The Sun Flared ’29

Back in 2015, Tardel was cranking out hot rods in my shop—one at a time, like some twisted production line designed to piss off Henry Ford’s efficiency sensibilities. For the first half of the year, all eyes were on Randy Cannarozzi’s ’29 roadster. I fell in love with the damn thing. Late at night, I’d shuffle out there in my underwear, half-crazed with possibility, just studying the lines and quiet genius of a hot rod still in its infancy.

When it finally rolled out under its own power, we knew it deserved a proper shoot. So Tardel, Cannarozzi, and I hauled it to one of my secret photo spots—a little known clearing in the Hill Country where I’ve shot photos for years. The sun was hanging low, bleeding orange across the horizon, and I snapped over 500 shots on my Leica M8. But right before the sun said its final goodnight, I pulled out the real heavyweight: my Leica M6 loaded with Ilford HP5 and fitted with a vintage Summicron from the 1950s.

This shot came from that lone roll of film, and I’ve always had a soft spot for it. Printing it, though, was a knife-edge gamble—that wild sun flare threatens to either obliterate the whole frame or hijack the scene entirely if you’re not careful. But after some trial and error, I finally cracked the code.

Ran off four copies, signed and numbered each on the back, and I’m giving them away for the cost of shipping. If you want one, step up and claim it. These were printed on scrap photo paper, so each one is a little different—imperfections, quirks, all part of the deal. Average size is 5” by 7”, but don’t expect perfection. This is art, not assembly-line work.