Shake

I was in Austin last week, and we took a trip to the Austin Flea Market. There, I saw this monkey.

Disco Fever

I was downtown on Halloween, and noticed that the local Irish pub had a disco ball and floor set up. I don't quite understand why that is, but the photo nearly shot itself.

Midnight Snack

Snapped this on a trip to New Orleans -- dark street, light convenience store. :)

Pit Stop

Shot from the sidelines of the Folsom Street Fair this year.

Throw Baby from the (Cal)train

I've been terrible about keeping up with my blog lately (perhaps as my own standards have become more critical), but maybe I can work on that.

On Saturday, I went up to the city -- with the idea of either seeing Fleet Week, or the last day of the Cindy Sherman exhibit at SF Moma. Photography won; planes lost. But I did manage to catch this as I disembarked from a super-packed Caltrain on the way home.

Skyscraper

Every year, I try to photograph the San Francisco Pride Parade. There's huge, monster turnout, as a happy city turns out for what is effectively an all-day celebration of some of the best things about San Francisco. You get these great characters who are literally on parade, and the result is a wonderful chance to take some pictures.

This shot was driven by two things: Last year, I got this shot of one of those SF cheerleading groups tossing people in the air. I wanted to get more of that action -- I love seeing people take flight! The other is the Airship Ventures zeppelin, which has been everywhere lately. I'd seen it in the sky all morning, and I'd been looking to include it in a composition. This is the result -- tough exposure, but one of my favorite shots from this year.

Colored Folks

This is the other shot I got from last Saturday that really had me looking at colors working together in a scene. That same direct, late afternoon light is at work just like my previous image -- and the angular shadows make this slightly weird image work for me.

An Arm and a Leg

Summer is here in San Francisco, which means a preponderance of largely cloudless days in many of the areas I shoot. One of the fun things about cities is that by afternoon, you get like peaking around buildings but still being very direct, which leads a lot of the colors to really pop.

Color isn't normally my thing, but I've been sitting here with Eggleston on my desk for a few months, so I'm hoping it starts to rub off. ;)

"His Best Foot Forward"

I've been bad about updating my blog in the last few months; been pretty busy with traveling, work, and (lately) the perils of mattress shopping. The net result is I'm months behind in processing, which I strongly persist until I drop dead (hopefully later rather than sooner; but that means the processing debt will be that much greater).

This shot is from Caltrain, and once again reminds me why the iPhone 4s is just a remarkable tool for street photography -- I'm actually vaguely worried that if the iPhone 5 or whatever is giant, it will become more noticeable and it won't be as good at what it does.

Then again, I guess this could change street photography forever if Google [disclaimer: my employer -- but I have nothing to do with this project] gets it right.

Denouement

I was down in New Orleans again for Mardi Gras and to see Betsy, and I went to a ton of parades -- more than when I went to see in college, even.

In case you don't know the score, Mardi Gras kind of works like this: A club of people (called a 'krewe') get dressed up in masks and fancy costumes, and then get a big parade together (and by 'big', I mean 20-40 floats + zillions of marching bands), and then roll through the streets of New Orleans.

The scene on the street is somewhere between a block party and a bacchanalia, depending on what part of the city you're in. People drink, chat, grill things, and then generally get quite drunk. Then the parades show up, and they start throwing things. Primarily plastic beads, but also schwag -- cups, neon lights, bags, tomahawks, and even (for one famous parade) coconuts. People got nuts for the stuff -- jumping up in the air, shouting, even baring their breasts -- all for cheap beads that you could buy anywhere else for pennies.

Behavioral economists must have a field day with Mardi Gras.

I got a lot of photos at the parades that caught my fancy, but I think my strongest image came afterwards. The aftermath of a day of five of these giant parades is staggering -- the amount of trash generated is epic. Equally epic is the cleaning crew that goes along the main thoroughfares of the city, pushing up big mounds of trash with bulldozers.

I was struck by how terrifying the waste is in Mardi Gras. It's something I didn't think of when I lived in the city back in college, but... well,  I'm sure one day some 51st century archaeologist will be sifting through the ruins of Old Earth, and wondering why the hell we have 37 kilotons of plastic beads in a giant pit somewhere.

Sit for a Spell

Shot this on Market Street -- liked the lines.

