Runs With Scissors

The City Moves Slowly For Some

2008-04-28T22:38:00.001-04:00

The City Moves Slowly For Some
Originally uploaded by Runs With Scissors

I went to the gym for the first time in a week and some change. It's been a struggle lately for a host of reasons; I'm dead on my feat from work, I can see daylight when I leave work, I've had to run lots of errands and my iPod broke three weeks ago.

My iPod is my medium of choice for listening to both radio and television news. Amy Goodman, Bill Moyers and some occasional NPR programming fill my ears as I commute to and from work and as I try not to injure myself at the gym.

Without my iPod my eyes wander upwards to the television talking heads glowing from the monitors above the machines my sweat drips on.

Today I walked onto the floor of the gym, spotted a cardio machine to use, glanced above and saw the teletype flashing something along the lines of linking Barak Obama to Louis Farrakhan insinuating there's some sort of relationship between the two.

I turned around, went back into the locker room and stayed in a sauna for a half hour.

Memories

2007-07-06T08:59:00.001-04:00

memories
Originally uploaded by Runs With Scissors

Sixth and Seventh Avenues south of 14th Street in NYC used to offer great views of the World Trade Center. One spot in particular, at Greenwich Avenue and 7th Avenue South had a great view. The fence around a lot there has served as a wall for a memorial.

I've been thinking a bit lately about GW Bush's now famous Sept. 14, 2001 speech. In the audience that night were the leaders of Great Britain and France. I was encouraged to see them there. I naively thought that J. Chirac and T. Blair flew to Wash. DC to counsel Bush about the best and most proven means in stopping terrorism like changing foreign policy to eliminate factors that influence people to pursue terrorism and working to be less violent than the terrorists themselves.

Instead the world heard the words, "either you're with us or against us." and the "axis of evil".

Once upon a time I worked within the management of a Fortune 50 (Not 500) company. My direct manager who served in the US Army as a 'tunnel rat' in Vietnam taught me this; There are two things you can never go back on in life; missed opportunity and the spoken word."

It saddens me that the last six years have been such a sad and bloody affair.

August 23, 1989

2007-04-08T06:43:00.001-04:00

August 23, 1989
Originally uploaded by Runs With Scissors.

A faded and peeling painted mural of Yusef Hawkins stands seemingly silent on a side street across from Bedford-Stuyvesant's Restoration Plaza. Seeing this deteriorating mural it's not difficult to imagine that it's possible that many people who walk by it don't know who Yusuef was.

After taking a few pictures of the mural I began thinking about what life was like in New York City in the 1980s. In particular the police killings Michael Stewart and Eleanor Bumpers as well as the white mob violence directed at blacks in Howard Beach and in Bensonhurst came to mind. As I walked down Fulton Street thinking of how when i went on dates with black women we would be refused service at restaurants and have to endure sly comments on the streets of Manhattan. Is it me or does it seem like these sorts of things just don't happen in the city anymore? Maybe this paled in comparison to what Rev. Al Sharpton and others who had watermelons thrown at them during their marches through Bensonhurst, or Micheal Griffin's unfortunate death.

I remember Mayor Ed Koch publicly asking for Sharpton not to march in Bensonhurst and the outrage that followed. Looking back it seems that these events may have been turning points for the city in how people relate to one another.

Could it be Sharpton is owed credit for changing New York City in a positive way?

Duh!

2007-04-03T11:23:00.001-04:00

VANISHING CITY MIDDLE CLASSBy TOM TOPOUSISPrintEmailDigg ItStory BottomApril 3, 2007 -- The middle class is fast becoming an endangered species in New York City, where the costs of housing and health care have soared faster than salaries over the last decade, according to a survey of city leaders that was released yesterday.Almost all those polled - 92 percent - said it's harder for families today to work their way into the middle class, which the survey found requires an income between $75,000 and $135,000, a far cry from the city's median family income of $49,374.The squeeze on the middle class has left the city with a widening divide between rich and poor, with fewer families in the middle, said John Mollenkopf, director of the Center for Urban Research at CUNY.

