camera shy

Fruit!

2011-11-13T22:07:00.001-08:00

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.

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 Chinatown shoot. Having attained such heights beyond my wildest dreams, I am pretty content to do some laurel-resting. But who knows?

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.”

Instead of “say cheese” he said, “say fruit!”

“Fruit!” I sang out, & he snapped the picture.

As I left, he was trying to teach his daughter to say “fruit.” Fruit! FRUIT!!

Hardly Strictly Bluegrass

2011-09-30T22:28:00.000-07:00

Per my request, he was trying to get the stage in there.

Safeway

2011-09-13T21:14:00.000-07:00

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.

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?

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.

“In front of the Safeway?!”

“Yeah, I think it’s gonna go away… well actually I’m sure it’s going away.”

“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.

He snapped it & then looked at the image, muttering almost to himself, “is the Safeway in there? Oh yeah, it’s in there….”

I like this picture quite a lot.

The other side of Looking Glass

2011-08-12T23:37:00.000-07:00

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.

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?

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?

Curiouser & curiouser….

Grant Avenue, USA

2011-08-03T21:35:00.000-07:00

Of course I had to do this sometime: Grant Avenue 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.

This may be the best Camera Shy picture yet. I’m gonna have to do this Chinatown tourist thing again. Asian Image, indeed!

Clement & 6th

2011-07-28T22:11:00.000-07:00

I was at Green Apple & 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.

Schoolyard

2011-07-24T19:32:00.000-07:00

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.

During my week away I really bonded with my cowboy hat’s shadow, so that’s partly where today’s self-portrait came from.

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.

The Harrow & The Harvest

2011-06-29T17:49:00.000-07:00

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 The Harrow & The Harvest to drop, I went after dinner to pick it up, but found Amoeba & Rasputin both shut. Arg!

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.

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.

Starting to shoot, she asked, “So are you in from out of town…?”

“No, actually it’s an art project.”

Still snapping, she said, “Oh! I teach photography… hopefully it will show…”

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!

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.

At the checkout counter, I asked the guy, “So have you been selling a few of these?”

“Oh yeah. Like every other person is getting it.”

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.

Peach Pride

2011-06-26T15:55:00.000-07:00

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.

Dyke March

2011-06-25T23:49:00.000-07:00

When I first saw this picture, I thought, wow, none of my other photographers has ever zoomed in like that before!

Then I realized, doh, it was me—just before this I’d zoomed in to get a picture of the pink Portajanes & forgot to zoom back out.

Summer Solstice farmers market

2011-06-21T23:02:00.000-07:00

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 Flacos. 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.

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!

The curious photographer

2011-06-07T23:38:00.000-07:00

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.

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?

Oh, I laughed, we don’t know each other! We just both happened to want to talk to you at the same time.

(I think that’s the man & baby’s shadow in the picture.)

He took the picture & then, wonder of wonders, asked what I wanted the picture for! People, this is the FIRST one out of over 40 Camera Shy photographers to ask me this as a direct question.

Surprised, I answered, It’s an art project.

What kind of art project?

Somewhat dumbfounded, I said, Wow, you’re the first person to ask me! & explained it to him.

Turns out he is a photographer 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.

Nice to meet you, Rishi!

Cartoon mural

2011-06-02T23:25:00.000-07:00

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.

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.

Kara’s Cupcakes

2011-05-19T22:18:00.000-07:00

Happy Malcolm X’s Birthday!

I lived many, many years on this earth before I finally figured out that I actually like looking 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.

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.

I felt that purse strap falling down just as she snapped the picture.

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.

Temescal farmers market

2011-05-15T16:10:00.000-07:00

One of my zucchini seedlings met a bad end. No crying over spilled milk; I ran over to the Temescal Farmers Market to fetch a replacement from Kassenhoff. 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?

I did get the first peaches of the season though! & I liked having the market under the trees for a change.

My photographer snapped away with casual abandon, saying, oh, one more for good measure—it’s digital, right?

Shadowshop pickup

2011-05-08T22:24:00.000-07:00

I almost didn’t post the first image, but, you know: The Rules.

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.

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.

I wonder if he was a Real Photographer?! He kinda acted like one….

Anyway, why I wanted my picture there in the first place was that I was picking up my unsold stuff from Shadowshop & had just found out that I, excuse my French, made fucking bank on the whole endeavor—mostly from $1 pencils!—& thought it would be nice to document my happy moment. Besides, I had documented the dropoff back in October, so why not bookend with the pickup?