The Tip of the Iceberg

My sister lives in Puerto Rico (she's stationed in the coast guard there), and my family all decided to visit her for Christmas. Following that, B & I took off for St. Thomas for a lazy few days on the beach.

Yesterday I took a snorkel tour off the coast, and brought my little SD-10 with me (Canon's underwater P&S). Lots of pictures of fish and turtles which frankly were super boring to me. Shot this one as our guide was delivering a lecture, and I instantly liked it.
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Serravision

One of my Christmas gifts from Betsy last year was a membership at SF Moma. Since it's due to expire at the end of the month, I decided I would get the most out of it with one last quick trip through the place. I'd seen signs for the Richard Serra exhibit all over town (even in local cafes in Mountain View!), so I decided I'd hit that first.

I've seen Serra's massive metal sculptures in a lot of places -- the De Young, on top of MOMA, etc. This exhibit was more about drawing as a theme, which made it a little interesting. Some of it was stuff that felt more like a visual study to me -- kind of answering the question 'What does it mean to draw at scale?' Other stuff appeared to be pointed more towards abstracting away everything but the essentials of a three dimensional shape (e.g., reducing it to lines or solid blocks), or musings on repetition, like this one.

This scene was immediately recognizable as a photo to me -- took out my phone and had the shot on the first take. It came out a little overexposed, and I helped matters more in that way in post, since that's clearly where the image needed to be headed.

Hell is a Caltrain Stop

Up in the city yesterday for my last photo walk in SF of the year, and Caltrain came through for another lengthy delay. :)

Snapped this with my phone as the mood started to head south.

Julie

This is a PSA.

Julie Michelle, the photographer behind "I Live Here: SF", is going through some rough times.

 Here are the relevant details from All City:

There is a fundraiser this Sunday (12/18) at the San Francisco Motorcycle Club to help All City friend and fellow photographer Julie Michelle and her partner Lee.

As some of you know, Lee recently suffered a massive stroke mid-November, leaving a lot of uncertainty in the couple’s lives. As you can imagine, the medical expenses are through the roof, even with insurance. Julie and Lee are currently in the midst of trying to relocate to a new home that will better fit Lee’s needs. 

In addition to trying to run Lee’s companies, Julie is currently staying with friends and working on packing up their life belongings in preparation for the move. Julie has done a lot of great things for the San Francisco photography community and beyond, and chances are that many of you reading this either know Julie personally or are familiar with her work, so I’m hoping some of our local readers are able to attend Sunday’s fundraiser. If you cannot attend, you can still help out here: 

http://julieandlee.chipin.com/julie-and-lee.

Your support is great appreciated! 

San Francisco Motorcycle Club

2194 Folsom Street (at 16th Street)

San Francisco, CA 94110 

3:00-7:00p.m.

If you're not familiar with the "I Live Here" project, Julie started it by posting an invitation on the internet to take portraits of people. She asks people to pick the place in San Francisco that means the most to them, and then will meet them there. Total strangers, sometimes in some totally strange places.

The result has been not only some interesting portraits, but also people doing the same thing in other cities.

Julie needs our help if she wants to continue her project -- if you'd like to chip in, just follow the link above and donate whatever you can.

Cleft

Flew back from Alabama by way of New Orleans, which meant a day with B and the French Quarter. While she was working on a paper, I went for a walk, and saw a man entering a shelter for some building work. I chased after him so I'd get this shot just as he stepped into the light.

The Last Jam

The night after my grandmother's funeral, my uncle Scott and my cousin Jacob got together and started jamming. Every came to the room to the listen, and my great-aunt Janet got to listen up close.

I've heard Scott play the guitar his whole life, and he's always been really good, but that night was singular.

Absolutely brilliant -- he and Jacob were on fire.

When I heard them playing, I walked into the doorway, and I instantly knew I had my shot.

Eulogy

My grandmother, Norma Landry, died this week at the age of 81. Yesterday was her funeral, and this was the eulogy I gave. 



The picture is one I took of her in May of this year, on a road trip Betsy and I took across the country. My mother had asked me then if I could take a picture of her, telling me, "I'm worried she won't be with us that long".   She'd been telling me this for years, but I decided I needed a picture of my grandmother anyway.