VANISHING CITY MIDDLE CLASS By TOM TOPOUSIS - Regionalnews - New York Post Online Edition

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Knucklehead Alert!

2007-04-02T19:54:00.001-04:00

Knucklehead Alert!
Originally uploaded by Runs With Scissors.

So I'm out having a great time with my new Flickr friend taking pictures in our neighborhood when these two characters come along.

The schmo in the suit is screaming, "Oh no, no, no. Don't take my picture!" The other rocket surgeon is yelling, "You're doing it all wrong. I'll tell ya how to take pictures."

Yep you guessed right, "Mr. Photography stands behind us while we're shooting pictures of other things blabbing on and on about how we need to get up early in the morning to take pictures of cherry blossom trees in the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. So I'm thinking, is it worth $150 and a two week repair to remove my zoom lens from this guy's face?

And wouldn't you know it, as this is all going on a third dinosaur brain carrier walks in between us saying, "Don't take my picture unless you're going to make me famous." I yelled, "Come back. I'll put you on the Internet!"

Gotta love Brooklyn for its diversity and character.

"This Way Please Mr. Jackson..."

2007-02-20T03:56:00.001-05:00

"This Way Please Mr. Jackson..."
Originally uploaded by Runs With Scissors.

About 40 or so paparazzi were neatly lined up against metal barricades with their HUGE lenses waiting for their shot. Some of them turned and looked me up and down as I came from the other side of 23rd street and started shooting from between parked cars.

I started to laugh at myself with my silly 'nifty-fifty' lens.

"Hey, who'ya with?!" shouts one of trapped photographers. I reached into my wallet and gave the guy one of my Flickr calling cards; I guess I could have told the guy that I'm married these days.

He said I look like some Russian photog he worked with the other night by the World Trade Center.

Whatever.

Open Lot To The Past

2007-01-28T17:57:00.001-05:00

Open Lot To The Past
Originally uploaded by Runs With Scissors.

There aren't many empty lots like this left in New York City, yet once upon a time there were many. Sometimes, in some neighborhoods they were all that could be seen.

Given all that has changed in my city in the last 20 or so years, a certain part of me wants to save a few of these lots; a place or two to commemorate the lousy past. It could be like a monument that make us say to ourselves, "I remember when Howard Cosell told the world, The Bronx is burning".

The strongest memory I have when I approach this lot on my way to yoga each Saturday is when I was a reckless teen hanging out on the Lower East Side's Alphabet City. There at a party in the dead of winter, sweaty bodies dancing to the Tom Tom Club in a dark, steamy living room. I took a moment to go out to the fire escape for some air and to let the acid kick in.

The rear view of the building was nothing but an empty lot. Imagine if you will, an entire New York City block with just a building or two on it! Laugh if you want, but I was there as the glass reflected up from the overgrown weeds. I saw the glimmering become an ocean with large waves splashing up against the tenement I was in.

You can't have my memory, they ripped out the weeds, dug a big hole and built their luxury lofts on top of those waves.

The Bronx may not be burning, but my memories live on.

Flash Of Red

2006-11-18T15:08:00.000-05:00

I was having fun taking photographs on my commute home last night - - we'll all have to wait for the results since I was shooting film.

While taking pictures of people on a subway car a woman who I wasn't taking pictures of erupted into a extreme fit of rage.

The woman, twice my size screamed at the top of her lungs, "Don't you go taking pictures over here! Don't point that camera at me! You ain't allowed to take pictures of people!

I replied softly, "Can you relax?"

"Don't tell me the relax!", she yelled back.

Again, almost at a whisper, "You're yelling at me."

"Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up!"

"I don't know why you're yelling?"

"Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up!"

At this point I just stared directly at her as calmly as I could. Her friend looked at her oddly and people stopped looking at her too. No one else said a word to me and as far as i could tell, no one was looking at me either.

