tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79664922606028284742024-03-08T01:36:48.207-08:00camera shyin which i ask strangers to take pictures of meUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger56125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-58540862291371968072013-11-17T19:26:00.000-08:002013-11-22T21:14:53.144-08:00Selfie/Not-selfie<div style="text-align: left; padding: 3px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/schmindigo/11003375634/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2883/11003375634_e1647b4fc2.jpg" style="border: solid 0px #000000;" alt="" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left; padding: 3px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/schmindigo/11003219555/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7346/11003219555_70eec60a51.jpg" style="border: solid 0px #000000;" alt="" /></a></div><p></p><p>I was wandering the bonsai at <a href="http://www.huntington.org/">the Huntington</a> when I came upon a gay couple in mid-selfie with a point & shoot camera (not a phone, which as everyone knows, makes the job a lot easier). Out of queer solidarity as much as anything else, I offered to take the picture for them. When I was done, they asked if I wanted mine taken. Oh sure... why not?<br /><br />I had been pondering a resurrection of this project now that I am part-time in Southern California. I thought it might be an interesting lens for exploration of this new place & its inhabitants, who seem so different from folks back home. I seem different here too; living in a neighborhood that is mostly Asian, am I more visible? Less visible? Both, I think. <br />
<br /> Now in the <a href="http://blog.oup.com/2013/11/oxford-dictionaries-word-of-the-year-2013-selfie/">age of the selfie</a>, I wonder what will happen to the convention of strangers taking pictures of each other? Is this project already a relic of an age gone by? Does it more firmly mark me as middle-aged, or even old?<br /><br />
Am I back in the saddle again? Maybe.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-21560467680119212622011-11-13T22:07:00.001-08:002011-11-13T22:08:28.030-08:00Fruit!<p><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/schmindigo/6343417960/" title="IMG_1298web by indigo!, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6229/6343417960_823c1b68ca.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="IMG_1298web"></a></p><p>I was stricken with a wretched cold/flu thing for most of October, so was out in the world as little as possible, & when I was out there, believe me, having my picture taken by a stranger was the last thing on my mind.</p><p>We shall see if this project revives now that I am well & out & about. I suspect that it will just trickle along with occasional posts. For one thing, I don’t see how I could ever top the perfect storm of the <a href="http://picturesofindigo.blogspot.com/2011/08/grant-avenue-usa.html">Chinatown shoot</a>. Having attained such heights beyond my wildest dreams, I am pretty content to do some laurel-resting. But who knows?</p><p>Anyway… today I felt was my last possible chance to get sweetpeas in the ground, so off I dashed to the market to nab seedlings, only to be stopped in my tracks by the heaps of luscious grapes. My photographer held a tiny girl easily in one arm, his other hand free. I asked him to take a picture of me “in front of the fruit.”</p><p>Instead of “say cheese” he said, “say fruit!”</p><p>“Fruit!” I sang out, & he snapped the picture. </p><p>As I left, he was trying to teach his daughter to say “fruit.” Fruit! FRUIT!!</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-64552333762718059712011-09-30T22:28:00.000-07:002011-09-30T22:28:41.133-07:00Hardly Strictly Bluegrass<p><img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6159/6199434079_cb21a0c0cc_z.jpg" alt="" width="500"/></p>
<p>Per my request, he was trying to get the stage in there.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-69245476356377709592011-09-13T21:14:00.000-07:002011-09-13T21:28:15.141-07:00Safeway<p><img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6174/6146263406_261d0686fe_o.jpg" alt="" width="500" /></p><p>Sorry for the long silence while I wandered other paths… I even thought for a moment that maybe this project was Over, but perhaps it just needed a little nap.</p><p>So, the Safeway near me is slated for an extreme makeover, which is quite controversial in the neighborhood. All the fuss has drawn my attention to the fact that indeed, it does look like a relic of a bygone era—the era when all Safeways looked like this. Do you remember?