Friday night

2011-05-06T23:03:00.000-07:00

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.

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.

Fennel-buying guy asked, as if thinking of it for the first time, “Wow, you have to memorize a number for every vegetable?”

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….”

“Where?”

“At the Bowl….” Noting his blank face, I clarified, “...the Berkeley Bowl.”

“Is that another store?”

Fixing him with a grave stare, I said, “You need to check it out.”

As if he’s gonna listen to me.

Flavors of the Day, Ici

2011-05-05T23:59:00.000-07:00

I actually interrupted two women in conversation on the bench outside of Ici. How far will I go in the name of art?! I think not that far again, anytime soon.

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!)

No, that’s not my bike.

Richmond BART

2011-04-28T14:11:00.000-07:00

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.

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.

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.

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 competing ideas & acronyms 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.)

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.

After that, I wandered further, eyes peeled for the Chinese restaurant that I knew must be nearby. I found it.

Eggs

2011-04-26T20:52:00.000-07:00

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.

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—so pagan! Just in time for matzo brei, too, of course.

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.

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.

Zachary’s

2011-04-23T19:15:00.000-07:00

There is always someone waiting outside Zachary’s, & for good reason. I didn’t happen to eat there today, though… just passing by while running errands.

Bakesale Betty

2011-04-14T16:18:00.000-07:00

Bakesale Betty 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.

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.

(Of course nothing like that happened at all. I ate my sandwich & people merely remarked—not without envy—that I sure had come prepared.)

Peonies

2011-04-08T22:07:00.000-07:00

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.

Coming back up, I spied my photographer walking two large dogs toward me, & asked if she would take my picture with the flowers.

“Sure! They’re beautiful!”

“They’re peonies,” I cooed, more to the blossoms than to her, as she maneuvered the leashes into one hand.

“Did you move here recently?” she asked.

“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?

She explained herself, though: she wondered if living here for a long time decreased the enchantment with our lovely gardens & flowers.

“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.

This answer obviously pleased her, so I asked if she had moved here recently herself.

Yes, in January—from Buffalo!

“Ah,” I replied with new understanding, “the most dramatic month to move here! When Buffalo is all frozen…”

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.

—

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.

Tulips & ranunculus

2011-04-02T13:29:00.001-07:00

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!

“Very sunny,” commented my photographer.

More heat, please

2011-03-30T17:57:00.000-07:00

The weather turned so hot so fast, it’s enough to give you whiplash. I am not complaining. Far from it! But if I look like I can’t really believe I’m wearing a skirt & sandals, well, I can’t.

Far end of the BART platform

2011-03-29T21:47:00.000-07:00

I’ve always loved the view from the end of the Rockridge BART platform, but hadn’t managed to get a photo shoot there. Hardly anyone ever walks over that far. But today, as soon as I got onto the platform, I saw my photographer hanging out down there, so made a beeline for him. Casually, of course.

When I asked him for the picture, he agreed & then said, “What, is BART a big thrill for you?”

I gave a noncommital laugh in response.

After he took the shot, I looked at it & said something about liking the view from there. He agreed, we both looked out over the tracks, & he commented, “That pigeon is walking really close to the third rail, & it’s wet. A real daredevil, that one is!”

“Living dangerously,” I agreed, & took my leave.

Rainy morning BART ride

2011-03-19T23:45:00.000-07:00

After that first glance she seemed to decide that she wasn’t what I was shooting, or if I was, it didn’t matter. She rubbed her nose, settled down, & paid not another jot of attention to me—or to bumps of the train—as I watched her apply makeup with a practiced hand. She drew on lipliner, filled in her lips with one color & then another, & then casually brushed on mascara, all as steadily & precisely as if she could just as well do it on a rollercoaster or a runaway horse.

I wish you could see her perfectly pedicured feet. She wore a very snappy pair of new-looking orange sandals that matched her headband. Meanwhile, I was bundled up in waterproof hiking boots, ski parka, wool hat, scarf & wristwarmers.

Bancroft Library

2011-03-17T21:35:00.000-07:00

This has nothing to do with today’s shoot, but I happen to have a book in this library. I spent most of 1995 writing, designing, mocking up, laying out, printing, & editioning that little bitty book-in-a-box. Not a bad way to spend a year, actually, although at the time I suffered over it. Silly youth.