At the next station stop the woman dragged her friend off the train and went into the next car.

The idea of giving her one of my nifty new Flickr cards crossed my mind.

Is It Like?

2006-11-10T06:07:00.000-05:00

Originally uploaded by Runs With Scissors.

Is digital photography like writing?

I write and cross things out and discard words without much thought - - what happens to the blurries, poorly exposed and missed shots that out number the images that seem refined and ready for 'publication'? Are these like the pieces of writing that have found their way through a fine process of revision?

Are the smaller pieces of writing no less valuable as the larger, well crafted ones they later become, sometimes?

Obscured Smile

2006-10-25T11:11:00.000-04:00

obscured smile
Originally uploaded by Runs With Scissors.

It's amazing what happens when you put a piece of black construction paper in front of your camera. most people on the street don't notice the camera at all. Like I said, most people.

As she passed me by she asked, "What's going on?" i told her i was with my high school photography class and she said, "Oh that's nice," and flashed me a smile.

Camera, Camera

2006-10-18T23:11:00.000-04:00

camera, camera
Originally uploaded by Runs With Scissors.

I'm not too sure which one of the three young Hasids just bought the camera as each of took turns examining it and reading the manual. But I thought about how rarely I've seen Hasids buying electronics from B&H Photo here in New York and decided I wanted the shot.

I managed to get two shots off before I was caught on the third at which point a picture was taken on me.

I gave them one of my cards, but they didn't speak any English and gave me a puzzled look when I said "Your photo on Internet." Oh well.

Walking

2006-10-15T11:41:00.000-04:00

Walking
Originally uploaded by Runs With Scissors.

Walking in different directions my group of somewhat geeky New York City High School teachers with fancy cameras passed this woman by without a word. I stopped, turned and waited to see if my initial instincts were true.

There are times I feel like I can read people like Popeye Doyle, the famous New York City Police Detective of French Connection fame. He had an incredible instinct. He could look at someone and accurately tell how many loose joints they were carrying.

There was something about this woman when she passed us by. She and our group were pretty much the only people around in this warehouse district of Long Island City which is just up the block from a large public housing project - - the same ones the rapper Nas comes from. As she passed us she took off her rather plain looking denim jacket and revealed a tight fitting white sleeveless blouse. She wore no bra. When I noticed all of this I though to myself, 'how odd she's dressed like that walking away from where people live'.

So I stood there thinking about the contrasting purposes of us both being on the same block at the same time. I thought about how we were both spending our time on what was a glorious, sunny and warm Sunday afternoon. I thought about the store value of the camera equipment I had with me and well, what she was up to and what brought her to this block on this day.

The Lounge Takes A Long Rest

2006-09-13T06:07:00.000-04:00

The Lounge Takes A Long Rest
Originally uploaded by Runs With Scissors.

Having lived in New York City my whole life I've seen this scene many times; a neighborhood of great distinction is renovated and done completely over to the point where it is no longer recognizable. I've seen this happen on the Lower East Side and in Williamsburg where I just moved from.

Seeing how 'Brooklyn' has become the hot commodity, I'm fearful of what will happen precious Crown Heights.

Okay

2006-09-12T20:59:00.000-04:00

Okay
Originally uploaded by Runs With Scissors.

The door was closed and I wondered about the empty beer bottle on the steps.

RESCUE 2

2006-09-10T18:01:00.000-04:00

RESCUE 2
Originally uploaded by Runs With Scissors.

I'm not sure how many Rescue Units the FDNY has, but I'm sure glad they're around. These Rescue squads respond to fires in a large truck filled with gear that helps them tear through burning debris in order to locate and rescue people. That's right, they show up to go into fires not to put them out, but to go into them with an axe instead of a hose to save people.

Monday marks the fifth anniversary of the World Trade Center collapse. Nearly 400 New York City fire fighters lost their lives in collapse.

While the City's firemen have somehow been morphed into national heroes, I think it's important to put things into a more sober perspective.

