carly cram



Limes Half Empty

When I took this picture I didn't know what it was, exactly, that bothered me so much. It was instinctual, really. There was just something really sad about it. And that's the power of photographing: capturing things that give you a momentary feeling and later dissecting why you felt that way. Peering into the world only to see inside oneself. Perhaps this is one of those glass half full vs. glass half empty instances, and in turn, it proves my perpetual pessimism.

I look at this box and see such sad, used limes. I imagine someone stumbled into the box and knocked the limes out all over the sidewalk. And when the garbage person would then come to pick up the waste, and see this mess, it would most definitely make that person roll their eyes in frustration: not again, they'd submit. And then they would move form location  to location, bringing with them the frustration of sad, used, limes. 

This image so perfectly illustrates the carelessness I see in this generation. We sadly don't just take what we need, rather, we take what we want, and then leave the rest on the sidewalk. Everything is someone else's problem. Don't get me wrong, I'm just as guilty as the next person. I could have stopped and helped clean up those limes. And maybe someone would have seen me and that would have empowered them to do something similar. Maybe what really bugged me was not just this generation, but the amount of carelessness I find in myself. And now I look back and wish I had cleaned up those limes. I would have then walked to work with disgusting, sticky hands, sure. But maybe the satisfaction of knowing I did something small and good would be rewarding enough. Maybe tomorrow.


Bush and Kearny

Mural in Progress

Resting On Market Street


Spilled Apples


How appropriate it is that yesterday was also my parents anniversary. Two people who love each other so completely. A love that has taken many forms over the last 40 years of being together. In recent years I have come to realize how important it is for me to photograph them, if only to hold onto the present or past. Simple moments.  It's a real pleasure to see a love so admirable, so quiet, so sweet. I wish that love on everyone. It would make all the other stuff worth it. It has to.

 "It doesn't get any better than this: music with my best friends in the moonlight." Dad said as we sat at the table outside on a spring night. 

 "It doesn't get any better than this: music with my best friends in the moonlight." Dad said as we sat at the table outside on a spring night. 


Jeff, the handsome one on the left, turns 31 today. We have, I'd say, a rather unique relationship. We've been together for ten years now: long-distance over the last five, and have three more years to go before we can finally be back in the same state/city/timezone. And the unfortunate thing is that people don't really treat you like you're a real couple unless you're married, but very few couples could sustain a long distance relationship the way that we have. Somehow Jeff makes it work sort of effortlessly. He is smart, incredibly thoughtful, and really funny. Most people think he's shy, and they're right, he can be, but few people get to see him glow when he gets excited about a topic, and how chatty he is after having coffee, never listened to him learn and play their favorite song on a piano, or received a handcrafted gift that makes them want to cry because it took him months to think up or make, never had him shave their head, and him still look at them like they are the most beautiful person he's ever seen. And while I wish everyone could see what i've seen, of him, over the last 10 years, it's also pretty special that I get to be the one he shares it with.

He is truly one of a kind and I'm grateful for every minute we get to spend together (even if we are apart.) 


It just keeps ticking. A machine in constant disarray, moving so fast you can't tell if it's speeding up or slowing down. The distant hum of steel to concrete, drowned out by bluetooth conversations, and bustling cars. A rollercoaster moving so fast you can only focus on the blurs of color as they pass you by. Look at it. Look at it hard. Concentrate. Try to follow one blade on the ceiling fan as it circles and circles and circles. As soon as you catch it, it's already gone again. Concentrate.