</p><p>I was walking by today when I thought it would be a good place for a shoot. I hung about for a couple minutes until my photographer showed up.</p><p>“In front of the Safeway?!”</p><p>“Yeah, I think it’s gonna go away… well actually I’m sure it’s going away.”</p><p>“The Safeway is going away,” he repeated with amusement. I’m sure he thought I was a total nutcase, but a harmless one, at least.</p><p>He snapped it & then looked at the image, muttering almost to himself, “is the Safeway in there? Oh yeah, it’s in there….”</p><p>I like this picture quite a lot.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-78252202141533395102011-08-12T23:37:00.000-07:002011-08-13T23:41:57.916-07:00The other side of Looking Glass<p><img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6063/6040316247_6977a2df2b.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="375" /></p><p>Two old guys were smoking on the little back steps of Looking Glass. They seemed a bit out of place for no reason that I can really explain, but they were perfect for asking to take my picture. I asked them as a pair; one immediately deflected it onto the other, who got up, put his cigarette down & asked where I wanted the picture. He seemed surprised when I said, just here. I don’t know where he expected me to take him. I wonder how far he would have moved from his comfortable perch to take my picture for me. </p><p>Cause that’s where the sun is, I guess, he muttered, more to himself than to me. Sometimes people seem almost afraid to ask me what my reasons are. It’s so odd; like somehow the stranger-level boundaries remain intact when I approach & speak to them, ask them to do me this small favor, hand them my camera, & then oftentimes they have to stand up or otherwise accommodate the needs of the photo, or more accurately their own perception of those requirements. All of that is fine but then somehow it would be a boundary violation for them to ask me why I want the picture? </p><p>Which direction does the boundary violation go? Do they feel tasked with maintaining the boundary because I am pushing up against it with my request, or are they afraid to cross into my personal/emotional terrain of why I want the picture? Or both?</p><p>Curiouser & curiouser….</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-14574053167162655862011-08-03T21:35:00.000-07:002011-08-04T21:44:06.920-07:00Grant Avenue, USA<p><img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6012/6008746705_cf1fd0595a.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="375" /></p><p>Of course I had to do this sometime: <a href="http://youtu.be/Qzv_qAlDZyA">Grant Avenue</a> in August is a mindblowing vortex of Chinese (mis)representation & tourism, so how perfect is it that I, a San Francisco-born Chinese American, go & ask a white tourist to take my picture? It was a family waiting to cross the street; I initially approached the 50-something mom but she asked her 30ish daughter to take the picture instead. When the flash went off I was disappointed, thinking it would ruin the picture, but the surreal, hamfisted result totally makes me laugh. Eyes closed, even better! After they took the photo, the dad asked me if I’d taken the cable car yet & do you pay in cash or what? Sadly, I had no freakin clue.</p><p>This may be the best Camera Shy picture yet. I’m gonna have to do this Chinatown tourist thing again. Asian Image, indeed!</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-34471001568301934832011-07-28T22:11:00.000-07:002011-07-29T12:14:56.744-07:00Clement & 6th<p><img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6004/5988551280_fb92efc5a5_z.jpg" alt="" width="500" /></p><p><img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6015/5988551284_94b9ef3047_z.jpg" alt="" height="500" /></p><p>I was at <a href="http://www.greenapplebooks.com/">Green Apple</a> & hoped to get my picture taken in front, but there were no photographers available when I wanted them. So I crossed the street & somehow intuited that my photographer was simply a brisk walker, as opposed to someone in a hurry. I was right; she took her time & carefully composed two shots for me.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-7801929791794307492011-07-24T19:32:00.000-07:002011-07-25T19:36:16.840-07:00Schoolyard<p><img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6002/5976010145_f85c9a4729.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="375"/></p><p>Well, first I was not in the mood. Then I went away for a week in which there was no talking, let alone talking to strangers. After that, for a few days I found I was almost never alone in public. Then I wasn’t in the mood, again.