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….

Grant Avenue, USA

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!

The Harrow & The Harvest

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

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.

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!

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.)

Peonies

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

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

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

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.

Bancroft Library

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.

Kaiser

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

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.