spectacular churches in Italy?

Feel free to tell me how wrong I am in the comments box, or suggest ones I missed. Keep in mind a few things: these are from a non-Catholic, non-historically significant, photographer’s standpoint. My criteria was a simple scale of how blown away I was by each church. Also, I intentionally left St. Peter’s Basilica off the list because technically it is in the Vatican.

1. Duomo di Siena

In one of the few cities in Italy where the main piazza is crowned by a town hall instead of a cathedral, the Duomo of Siena still manages to stand out as Italy’s most majestic church. Composed of alternating stripes of black and white marble and situated at the crown of the city’s hill, Il Duomo is a riot of medieval art, storytelling mosaics and hallowed spaces. Of particular note: Pisano’s ridiculously elaborate pulpit (above right), Bernini’s ecstatic St. Jerome holding the cross like a cradled fiddle (top left), a floor mosaic depicting the Slaughter of the Innocents, and a painted dome that creates an optical illusion of the three-dimensional heavens (above right). This church is a mind blower.

2. Pantheon, Rome

My first stab at this list didn’t even include the Pantheon. Why? It’s not very churchy. In fact, it’s hard to figure out. From nearby Piazza della Minerva, it looks like nothing more than a massive, ancient turret. From the front, it’s portico of Corinthian columns looks more reminiscent of the Acropolis than any vestige of Christendom. And in fact, therein lies the rub. Built originally by Romans during the tenure of Hadrian in 124 AD, it was a tribute to the multiple deities of the day. Not until 609 AD was it converted into a Christian church, and fortunately, since then they’ve pretty much left this austere and daunting, perfectly symmetrical building as it was. At first blush, the Pantheon inspires a humanistic awe at how crafty the Romans were. But after an hour of watching the sun shaft that passes through the oculus move about the room, you can’t help but get the feeling that its God peeking in.

3. Basilica de San Francesco d’Assisi, Assisi

No word better describes Assisi than tranquil. Granted, I was there in early April, in the midst of constant rains and the renewal of spring. Summer may be a different story. Regardless of when you roll through this town, the Basilica de San Francesco d’Assisi is impossible to miss. Towering over the Umbrian valley, the cathedral that honors the town’s native son St. Francis — the patron saint of Italy, animals and the environment — is a massive complex, and somewhat contrary to the intimacy of the town. It is, in essence, a double-decker church. The Upper Basilica — which was partially destroyed by an earthquake in 1997 but restored — is lavishly colorful, with richly detailed frescos by Giotto depicting the saint’s life. Underneath, the Lower Basilica is more somber, cold and bucolic, especially during a service, when chanting and hymns echo off its low-arched ceiling.

4. Basilica di San Marco, Venice

I have mixed feelings on Venice, particularly St. Mark’s Square. On the one hand are the hawkers of trinkets, the tourists feeding pigeons, the 6-Euro cappuccinos, the menus in 8 different languages. On the other hand, is the stout, gray onion-domed cathedral crowned with gold-winged angels and Byzantine mosaics. She’s like an old lady with too much jewelry, but you can’t help but love her anyway. Like Sophia Lauren, now that I mention it. The basilica is, in a word, ridiculous: from the length of the line to get in, to the amount of opulence the Venetians put into it to demonstrate their wealth. The ceilings, walls and arches of the interior are layered with gold tiles and mosaics depicting saints and the prophets, and its easy to fall under the spell of the cathedral’s radiance. Much of the church is filled with treasures the Venetians raided from elsewhere, including it’s namesake’s relics. Historically, its fascinating, but on a WWJD level … well, you decide.

5. Santa Maria d’Idris, Matera

Poles apart from the Pantheon, the Church of St. Francis and Basilica di San Marco, is Santa Maria d’Idris. Located in a small cave atop a rocky mount overlooking the grottos and canyon of Matera (upper right corner, above left photo), it is a strange, mystical, spooky place. This ancient city in Basilicata (it dates back to Paleolithic times — put that in your pipe and smoke it, Rome) has clusters of cave churches throughout the city limits, but this one is most memorable, in part because of its rocky mount location (it’s entrance takes in a beautiful 270-degree panorama of the city), and its labyrinth of meditation chambers, which are decorated with boldly colorful frescos in various states of decay. Looking like it was carved by hand out of the rock, Santa Maria d’Idris is imperfect and intimate, two traits missing in so many places of worship.

6. Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore (Duomo), Florence

Intimacy was clearly never the intent of Florence’s massive duomo. No, this church was meant to send a message to other city-states, like Siena. Looming over the city center and seemingly peering into every alley, passageway and window in the city proper, it is one of those rare churches that’s actually a skyscraper. It’s interior includes an unforgettable and grotesque ceiling fresco by Vasari and Zuccaro, but is largely forgettable in comparison to the cathedral’s exterior circus of pink, green and white marble. A row of grim-faced saints on the facade point at patrons of the piazza, a once stern and effective reminder of morality no doubt, that has slowly been lost on the tourist licking their gelato at the Baptistery’s gate. But the truly moving element of this iconic cathedral is Brunelleschi’s dome. By the time it was conceived in the early 1400s, the formula for Roman concrete (the kind which made the Pantheon possible) was forgotten. So he just decided to make it of bricks instead — 4 million of them … without a crane.

7. Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari, Venice

Venice has a staggering amount of amazing churches, but after the Basilica di San Marco, the Frari Church is head and shoulders the standout. Not because of its exterior (which is actually quite drab) but because of the art it holds inside. Most famous may be Titian’s altarpiece, The Assumption, a fantastic portrayal of Mary’s Assumption to Heaven, surrounded by swirling angels and clouds. The church also houses Donatello’s John the Baptist, works by Bellini, several tombs (including Titian’s) and elaborate wood and gold choir stalls by Marco Cozzi.

8.  Santa Maria Assunta, Positano

OK. I’ll be honest. I barely peeked inside this church. I know, I know. How could it make the must-see list if all I’m basing it on is the exterior? Some roving journalist I am! But there’s something romantically delightful about this church. From my experience, no other church in Italy fits more perfectly into the landscape than this one. It appears to anchor Positano to the ground, as if its presence keeps this wildly gorgeous town from floating away. Secondly, it’s beautiful mosaic dome has grass and plants growing out of its clefts, a small detail that shows that all things — manmade or otherwise — are reclaimed by nature. And finally, spend a Sunday in Positano and you’ll see the locals flocking to church, a pleasant reminder that this is a living, breathing community after all — not just a tourist playground.

9. Chiesa dei Gesu, Rome

The mother church of the Jesuit Order is located a few blocks from the Coliseum, the Pantheon and the Forum. Talk about a long shadow. But that’s Rome. For us, the church was a quick stop en route to Santa Maria Sopra Minerva and the Pantheon at the insistence of my cousin, Nick, who lives in Ciampino and has been a Roman resident for years. The church is a neck craner, with the highlight being a spectacular ceiling fresco by Giovanni Battista Gaulli called Triumph of the Name of Jesus (above right). It’s the only ceiling I’ve ever wanted to stare at for an hour.

10. Duomo di Amalfi

The Cathedral of Saint Andrew in Amalfi exudes a rare elegance among large churches. Its 62 stairs spill like a waterfall from the zebra-striped and gold facade. It’s campanille is composed of multiple cylinders, a style I haven’t seen elsewhere. Considering that the church is in the middle of the spectacular Amalfi Coast, it’s an amazing convergence to see from the piazza below. Inside, Baroque and Romanesque elements combine beautifully, but the real story lies in the crypt. Here, supposedly, lie the bones of St. Andrew. How they ended up here is just one of those historical footnotes of Europe’s history. Like with other saints, his relics were transported, stolen and stashed all across the continent. St. Andrew mostly ended up here, where his bones were safely stored after the sacking of Constantinople in 1208.

