Last Friday I had the privilege of shooting the first ever wedding at the new Yankee Stadium. When I was told about the venue I wasn't sure whether or not it'd be a good fit for a ceremony. It's an enormous space that would easily dwarf the 250 or so people that were to be there. It might feel empty. Or just inappropriate.

In retrospect, it was perfect. Events took place in the "Delta Sky Lounge" one level up behind home plate, which has a huge private outdoor patio that leads down into the seats. The ceremony was supposed to take place in the seats overlooking home plate, but just as people were seated it stated to rain, so matters were taken indoors. No matter - 250 people crowded into the reception area around the bride and groom, everyone standing and huddling in as close as they could. They must have felt like celebrities - there were cameras being thrust up into the air from every direction trying to get an angle on the bride and groom, not to mention a crew filming the event for an upcoming ESPN documentary on the Yankees.

As the light of the day faded and all that was left to light the outdoor space was the jumbotron and the scoreboard bar that circles the stadium (the stadium lights were not on), it took on an a rather enchanting feel. A $1.5-billion-dollar palace, all to ourselves. The staff of about 40 Yankees employees that were on hand to do everything from tend bar to escort us around the stadium probably added to the sense of being royalty...

I didn't get to do much of the creative work that I love so much, but I did put together a couple of HDR's that show the stadium in all its glory. Here's one of my favorites.

I feel like I've taken this picture before. Not exactly, but similarly, of different buildings with the same general composition and feel. Thus, it's just not as exciting as the first time I'd seen something like this through the viewfinder and edited it in a similar way. It was taken because I like the challenge of finding buildings like this and isolating interesting compositions within them. I like the final result, but something internal seems to be prohibiting me from thinking as much of this image as I did of the first study-of-decay-shot that I'd posted (which wasn't even that long ago).

I'm sure I'm not the first to experience this frustration. The question is, how does one properly deal with it? I'd recently nosed through Andrew Zuckerman's outstanding photo book "Wisdom" where Chuck Close states that "Inspiration is for amateurs. The rest of us just show up and go to work." He continues on saying that if you wait for inspiration to come, you're doomed to produce very little work. Hmm... perhaps he's come by smallformat recently and taken note of the long gap between posts.