The firemen who were called to the World Trade Center on Spetember 11, 2001 were responding to a fire alarm. Hundreds of firemen climbed the stairs of the two towers to put out a fire and rescue people along the way.

Their efforts along with many police officers, FDNY Paramedics, teachers who had to escort their children from schools at the foot of the WTC are testiment to the professionalism of New York City's municipal workers.

The point is that it didn't have to be a terrorist attack that day - - a fire is a fire and people will do what they have to to save lives. There's little need for flag-waving.

"Why do you take pictures?"

2006-09-05T19:57:00.000-04:00

"Why do you take pictures?"
Originally uploaded by Runs With Scissors.

Got to love this:

A few hours after telling friends that I want to get right to taking pictures of my new neighbors this kid approaches me as I'm exiting the subway in my neighborhood.

This kid out of no where says to me, "Hey, why you take pictures?" pointing at my camera.

"Because that's what I do - - it's for fun."

As we're walking along him and his friend ask me to take pictures of completely random things; a pile of trash and a wall of very nondescript graffiti. I tell them that the wall they picked out is ugly.

"You don't like graff?"

"No, I like graff, but it's got to be good."

They then break out with their sketch books.

Which Ride Did We Share?

2006-08-02T14:42:00.000-04:00

Got at b3co.com

Blogged

2006-08-02T07:09:00.000-04:00

The Brooklyn Museum of Art, have used innovative online services to promote and enhance their current exhibition 'Graffiti'. A series of podcasts are available, allowing visitors to transfer the audio files to their mp3 player and bring them on an exhibition visit. The museum also has its own Flickr account, which it has used to invite the public to upload their own photos of graffiti in Brooklyn. The Brooklyn graffiti flickr group currently has over 1200 photos submitted.Our own online exhibition Stewart Bale 2.0 features classic photographs from our archives 'recreated' by Liverpool-based flickr photographers.Posted by Billy | 02/08/2006 11:26

THE NAKED MUSEUM - Graffiti in Brooklyn

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Golbal Warming

2006-08-01T13:42:00.000-04:00

Golbalwarming
Originally uploaded by Bullet Eye.

And I thought it was my sweet talking.

Happy happy Joy Joy!

2006-07-31T17:50:00.000-04:00

It seems like some acts of human behavior are working out okay these days...

If the Mets were to finish their remaining games at their current winning pace, the Phillies would need to go 50-10 just to catch them. If the Mets were to finish playing .500 baseball, the Phillies would need to go 44-16 to catch them. Even if the Mets were to finish 20-38, the Phillies would have to go 35-25 to catch the Mets. It would take a tremendous set of circumstances for either the Mets to finish the season eighteen games under .500, or for the Phillies to finish ten games over .500 for that matter.

MiracleMets.net - A New York Mets Blog: The drama is over

Oh joy!

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RESTAURANT

2006-07-29T14:37:00.000-04:00

RESTAURANT
Originally uploaded by Runs With Scissors.

The truck stops came as some bit of relief during a 18-hour drive from Urbana, Illinois to New York City. They were not ony place to empty our stressed bladders, but a welcomed reprieve from big-named, very recognizable resturuants and stores.

Amantha and I stopped once to spend the night in Haute Heights, Ohio near Akrin. We drove around a bit before we settled on which motel we'd spend the night in and again in the morning looking for a bookstore in hopes of buying a audio-book.

Driving along the main roads of these towns makes rattles my nerves. I'm not certain why, but the brightly colored fast food resturuants, the bold and bright facades of every nationally recornizable business screams at me, distracting me from the road and the traffic around me. It's as if each one of these businesses is trying to be as big and blod as a television advertisement.

Thinking back to the time when my parents would jam my sister and I along with piles of bags and other stuff into the back seat of a Volkswagen Beattle, I remember there being far more large billboards on our nation's roads than there are today.

Is it just me?