Film festival

2011-03-15T22:43:00.000-07:00

The film festival this year has been serving an unexpected purpose for me. What a blessed relief to be distracted from Japan’s horrific situation for a solid couple of hours at a time, to be immersed in such a variety of worlds that have one key thing in common: none of this had happened yet—the earthquakes (450 aftershocks at last count), the tsunami, the nuclear nightmare.

Tonight I went out in the pouring spring rain to Pacific Film Archive, thinking it would be the perfect place for a shoot. I was early enough so that after my picture was taken, I had a good ten minutes to wait for the film. Usually this would prompt avid people-watching, but instead I found myself sinking into the seat, feeling how frayed my nerves were, how emotionally exhausted. I stared absently at the screen where slides rotated, silently announcing film & museum events. Five days of worry, five days of trying to wrap my brain around something so overwhelming, five days during which all my prayers felt so inadequate… I felt it all catch up to me at once.

Then the film rolled & took me off to Shanghai.

Alta Bates

2011-03-01T18:23:00.000-08:00

As a result of joining the credit union, my most convenient ATM is now inside the hospital. Today I saw that they have this construction going on, & thought it a suitable background—a change of pace, anyway. Even better, there was my photographer sitting directly across, obviously a bit bored, waiting for something.

To go with the space, I consciously chose a sort of flat, static posture. I haven’t really given any thought to how I posed for any previous pictures (except for the Tartine one!), & I’ll probably default back to that, but today for some reason it seemed right.

Cole Coffee & a video(!)

2011-02-24T13:44:00.000-08:00

You can watch this without the sound, if you prefer (I do, slightly):

Well. Something different was bound to happen eventually. You could accuse me of having a short attention span, or lacking focus, or something harsh like that, but I prefer to think of it as having an open mind, paying attention to how things change, looking for openings & possibilities, & learning—always learning.

It was good for a while to not work on this project when it was rainy & gloomy out, fine to notice when I just didn’t feel like asking strangers to take my picture. But today I stuck my camera in a waterproof purse, opened my umbrella, & walked through the rain for a lunch date with a friend, who never showed up because she thought we were meeting at her studio, & I thought we were meeting at the cafe.

By the time I finished my sandwich, I knew we’d miscommunicated somehow & she wasn’t coming. I settled in to being alone with my tea, & thought about asking someone to take my picture, but it was really all wrong for that. Cafes are particular; people in them often wrap themselves in a little cocoon of daydreaming privacy that I tend to respect, having done much of the same myself.

I thought about how this project in one sense is a study of my time alone in public—a very specific slice of my life—& how cafe space is so much about that. Why not enlarge the parameters, just a little, to include how I see the world when out alone, what it looks & feels like to me when I’m not talking to strangers? Instead of having a project on/off switch for sunny extrovert vs. rainy introvert, how about a dimmer that allows for something in between?

Looking Glass

2011-02-09T18:40:00.000-08:00

Looking Glass is a Berkeley institution, sort of my own photographic mothership. I remember when it was several blocks south, closer to the corner of Alcatraz. I remember when it moved & was painted a cheerful blue color. I remember when they used to charge more if you used a credit card. (They still have a $10 minimum.) I bought my first Holga there, & the young dyke who sold it to me enthusiastically demonstrated how to load the film & tape it all up (not a small job!) so I would know how to do it myself, plus I walked out of there ready to shoot.

Because of all this history & relationship, I gave today’s photographers more direction than usual: I wanted a picture not just of me, but of me in front of the Looking Glass, preferably with the sign.

Yes, photographers, plural. Well, does the first photographer count if she didn’t actually take a picture? She was a teenage girl, with—I quickly saw—that particular teenage sensitivity to weirdness, so I felt a little sorry that I was making her uncomfortable with my weird request, but she was a good sport & really made an effort, backing up to the edge of the sidewalk to try to get the sign in the frame. After all that, she handed the camera back to me, I thanked her, & she was gone before I pressed the review button & saw that she hadn’t actually gotten the picture.

I was quite surprised, but got back on the horse & asked the next person who came along. This was a Chinese woman about my mother’s age, walking with her husband (presumably), & she also made great efforts, stepping off the curb & warning me that she could only get part of the sign in. Of course I said that was fine.

In the future I will frame any potentially difficult shots myself to make sure I’m not asking too much of my photographers. But I must note: they still tried, they really tried!

Bus stop, with pigeons

2011-02-08T16:28:00.000-08:00

On my way in to the post office, I passed by today’s photographer waiting at the bus stop with a child—perhaps his granddaughter?