Of course, there are a few honorable mentions:

• Santa Maria Sopra Minerva, Rome
• San Miniato al Monte, Florence
• Santa Maria della Salute, Venice
• Il Duomo, Orvieto
• Chiesa di Sant’Antonio, Alberobello

And the one that got away: The Cathedral of Milan. A train strike kept us from spending any time in Milan, so we missed what is considered by many to be one of the most spectacular Gothic churches on earth. Perhaps another time.

Alright, if you’ve been: what did I miss?

This morning I’m up before Hailey, which means I have a pot of coffee to work on and some color correcting to do for a client (in this case, Tim and Lexi — hey guys, your photos are now ready!). But I started thinking about travel and coffee and the moments where the two have collided beautifully. Travel tends to be an exercise of the senses. Obviously, sight + photography, but also sound + music (I’m working on a special Mexico playlist right now), flavor + food (just discovered they put molé on eggs in Guanajuato — yes!) and its cousin flavor + drink. In cases of this last pairing, I’m usually seeking out the holy trinity of liquids: wine, beer or coffee.

This morning, I’m compelled to write about coffee, and the best cups I ever did have. Warning: this is a self-indulgent exercise, but then again, so is blogging, right?

1. Italy (where to begin) – This cup starts in Varenna and has traversed the entire Boot wherever we’ve gone: the cappuccino. I had my first real one on Lake Como, and it was the first of many introductions to the beautiful details of Italian flavor. Enough espresso for every sip, a bold yet smooth flavor, and milk fading steadily into foam at the top. We can’t make these in America, at least not that I’ve found. In Seattle, they’re close, but as with many things and travel, its goodness is amplified by the setting. The cappuccino pictured above was our first in last year’s trip — served over breakfast at the Hotel Minervetta in Sorrento. When paired with a view of Vesuvius over the Bay of Naples, breakfast became less an exercise in sustanance, and more an exercise in realization — you are a long way from home, and its all good.


2. The Palms Cliff House, Big Island, Hawaii – Hailey and I honeymooned on the Big Island and Maui, and our first five nights were spent at this magnificent bed and breakfast on the wet coast north of Hilo. The amazing breakfasts were served on the lanai, accompanied by a hot cup of Kona. Mornings were always the right temperature. Pods of rain would splash the cliff-lined coast, cool things 5 degrees and cast a rainbow for 60 seconds, before moving on. The best cups of drip coffee I’ve had were on that porch, newly married, looking forward to everything.

3. Stella’s Cafe, Monteverde, Costa Rica – Here’s the magic formula of Stella’s: 1.) It’s backyard is the famous cloud forest of Monteverde, 2.) it’s patio featured an assortment of uber-comfy chairs, 3.) it’s local resident was an affectionate cat who had a penchant for sitting on your lap and purring, and 4.) they served mild shade-grown Costa Rican coffees. On top of all of that, our good friends Will and Liz were living up the road at a biology research center, meaning this was the place to meet up. On our first morning, we met a birdwatching guide here, and we hardly had to leave to see some of the area’s most magnificent birds. Across the street was a flock of golden-browed chlorophonias and a blue-crowned motmot perched nearby. Be sure to click the links to these birds — some of the craziest wildlife I’ve seen.

Unfortunately, this trip was a long time ago during my Nikon FM days — meaning I only have 4×6 prints of the trip, and crummy ones at that.

4. Seattle – If you love coffee and you’ve been to Seattle, you just can’t leave it off your list. I’ve been a handful of times, but on this last trip in November, I finally “got it” when it comes to this city’s coffee culture. That’s because it rained the whole freaking time, and without fail, there was always a coffee shop to duck into. Tops on my list wasn’t even a cafe: Macrina Bakery. It was one of those places where they specialize in one thing (incredible baked goods) and just so happen to know how to make cappuccinos like the Italians do. Bonus.