Williamsburg Is Boring

2006-07-28T19:57:00.000-04:00

williamsburg is boring
Originally uploaded by Runs With Scissors.

I don't get it. i don't understand the fascination people have with graffiti.

All anyone has to do is look at Flickr's Williamsburg Group to see how much people adore graffiti. the group is filled with images of it and lost in the mix of pictures are the people who live in the neighborhood.

I'm afraid that somehow we have forgotten that people make a neighborhood special. My wife points out that it's much easier to take a picture of a painted wall than another person and I can agree with that.

'O' CHICAGO

2006-07-28T19:47:00.000-04:00

'O' CHICAGO
Originally uploaded by Runs With Scissors.

If I lived and drove everyday in Chicago I'd have one hand on the camera, the other switching between the wheel and the stick, one foot on the camera bag, and the other between the three pedals.

George Bush singing "Sunday Bloody Sunday"

2006-07-28T19:42:00.000-04:00


Thanks to http://onegoodmove.org and Rx @ http://thepartyparty.com/ Let's Roll!

Scissors Are Running

2006-07-11T18:38:00.000-04:00

A new blog at new location is coming soon. Stay tuned.

Bad News Muse

2006-05-24T21:16:00.000-04:00

This image was part of my old portfolio, the one I submitted to the School of Visual Arts in 1983. I was nominated for a four-year, full paid scholarship based in part on this work. However this photograph is difficult for me to look at.

I met Kelly in the ninth grade at Truman High School in the Bronx, I think we had a last period science class together and for a short while, he was also on the track team with me. Yep, my fat Jewish ass was once on a state championship high school track team.

Go ahead and laugh because I soon discovered drugs and cutting class and soon enough Kelly and I became reacquainted and after awhile, friends.

Kelly's life was difficult. He moved from to the Bronx from New Jersey where he had some serious run-ins with the law. He could easily turn violent despite his seemingly humble origins. And again, we were friends and I felt safe.

As I became more involved with photography Kelly would be my muse every once in awhile. He posed for the shot above at the Morris Park Avenue subway station in the Bronx. I remember quite clearly asking him to give me a "jail house look" for this picture. Who knew that would become reality?

Sometime after my own home life became a living hell I figured out how I could pay for college on my own. I started attending Bronx Community College in the Winter of 1984. On one hand it was one of the worst things I ever did in my life as the school was the wrong place for me and I stayed there for too long working the whole while. On the other hand, it might have saved my life.

In the first weeks of my first semester I would get off the bus along Jerome Avenue in the Bronx at about 183rd Street and each morning. I would pass drug dealers offering "road runner", "one", and "one and two". I never heard anything about the stuff and so I just ignored the dealers. Then by the springtime I heard "crack" and "one and two" and I began to understand but didn't think too much of it. I was going to school from 8:00 am until the late afternoon and working a full-time shift at a high-end film and print processing plant in midtown saving money in hopes of paying for the next semester and that month's rent.

Once my spring vacation rolled around I found that many of the people I used to smoke pot and drink beer with in the North Bronx were now smoking crack too. Things changed very quickly during my first semester of college and I don't doubt that if I hadn't gone to that horrible school, I too would have become a crackhead.

Kelly and I stopped hanging out altogether when I moved to another part of the Bronx. I only heard stories about him and others from then on.

Then came the bad news. Kelly murdered someone. He now serves a life sentence.

Going through my old photos I came across the one below. Behind Kelly and his girlfriend is the person he would later kill. (Seated in the center with his back to the camera).

Hard pictures to look at.

When Does It End

2006-05-23T19:32:00.000-04:00

When will my emotions stop my physical self from being seizing up? When will I get over being terrorized?

It happens whenever I travel from New Jersey into New York on the PATH subway line into the former World Trade Center station. The train turns 360 degrees around what is known as 'the tub' , a concrete foundation shaped like a tub that keeps the Hudson River from flowing into where the foundation for the Twin Towers were. True to form of New York City's resilience and grit, the buildings are gone and all but the Tub remain. The PATH train moves as it always has around the perimeter of the tub - - only now it's like a toy train running around a large open and grey hallow. I find it most disturbing and morbid. I wish they would install think black curtains so this view would be blocked.