</p><p>During my week away I really bonded with my cowboy hat’s shadow, so that’s partly where today’s self-portrait came from. </p><p>Another part is, I’ve been thinking a lot about my relationship to photography, what I might want to take pictures of, & the idea of control & some of my control issues, & so it makes sense I had the urge to take my own picture for a change.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-39889417277139997772011-06-29T17:49:00.000-07:002011-06-29T17:55:20.323-07:00The Harrow & The Harvest<p><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5028/5886269742_828b0848f0.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="375" /></p><p><img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6056/5886270046_55a6b84470.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="375" /></p><p><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5317/5886270310_4d83ed39a5.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="375" /></p><p><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5064/5886269134_e2bd81faa2.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="375" /></p><p><img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6002/5886269452_72869c0303.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="375" /></p><p>It’s been eight long years since Gillian Welch put out a new album. To say that she’s a prominent figure in my personal pantheon of country goddesses would be, perhaps, a bit of an understatement. Yesterday being the much-anticipated day for <a href="http://www.gillianwelch.com/harrowharvest/">The Harrow & The Harvest</a> to drop, I went after dinner to pick it up, but found <a href="http://www.amoeba.com/">Amoeba</a> & <a href="http://www.rasputinmusic.com/">Rasputin</a> both shut. Arg!</p><p>Today I swooped in to snatch it, then went wandering around the aisles of Amoeba looking for my photographer du jour. A lot of record shoppers are very intense & give off a “don’t talk to me, I’m shopping for music” vibe. I can relate; looking for your next musical drug is serious business. Lucky for me, I had mine firmly in hand.</p><p>Finally I found someone approachable. She asked how I wanted it & I made my usual vague gesture toward the general surroundings; she totally got it & said, “you want the store more than you want you.” Yep.</p><p>Starting to shoot, she asked, “So are you in from out of town…?”</p><p>“No, actually it’s an art project.”</p><p>Still snapping, she said, “Oh! I teach photography… hopefully it will show…”</p><p>Then she asked which art program I was in. I explained that I’m not a student, I’m an artist, & told her more about the project, we exchanged cards, & she’ll probably read this, so hello Bonita!</p><p>Noted: that’s the second photographer who 1) wanted to know what I was doing, enough to ask me questions about it & 2) has an identity as an actual photographer out in the world, apart from my project. I wonder if this is a new trend in the project… I don’t think 2 makes a trend, but 3 might! Lately I have been thinking more about my relationship to photography, & maybe this is how it’s showing up.</p><p>At the checkout counter, I asked the guy, “So have you been selling a few of these?”</p><p>“<em>Oh</em> yeah. Like every other person is getting it.”</p><p>He also told me they changed to the earlier closing time about 2 or 3 months ago. Still open late on Fridays & Saturdays, though, in case you wanted to know.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-2500218914134048452011-06-26T15:55:00.000-07:002011-06-26T15:58:41.836-07:00Peach Pride<p><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5191/5874820624_3ed1da9bf3.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="375" /></p><p>I stayed home from the parade, but at least I got a dyke to take my picture while I was at Temescal replenishing our fruit supply. This also (like yesterday’s) is one of the closer shots in the project, but not because of any zooming on my part or hers. We were just kinda packed in among the fruit & the crowds—maybe not so different from what I might’ve gotten at the parade.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-46071473721646649432011-06-25T23:49:00.000-07:002011-06-26T15:50:24.831-07:00Dyke March<p><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5151/5874820618_3cb3290f32.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="375" /></p><p>When I first saw this picture, I thought, wow, none of my other photographers has ever zoomed in like that before! </p><p>Then I realized, doh, it was me—just before this I’d zoomed in to get a picture of the pink <a href="http://www.portajane.com/index.html">Portajanes</a> & forgot to zoom back out.