5. The Lodge at Chaa Creek, Belize – My final selection is another trip from the Nikon FM days. This memory is flavored by the sweetness of morning ritual. Every day, the routine was such: wake up at sunrise (courtesy of the chachalacas in the tree over our hut), walk onto the porch, lie in the hammock, listen to the rainforest wake up, and enjoy the rich coffee they delivered to our room. Next door to us were my Mom and Dad, they’re first tropical rainforest/ecolodge/birdwatching/coffee-drinking experience. There was a small and ornery ferruginous pygmy-owl who was nesting in a hollowed-out tree above our porch. While drinking our morning cup of Joe, we’d watch her chase the iguanas off the tree. On our final morning, she killed a hummingbird and feasted on it while we discussed breakfast. Of all the collisions of experience that travel brings, file that one under Strange Yet Sweet.

So here’s a heads up: I’m hoping to blog from Mexico next week. We leave Friday and return the Monday after Easter. We’ll see how the internet connection is at the two places we’re staying, but hopefully we’ll be able to chronicle our journey through Holy Week nightly. Looking forward to it.

About six or seven months ago, we were contacted by a graphic design agency in Italy. They were doing the official guide book to the town of Varenna and saw an image of ours on Flickr that fit the bill for their cover. Often times, agencies (whether they’re interactive, advertising or publishing agencies) offer the ol’ “hey, we’ll give you a photo credit” bit, especially those that troll Flickr looking for just the right image. Why do they do it? Because people fall for it.

This firm did the same, and Hailey (who took the call, and who took the photo they were interested in) negotiated to sell it royalty free. That’s my girl.

Seeing the Varenna class this week reminder her that she had not seen the end result yet, so she emailed them yesterday and we got a PDF of it overnight. Looks pretty cool.

We think we’ve settled on a plan, and we’re just waiting word from a potential gig for her before we book, but in the midst of this I saw a Facebook ad that literally screamed opportunity to me: On Location Workshop – Photography Class in Varenna, Italy.

First off, Varenna is a very special spot for me and Hailey. We stopped there in May 2005 to recover from jetlag after my first trans-Atlantic flight and we were immediately seduced. It’s a compact little work of art that’s nestled on a bump in the shoreline on Lake Como. Flowers drip from the buildings, Italians laze on the shore doing nothing, and the Lake Como ferries ease into the dock every 15 minutes with the bored conductor beautifully droning the boat’s destinations on a loud speaker: “Bel-LA-GI-o, Men-AH-gi-O.” Even boredom is musical in Italy.

Most significantly to me, I believe that Varenna is the place where Photography snuck up and did a bodyslam on Writing as my top passion. They had been wrestling since high school, and I’d become an editor by trade, but downloading images onto the laptop at night began to take on more meaning than my faltering, rambling journal entries. I can only imagine what results I’d get shooting Varenna now, four years later and a whole hell of a lot better at photography (plus, with a better camera and better lenses).

What’s more, running simultaneously to the class I’m interested in is one taught by a photographer I greatly admire — Vincent Laforet. Laforet has sick talent. If I haven’t sent you to his portfolio site or blog just yet, please check it out. His images of Katrina and Pakistan are heartbreaking, eye-opening and they’re not easy to shake. Same goes for his work on the Paniolo Cowboys, but in a very different, less visceral way.

Anyhow, I currently don’t have interest in learning video, which is the course he’s teaching, but I’d love to meet him. Problem is, the course is a few thousand bucks when all is said and done, and I just don’t think it’ll happen. Nonetheless, it’s amazing when things like this converge and they get you thinking….

Rather than run another round of voting, I’ve opted to tally up the votes and declare the above shot my picture of the year. In a minute, I’ll tell the story behind the photo, but here are the results of the top 10 shots:

1. Star Trails Over Puglia, Casalini (Puglia), Italy – 6 votes
2. Green Fields of Chianti and Passing Storm, Badesse (Tuscany), Italy – 5 votes
3. Paul Luellig + Lorene Parrish – 5 votes
4. Vendor at Campo dei Fiori Market, Rome (Lazio), Italy – 4 votes
5. Tractor in Front of Kate’s Seafood, Brewster (Cape Cod), Massachusetts – 4 votes
6. Santa Maria Assunta and Galli Islands, Positano (Campania), Italy – 3 votes
7. Lone Cypress and Blazing Fog at Dawn, Chianti (Tuscany), Italy – 3 votes
8. Sangiovese Vines at Dawn, Chianti (Tuscany), Italy – 3 votes
9. Ciabatta Frutti Rossi (strawberry turnovers), Assisi (Umbria), Italy – 3 votes
10. (5 tied for 10th) Butcher in Assisi, Italy; Sitting in Wildflowers, Crested Butte, Colorado; Blooming Daisies in Positano, Italy; Hand Passing Through Lupine, Crested Butte, Colorado; Carousel and Space Needle, Seattle, Washington – 2 votes (each)

So in the end, what does all of this mean? Well, I’m not quite sure. Possibly nothing at all. But I’m a sucker for lists, Best Ofs and I’m inherently nostalgic, so this was fun. Plus, I’m just happy to have a clear winner. Thanks to all who voted.

Now, on to the story of the winning image. First, it was taken at Acquarossa, a small inn that we discovered in the “heel of the boot,” Puglia, Italy. For a geographical reference, here is where it’s located.

I was just trying to locate its address online, and it’s so off the beaten path that Google — that bastion of all data in the world — didn’t even register the road they’re on.

We absolutely loved this place. We discovered it on this great European hotel website called Secret Places, and from the looks of that landing page photo, we knew we wanted to go there. In fact, this inn was the reason we even had interest in Puglia, and once we started reading about the area, we opted to include it in our journey.

Here is the interior of our trullo. We had roughly 750 square feet to spread out, which was pretty remarkable given the fact that this was the cheapest place we stayed the whole three weeks we were in Italy.

This part of Puglia — the Valle d’Itri — is covered with trullo, a traditional white conical hut that dots the farms and towns of the area. In fact, nearly the entire city of Alberobello is trulli, but that’s another story for another day.

Many of the following photos are Hailey’s because she did such a great job documenting things. Here is an image of the neighbor’s place being constructed. It was fascinating to watch the trulli being built. They layer the rough stones into a cone and then sand them down. I can’t imagine how tedious the sanding must be.

Many of the trulli are used as agriturismos, farms that have been converted into inns, often times to keep the farm running and economically viable. The owners of Acquarossa are a couple in their mid-thirties — Angela and Lucca — who didn’t strike me as farmers, but more like two city types who opted to live out in the country and maybe make a buck or two at the innkeeping thing. They were very hospitable, the breakfasts were great, and they gave us all the space we could ever want. In fact, this place is in the running for Top Place to Spend Three Months Writing a Book…along with La Casa Grande in Arcos de la Frontera. Again, that’s another story for another time.

Anyway, on to how I took the shot. It was very deliberate. A few days before we departed Denver, I made a last-second purchase for my Canon 40D — a cable release (aka a bulb). This small device plugs into the side of the camera and allows you to take long exposures without jarring the camera on a tripod and blurring the image. Furthermore, you can lock the shutter open, a setting labeled on the camera as bulb. I had this thought in my head: finally, I have a digital camera capable of taking night shots without noise. I wanted to see what it was capable of by trying to get a star trail shot, a twenty minute to multiple hour exposure which captures the rotation of the Earth.

I also figured that Puglia would be my best chance to capture this type of image since light pollution in urban areas renders it nearly impossible. From the moment we arrived at Acquarossa, I set about scouting a spot at the inn to capture star trails with the profile of trulli in the foreground.

The roof seemed most ideal. I wanted to avoid lights, which could drown out the stars pretty quickly, and from the angle of the roof, I could get close enough to the trulli roof to get the texture of the stonework. In the end, that’s the remarkable thing about these huts — their stonework. Up close, it becomes readily apparent that these buildings are made by hand, something that adds a little extra magic to the landscape.

I scouted this shortly after we did some much needed lauundry in the sink.

Heck, the roof was even a great place to dry the laundry.