When I asked my grandmother, she insisted that she get to put on her lipstick and take off her oxygen.


It's a simple portrait -- Betsy held the flash with a little LQIII portable softbox off to camera left, and I took the shot.

"Eulogy"

Mamaw always had a special place in my heart: She was the one who told me stories. I say this as someone who will always love my parents for reading to me when I was young -- it's just that I would sometimes be insistent on new stories, that no one else had heard. My grandmother would take bits of character and plot from movies or television we'd both seen, and begin there. Over time, the adaptions became more elaborate, and with a few years to refine her handiwork, they began to take on a life all their own.


Princess Leia became "Queen Pearl". A cloaked starship became hidden by "invisible paint" (helpfully suggested by my grandfather) -- and plots that began as space operas began to become shaped by the narrative trajectory of skits from Saturday Night Live and the Golden Girls. Every so often, I have occasion to tell a story of my own. When I do, my friends invariably comment (some charitably, some perhaps less) on where I could have dreamt up such things, and I just smile.


I know where the stories started.

*

One of my earliest memories of Mamaw was being at her house, and seeing one of the brass horses she had on the mantle. 


I asked her why she had it, and she explained to me that it reminded her of her horse Bob, which she'd ridden as a girl. As she told me about the horse, her eyes lit up, and both she and I were transported back to the days where she was young, and had her very own horse to ride. 


You could trace everything my grandmother did back to one central truth: She always had the heart of that girl she used to be. 

*

Growing up, the thing I looked forward to every week was that come Friday, I got to spend the weekend with my grandparents. When people talk about the idyllic days of youth as a metaphor, those weekends are the literal image that springs to my mind.


Imagine a weekend where you could wake up on a Saturday morning, take off in a fishing boat you'd helped your grandfather build, shrimp for your own bait, then catch a double dozen redfish from a fishing hole in an undisclosed location in the marshes of Lower Alabama and Mississippi. Not enough adventure? Imagine the same trip, except with the biggest squall you've ever seen zapping the water feet away from you with lightning bolts. 


Still not enough? Imagine being taken with an uncle to ride in a monster truck through a swamp. Or riding ATVs through that same swamp a few months later, only to discover there are considerably more snakes at ground level than at monster truck level.


At the time, these all seemed like regular occurrences. Sometimes, you don't realize you're having an adventure till it's over. 


After a day like this, we'd generally end up nipping a few oysters from a bed, and then heading back home. The part of the day that came next was the most important. We'd get home, tired and exhausted, and my grandfather would sit outside shucking oysters on the porch. I'd come in, and there'd be Mamaw. Who'd fuss over me, listen to me talk about the events of the day (and whether I'd been scared or not), and then we would bake a pizza in the oven together.


Every Saturday, like clockwork, for years. 


For me, this was the definition of a happy childhood; but speaking it out loud, it sounds a little like a lot of people's idea of heaven.

*

I could tell you a lot more about my grandmother, but I think most of you here already knew her and have a big list of what made her unique. In the days since she's been gone, I went through just such a list in my head, since a list that describes who she was also describes why I would miss her.


What we lost when we lost Norma is a big list, but the biggest for me was the hour when I realized that if I or my sister ever have children of our own, they would never get to have those Saturdays.


It's just a story now: 

"Mamaw and Brandon's Son, and the Saturdays that Never Came."

But if there's one thing you take away from the life of this 81 year old woman with a young girl's heart -- generous to a fault, and so loving of her children and her children's children, it's that her story doesn't have to end here.


Remember the best part of her. Remember what she gave to me, and what she gave to you, and try to give the same thing to the people you care about.


When you remember her story, remember that one too.

Airport Therapy

I had a family emergency this week that ended up with me flying out of SJC at 6am. I was staggering bleary eyed around the new terminal, and I saw this. I had my d700, but it would have been just too intrusive to shoot with that in the largely empty terminal at 5-something in the morning, so I had to iPhone it.

I will say that photography is about the only thing that keeps me sane in airports, but maybe this is a sign I should take up meditation.

Time to Roll the Dice

Snapped this at my company's holiday party. The theme was 'Carnivale', so they handed out masks at the door. Every photographer there should have written thank you notes for those masks -- can't get enough of this guy at the end of this table myself.