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-45480141940186582962011-06-21T23:02:00.000-07:002011-06-22T20:08:00.924-07:00Summer Solstice farmers market<p><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2694/5861458761_a04d20f0ea.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="375" /></p><p>Today’s photographer at first seemed not so thrilled to be asked, but he warmed to the task. Maybe he was having a hunger fit or something; I found him in line for <a href="http://www.flacos.com/">Flacos</a>. A few moments later as I was getting in my car I saw him again, food in hand, & he gave me a much more cheerful smile.</p><p>After that, I went & had a spectacular waterfight with two of my old college pals & their daughters. We managed to wash two cars in the process & an excellent time was had by all. Perfect way to celebrate a scorching solstice!</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-7925006147178605082011-06-07T23:38:00.000-07:002011-06-07T23:40:50.783-07:00The curious photographer<p><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5157/5810570500_92e573dcb1.jpg" alt="" width="375" height="500" /></p><p>I was so engrossed with the fruits & veggies that I forgot about finding a photographer until I was just about to leave the farmers market. Luckily, here he came, wheeling his bike along. I asked for the picture, & instead of simply pausing & holding my camera with his one free hand, he put his bike over to the side—a sign of Taking Photography Seriously.</p><p>Just then, a man with a baby asked him about the rack on his bike. He answered the question & then, making a sort of move-closer-together corralling gesture, asked, So do you want to be in the picture together? </p><p>Oh, I laughed, we don’t know each other! We just both happened to want to talk to you at the same time. </p><p>(I think that’s the man & baby’s shadow in the picture.)</p><p>He took the picture & then, wonder of wonders, <em>asked what I wanted the picture for!</em> People, this is the FIRST one out of over 40 Camera Shy photographers to ask me this as a direct question. </p><p>Surprised, I answered, It’s an art project.</p><p>What kind of art project?</p><p>Somewhat dumbfounded, I said, Wow, you’re the first person to ask me! & explained it to him.</p><p>Turns out <a href="http://www.rishio.com/index.html">he is a photographer</a> who is interested in telling stories. He moved here from San Diego, where, he says, he never ran into anybody doing interesting art projects like mine. We had a nice conversation & exchanged cards, & he’s almost certainly gonna read this, which feels quite novel. Really, it took so long for this to happen that I’d almost forgotten it was a possibility.</p><p>Nice to meet you, Rishi!</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-32223877560360361292011-06-02T23:25:00.000-07:002011-06-03T11:27:07.692-07:00Cartoon mural<p><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2621/5794335536_afa806f602.jpg" alt="" width="375" height="500" /></p><p>I pass by this goofy mural once a month, & today all forces aligned to give me a picture of it: I’d zipped across the bridge in record time & found parking closer than ever before, which made me so early that I actually had a few minutes to kill… & then here came the photographer walking down the street at just the right moment.</p><p>She looked like she could be either Latina or Pilipina, so based on a ghost of a shadow of a hunch, I’ll just say she was Pilipina, what the hell.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-57914084424710488312011-05-19T22:18:00.000-07:002011-05-19T22:44:56.980-07:00Kara’s Cupcakes<p><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5144/5738621939_14f60eec43.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="375" /></p><p>Happy Malcolm X’s Birthday!</p><p>I lived many, many years on this earth before I finally figured out that I actually like <em>looking</em> at cupcakes more than I like eating them. You understand why I may have been a bit slow on the uptake; it’s just not normal.</p><p>I also like graphic representations of cupcakes, apparently, enough to impulsively toss aside all consideration of light & shadow. However, it’s interesting to me that this is the first shot (of this project) in which you can see the photographer—dimly, as a reflection between the cupcake & me.</p><p>I felt that purse strap falling down just as she snapped the picture.