Selfie/Not-selfie

I was wandering the bonsai at the Huntington 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?

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.

Now in the age of the selfie, 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?

Am I back in the saddle again? Maybe.

Fruit!

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

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

Safeway

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

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….

Summer Solstice farmers market

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

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!

Temescal farmers market

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

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?

Richmond BART

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

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.

Bakesale Betty

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.)

Tulips & ranunculus

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.

Far end of the BART platform

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.

Alta Bates

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.

Bus stop, with pigeons

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.”

Tartine

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!

Yarn & other bombs

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….

Fast times at SFMOMA

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.

Tuesday market

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!