Anyhow, I had two nights to get it right, so I wasn’t worried too much. We headed out for dinner in Ostuni, a nearby city on a hill with a view down to the distant Adriatic Sea, and came back after dark. What I quickly discovered is that I didn’t have many takes to get the shot. For one, the exposure was 19 minutes at f/11 (with noise reduction meaning an additional 19 minutes of processing before you can take your next shot). All of this quickly drained my battery. Plus, I wasn’t willing to stay up all night. The shot at the top of this post took 45 minutes from set up to the moment it appeared on the LCD panel. Fortunately, I got it right on take No. 1.

The next night, I tried three more exposures, each a little shorter in length (and therefore, shorter star trails). These ones didn’t turn out nearly as well, but I’ll share them anyway. With this first one, there was just not enough light on the foreground, and the angle is not as interesting as the top image.

And on this last one, balancing the light and dark was extremely difficult, especially without strobes or continuous lights (which I wasn’t about to lug around Italy). Nonetheless, it was windy that night, and I love the way the tree looks as its tossed about in the wind.

So that’s the story behind the photo of the year. For more on our travels through Puglia, Basilicata and Southern Italy, visit my travel portfolio and click on Matera to Ostuni.

Thanks for voting, for reading the blog and here’s to a great 2009. Two more posts coming in the near future: Christmas and the new Colorado Official State Vacation Guide, which has a six-page story of mine — my first editorial/photo assignment.

Later!

The criteria here is simple: which photo composition makes the subject most enticing? Another way of looking at it: which image screams “get in my belly!”

Remember to vote for the Travel, Nature + Landscape and People in Places category within the next week. Feel free to leave comments on your selection.

#1. Stewed pork wrapped in pork fat with embedded pistachios and an arugula garnish, at Baccanti Ristorante, Matera, Italy.

#2. Beef tenderloin meatballs, fresh pasta and pesto at Timberline Restaurant, Crested Butte, Colorado.

#3. Cappuccino at Locanda San Francesco, Montepulciano, Italy.

#4. Rumballs, the Day family recipe (and the bane of my existence right now).

#5. Ciabatta Frutti Rossi (strawberry turnovers), storefront window, Assisi, Italy.

#6. Caprese salad at Locanda San Francesco, Montepulciano, Italy.

Feel free to leave thoughts/critiques in the comments box below. I’m hungry now…

I highly recommend clicking on each photo to see them larger, especially the first one. As always, your feedback in the comments box about your selection would be much appreciated.

#1. Italian funeral and oblivious British tourists with gelato, Locorotondo (Puglia), Italy.

#2. Tim Lamberton celebrating autumn in his own special way, Steamboat Springs, Colorado.

#3. Vendor at Campo dei Fiori Market, Rome, Italy.

#4. Hailey enjoying the wildflowers south of Crested Butte, Colorado.

#5. Andrew and a pair of rainbow snails at Brewster Flats, Cape Cod, Massachusetts.

#6. Sergio the butcher, Assisi (Umbria), Italy.

Thanks for voting. And don’t forget to vote for my Travel Photo of the Year and my Nature & Landscape Photo of the Year. I’ve received 17 and 11 votes in those categories so far, including a tie in the Nature & Landscape category.

For Category 2, we have Landscapes and Nature lumped into one. This is a category that relies heavily on being at the right place at the right time, something I had a lot of luck with in 2008. Still ahead: food, people in places and portraits. The poll is at the bottom of this post.

#1. Blooming daisies, Positano, Italy.

#2. Buffalo Pass Road in fall, near Steamboat Springs, Colorado.

#3. Hand passing through lupine, Crested Butte, Colorado.

#4. Lone cypress and blazing fog at dawn, Chianti (Tuscany), Italy.

#5. Rosy paintbrush beneath Maroon Bells, near Aspen, Colorado.

#6. Clam shell on polished pebbles, Nauset Beach, Orleans, Massachusetts.

#7. Green fields of Chianti and passing storm, Badesse (Tuscany), Italy.

And here’s the poll. Would love comments, too, on why you picked what you did. Your feedback is invaluable.