</p><p>This may well be the first blog post in the history of the net to mention Malcolm X & cupcakes almost in the same breath. Welcome to my world. </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-70130698156671592062011-05-15T16:10:00.000-07:002011-05-15T16:12:52.807-07:00Temescal farmers market<p><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5210/5724340524_a9d156e50e.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="375" /></p><p><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5214/5723784883_7e5314c8f3.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="375" /></p><p><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5020/5723785299_dd0e6d8b1b.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="375" /></p><p><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3630/5723785695_981d95a4f0.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="375" /></p><p>One of my zucchini seedlings met a bad end. No crying over spilled milk; I ran over to the <a href="http://www.urbanvillageonline.com/markets/temescal.php">Temescal Farmers Market</a> to fetch a replacement from <a href="http://www.kassenhoffgrowers.com/">Kassenhoff</a>. Things were a bit off-kilter there as the whole market had been moved across the creek to a different section of the DMV parking lot, & I wandered around looking for the Kassenhoff booth until I realized they simply weren’t there today. Maybe they were scared off by the back-to-winter, rain & hail weather forecast?</p><p>I did get the first peaches of the season though! & I liked having the market under the trees for a change.</p><p>My photographer snapped away with casual abandon, saying, oh, one more for good measure—it’s digital, right?</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-23604606987060763942011-05-08T22:24:00.000-07:002011-05-08T22:26:57.023-07:00Shadowshop pickup<p><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2352/5702500520_a908a4e1e3.jpg" alt="" width="375" height="500" /></p><p><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3655/5702500528_0e2fc21caa.jpg" alt="" width="375" height="500" /></p><p><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2321/5702500532_c035e129fc.jpg" alt="" width="375" height="500" /></p><p>I almost didn’t post the first image, but, you know: <a href="http://picturesofindigo.blogspot.com/2010/09/ici-some-rules.html">The Rules</a>.</p><p>Today’s photographer wins the prize for Most Earnest Effort. He obviously knew his way around digital cameras; first he said, oh, it’s in macro mode. After that, he zoomed into one of the shots & shook his head disapprovingly at the fuzziness of the image. Knowing that I was going to scale it down, I told him it was okay, but he took another shot anyway. He noted that the light was not great in that part of the museum lobby; I happened to be sitting in the shadow of a column. He moved around trying to get a better angle as I laughed in embarrassment & apologized for getting him into such a complicated & difficult thing.</p><p>I was still apologizing & thanking him when his girlfriend(?) came back from the bathroom(?). He was very gracious about the whole thing & seemed wholeheartedly invested in giving me the best possible picture. He explained that his hands shake, but his camera is heavy, so he doesn’t have that problem with it.</p><p>I wonder if he was a Real Photographer?! He kinda acted like one….</p><p>Anyway, why I wanted my picture there in the first place was that I was picking up my unsold stuff from <a href="http://www.shadowshop.org/">Shadowshop</a> & had just found out that I, excuse my French, <em>made fucking bank</em> on the whole endeavor—mostly from $1 <a href="http://schmindigo.blogspot.com/2011/01/family-is-driving-me-crazy-pencils-are.html">pencils!</a>—& thought it would be nice to document my happy moment. Besides, I had documented the <a href="http://picturesofindigo.blogspot.com/2010/10/fast-times-at-sfmoma.html">dropoff</a> back in October, so why not bookend with the pickup?</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-73199128560093977472011-05-06T23:03:00.000-07:002011-05-06T23:07:51.383-07:00Friday night<p><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3171/5695438876_38e1abf2bc.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="375" /></p><p>I treat Whole Foods as my corner store, so when dinnertime rolled around with nary a drop of olive oil in the house, I ran down there to fetch some.