• Home
  • Work With Me
  • Fine Art Prints
  • Presets
  • Travel & Leisure
    • Slovenia
    • Japan
    • Holland
    • Moscow
    • Seattle
    • São José dos Campos
    • Courchevel, French Alps
    • Vermont
    • Groningen
  • Part-Time Photographer's Guide
  • About
  • Privacy Policy
  • Terms of Service
  • Menu

Costa Productions

Photographer / Marketer
  • Home
  • Work With Me
  • Fine Art Prints
  • Presets
  • Travel & Leisure
    • Slovenia
    • Japan
    • Holland
    • Moscow
    • Seattle
    • São José dos Campos
    • Courchevel, French Alps
    • Vermont
    • Groningen
  • Part-Time Photographer's Guide
  • About
  • Privacy Policy
  • Terms of Service
Fine Art Prints Fine Art Prints Fine Art Prints Fine Art Prints Fine Art Prints
Sale
Fine Art Prints
from $130.00
Mornings in Bali are absolutely unforgettable, and sunrises at the famous Tegalalang Rice Terraces are beyond description. Can’t wait to go back, but first, need to plan my upcoming trip to Korea 😍🇰🇷 🗻 On days like today, it’s easy for me to fall back into going through my photos from @feelslovenia, hoping one fell through the cracks. This one definitely did. The detail in the mountain tops is what really caught my eye this time around. An Self-Portrait: Tegalalang Rice Terraces, 7:23 AM, Bali
•
Thank god for drones! Traveling Bali alone was one incredible experience, and trying to take a photo of myself was real difficult. Either I set up a tripod and hope it doesn’t interf On the foothills of Bali’s mountains ⛰
•
I was so lucky to have had an incredible stay on the slopes of Mt. Batukaru, and I’m already missing the mountains. Anyone recommend any? Thinking Dolomites...😍 A London classic. Have had an awesome time doing tourist things in my own backyard these past couple weeks, but busy planning another trip in the next few weeks. Any ideas where I should go? 🤔 🦌 Catching up with friends in Nara…
•
Last year exploring the famous deer park of Nara feels like a world away. The deer are incredibly comfortable with humans, and can even be a bit aggressive when you’re not there during high sea ☀️ Golden hour on the Bay…
•
I won’t forget those couple hours on the foothills of Sausalito, staring across at San Francisco through a golden haze. It’s one of those moments during which you pinch yourself; lucky beyond belie ⛰ Down by Otemanu…
•
Deep in French Polynesia, and on the main island of Vaitape, Mt. Otemanu stands head and shoulders above the landscape. A former volcano, it protects much of the island from tropical rains, and helps create this uniqu 🌊 Moments on the California coast…
•
I still think about that road trip on the coast of Big Sur. Cruising down the Pacific Coast Highway, we couldn’t have asked for better conditions, or better impromptu stops than this one. Pigeon ☀️ Golden afternoons in Slovenia…
•
The more time goes by, the more jealous I am of my past self, who is right now still on that sunset hike in the Slovenian Alps. I think we need time travel asap.
…..
@BeautifulDestinations
#Disco 🔥 Mornings on the Balinese mountains…
•
Growing up across the US and in parts of Brasil, I never imagined my life would lead me to a moment like the one in this image. An early morning — maybe 6:30a — in a country I had only Finally, I found my hat.
•
Miss you Bali. Also, do me a favor guys and wish my wonderful wife an awesome birthday! She was unable to come with me to Bali, and I’m trying to convince her to go with me again this year. Help me out ! 🙏🏽🙏🏽 ☀️ Welcome to Tegalalang…
•
My last day in Bali was probably the finest. At the world famous Tegalalang Rice Terraces in Ubud, I witnessed a spectacular sunrise. With my @djiglobal Mavic 2 Pro, I saw it from a vantage point I found hard t 🌊 California moments...
•
A roadtrip down the PCH in California is one of those things I tell everyone I know to do once in their lives. Why? It’s got everything. This shot was right in the middle of the highway, at Pfeifer Beach in Big S 🏙 Rush hour…
•
Shibuya is one of those places that doesn’t seem real. It’s an incredible demonstration of the organization of modern civilization — bright flashing lights, streams of fast-moving people, loud advertiseme ☀️ Fleeting moments in Bora Bora…
•
I have to say that few places make me reminisce on sheer beauty as much as Bora Bora. There was something hard to describe about that tiny island, in a chain of tiny islands, surrounded by water for tho ❄️ Snow days in Norway…
•
Even as I crave the warm weather, I definitely still crave moments like these in Lillehammer. It was an incredible trip, not least because it was the first time we’d heard the term “in-house outhouse, 🍚🌅 Mornings at Tegalalang…
•
I can’t describe the experience of witnessing a sunrise at Bali’s most instagrammed location, the rice terraces of Tegalalang. Fifteen minutes from @desavisesa and roughly thirty outside the hear 👁 Face to face…
•
These Balinese monkeys are not only full of energy, they’re incredibly bold. Reach for your backpack for a new lens, and you’ll see several sets of orange eyes focusing intently on you, waiting to see if you 🗻 Somewhere in the Alps…
•
Sunsets like these deep in the Alps seem to be beyond comprehension. There’s a scale that appears incalculable with the naked eye. Even so high up, with miles and miles of visibility, the peaks tower over