I thought, if they’re still out there when I come back out, I’ll ask him to take my picture. Even though I took the time to sort through my mail & read some of it, sure enough they were still there.

As I approached, I saw they were watching some pigeons who had made a home in the facade of the fortune teller’s storefront. I walk by there all the time, but I’d never noticed this big hole with the birds milling in & out.

“Oh wow,” I said, “those birds are living in there!”

He replied; his unexpected accent (African? Caribbean?) threw me off for a moment & I had to ask him to repeat himself.

“And having babies in there too,” he said again.

“Oh dear,” I laughed, paused as we all watched the birds for another moment, & then asked him to take the picture.

He asked how the camera worked, & I explained.

“I don’t know you,” observed the girl, who was sporting a bright magenta velour tracksuit & neat fro.

“No, we don’t know each other,” I agreed, & then I’m not sure what else I was going to say, but then the man asked for confirmation that he had understood my instructions.

He took the picture. I asked, “Did you get it?”

“I don’t know, you look.”

“Yep, there it is, see?”

“I don’t have a camera,” he said.

“Well, you did a good job.”

Kaiser

2011-02-01T18:26:00.000-08:00

Just so you know it’s not all ice cream & beaches around here… sometimes I have to sit in the Kaiser waiting room, too.

This was definitely the weirdest place yet to solicit a photograph; I had to say, “Excuse me, I know it’s a little weird, but, would you mind taking a picture of me?”

She did not ask me why or what for.

I picked her because everybody else was doing something, & she was just sitting there, waiting patiently.

Tartine

2011-01-27T21:22:00.000-08:00

By some miracle, I managed to waltz into Tartine & snag a loaf of the famous bread with no reservation. Would you believe they now ask you to reserve bread 3 days in advance?! Crazy.

So I was sitting there marveling at my luck & eating a lovely tender slice of quiche, when I saw the man at the next table beaming at the world in general—&, since I happened to make eye contact with him, at me in particular. I smiled back in foodie camaraderie, then thought perhaps I would ask him to take a picture of me with my loaf of bread. I glanced over again to assess the situation, shared another friendly smile, & noted that his tablemate was engrossed in the pictures on her iPhone while he blissfully pinched off mouthfuls of his bread loaf.

“We got the bread!” I sang, by way of opening the conversation. His girlfriend/wife got off her phone & the three of us commenced heavy bread bonding. I asked them to take my picture. Apparently she had just taken his picture with their loaf, so they understood my request perfectly. Since she was sitting closest to me, I handed her my camera & then posed with my bread. While she was snapping away, he asked if he could take my picture too, so for a moment there was a frenzy of photographing while I tried not to crack up too hard.

Then she started showing me pictures of the bread he had been baking, the sourdough starter looking all weird in its crock, the special cast iron set (I think this is it) they found at a camping store after unsuccessful searches through all the gourmet shops. I gushed over the crumb of his bread & we talked about no-knead & my 80s hippie whole wheat loaves.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to attack you with bread pictures!” she said at the end.

“No, no, I’m totally into it!” I reassured her.

Finally, as they were getting ready to leave, she turned to me again & asked, “Would you like an almond croissant?”

Incredulous, I asked, “You mean you have extra??”

They explained that there was a minimum of six for phone orders, but really they had just wanted one or two.

Well twist my arm!

Could be spring for all I can tell

2011-01-18T16:05:00.000-08:00

Yeah, seasonal. Definitely. We’ve been having this wonderful false spring for the past week or so, which finally induced (seduced?) me to shed the wool layers & tote the new camera along to the farmers market.

Today’s photographer was a young mom, who had paused to watch the old-timey string band with her kids, one in a stroller & the other, about 3, holding her hand. I love it that little kids love old-time string bands!

I’m noting her as Latina but in this case more than others, that is really a wild guess. She could just as easily have Middle Eastern ancestry. Or both. Or something else.

Anyway, nice to be back in the saddle again with this project. Hopefully the weather will hold for a bit.

Yarn & other bombs

2010-11-29T22:45:00.000-08:00

Someone very successfully yarnbombed this prominently placed signpost in the neighborhood. The spot gets a ton of foot traffic & also a perfect captive audience as people stand around waiting for the bus or the ATM. After running my post office & bank errands, I thought the yarnbomb would provide a good co-subject for a photo shoot.

