Photography Thinks
So, you go to a movie in Boca Raton and sit in seats that make you feel like you are your Living Room, assuming you have furnished your TV watching room with reclining, leather backed chairs. You can order a drink at a bar to sip waiting to enter and then carry it into the theatre. Very civilized. They show indy movies, have series with speakers and show oldies. You can see the movies, hear the sound and not hear traffic noise or police sirens.
So, exhausted after the first day of reconstruction. Tomas, master builder and redesigner, leads the crew on this not so exciting journey. All we are doing is make the place livable. Included in this are: color, shape and a door of dignity in the bathroom. On our way.
So, when you move, you need health care providers: doctors, dentists, massage therapists. Anxiety producing. Fill out forms. Connect with insurers. Get used to new hands probing your mouth, anus, ears and all the other orifices that make your system work.
Dentists! Bad experiences. Small teeth. Bad gums. Years to get the mouth under control. Don’t have all my teeth. Implants have cost a fortune. Periodic visits to periodontist, dentists, endodontists and tooth crafters whose jobs I cannot describe have worked on me. Root canals! But if I want to eat something other than knishes and Ensure I need to go.
Here is my new hygienist, Stacie. She did a great job as I gripped the chair. But, how many of us look at the people working on us? We shut our eyes, hoping it won’t hurt, but feeling better when our teeth are clean and our mouth feels good. She may look like she’s from outer space, but she did a great job on my mouth.
So, in Burlington, we lived in a condo on the third floor. No grills allowed, at least not ones with charcoal or gas. Had an electric grill which sort of boiled stuff. No lines or burn marks. Now, back in a home, I got a grill.
Now, I am not one of those champion grillers. I like chicken and steak, veggies, corn. Don’t have dry rubs or special marinades, except for one made with Jack Daniels and maple syrup. I can turn out a meal for two, eliminating the need for a giant unit. Not really invested in the skill, but love to cook.
Have given away all my tools. Need a fork, spatula and tongs. Wire brush. Cutting board. Cover. All new stuff and an extra tank. Feel like I live at Home Depot.
Bigger question: will we cook. Down here, everyone goes out to dinner. Early bird specials. Off season reductions if you pay cash. Not so easy to find locally grown stuff or prime meat. But being home has its benefits, especially since we pay so much for Comcast and A/C. Best thing: no drinking and driving.
So, always good to leave the world better than you found it, however you do it. Don Featherstone, a man whose name you don’t know, did. His art graces lawns from here to everywhere, unless you live in a gated community where uniformity trumps art. You see the plastic forms and without knowing why, you feel better about life. And, we owe the feeling to some guy who, one day, sitting at work, in a plastics factory, far away from the Everglades, but obviously close to Wonderland, created a flamingo.
So, we just came back from a trip to Paris and settled in. We have not had a chance to breathe comfortably or eat in. Boxes piled everywhere. Have not been to London or seen anyone’s underpants, but we drove from VT to FL, packed and unpacked (enough), flew to Paris and hung out on a beach. Now back to real life, if you can call it that living in South East Florida, West Boynton Beach, Valencia Reserve.
Some have asked where we lived. For someone like myself who didn’t like to go anywhere, we have moved a lot since 1999. Thought I’d be Brooklyn dead, but as one of my friends from Maple Street said, “you cannot predict the future.” Moved too many time recently, running away, more than I was running towards. Hopefully, I am here, now.
I took some pictures, along the way. Not enough. None up to the standard of Frank Zachary, who died at 101. He worked with Slim Adams, Henri Cartier-Bresson, Robert Capa and Arnold Newman, selecting images for style magazines of the day, magazines that informed, in addition to selling lifestyles of the rich and famous. He defined how looking at well structured images, by great photographers, could make the reader feel as if he was at the place pictured, not just sitting in a chair looking at them. Without his eye, none of the shots would have been seen by so many.
All of the shooters he worked with are my heroes, photographers whose work make you want to give up your camera. Not sure any editor would ever look at my stuff, another reason not to share and to give up. Well, I won’t.
So, twofer, today. Two people whose art shaped my life in different ways died. One a musician. The other an actor. I borrowed these images from the NYT today, loving them as they show the people as old men. As I look at their pictures, I can hear them performing. Their works will live forever, even if they couldn’t.
Steve and Fred Hopkins fix shoes, leather shoes. They fix bags, leather clothes, and items made from the skins of dead animals. Working in a little shop in Winooski, VT, they provide a service soon to become extinct. They will be missed as much as polar bears and telephone booths, whose disappearance will come for different reasons, and there is nothing we can do to preserve either.
Time was when a community couldn’t function without a cobbler. People wore leather shoes, carried leather bags, controlled horses with leather reins. Now, who wears leather shoes? Old people. Who rides horses to work? Synthetic totes are more weather resistant and lighter weight. How about women wearing heals? Not so prevalent anymore. And worn is the norm.
Six cobbler shops remain in VT. Hard to find apprentices. Pay is low. Takes a while to learn. Have to stand up all day. Air isn’t all that healthy. Cannot find help. Cannot find customers.
But, to a person who loves their shoes, people who have a pair of work shoes or cap toes or penny loafers, to have heels that protect the step and soles that protect the soul, not to forget the bottom of the foot, price doesn’t matter. The fit the foot and look good. A brain doesn’t work as well if the feet don’t feel comfortable. Good shoes can make the outfit. These leather doctors can make a person feel and look as good as a dentist or hair cutter.
Everyday I walk into my building, I pass this grate. Yellow tungsten light plays with the grate from the outside; bluer fluorescents on inside walls divide the inside. Empty space partitioned by shadows with no particular message.
I shot this without thinking about the shot, except to shoot it. Then when I converted it to black and white, I saw what I didn’t see. Just the magic of photography.
So, my girl is the best date anyone could ever have. Looks. Sense of humor. Stories. Cool. And, honest. She dresses. She talks. Pays for dinner. And I carry my camera. Sometimes, she gives me one or two shots. I usually miss. I beg for another. Sometimes, I get real portraits. She’s looking at me and I don’t what what she’s thinking. Always hoping she feels the same way I do.
What could be bad? Tequila. Pinball. Hamburger. And a beautiful date. Then she drives home.
And then there are the people working at the bar. I shoot working people. They stay in their environment, happy I order drinks and dinner. Many have asked them to pose. They make faces. Not real, but close enough. Got a shot. Preston, the bartender, he’s not giving much. Server has a toothy grin, pretty. But, it’s a problematic pose. Don’t know what he’s saying or what she’s doing, but he knows he’s being shot and so does she. Every photographer takes what he’s given and hopes to come back for more realism, if that’s possible.