07 - Holding the Boom (A Light in the Addict)

August 03, 2015

I awake, like every morning, in a haze and extremely full from the nightly feasts I have. Fried chicken, cookies, candies, the sort of “food” that my mother never put on my plate as a child, I seem to inhale as an adult. I glance at my phone, resting face down beside my pillow, Instagram notifications lighting up the screen, enough to scroll through for a while. When you’ve decided your skills and passions mold best in the realm of social media branding and digital content creation, your phone is constantly revealing new likes and comments. I used to get a little buzz—a rush of sorts—seeing my phone blow up from likes, but, after roughly a day of running multiple social media accounts, it became utterly apparent that all the likes in the world would never make me happy.

Like most people, dreams I have the night before I usually forget. Yet I have been having a particular dream which repeats itself, and I can do nothing to forget this dream. The subject is the same, yet the stories, situations, and settings are always a bit different. I would also, normally, disclose the subject and delve into great depths as to how it affects me, yet, in this case, I am not currently comfortable even discussing the topic with myself. It is merely a “thing” that I ignore and push out of my mind. It does, however, concern people in and out of my life, relationships which have ended recently and years ago, and a guilt my self-conscious has built from my numerous choices to cut those people off.

What do you call a nightmare that does not frighten? That doesn’t scare the hell out of you, that isn’t straight out of a horror movie, and that won’t wake you in the middle of the night in a sweat of terror? Is it still a nightmare? I’d say no, as I venture you might, but what of the dream that simply depresses? The dream that makes the world seem an impossibly big place, and that can make daily activities and burdens overpowering? Is that not a nightmare? Is it not a dream that, like a nightmare, you only seek to avoid upon placing your head down on the pillow? This sort of dream, I found, truly does exist. I also discovered solace in the fact that I am not alone. Upon awaking, distressed from another morning of ruminating on a moment that never occurred other than inside my head, I did a quick google search. What I learnt was nothing shocking, rather seemed to be intuition. In essence, thoughts we do not deal with during the day, are then “dreamt out” during the night through all sorts of metaphors. The brain does this to deal with the emotions (those I refuse to deal with during the day) so that the next day can be one with less concern on those troubling topics. However, when we dream, during REM, hormones indicative of stress, such as adrenaline, are released in more amounts than usual. You feel exhausted the next morning, but not physically, simply emotionally. Then you’re stuck. Stuck trying to understand why you no longer feel good, and how it’s possible to get a great night’s sleep and yet feel relatively worthless.

With this knowledge, I berate myself for sulking as I come to grips with the fact that it was just a dream. I finally get out of bed and begin to play music on my stereo to slowly wake myself up. Meek Mill and Future. There are few things like beginning a morning with that sort of “hard” hip-hop. It gets you going and ready for the day, but it’s just an escape, I’ve learnt. For every bar they spit about getting twisted, about needing nothing, about being a king, you, too, are convinced, if only a bit. As I fold my work clothes for the day and put on my outfit for the gym and the yellow morning light spills into my tiny room, I stand bobbing my head, forcing myself into the mindset. Finally, with all things ready, my black on black uniform folded and neatly prepared in my backpack, I head out.