Although I would like to see view of the tub obscured, I'm not to sure what to make of the random postcard, tourist souvenir and lighting fixture I come across bearing an image of the World Trade Center.

I watched a preview this weekend of Oliver Stone's new movie on my computer. I so wanted to just enjoy seeing Nicholas Cage play a working class Noo Yawka - - a role I enjoyed seeing him do in Bring Out The Dead - - but all I could do was bawl.

I thought about the movie, the event it portrays and events that have followed and hope that everyone can just agree that the continued violence that has ensued must cease.

Brooklyn Landmark

2006-05-21T19:13:00.000-04:00

It seems as though nearly every city has one. A landmark that can be seen where you are that's way up high that points in a certain direction and helps guide and point people in a particular direction.

Paris has its tower as Washington DC has is monument. Manhattan has the Empire State and Brooklyn, well sometimes there's the Williamsburg Savings Bank Clock Tower.

I grew up in The Bronx and rarely went out to Brooklyn, unless it was to get laid or got to an all-night party. Most of the time these adventures would take my into the Fort Greene and the then not so nice to go Park Slope. I always knew if I could find my way back to that clock tower I then find a place to get a bagel to settle my stomach for the two-hour IRT 4 to the 2 to the 5 train back to Baychester station in the Bronx.

Although I don't get as lost in Brooklyn as I used to, I still have a fondness for the ugly clock tower. I think it reminds me that Brooklyn was once the nation's fourth largest city before it merged with New York City and that in some ways it's still a city onto its own.

The clock tower sits at odd location. There are no other tall buildings around it, but below tons of traffic as Flatbush, Third and Atlantic Avenues collide with one another. There's also a very large subway station below and a Long Island Rail Road terminal too. It's a real hub.

Part of the reason for all the activity is that it's where several residential neighborhoods merge; a revitalized Fort Greene, the well-to-do Park Slope, the working class and up and coming Prospect Heights and working class South Slope. It's very residential around the clock tower with many stores catering to household needs. And although the area is jammed with car traffic, people still flock to this hub.

A very wealthy Brooklynite who tore up a nearby neighborhood and turned it into a most banal business park wants to build tall office buildings around the clock tower and bring the New Jersey Nets basketball team, which he owns into a new arena to be built across the street from the tower. This project calls for the tearing down of new and recently renovated housing stock. Naturally many in the area are up in arms working to defend Brooklyn.

Hey, is this thing on?

2006-05-10T19:59:00.000-04:00

He Threatened Me Here

2006-05-06T18:16:00.001-04:00

"I will have your ass," were the words that made up one of the last complete sentences Leonard Lief said to me.

It was the spring of 1990 and then New York Governor Mario Cuomo was looking to up tuition to the City university of New York by $750 per semester and slash the budget by $12 million. It was a serious issue to poor students like myself. Without parents to support me or a bank account to withdraw funds from, low cost tuition meant the world to me. I was earning less than $8,000 a year working $6.00 an hour telemarketing jobs. I was in and out of housing court facing eviction for a $400 month studio in the Bronx. I often waited around after school events to gather leftover food to bring home... It was all too clear I needed the City University to get my poor ass out of poverty and I would do all that I could to protect the only college I could afford.

The year before similar tuition hikes and budget cuts were proposed and we protested successfully to stave those off but Cuomo was damaged politically during a presidential election year for it. In 1990 he wasn't going to stand by idlely. We knew if we protested the cops would be called in so we tried to come up with a plan that didn't call for the taking over of administrative buildings.

We were witness to a cop riot at John Jay College in Manhattan two nights before. Students were injured as cops attacked them. Students threw glass bottles back. The police union had photos of injured and bloodied cops from that riot they would use for future promotional materials calling for pay raises.