Unfortunately, this shoot was a bomb in other ways:

(1) It was kinda forced; I broke my own rule about only doing this when I feel like it, & therefore (2) asked the wrong person to shoot, he said no & I couldn’t even get excited about someone finally saying no, because he was so obviously in a hurry, of course he was gonna say no. This is kind of interesting though: if you’re paying attention, you know who will say yes, & so that’s who you ask.

(3) Asked a second person, he shot a couple & then actually grimaced when he looked at them. I immediately blamed the screen blotches (what was one blob along a skinny line has now become two blobs with no line, go figure), but he was actually concerned about (4) the flash on the reflective street sign.

(5) Nevertheless the blobs confused things just enough so that I went home & ordered a new camera. What can I say, my will was weak & cameras are cheap. So much for the idea that this project wasn’t supposed to cost anything, but I had to remind myself that I’ve come a long, long way as far as the economic sustainability of artmaking: the $158 I dropped on the camera (including, incredibly, its 4GB memory card) is miniscule compared to the thousands I used to spend on projects & equipment back when I was young & foolish.

The whole early dusk, rain & cold, flash photography thing is not so great. I am wondering if this might be a fair-weather project. (After all, seasonal is one of my new core artmaking values.) Or maybe the new camera will help morale; or maybe I’ll figure out a more winter-appropriate way of doing this.

One thing’s for sure: breaking rules really lights up in bright neon the soundness of the rules & the values behind them—in this case, how the energy/vibe/flow aspect of this project is almost the whole thing. If I don’t wholeheartedly want to do it, if I’m not actually available for it, why & how on earth would it work?

Hopefully you get what I mean by “energy/vibe/flow” & “available”; I’m sure some clever art writer has coined a specific academic term for this, something that sounds intellectual & serious & just not so Berkeley, but I don’t happen to know it, & anyway, I fucking live here. The locavore aesthetic for me includes talking local; if I’m making art in Berkeley it doesn’t make any sense for me to talk about it like a New Yorker. (You can if you want, especially if that’s how you actually talk. Despite my posturing I actually am academy-friendly & curious to know what the terms are, so don’t be scared to comment!)

Well. Apparently I do feel like getting up on my navel-gazing soapbox, even if I don’t feel like doing my little photoshoots. It might be a long winter….

Screen ouchy

2010-11-20T23:03:00.000-08:00

I probably shoulda warned you that I was going on vacation. Well, I’m back & sad to say my camera suffered some damage along the way. The little display screen now has a fuzzy stripe of dead pixels, broadening in one spot to a lollipop-like blob of gray. Doesn’t affect the actual pictures but I’m worrying that it’ll probably add a pesky, unnecessary round of dialog as I explain to photographers that they don’t have to worry about it.

Well, we’ll see how it goes, whenever the rain lets up.

Fast times at SFMOMA

2010-10-29T22:44:00.000-07:00

I was dropping off my wares for Shadowshop & thought the museum might be a nice change of pace from all those food & transit photos. Plus, perhaps a tad more touristed & therefore less weird of a place to request a photo.

My photographer was leaning up against the corner of the building, doing nothing. He looked like he had all the time in the world. Don’t know why I provided him with a bit more direction than usual: “Would you mind taking a picture of me in front of the museum?”

He responded very quickly & efficiently, taking the camera as he uttered a small syllable that communicated both his assent & the fact that English was not his first language. We stepped backwards away from each other, I toward the windows, he out to the middle of the sidewalk. He snapped the picture & then handed the camera back to me, I thanked him, looked at the picture, showed it to him, he nodded & I thanked him again & was on my way, wondering how much, if any, English he actually spoke.

The whole thing took maybe half a minute.

Rockridge BART

2010-10-27T22:52:00.000-07:00

I threw items willynilly into a big bag & tore out of the house afraid of missing BART. One of the things I grabbed was my camera, because we were going out for Mom’s birthday. When I flung myself onto the platform I realized that 1) I had a whole 3 minutes before my train, & 2) I could get a photo session in!

I walked down the platform toward my preferred end where you get a nice view of the city, thinking maybe I’d get someone to take my picture with that view in the background. However, when I approached my photographer we were facing the wrong directions for that & I realized that if I walked around to have the view in back of me, it would force her to turn around & away from her bag that was between her feet, & furthermore the other people sharing her circular bench (is it still a bench if it’s a circle?) would be in the way.

