Big Olaf makes a colorful splash on the Pacific Beach Boardwalk. This take-out ice cream shop paints its building lime green and adorns its walls with hand-made oversized advertising posters that shout refreshment in near-neon term. The two customers, absorbed by Big Olaf’s bright red plastic chairs, seem to become almost part of the advertising. The image celebrates the beach culture and its pursuit of pleasure.

Sailor Jerry, a store that most likely sells beach accessories in this resort community, is closed. The “Wooden Indian” – a sign that symbolized tobacco stores since the 19th century – has been locked away inside, and peers through a door plastered with labels and ads promoting relatively obscure organizations and products. The most important sign in the window is, of course, the closed sign. The shop will open later, and the Wooden Indian will take his usual place on Mission Boulevard. But for now, the door’s windows will reflect those who wait for admittance.

Tetonia, a town of only 250 people, is located within sight of the Grand Teton Range (on a clear day). We stayed at one of its vintage motels, which featured a cowboy welcome sign out front. I photographed the back of it at dusk, waving to no one in particular.

Neon signs featuring the logos of two of America’s premiere fast food outlets blaze in the rain along the main street of this town on the Navajo Indian reservation. A long message board, periodically flashing special offerings, shows a slice of American heraldry just as I shot this image, while traffic rumbles past in the background. All of it is wrapped in utility wiring. Here, on the very outskirts of Monument Valley itself, a town salutes a pair of rural American icons: the automobile and the fast food parlor.

A “For Sale” sign provides the context here, while the content comes to us through an abundance of detail and a moment stopped forever in time. This building lines one of Kiev’s most famous streets, a hill known as “Andrew’s Descent.” Home to artists and writers since the 19th century, the street is still alive with galleries, museum, and artists selling their work. This old building appears to be in the process of some restoration. As we passed by, I photographed a woman working her way through the old metal door carrying a banana carton. A dolly with two other cartons awaits. A well-stocked artist’s stall beckons at the left. Two empty stalls stand at the right. Is she an artist, moving her work to a stall? Or is she just cleaning stuff out of the building? The answers to such questions are unknown, but they will certainly kindle the imagination of the viewer.

This mural covers nearly a city block. It is signage promoting one of the city’s clubs along Queen Street. Using a 24mm lens, I was able to stretch the subject to stress the sweep of its incongruous lips, teeth, and the rays that flow out of it on both sides. I waited for a sole pedestrian to enter the frame, which gives the image its sense of scale incongruity. The sign itself is incongruous as well – there are no teeth, for example, on the bottom. But there are 30 of them on top, some featuring light fixtures and windows. I thank the delightful pbase photographer Jude Marion, (judespics) who spent an afternoon shooting with me in Toronto, and took me to Queen Street where I photographed this amazing sign.