With my camera in hand, Future’s new album blasting on repeat in my earbuds, I wander down Delancey as it turns to Kenmare. I stop every minute or so to take pictures of notable people. I have realized that the people of New York are the only things I truly wish to capture nowadays. All those who climb higher and higher to take shots of the skyscraper are wonderful, but I do not dwell on what’s above, I keep my head down and at eye-level. That is my world. I find sufficient difficulties understanding this world, let alone dreaming of what’s above and beyond. I feel rewarded as there appear to be so many notable people on the streets. As I make my way into Nolita and Soho, the people move less and are easy to capture. A white car on the cobblestones of Crosby Street grabs my attention. A black man is leaning out of the driver’s seat, tattoo on his arm. I zoom in with my Nikon, right hand on the trigger, the lens gently resting on my left palm, and realize it says “Family”. There, on Crosby Street, I begin reminiscing on Chicago and my family there. Lately they seem not to understand me more than usual. I was there a week or so ago for two days and, in that time, somehow managed to make my two-years-superior sister cry. My talents are numerous. I take a shot of a guy’s shoes as I pass him, but I still have my mind only on Chicago. Recently I have gotten into shouting matches with my family over their lack of understanding and what appears to me to be an incessant prying. In this moment, I realize that they simply care much for my well-being and yearn to know about my life. They get most of the news in these blogs. I then realize that I would be more well-adjusted to their questions if I knew myself, and knew where I was going. I’m crossing onto Houston Street now, the gleaming Adidas store on the intersection with Broadway greeting me.

But, in reality, I still don’t fully grasp my own identity. I still feel as if I would benefit greatly from more time used to study myself, the complex subject which seems to have endless lectures.

But we don’t always get what we want.

On Broadway I pass a particular Starbucks which I do not like. I put down my camera for the moment. A bad vibe can infect everything you create. A subliminal thing, you know? Now on Mercer Street, sweat on my brow, music still pumping, I see a beautiful, shaggy dog. He is tied up outside a cheap deli across the street from the NYU gym. I zoom my lens to the point where, at most, I am but one foot in front of him. But the dog does not notice anything. His ears and eyes remain transfixed on his owner inside. The look in his eyes seems slightly out of worry, but the world could end and he’d remain there: tied up to the metal pole, staring inside the bodega waiting for his owner. That’s fucking loyalty.

I make my way to the gym and do what I know best, which is to sweat and push and pull all of these thoughts out of mind. For an hour, you are fully engrossed in doing the most barbaric of movements. But self-improvement always tastes good and takes me out of the haze in which I awoke. I stroll out now, this time with a bit of a swagger, the dream which haunts me no longer my concern and venture down West Third towards my office on Sullivan. There I work as a Production Assistant. Occasionally, I am struck with the magnitude of this job (in terms of what it means in my budding career) and my love for it. I remember I came for finance, to work in Goldman Sachs, and to drown all my tears in hundred dollar bills. Now, I run around Midtown lugging heavy production equipment and am learning how to hold the boom. I just need a foot in the industry, I tell myself.

Before I make it into the office, I find a bench by the NYU Law building on the corner of Sullivan and smoke a cigarette. Still unfiltered. I finally am able to relax, body fatigued yet invigorated. I lean back and watch the people go by me. A couple of days ago I saw Anderson Cooper stroll by, tight shirt and backpack on. Hair as white as snow. We made some eye contact and I forgot all about it until this moment.

Today no one really notable passes by, as is expected. I’m done with the cigarette, though. It’s 10 AM, right on time. From experience, I know that once you enter the office, the morning, and the day vanishes. Thus as I walk down to Sullivan, I take it all in for a second, and the sun hits my face. I’m a bit blinded but there are few things like morning sunshine in the summer.

But the morning is over and it’s all written.

All still unfiltered.

Tags: Action Bronson, Mr. Wonderful, Rap, The Boom, Production Assistant, Anderson Cooper, Sullivan, NYU Law, NYU, Goldman Sachs, Midtown, West Third, Mercer Street, Broadway, Starbucks, Family, Chicago, Crosby Street, Nikon, Nikon D3100, Future, Delancey, Kenmare, New York, Gym, Meek Mill, REM, Dreams, Nightmares, Fried Chicken, Cookies
Prev / Next