I’m not sure why she decided she had to stand up to take the picture; my guess is for a more flattering angle since I was standing. She expressed a mild lack of confidence, I explained how to press the button halfway down first & then all the way down, & then I watched her kind of struggle with it a little bit. She kept moving the camera around within a fairly small range quite near her face (bearing out my theory about camera-eye proximity correlating with age) & neither of us seemed sure that she was even taking any pictures. She asked me to repeat the thing about halfway & then all the way. Finally she seemed to get the hang of it & asked me to check to make sure that she actually got a picture. I thanked her, she complimented my coat, & I thanked her again for that. Yes I am a lucky duck to get hooked up with this coat!

I know, I said this wasn’t a fashion blog, & truly I gave so little thought to what I was wearing as I ran out of the house, it’s completely ironic to then be documented in such fancy togs.

Tuesday market

2010-10-19T18:53:00.000-07:00

The Tuesday farmer’s market is actually a pretty tough place to do this project. It’s not like weekend markets where a lot of people are just hanging out. During the week, everyone is on a mission, intent on the food. Hands are full of produce carried in a thousand awkward ways, fingers are sticky with fruit juice from all the samples, there is much jockeying for position to weigh & pay. People are not really available for this sort of thing. Last time I fudged one of my rules & asked an idle massage therapist.

I didn’t want to do that this time. I was almost out of the place & about to give up (as I have in weeks past) when here came a man carrying nothing at all, & if he wasn’t exactly strolling, he wasn’t beelining either.

He asked, “Do you want the fruit & everything?”

Of course I want the fruit!

Beach

2010-10-11T23:31:00.000-07:00

Harbor porpoises (I think) curve out of the water in the distance. Sea lions poke their heads out of the waves like friendly dogs. Sanderlings run along ahead of me, eating teensy little crabs. Naked kids playing with umbrellas. Not too many people, even though it’s a holiday. Then, a man & a woman walking toward me. They smile & say hello. When I ask for a picture, the man says “She’s really good at it.”

She immediately goes for the vertical & asks if I want my feet in it. I tell her it doesn’t matter.

Sure enough, she’s good at it.

Bus Stop

2010-10-07T23:00:00.000-07:00

By this time I was thinking I should look for an older African American man, but then I spotted today’s photographer, a plump woman with close-cropped graying hair, waiting at the bus stop. “I’m not good with electronics,” she cautioned me. I assured her that it was really easy, gave her instructions, & she tried a couple shots. I showed her the results, saying “See, you did it!” Still she preferred giving all credit to the camera: “It’s one of those wonder machines.” (Remember what I was saying before about younger people being more comfortable with technology?)

RR Xing

2010-09-27T12:31:00.000-07:00

Trains are always evocative, but they’re even more compelling when you’ve been listening to Isabel Wilkerson on the radio talking about her book The Warmth of Other Suns, all about the Great Migration. She spoke about how African Americans waiting on train platforms for their trip north would get scooped up in mass arrests, or were arrested right off the trains.

Just after hearing this, I pulled up to the railroad crossing on Hearst below 4th Street, just in time to watch a long, slow train passing. It was so long & so slow that I decided to jump out & ask the nearest of many day laborers to take my picture in front of the train. My photographer wore a peacock blue polo shirt with the collar turned up, & spoke very good English. He didn’t bat an eye, asked which button to push, & prompted me to “check it out” as he handed the camera back.

Juice Bar Collective

2010-09-21T19:53:00.000-07:00

I was picking up olives at the Cheeseboard & looked for a photographer there, but found nobody suitable. Fortunately I was passing by another famous collective on my way back to the car & found, yep, another white woman sitting at a table outside, amiably unoccupied. At least she was older—I’d been noticing that the “younger” tag is getting quite large.

I wonder what’s up with picking younger people? Do I feel that they will somehow be more cooperative or respectful toward someone older who is asking a favor? Am I less likely to want to impose on older people, out of respect & deference? Do I identify with younger people more? Am I just part of the overall youth-obsessed culture in which older people are invisible? Am I more confident that younger people will know how to use my camera? What is it? I admit, this one has me stumped.

I’m amused by how much of my public alone time apparently revolves around food.

Ici, & some rules

2010-09-20T21:56:00.000-07:00

I thought Ici would be a prime location for approaching patiently queued people, who would think it perfectly natural for one of the ice cream faithful to want a picture of herself at the shop. Much to my surprise there was no line outside, even though it was a gorgeous hot day. Probably because it was just before dinner time.

