Jonathan Carchidi's Photo Story

Jonathan brings home 8 week old Hunter.

Hunter's curious about the world.

Keenan watches Hunter play.

Hunter's got a little personality on him already.

Roommates Jonathan and Keenan are happy with the new addition to their apartment.

Hunter sleeps after his long first day with his new parents.

Jonathan's Sidenote: Alright, this is the THIRD time I've attempted posting this so I hope it went through. GOD. :-/

Andrew Grear - Photo Assignment

City Hall.

Social Drinking.

She just copped a feel.

15th and Master, North Philadelphia.

I'm out of here.

Andrea Marr's Photo Story

I come from a very small town in South Jersey.

Leaving our doors open and unlocked is not uncommon in Westmont.

I've been in this town so long, my name is engraved in the sidewalk.

It's safe to say that at 19 years old I am starting to feel too big in my small town. Here, I am like everyone else ...

Here, I have the same view out of my porch door every day ...

But in Philadelphia where I go to school ...

my day-to-day view, whether outside my balcony ...

or through my apartment door's peephole, is never the same.

No unlocked or open doors in this city. I can't even get into my building without being "swiped in." Just another way to identify who I am.



















Who am I in this big city? How do I distinguish myself? I don't know yet. All I know is how small it makes me feel.

Steve Urgo's Photo Story

1. this was when i was 14 and had just started playing drums. i'm playing my first drumset, which my dad bought me after practicing on an old snare drum for sixth months. eventually i sold those drums to a man with a wife and child, funny how these things work out.

2.oh man, i swear i wasn't a hippie when i was 16, although this photo makes a different argument. i bought the drumset in this picture from my geometry teacher in high school. they were 1969 ludwigs, the exact same line of drums used by all of my classic rock idols (including jimi hendrix's drummer, who is pictured on my shirt).


3.a year later you can see that my hair is starting to get shorter. during this time i was really getting into playing jazz, in which brushes are used much more for drums (hence why i am using them here). the jazz influence got to my clothes too; soul samba was one of my favorite latin jazz albums at the time.

4.and the hair keeps getting shorter as the years go by. here i am 18, during the summer after my first year at temple. i'm playing with a jazz quartet at an amazing italian restaurant called fellini's no. 9 in charlottesville, va. this is a smaller drumset i picked up especially for jazz, but the 69 ludwigs weren't going anywhere.

5. fast-forward to the present, this is two months ago at the north star bar, where my band k-bar-t performed. the band formed not too long ago and our first fews shows have gone exceptionally well. we have shows booked in philly for the next couple of months and we're planning to play other cities on the east coast soon. here you can see the same 1969 ludwigs that i bought from my geometry teacher when i was 16.

Katie Annesley's Photo Story

This photo story was supposed to reveal something about my life. Well, I'm a drunk.

Tonight's drink of choice: a big, old box of Franzia.

Nothing goes hand-in-hand with drinking like chain-smoking on the roof!

Increasing our B.A.C.s as fast as possible with a rousing game of Kings.

Someone said something witty!

Wine's kicking in; Teddy Grahams come out.

Annnnnd we're drunk.

Danielle Bacher's Story

I had a stinging inclination to find myself in the cold winter month of January. The bitterness was a depressing time.


Inside my apartment I felt trapped--a prison that I had to run away from.

In Old City Philadelphia, I walked alone down a narrow, fairly lit path to find something meaningful. Loneliness consumed my inability to reason. Nothing really made sense anymore. I had to leave.

I looked out in the distance of many building blocks of success. I knew that this felt like the right direction. My journey began here.

I took the subway to a place far away from my wildest dreams. This trip seemed like eternity but I knew it needed to be done.

When I arrived, the land felt warm and comforting. Nature surrounded me. Everything was beautiful. It was a complete contrast from where I had come from. I decided to take a long, winding path that seemed endless.

I met a man named Munder in the desert. He had the Israeli blood. He explained to me in Hebrew that "if you walk through the desert you should reflect on the world around you, everything is peaceful and quiet." This is exactly what I did. Munder and I became good friends throughout the week that I camped in the desert with him.

I knew that my time had come to find the city I was looking for. Munder knew exactly had to get their but warned me that the city was not close.

We spent 3 days on camels through the Negev desert. We passed Givat Mador, Midreshet Ben-Gurion, Dimon, Hebron, and finally came across a small villiage of Tel Maresha. I looked through the pep-hole at what was to come.

The city of Jerusalem was right in front of my eyes. I was breathless, unable to utter even a single word. It felt like a mirage. I questioned if it was even real. Then I new at that instant, I was happy and finally at home.

Tiffany Yoon's photo story

My sister and I are really close, but ever since she moved to Brooklyn I've found myself packing up my bags to visit her. This time, I'm driving to Brooklyn to bring my sister back to my parent's house.


I make sure to pack some snacks for the trip.


Crossing the Verrazano Bridge on 278 East.

Admiring the city skyline as I begin to enter Brooklyn


My sister and I spend the night in Brooklyn. Here we are at the Union Pool bar. It was a windy night.


The next day she offered to drive home.

Kym Bays Photo Story

This summer my family and I drove from San Diego, California to Steamboat Springs, Colorado for the Triple Crown World Series baseball tournement my brother was competing in. The views from the car were breathtaking, for the first few hours at least.




















My brother plays for the West Coast Pirates, an elite club team made up of players from all over Southern California. My mom had this banner made for the tournament and I had to lug it around to all the games.

My brother's name is Grant, he is 14 now and almost 6'1". He is going to be huge and has always dreamed of being a professional baseball player. He wears the number 51 on his jersey. The number has alot of meaning in our family.

My uncle wore the number 51 throughout all of his years playing sports. He won the Rose Bowl at UCLA, had three Pro-Bowl selections and three Super Bowl championships. He is the Cinderella story of my family and my little brother looks up to him alot. If Grant stays focused like Uncle Randy, he can make it just as far. Wearing number 51 keeps him reminded.

You can see the fields where the Triple Crown World Series took place from the ski lift in Steamboat Springs this past summer. In the field on the lower left hand, my brother was competing in the Home Run Derby.

Grant gets super focused during games. He has always been a top pitcher but now he wants to focus on being a 1st basemen. He likes the position better, because "1st basemen get to hit homeruns".

Steamboat Springs isn't just a baseball field, it is a big tourist destination all year round. In the winter, skiing and snowboarding are fun, but when we went this summer you could rent intertubes and float around the town in the river. I think Steamboat Springs is one of the prettiest places I've ever been.

But Pirate players weren't allowed to go tubing until the tournament was finished. The team is very serious. When a new pitcher comes into the game all the players get out of the dugout, take a knee and study the speed of the new pitcher. On one hand, it is to regroup focus and on the other hand, it's used to intimidate the new pitcher.

After the games, even if they win in a blowout, the coaches have a long discussion with the team. If they lose, it involves lots of yelling. This is not Little League.

No matter how serious the games, or how big the players, I still remember my little brother on his first T-ball team. It is amazing to see how time has flown by. Back when he played for the A's, the boys would hit and try to run to third base. But just like my mom and her 5 other brothers and sisters were there through all the games with my uncle, I've been around since the beginning with my brother. One day I hope to watch him play in a big stadium too.