</p><p>The students in front of me were buying fennel & spinach; the checker was possibly new, or bad at memorization, or unfamiliar with produce (or all three, or none of the above, what do I know), & had to ask his coworker at the next checkstand for the codes. </p><p>Fennel-buying guy asked, as if thinking of it for the first time, “Wow, you have to memorize a number for every vegetable?” </p><p>The checker nodded, fennel guy reacted with amazement, & I chimed in, “Isn’t that crazy? I’ve always thought that must be so hard to remember all those codes, & then it’s even worse at the Bowl, where there’s a zillion fruits….”</p><p>“Where?” </p><p>“At the Bowl….” Noting his blank face, I clarified, “...the Berkeley Bowl.”</p><p>“Is that another store?”</p><p>Fixing him with a grave stare, I said, “You need to check it out.”</p><p>As if he’s gonna listen to me.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-80586199980824654942011-05-05T23:59:00.000-07:002011-05-06T00:00:57.009-07:00Flavors of the Day, Ici<p><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5188/5691236977_5042f4f57d.jpg" alt="" width="375" height="500" /></p><p>I actually <strong>interrupted</strong> two women in conversation on the bench outside of <a href="http://www.ici-icecream.com/">Ici</a>. How far will I go in the name of art?! I think not that far again, anytime soon.</p><p>Too bad you can’t see the detail on the beautiful envelope I’m holding from my pen pal. (Yes I have a pen pal!)</p><p>No, that’s not my bike.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-74219823273859995122011-04-28T14:11:00.000-07:002011-04-28T14:34:02.882-07:00Richmond BART<p><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5027/5666289856_d7c8e1d988.jpg" alt="" width="375" height="500" /></p><p>Bright & early this morning, I drove a friend to Kaiser Richmond for an Unpleasant Procedure. I had a good chunk of time after bringing her in, so, naturally, I went out for a walk.</p><p>Right away, shiny signs pointed the way to BART. For all my years riding the Richmond line, I’d never seen the Richmond station, so I followed the signs past the Hacienda Grill & a beautiful old deco post office, & then through a new-looking affordable-housing village. When I came to the station, it, too, looked surprisingly new—freshly remodeled in the shape of a ship, to evoke the WWII shipyards that transformed Richmond.</p><p>All surfaces gleamed as if just painted, & in fact the parking lot was still very much under construction. I thought a picture including both the shiny ship station & the parking lot construction would be nice, but the light was all wrong for that, & my potential photographer for that shot turned out to have not just a phone in one hand, but a cigarette in the other.</p><p>There was hardly anyone around; we were between trains. Fortunately Photographer #2, a bored kid with a skateboard, was standing in the right place for a parking lot shot. I could not get a good read on his ethnicity, but “Middle Eastern” would seem to cover it. (Many <a href="http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/mesh/2009/03/southwest-asia/">competing ideas & acronyms</a> exist for naming that region of the world; SWANA appears to have gained some traction but I never hear it in casual conversation, even in the PC crowd I run with.)</p><p>I wondered why he turned the camera vertical. Because I asked for a photo of myself & I’m vertical? I’d sort of hoped for a wide horizontal shot that would include part of the housing complex, but that wasn’t the moment to change my rule about letting photographers compose their own shots.</p><p>After that, I wandered further, eyes peeled for the Chinese restaurant that I knew must be nearby. <a href="http://schmindigo.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-hardly-ever-go-to-richmond-as-far-as.html">I found it.</a></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-42662656772440754852011-04-26T20:52:00.000-07:002011-04-26T20:53:58.219-07:00Eggs<p><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5230/5660235832_52681b7381.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="375" /></p><p>I found today’s photographer leaning against his bike right next to the photogenic eggs. Since it’s egg season & all, I thought it appropriate to ask him for a picture with eggs.</p><p>It took me a long time to get clued into egg season, so if you’re thinking “what? egg season?” let me share the knowledge: chickens slow down their laying significantly in the winter, sometimes stopping altogether. They start laying again in the spring, hence Easter eggs—<em>so</em> pagan! Just in time for matzo brei, too, of course.</p><p>I leave it to you to ponder what gnarly things are done in the name of keeping eggs in the supermarket all year round, with no winter dip in supply.