Faced with these realities we targeted the Lehman College Library. Our aim was to quietly take over the building and keep it open for 24 hours each day until the end of final exams. Once students were inside we would sit and have conversations with them and use the Library's phones to call state legislators, the media and so on.

Our attack worked. A small group of us showered, put on clean clothes and scheduled a meeting with President Leonard Lief. Lief and the time had already served 22 years as the school's first and only president. Old, stick'n of whisky or rye, mean and outwardly belligerent to students he agreed to meet with us. We put forward our demands to have complete access to the Library when the call came into his office during our meeting. "Hundreds of students have entered the Library with chains. They appear ready to take over the building." The building became ours for two weeks.

On the first evening of our occupation Lief came into the Library and asked to speak to students inside the Library. Uncharacteristically he spoke as if he wasn't too drunk and praised us for our behavior.

Then he asked to speak to me to the side of everyone else. He is a big man. Maybe six foot six with broad shoulders and mean looking face. Yes he was an old drunk, but that didn't mean he wasn't scary looking. He looked down at me with his toes touching mine, "If anything happens here I will have your ass." He then walked away.

My wife asked me, "Did you think they would name the Library after you?".

Well maybe if I win the lottery they will change their minds.

OMG!

2006-05-03T13:26:00.000-04:00

I was slow on the up-take and haven't quite caught up to it all yet. I thought it was going to be a quite afternoon at my favorite coffee shop catching up on Flicker happenings and email and the day turned into something else.

On my last day of a vacation in Jamaica The Gothamist not only published a photograph of mine as their Image Of The Day, but they went ahead and wrote what amounted to a profile of much of my work in my Flickr Photostream. It must have been a slow news day.

When I opened my email I noticed right away that for every hour two people were naming me as a Flickr. The views of my images were mounting too. Although the pace of things has slowed, requests to make prints have been coming in now.

It's been overwhelming as not only not used to this kind of attention and level admiration I feel obligated to examine each person's photostream, make comments and decide if I should reciprocate by making them a contact too. Needless to say the number of my Flickr contacts has swelled.

Now my friends and wife are asking me to set up an actually gallery exhibition.

It's all still a bit much, but it's part of the process of rediscovering my love of photography and taking photographs.

How Often Does This Happen?

2006-04-25T19:48:00.000-04:00

How often do you get to run into your college sweetheart and come to a new level of respect and admiration for them?

I feel that way about Jocelyn and the work she does. When I Google her the words "Peace Activist" appear along side her name. Her stories of world travel are filled with testimonials of her interactions with people in need.

She comes from a deeply religious background and lives a life that reflects the parts of the Gospel a schlepy disgruntled atheist/supposed to be Jewish jerk like myself can appreciate.

One of my fears is if she reads this she might write or say something equally sappy about how my political activism from days gone by influenced her in some way in what she does today. I'd like to discount that before that happens. I don't think there's any half-stepping in the work she has been doing; it's all her.

Keep it up, peace on earth can be had for all.

Here's a sample of what she's up to.

As Seen In The Voice

2006-04-23T23:42:00.001-04:00

When I was a teenager growing in New York I dreamed that somehow the pictures I was taking with a Canon AE-1 would one day get me a job working along side Sylvia Plachy at the Village Voice. Fast forward a whole bunch of years and I have finally earned a byline.

For a about a year now I have been chronically the rapid change in my neighborhood but never thought to pursue the publication of these images. Then I saw one of my neighbors who was displaced by what's been happening in my community being interviewed by a reporter and I butted in.

It took some doing over the telephone but the folks at the Voice's Photo Department ran with my low-resolution image.

Truthfully though I wish they went with this image instead. I think it says more about what's happening in my neighborhood.

As Seen In The Voice

2006-04-23T23:42:00.000-04:00

Truthfully though I wish they went with this image instead. I think it says more about what's happening in my neighborhood.

