Crosswalk

Lafayette and Prince, March 2008:

And, no, it ain't no damn ad for the Strand.

Some People

Some people care about having their picture taken, others don't. I don't judge; whatever works for you.

Sometimes, though, it's odd. Take this guy -- he turned away just as I raised my camera:

You gotta be kidding -- he's shy all of a sudden? But I still like the result (cellphone is to tomahawk as ...).

This is from last weekend. Three people -- one liked that I was there, another was indifferent, and the third annoyed:

Can't please everyone. 

He was skeptical, but ultimately didn't care:

My kind of guy.

14th Street, Morning

I know -- what's it with the homeless guys crossed by shadows?

Who knows.

Chinatown

Put your stereotypes aside; it ain't just old codgers playing Chinese chess in Columbus Park:

I like this photograph for several reasons, including that his tattoo matches the pattern of the playing surface, and that the red & blue/black playing pieces reflect the color of his shirt & tattoo.

High Noon

High noon, Baxter Street, from last July:

Lafayette Street

I take pictures of people on the street. Sometimes I ask, sometimes I don't. Sometimes they know, sometimes they don't. 

I asked; one cared.  Lafayette Street:

It was morning, early winter, a strong sun from the east (right). Behind is a branch of HSBC.

Secret

Last week at MoMA:

Canal Street

A recent favorite.  Canal Street:

Encounter

Madison Avenue, again:

Drama

Small-scale tragedy on the A Train:

Madison Avenue

December:

59th Street

Two from 59th Street.  East side:

West side:

More Animals

It's getting late on a Friday, so I'll make a confession: I like to take pictures of pets. And although few will admit it publicly, I'm pretty sure that most photographers do as well. After all, who better to test out that new lens upon than the captive kitty or doggie in your home? They don't complain about having their picture taken, get bored, or even mind having a flash repeatedly go off in their face. Well, at least they don't complain about it. Not in words, anyway.

Meet Chelsea, who lives with my brother & sister in law in California:




This is my boy Fritz, the Greatest Cat of All Time:




He's such a ham:




Here he is with Colleen on a sunday morning:




I also like strangers' pets. I don't know the woman's name, but her tabby's called Mary:




By the way, has anyone else noticed that the ubiquitous Starbucks (tm) paper cup has become the clear favorite among panhandlers? Upmarket coffee for downmarket folks -- but only when empty -- oh the humanity!

Look at this guy -- he seems really concerned about the traffic in SoHo. "Yo -- what's the hold up? Let's get moving!":




Gray eyes unnerve me, whether in humans or dogs:




And, finally, I know what you're thinking: With this beast around, why do they need an alarm?

Iowa

My wife and I went to Iowa last week to see her mom Kathy. This is Kathy:




Kathy's been really sick, and things haven't been so great for her lately. But despite her troubles, only a few minutes with Kathy made me recall, once again, where my wife's enormous capacity for love comes from. She's a wonderful lady.

And anyone who so generously tolerates my incessant shutter-clicking deserves only the best:




She's got such a beautiful face; I could take pictures of her all day:




Kathy lives just outside of Cedar Rapids, Iowa. I guess you can call the area "suburban," except that there's not really any urban to be "sub-" to, and except it's really so close to rural stuff that it's more like "ex-"urban. Here, for example, is a view, looking outside past the smoking area of the place where she lives:




As you can see, it's corn fields and farms just past the perimeter.

A few more from Iowa. Stephen Colbert would like this one -- but why is the gigantic inflatable Patriotic American Eagle shilling for Volvo?



Apparently, the locals don't think there's anything funny about "Kum & Go":




Finally, here's a great sign from a local park. You can sort of make out the strip-mall land way in the background, but the park itself has lots of green fields and a nice pond full of colorful ducks:




I love that whoever came up with this sign made sure to say BOTH that there's no "swimming" as well as no "wading" -- we wouldn't want some smartass scofflaw to take advantage of the ambiguity of the word "swimming" to go wading in this pond!