</p><p>Speaking of spring, I’m still wearing my winter coat in this picture, but I had to take it off soon after—I could feel the temperature rising, degree by degree, as I stood picking out asparagus tips. </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-42894155657839206272011-04-23T19:15:00.000-07:002011-04-23T19:16:28.684-07:00Zachary’s<p><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5061/5648270456_b6a2615612.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="375" /></p><p>There is always someone waiting outside <a href="http://www.zacharys.com/index.html">Zachary’s</a>, & for good reason. I didn’t happen to eat there today, though… just passing by while running errands.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-8889060520573623292011-04-14T16:18:00.000-07:002011-04-14T16:24:13.372-07:00Bakesale Betty<p><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5144/5620565008_0e184a4cc1.jpg" alt="" width="375" height="500" /></p><p><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5305/5620565010_58cd8471de.jpg" alt="" width="375" height="500" /></p><p><a href="http://www.bakesalebetty.com/">Bakesale Betty</a> has really figured out how to keep the lunchtime crowd moving through so the wait is quick & painless; by the time my photographer finished his two quick shots, we were holding up the line. Oops, sorry! Of course, since we were all bathed in the vortex of Betty’s goodwill, nobody seemed to mind, everyone was cheerful. </p><p>Unlike the post office, where I went next. There the wait was glacial & everyone was cranky. I was almost afraid to bust out my sandwich. I had visions of being attacked by a pack of hungry, ferocious postal patrons who would rip away bites of my sandwich until there was nothing left.</p><p>(Of course nothing like that happened at all. I ate my sandwich & people merely remarked—not without envy—that I sure had come prepared.)</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-35591620395868142732011-04-08T22:07:00.000-07:002011-04-09T22:15:40.060-07:00Peonies<p><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5269/5605259366_64954d3170.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="375" /></p><p><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5110/5605259372_cdcdbbc89d.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="375" /></p><p>I was plodding up the street on my way home from a funeral, pondering fatherhood, grief, & other heavy topics, when lo & behold, there were my neighbors’ peonies exploding with pink joy. My mood did an instant 180 & I eagerly stuck my face in one to smell it.</p><p>Coming back up, I spied my photographer walking two large dogs toward me, & asked if she would take my picture with the flowers. </p><p>“Sure! They’re beautiful!”</p><p>“They’re peonies,” I cooed, more to the blossoms than to her, as she maneuvered the leashes into one hand.</p><p>“Did you move here recently?” she asked.</p><p>“No, actually, I’ve lived on this block for twenty years,” I answered, wondering if that had any bearing on why someone might ask a stranger to take their picture. Recent arrival ≈ tourist?</p><p>She explained herself, though: she wondered if living here for a long time decreased the enchantment with our lovely gardens & flowers. </p><p>“Oh, no, I’ve lived in the Bay Area all my life & I’m still like…” I waved my arms ecstatically & made a flower-crazed face.</p><p>This answer obviously pleased her, so I asked if she had moved here recently herself. </p><p>Yes, in January—from Buffalo! </p><p>“Ah,” I replied with new understanding, “the most dramatic month to move here! When Buffalo is all frozen…”</p><p>Yes, yes, she nodded emphatically; she had been nearly delirious with plant appreciation upon arrival, & was worried that she would eventually become jaded. I assured her this was most definitely not the case.</p><br />—<br /><p>This post is dedicated to the memory of Adolphus Wong, who also loved to walk outside among flowers & talk to strangers. Rest in peace, uncle.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7966492260602828474.post-19273985949966576412011-04-02T13:29:00.001-07:002011-04-02T13:29:58.009-07:00Tulips & ranunculus<p><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5257/5582581059_4612d973d3.jpg" alt="" width="375" height="500" /></p><p>The flower stand at the farmers market was so totally seductive that I pretty much lost my mind & ended up with a whole armful of tulips. So here I am with my little zucchini seedling & flowers! flowers! flowers!</p><p>“Very sunny,” commented my photographer.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0