Peeking in the window, I spied my photographer sitting on the bench with no ice cream in his hands. Later I saw that he had been waiting for his friend who was getting ice cream.

Rose vanilla happens to be one of my favorite Ici flavors, so after getting my picture taken I went & stood indecisively in line for a moment, thinking about a scoop. Then, like everyone else who wasn’t there, I realized I’d be ruining my dinner.

I had sort of been hoping to have today’s picture show my surfer girl miniskirt, so that I would have proof & memory (two major functions of photography, right?) that the summer of 2010 was not totally unrelenting in its gray coldness. But my photographer was not interested in the skirt. Looking at this, it seems his compositional intent was to center my face smack in the middle of the picture.

Which brings me to the rules. An art project is really just a game I invent from scratch, & that includes making up all the rules to suit my purposes. I’ve been meaning to post them for a while. These are just to start with; I’m sure I will develop more. (I probably have more already & just can’t remember them all at once.) In no particular order:

1. No cropping or altering of the picture. What the photographer takes is what I post. I just do auto levels in Photoshop & that’s all. I post as many pictures as they shoot.

2. No directing the photographer unless they ask for it. Even if they ask for it, I try to give a minimum of guidance.

3. Maximum one photo shoot per day. There is no minimum. I do this when I feel like it.

4. I do photo shoots only when I am out in the world alone among strangers. If out with friends or in places where people know me, it doesn’t work. This is because the request has to seem as natural as possible. (In other words, if there are people around who know me, why would I ask a stranger to take the picture?)

5. Try not to ask shopkeepers, clerks, waiters, people who may feel obligated to be cooperative as part of their job. That doesn’t seem as interesting or completely fair either.

6. I’m not allowed to get neurotic or vain about what I wear or my appearance when leaving the house. This is not a fashion blog. The intent is to go about my normal business & be photographed as I am.

On BART again

2010-09-17T23:37:00.000-07:00

After all the mulling in the last couple posts, I did fall into the overthinking pit when choosing today’s photographer. I cased out the men of color around me: two of them were completely wrapped up in conversation (not with each other, in case you were wondering) & the third was in a wheelchair. I wondered about the guy in the wheelchair. I couldn’t guess by looking whether his manual abilities included picture-taking; his hands were very small & soft-looking, & his wheelchair was the kind you steer with a little joystick-type toggle. I know I wouldn’t have wanted to take anybody’s picture for them when my hands were at their worst (I had heinous repetitive stress issues a few years ago). In the end I just decided to leave him alone.

Question: do able-bodied people ever ask obviously disabled people to take their pictures for them?

My photographer ended up being a cleancut white guy standing near me, who was completely unengaged in any kind of distracting activity, unlike the myriad readers, sleepers, & avid conversationalists sitting all around. He wore a casual jacket & backpack over his very pressed shirt & tie.

When I asked him to take the picture he almost seemed embarrassed; I couldn’t understand why until I saw that he had very shaky hands. He said something sort of apologetic about how it was hard to take the picture with shaking hands, or on a moving train, or maybe he implied both.

I said it was okay & he tried a second one. I was noticing what a nervous type he was, maybe really shy or something, & felt a little sorry for him. Talking to strangers, not for him, nope. Quite a contrast between his calm, self-possessed posture before I approached him, & the palpable nervousness that rose so quickly to the surface.

About the tags

2010-09-16T14:03:00.001-07:00

I decided to tag each photo with rough demographics, based purely on my impression of my photographers’ race, gender & age. Age is a really hard one so I just have “younger” for anyone who seems younger than me & “older” for anyone who seems older than me. So far I have yet to ask anyone who feels like “my age” but whenever I do, that’s what I’ll put for them. Visual/social perception of race & gender are of course tricky things, & I’m sure I’ll guess wrong especially on race. But it’s already interesting to see that I am totally predictable: in my world it’s the white women who always get asked to do small favors like this. I haven’t really decided whether to try to buck that or not. I sort of think that if I just keep picking the “best” candidate every time, eventually the tag cloud will scream white female in giant letters.

Of course, now that I’ve said that, I might not want to ask any more white women.

BART to San Francisco

2010-09-15T22:45:00.000-07:00

This is probably the “worst” photo yet, technically speaking; my photographer was a little distracted & happened to take the picture just as the train jostled us all around a bend.