Even better, the sign says BOTH that there's no "fishing" as well as no "seining". Not being a sportman, I didn't know what seining was until I looked it up -- Wikipedia tells me that it's a type of fishing involving the use of a seine, which is a "fishing net that hangs vertically in the water by attaching weights along the bottom edge and floats along the top."

Kudos to whoever drafted this sign. Once more, the scofflaw seiner, hoping to take advantage of the ambiguity of the term "fishing," will be thwarted.

They sure are good at closing loopholes in Iowa. No wonder it goes first in the presidential selection process.

Coincidence

I'm a big fan of Jeff Wall, even though his work is as different from mine as logically possible. For one thing, Wall works entirely in the directorial mode, in which every aspect of the "scene" captured in his photographs is constructed. Even when they look like "street photography," such as in the example below, they ain't -- these are actors and the street has been cleared beforehand:




This incident of overt racism is not found but made.

I work almost entirely in the opposite mode of so-called "found" or "documentary" or "photojournalistic" photography. I try not to alter any aspect of the scene I'm trying to get, except perhaps when I take portraits. Regardless, the photograph below, which I took on an incredibly cold day last winter, somehow reminds me of the Wall photo above:



Well, maybe only I see the resemblance. It's something about the 3 people, the distance between them, the shadows, and the guarded expression on the mother's face, except that it's the Asian doing the stereotyping this time around.

Here, by the way, is what they were seeing:



Turned out to be a very friendly, chatty guy.

Animals, Lost & Found

I read yesterday that the giant inflatable pig, first featured on the cover of Pink Floyd's 1977 album Animals, was found "in tatters in a desert town" after it floated away from its tethers during the Coachella Music Festival several days ago. The pig apparently bore pro-Obama political slogans, though I could not find it on this picture from Wikipedia:




I wish I had found the pig, as there was a $10,000 reward. I've found plenty of lost animals on the streets of New York, but none came with a reward. Here are a few.

You'd think someone would want at least one of these two bears:




Here's a close-up of one of the bears. Doesn't he look like he's being held ransom? "Help me! Please! Anyone?! Mommy! Help!"



What about this lion, getting seriously dissed by a guy on Grand Street? Too bad for the lion -- he certainly ain't the king of this urban jungle:




And this poor dolphin I found on 26th Street -- looks like he tried to jump that hydrant but failed:



Or this sad little rubber ducky, stuck on the top of an entrance pedestal on 18th Street:




And this unfortunate lobster, compelled against his will by some godless biker to serve as (I think) a mud-splash. Can someone call PETA?




Finally, in honor of Derby Day tomorrow, here's a horse I found on Lafayette Street:




But, alas, no reward for me.

More Trash

I initially wanted to take this photograph because of the odd conjunction of the flowers and fluorescent tubes in the garbage can, and the obvious flouting -- in typical NYC fashion -- of both of the stated rules ("no household trash" and "no business trash"):




But then a stroller came out of nowhere, and this became the result. The end product is probably better than I expected. I especially like the contrast of the (older) girl's deliberately goofy expression in the front with the younger boy's stern visage in the back. Two contrasts, then!

Reflection

I got Kertesz on the brain today! Photographers love reflected surfaces -- it's a play on seeing, you see, by a medium about seeing -- and Kertesz is no exception. There are some narcotic examples from his polaroids:











And here are a few of mine. I thanked the photography gods when this one, entitled "Gaze," turned out OK:




Serendipitous street shots like this come about only when luck is added to the ingredients.

The same with this one. But despite my friend Will's efforts at explanation, I still can't figure out how the people across Madison Avenue came to be reflected in the bus stop:




What is "real" and what is not:




Strolling through their dream living-room set:




Broken window with mirrors:




(Though not so "rare [in] nyc" by the reckoning of the broken window theory). Finally, a self-portrait entitled "Cross(hair)," taken at the 14th Street subway station:



Clever, no? A wry commentary on our surveillance-cum-religious society with a hint of anarchy? No? Oh well, I'm too old for this kind of thing anyway.