While working in NYC last month I had the opportunity to photograph Marfa NYC, a restaurant/bar inspired by Marfa, Texas. It’s located at 101 2nd Street, a few yards from 1st Avenue. Jesse and I were enroute to the Sunshine Cinema on Houston to see The Road and didn’t have time to stop. We paused long enough to peek through the window and make a photograph. I noticed the art on the back wall, barely visible in this image, and thought the cow skull painting looked familiar but I couldn’t place it.

Fast forward to January 6, last Wednesday, when I’m roughly 1,800 miles from Marfa NYC parked in front of Prada Marfa. It’s the sculpture installation created by artists Michael Elmgreen and Ingar Dragset that sits on a lonely stretch of West Texas highway 90 just outside Valentine. It debuted in 2005 and has been baffling unsuspecting tourists for more than four years.

Despite the fact that it’s one of the most photographed curiosities in West Texas, I wanted images for my agency, ZumaPress, in L.A. I arrived at the site shortly after 4 p.m., and began shooting. Thirty minutes later a white Suburban rolled up, turned and backed up to the front door. A guy in a long black duster and black cowboy hat proceeded to pull out a ladder, unlock the door and go inside. I yelled at him from across the road, “I’ve been waiting here for a week, I thought you guys were never gonna open.” He’d probably heard that same lame-assed line a million times before but he chuckled and shouted, “We never open.”

I crossed the road and introduced myself while he fiddled with one of the dead flourescent ballasts in the ceiling. He told me his name was Boyd Elder and said, “I grew up here and I maintain this piece for the artists.” Boyd and I chatted and I asked him what he did for a living, “I’m an artist, I’ve been making art since I was five, he said.”

He was waiting on an electrician to show up to repair the faulty light and it gave us an opportunity to talk and get acquainted over a pair of frosty Shiners from my ice chest. I noticed Boyd was down to the end of a cigar and asked him if he’d like to try one of mine. We shared a couple of Casa Magnas while Boyd talked about his art and growing up in far west Texas. During that conversation we learned that we had a bunch of mutual friends in the area, Bob and Christi Dillard, owners of the Ft. Davis Mountain Dispatch, Roy Hamric, writer, photographer, university professor now in Thailand and Blair Pittman, in Terlingua, author and former National Geographic photographer. I learned that Boyd had worked closely with The Eagles in the 70s and was responsible for a lot of their album cover art. He mentioned a new restaurant/bar in New York’s East Village and that he had paintings hanging in that establishment. “I was there just two weeks ago and I photographed it,” I told him.

It was Boyd’s paintings I’d seen hanging on the back wall of the restaurant. They’re barely visible in the image I’ve posted here. I promised Boyd I’d email him the photo when I got wherever I was going to sleep that night.

The electrician didn’t show and Boyd had work to do, so I told him I’d planned to shoot after dark and I’d call him if the electrician turned up. Two hours later Boyd called me from his ranch house and asked about the electrician. I told him the only person I’d seen was a beautiful costume designer from NYC who’d stopped to photograph the sculpture.

Boyd asked me how I felt about homemade chile rellenos and I asked him for directions. The rellenos (in Shiner beer batter perfected by Miss Rita) were fabulous as was the company, the cigars, the Aberlour 16, the Shiners and the music.

I ended up bunking at Boyd’s and can’t wait to get back. I’m mailing him an 11×14 print of the Marfa NYC image and a handful of cigars.

My recent trip to Jamaica included a day-long expedition into the Blue Mountains and a visit to two coffee plantations. I hired an excellent driver, Paul, who took me and my host, Elise Yap, owner and proprietor of The Blue House Bed & Breakfast in Ocho Rios, down the coast to Port Maria, south to Kingston and north into the Blue Mountains. We left Ocho at 7 a.m. and, thanks to Paul’s excellent driving skills, arrived at our destination alive.

Anyone who’s visited Jamaica knows that renting a car there is expensive and the driving is treacherous. Rental cars typically go for $200-plus per day because the car agencies have to cover the cost of damage from the roads and collisions. The roads in Jamaica are riddled with potholes you can lose a Hummer in. Coupled with the aggressive nature of Jamaican drivers, it’s a constant gut-check on every turn. Paul said, “You realize, I’m a PhD, right Mon?” I said, “Really, in what?” “Pot hole detection,” he laughed.

Kingston is a bustling metropolis and we stopped there for patties, the traditional meat-filled pastry that’s like a turnover, but tastier. From there we headed north up Highway B1 toward the Blue Mountains. The road is a series of steep switchbacks and elephant-sized potholes that, at 3,100 ft., takes the visitor past the Strawberry Hill resort owned by Chris Blackwell, founder of Island Records and the man responsible for launching Bob Marley’s career. One of the island’s top resort destinations, it’s also a popular venue for Kingston residents looking for a posh dinner or evening out.

We drove through, literally, through the middle of, Newcastle, a military facility built in 1841, where we were stopped on the road by a young Jamaican Defence Force recruit who kept us there until the soldiers just down the mountain finished their small arms target practice. The gunfire stopped, Paul drove on.

We arrived at Old Tavern Estate just before 11 a.m. and were greeted by owner, Dorothy Twyman. Dorothy and her late husband, Alex, founded Old Tavern Coffee Estate farm in 1972.

The family farm is perched on a Blue Mountain hillside some 4,000-plus feet above sea level.

Mrs. Twyman, ever the gracious hostess, invited us in and gave us a tour of her family business. The entire farm operation is run out of the cottage, so we were able to see the hand-sorting process as well as the two commercial roasting machines where Mrs. Twyman personally roasts the estate’s beans. She carefully sorted a batch of the roasted peabody beans and brewed dark and medium roasts for tasting. Fresh beans, roasted by the owner and served piping hot in her cottage overlooking the farm’s 100-plus acres of coffee plants–it’s an unparalleled tasting experience. While we sipped, Mrs. Twyman talked about her late husband, Alex, and his passion for growing what many consider the finest coffee on earth.

David Twyman, Alex and Dorothy’s son, arrived while we were tasting and filled us in on more of Old Tavern’s history and the devastation wreaked by Hurricane Ivan, which hit Jamaica on Sept. 11, 2004. According to David, the farm is still recovering from the storm that destroyed 70 percent of the crop.

Old Tavern Coffee Estate beans from Jamaica's Blue Mountains

David runs the day-to-day operation of the farm and deals with clients around the world. Varying sources estimate that as much as 90 percent of the Blue Mountain crop is exported to Japan.

The cool temperatures, constant rainfall, excellent drainage and altitude of the Blue Mountains all combine to make perfect growing conditions for Old Tavern Estate’s crop.