Babies are cool. Our new associate photographer, Christy Jones, gets up close with baby Tyler and her brother Jackson for some serious sleeping baby portraits in a fall set. Christy loves babies and we do too. At McCoy's Image Studio, we work hard to create the very best baby portraits.
A portrait of a newborn should be a timeless record of a very special time. Those little cuties deserve the very best. What wonderful expressions, cute little fingers and toes, those little ears and perfectly formed mouth and eyes. They will never be that small again and they grow so fast.
When the day comes when your own child asks..."mom, what did I look like when I was a baby?" will you have a beautifully created professional portrait to show them?
It is so very important to have something special....and we can provide that for you. Give us a call. Baby Portraits don't just happen. The best are done with professionalism and creativity.
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Going through Dad's negatives, I came across this image of a street in Germany. White bed sheets were hung out the windows as a sign of surrender. The shadows are long as the sun is setting on this city. The townsfolk are war weary. The battle has been long and arduous yet the Nazi war machine is just about wore out. It's difficult for us American's to understand defeat. We have seen battles lost but for the most part we have won the war. My father's generation knew they were fighting evil and pressed on even at the tremendous loss of life and treasure. Today we face an evil that is not as easily understood and perhaps some fail to recognize. Will we be hanging out the white sheets or will we press on to stand against evil?
Sometimes it seems that evil is everywhere. Islamic terrorists beheading and torturing innocent people. Evil souls killing folks in churches and in the streets. The dark angel soars above our country fooling folks into believing evil lies. Time will tell how we respond.
I believe in the exceptional spirit that is America. The great good that we have done is quite evident to those that will look. Find the good that is out there and spread it around. Go be the good that is the real America.
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Today marks the anniversary of the liberation of Paris. The above photo was taken by my father from the front seat of his truck. Jubilant French people are packing the street in a town somewhere in France. The smiles are incredible. They have seen the dark side of Nazi occupation. Dad's photographs capture a time when America stood up to oppression. When the American's arrived, the heavy boot of Nazi aggression was removed from their necks. Alas, for many it was too late. Thousands had already perished. As Americans we must be proud of what our ancestors did. Sure there were things in America's past that were things that we should not be proud of, but as a whole, the thing that makes Amercia special is that thing where we stand up for the oppressed. And yes we do care; contrary to some peoples opinion.
To forget our past is to repeat it. We are Americans, good, bad and indifferent. We have forgotten the life of oppression. The soul of our country was founded on freedom and yes it has been a messy ride through a muddy road of years past. But consider what the world would look like if our America had never happened. Freedom. It's a word that means many things to many people. I often come back to a statement made by one forefather who gave his life for freedom...Give me liberty or give me death!
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Beauty in the Middle of War
The above photo was taken by my father who was a medic in the Sixth Armored Division and served under George Patton. After Operation Cobra that sent the 6th through the Brittany Peninsula all the way to Brest, Patton's armor faced west and crossed France on their way to Germany. I am in the process of scanning old negatives from photos Dad took and also reading his letters home to my grand parents here in KY. He doesn't say a lot about the conditions he endured but I can read between the lines. A good book on the 6th AD is available and traces their exploits from the landing in Normandy to the end of the war. I hope to put all of my father's images and letters together with historical accounts and make a video documentary. The project at the moment is daunting. Lots of information to assimilate.
Crossing the Seine was a milestone. Most of France would be cleared of Nazi's by the end of 1944. December would bring the Battle of the Bulge but that story will be addressed at a later time. I find this photo to be remarkable in its composition, lighting and simple beauty. A woman with her bicycle standing by the bridge waiting for the troops to cross. The sun is low in the sky and setting. She can see that the end of the day is near as she proceeds on her journey. The imagery is symbolic of the days to come. The Sun had burned bright on the rise of Hitler's Germany but is setting just as suredly as the sun sets every day. She looks to the west and perhaps is thinking that the enemy front is receding too. But today, her liberators are passing by. Today is time for rejoicing.
All this in a photo you ask? Yes, and more. Consider for yourself how events change. We can go through dark times indeed. My father writes about enduring hardship but his faith held him on solid ground. God Bless America.
August 6, 1994 found Dad's unit, the 44th AIB of the 6th AD on the road to Brest, France. Given orders by General Patton to take the coastal town, Brest was a harbor on the end of the Brittany Peninsula used by the Germans. The photo above was taken on one of the roads after the breakout at Avranches. Traffic was backed up until the units were able to break into multiple roads that were headed west. The hedgerows created ambush points for Germans to utilize snipers and anti tank Panzerfausts. By the Evening of Aug 7, the 44th was just a few miles east of Brest setting up bivouac in a field outside of Plouvien. Tired from the rush to Brest and weary from the sporadic attacks by the German Wehrmacht, the soldiers bedded down in hastily dug foxholes and trenches. Tanks, trucks, and halftracks lined up in various spots around the field.
The next morning, disaster struck.
This is one of the stories I am learning about as I continue my research into my fathers unit during WWII. Exciting, poignant, and sad at times, the history of it all comes to life in the letters I read.
As a professional photographer, I almost long to travel back in time to record the happenings using my best equipment. What images I could get. But would I really want to see the carnage?
The photo above is of my father at Camp Cooke California probably sometime in 1943. He was a medic in the 6th Armored Division under Patton. He was awarded the Bronze Star among other medals. I am undertaking a project to honor him and his compatriots who served with him in the Medical Detachment 44th Armored Infantry Batallion. It started a few years ago when I was contacted by another son of 6th AD medic. He was writing a book on the Medics of the 6th. We went through some of Dad's notes, letters, and photos that pertained to medical training and specifically their use of medical treatments while serving in the army. His book should be coming our soon, perhaps this fall 2015. I am going another route...filming a documentary. I have a treasure trove of letters, notes, and tons of black and white negatives from the period. They include the advance on Brest in the Brittany Peninsula, Across Paris, Battle of the Bulge, Bastogne, across the Rhine, and into Germany including the Buchenwald Camp. It's a lot of stuff to handle, but I feel it's a worthy project. So, I hope to continue to talk about it here on the blog and also a Facebook page I have created. I love this history stuff, don't you?
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Art is art. Good photography is just more immediate. Painting lets you take time to look at your subject. Time to let it soak in, the light, sounds, smells. I enjoy plein air painting. Painting in the great outdoors on location. Here lately, I have been working hard at getting my painting chops up to snuff. I began painting in college while working on an art minor. It’s been a few years ago, I admit. Painting is a way to to chill out away from the rat race that is the nature of things these days. You may see me out there with a camera slung on my shoulder and a canvas on my portable easel. Art is art. I just have to make it as good as I can.