While sitting on a couch in West Virginia last month, steadily sifting through festival dead ends, broken Google links, outdated news articles, and 404 File Not Found messages, Ross stumbled upon an image of a black man in a blue full body Indian headdress.  The photograph was taken in New Orleans and it was part of an article about “Indian Sunday” where groups of black men and women parade in the streets on the Sunday before the feast of St. Joseph during Lent.  Immediately, we knew this was exactly the kind of event AFP wanted to photograph.  So we called the journalist and she plugged us in with Jermain Cooper Bossier , Kabrisha Gauthier, and the 7th Ward Creole Hunters.

Because we were out catching rattlesnakes we couldn’t get to New Orleans by Sunday when the various tribes around the city come out and “mask” as Indians.  But as we were told, the real action was the evening of St. Joseph’s and so that’s when we arrived.  On this night, tribes from around the city gather on one street corner and face off for friendly and sometimes heated encounters.  Each tribe is expected to have their costumes ready by Mardi Gras and so the term “Mardi Gras Indians” has stuck for this group but the celebration extends past “carnival.”

The history of the event has its origins in antebellum Louisiana when Native American tribes assisted in slave revolts and supported slaves escaping to freedom.   Indian bloodlines became mixed in the mashup of ancestries that became Creole lineage and tribal culture found its way into multi-ethnic social groups.  In the late 19th century, “Indian Sunday” became an annual event for descendants to honor and celebrate their Indian ancestry and pay respect to the natives who helped to free slaves.  But clashes between tribes could be extremely violent as they embraced tribal warfare tactics.  Now in 2009, the spy boys, flag boys, and wild men who all serve to protect the chief mostly function as symbols of the tradition’s bloody past.  Still, when tribes face off today, encounters are fierce and the challenge to be the bigger, prettier, and more revered chief doesn’t always end amicably.

Just before sundown, we left the 7th Ward with the Creole Hunters and walked 3 miles towards uptown New Orleans where all the tribes were gathering.  With the exception of stopping moving traffic at each crossing, the march was mostly uneventful.

But when we turned our final corner, the energy radically changed.  Drumming and shouting filled the air, and the streetlights poured down on hordes of colorful dancers.  Spectators gathered on the sides to watch as chiefs went face to face, refusing to back down from one another, yelling out phrases of intimidation.  And almost as soon as we arrived, a fight broke out and we saw one chief spitting blood out of his mouth.  But with cops on hand and older chiefs mediating, the squirmish subsided and the party began.

It was a night of color and celebration that was truly unique in our travels.  We feel so lucky to have been part of this incredible event and to have been welcomed in by Jermain and his tribe.  The men and women who spend an entire year on their costumes are the reason we were able to take such beautiful images.

Check out the video too.  It’s a little longer than usual, but there was a lot of history we wanted to provide.

Matt and I spent a few days in Baton Rouge, LA with my old high school friend Austin.  He showed us a really great time.  We enjoyed an epic tailgating party at LSU, where the Oceanography department serves up steaming pots of shrimp, potatoes, corn, green beans, and pineapple.  Oh man!

Doughnut stop.

Austin took us out for a day in the Sabine National Wildlife Preserve to assist with marine research.  We joined two other graduate students from LSU.  The mode of transportation was by air boat, which is like riding a sea-doo and airplane combined.  What a blast!  It was a little scary at first zooming across the water at 40 mph, aimed directly for a piece of dry land. I thought we would certainly crash.  However, the air boat is designed with a sharply arched bow that allows the craft to easily glide onto the dry land.  The pilot even has the ability to spray soap on the underside of the craft to keep it lubricated when crossing large sectionsof grass.  Talk about loud too!  Everyone must wear ear protection.

The guys were helping John (background) gather samples of marine life for his graduate research.  We collected samples from eight different locations throughout the day.  The square pvc box in the foreground is like a net that is thrown from the boat and traps things inside of it by sinking into the mud.  Once the trap is thrown, two people work to gather whatever may have been caught.  We would typically find tiny shrimp, tiny fish, and tiny crabs.  Not too exciting, but certainly interesting.

There are a number of samples taken from each location.  Above, John is taking a square sample of grass to analyze back in the lab.  He also collects mud samples.

Here, Austin and Shannon are executing another form of collecting marine samples.  A pair works together to drag the net 12 steps along the shore, then gather whatever is caught from the net and place it in a zip lock bag to be labeled.

Sometimes the air boat would get stuck.  Above, we had jumped out of the boat to make the load lighter, when Shannon the driver suddenly tore away with the fan faced directly at us.  It suddenly felt like being in a hurricane.  The tiny particles from the tall grass felt like needles spraying against our skin.  The power from those air boats is incredible!  But what an educational day was had with some very cool guys.  Thanks Austin for your hospitality tour-guiding expertise!

NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA

In New Orleans we were hosted by my old high school friend Kamau, and his wife Shelina.  They were very generous to share their bathroom with us, even though they are still in the process of remodeling after their house was damaged in hurricane Katrina.  It was the beautiful Shelina who turned me onto the idea of photographing the local Halloween party on Frenchman St.  She would know what to do and when, since she is from New Orleans and knows just about everyone in town.  Kamau is on his way to being a very talented doctor, with a specialization in radiology.  Go Kamau!

A visit to New Orlean’s beautiful graveyards.

I met this guy below when riding my bike somewhere near Esplanade St.  He was performing some strange ceremony in front of this very old and abandoned Masons building.  He asked me to take his picture, and then I quickly rode along.

Palm reading lessons–part of a historical night tour in the French Quarter that I stumbled upon.

Notice this guy’s name is ‘Love’.  I asked him if that was his real name and he assured me it was.

Dr. Foderingham bustin’ a move.

HOUSTON, TEXAS

The studio of David Adicke.  Presidents heads, lots of them.

I was fortunate enough to stumble upon the Day of the Dead parade in New Orleans.  About 100 people took part in a somewhat impromptu parade.  Skeletons on bikes rolled up on a dark corner just east of the French District.  Ornate, white buffaloes slumbered down the street.  A ghostly band slowly formed.  A crowd gathered.  The parade commenced!

Our friend Grass was a great host in Baton Rouge, LA.  He assisted us with his own, finely filtered veggie oil to help get us to New Orleans.  I offered him a print, but all he wanted was to make the blog.  Many thanks, Grass (and nice costume)!

My friend Austin (right) joined us in New Orleans for Halloween.  He and his buddy Brandon dressed up like ER doctors and brought mayhem to the streets of N’orleans.  It was good to have them along…

I reluctantly dressed up in a costume supplied by Austin, but by the end of the night grew to love it!  The streets of N’orleans were so crazy and filled with costumes that I hardly stuck out.  However, a number of people liked grabbing my various ‘fat rolls’ and other body parts that I won’t expand on.

Plenty of beer flowed through the streets of the French district.

Halloween night in N’orleans was perhaps one of the most enjoyable, yet crazy nights of my life.  There are no words to describe the atmosphere.  Everywhere you looked there was someone dressed in an extravagant costume.  Frenchman St. was so crowded you could hardly move about.  Everyone was drinking on the streets.  Brass bands marched the littered streets blasting deep-souled tunes across the surging crowds.  You could walk up to anyone and start a conversation.  People were friendly; everyone was excited; the party burned into the wee hours of morning..