Which brings me to the choosing of the photographer: usually, I think, when scouting out a person to take a picture for us, we are looking for openness, friendliness, & a certain degree of idleness or leisure. We don’t bug the person who is obviously in a hurry or otherwise occupied.

In this case I let other factors influence me: I picked the person who was sitting where I thought the best angle would be for taking the picture. Somehow though, he was also the most approachable of the candidates. As it happens, in the picture you can actually see someone I considered asking, but didn’t—a guy who seemed a bit aloof, preoccupied more than actually occupied. I didn’t overthink all of this at the time, just looked around & took a psychic hit on the various people. Near the aloof guy was another guy who was scruffy, dirty, unkempt in a way that seemed to extend beyond the merely physical. Other candidates not chosen were a young woman studiously applying make-up, her mother(?) who looked even more aloof & closed than aloof guy, & a younger mom engrossed with her small daughter.

My photographer was a bespectacled college student with his math homework spread out on the seat next to him. He had just gotten on & I figured (wrongly, as it turns out) he was not deep into his work yet. When I said, “Excuse me,” he obviously thought I wanted him to clear the seat for me, then was subtly relieved to be asked to take a picture instead of surrendering his workspace. He was obliging enough, but as you can see from the photo his heart was not exactly in it. When he glanced at the result I could almost see him making the split-second decision that the shot was good enough to release him from this small obligation, & he would rather get back to his math than offer another shot.

Post office

2010-09-13T17:59:00.000-07:00

Another surprised photographer. Obviously bewildered, she asked where I wanted to be & what I wanted in the picture. A head shot? I said it didn’t matter, I just wanted to be next to my PO box. She seemed to decide that she was too far back & took a few steps closer to shoot this.

Apparently, asking for a picture in the post office falls quite firmly in the category of Doing Strange Things in the Name of Art.

“Nice camera,” she noted as she handed it back to me.

“Thank you,” sez I.

Among the vinyl

2010-09-11T20:45:00.000-07:00

I like to tag along when Donna gets her hair cut. I’ve always enjoyed watching haircuts—but hair washing, not so much. So I took a few minutes to skip up the block to Amoeba for the latest from Carolina Chocolate Drops.

With this photographer I noticed how she held the camera low in front of her. Is there any correlation between age & default height for holding cameras? I speculate that older folks, from years of holding film cameras up to their eyeballs, would probably hold a digital camera higher, out of habit. I think when shooting standing people, I hold the camera sort of about shoulder height, compared to this woman’s mid-lower chest height. She was probably in her early 30s.

Berkeley Bowl

2010-09-08T19:37:00.000-07:00

Today’s photographer looked surprised; I guess in line at the Bowl is less scenic than the other places so far. But she gladly did it & then asked if I wanted one closer up. (I said no, but I’m wondering if I should zoom my wide-angle in first before I hand the camera to people.) Then I felt compelled to offer some kind of explanation, so I said that it was an art project documenting my life. Which it kind of is, even though I hadn’t been thinking of it quite that way.

I was doing a grocery run for my neighbor who is recovering from an operation, but of course picked up a few things for our household since I was there. That’s how the Berkeley Bowl works! When my Census meetings were at the Bowl our kitchen was very well stocked.

Enthusiasm at the farmers market

2010-09-07T21:09:00.000-07:00

Wasn’t I just saying how people take more than one photo to make sure it’s right? Well, this woman really went to town & took four from all different angles. Entertaining to watch her moving around me, having fun with her little task.

The sun was in & out all afternoon; I forgot my sunglasses so went squinting around the market.

First of all...

2010-09-06T20:47:00.001-07:00

Have you ever asked a stranger to take your picture for you, & they said no?

I thought not.

This is a form of generosity that is expected & practiced widely—remarkably so. Somehow we have all agreed on this: having a picture of yourself (or yourselves) is important enough that you can ask a stranger—just any passer-by—to take one, with the assumption that your request will be granted. We have agreed to try our best to take a good picture if someone asks us to do it. We ask questions about how to use your camera, what you want in the picture, & we will take more than one shot just to make sure it turns out well.

What is that about, anyway?

I have lots of reasons to do this project. I’ll be sprinkling them in as I go. For the impatient, clues in the sidebar under Why?

Diving into the deep end

2010-09-02T20:30:00.000-07:00

I’m so camera shy & skittish about having my image on the interwebs, it just figures my first picture in this project would be not even fully clothed. Oh well. It’s true I do spend an awful lot of time in swimsuits.