"Jamaica Tours"

2006-04-23T15:32:00.000-04:00

Here's the deal for nearly all Americans who trvel to Jamaica:

Most folks will only get one or two weeks vacation a year and may choose to spend one of those weeks in Jamaica.

They will fly into Montego Bay, wait on line for custons where they don't need to show a passport - - if you're Jamaican you will need to go to another line and have your suit cases carefully inspected and show proper trvel documents too.

Nearly every American who travels to Jamaica who enters the country at the airport will wait in a special reception area that the large resort they're staying at provides at the airport.

The truck pictured above gathers the luggage so that it arrives before the coach bus does to the resort from the airport - - pretty cool eh?

Once at the resorts, the Americans are likely to spend their entire time at the resort, rarely traveling outside.

Amantha and I haven't yet travelled in this fashion and we're happy for it too. However this confuses some Jamaicans as many thought we came into Ocho Rios via one of the large cruise ships that dock daily and leave nightly each day at Ocho Rios, Negril or Montego Bay. Those folks might see one or two attractions, shop at duty-free stores before departing.

Point is most Americans have limited contact with Jamaica and Jamaicans while vacationing there. They might not go to the same stores, eat at the same places, swim in the same waters, lie about on the same beaches, etc. This might be their loss.

I want to recommend Jamaica as a travel destination to those willing to honestly travel. Amantha and I had a wonderful and relaxing stay in Jamaica.

Standing Water

2006-04-11T20:02:00.000-04:00

I got this while out with my high school students on our weekly photostroll. One of my students declares, "You see people, this what you need to be taking pictures of!". He was tiring of the girls in the group who want to take picutres of every cute guy they see.

Hearing this, one of the workers hauling these water fountion jugs yells back, "Why'ya want to take pictures of that?!"

Classic Noo Yawk.

Snap Shots Of A Friend

2006-04-08T21:04:00.000-04:00

Audio File

Ogundameji Is Dead

2006-04-08T14:44:00.000-04:00

A most dear friend died last night after years of pain and suffering. He will be missed.

We knew Joe Rivera as Jose Arguelles and jokingly called him Pepito. As a very large man of great girth and strength he was equally warm and generous as well as mysterious.

He loved Fugazi, played percussion, drew, recorded and edited sound and video and practiced the martial arts. He styled himself as a revolutionary and had great compassion for people. He was a strong advocate for Puerto Rican independence and studied socialism in depth.

As a student at the City University of New York our paths met and we struggled together in the fight to preserve what was left of the historic mission of that institution and became great friends.

This man of gargantuan strength was my sparring partner for a couple of years. He studied and gained rank in Capoeira and held a dan in Aikido. Realizing our combined studies in Japanese martial arts left our punching technique lacking, we studied Wing Chung together and preceded to knock each other senseless for several months.

This constant struggle to grapple and gain an advantage over an opponent says much about Joe and his life. He struggled at school, struggled on the streets, struggled with personal relationships, struggled with politics and his own health.

Against the odds and the prognosis of death in six months, he beat back cancer with organic remedies and exercise and tried to remain healthy. His control over his weight however became a larger issue. After a hip and back injury his mobility became limited. We soon saw less of him at political meetings, social events and at work. He soon lost control of his weight and his back problems intensified to the point where he herniated several discs which caused more health issues.

Riddled with pain and his movements nearly all but restricted, he rarely left home. An infection set in on his leg that would not heal. On Friday this infection took away the last breath that fueled his ki and stopped the heart we knew as a a tremendous and cherished soul.

There But For The Grace Of God Go I

2006-03-29T19:01:00.000-05:00

This was a difficult photograph on so many levels.

Taking the long way home from work today I began walk east from the Chelsea Piers when I happened upon this man in a wheelchair. He asked me for a smoke and I was able to comply having bought a pack today to make good on a promise to student (I owed him another cigarette because he agreed to stay after school for a meeting with his grandmother on Friday. He was absent yesterday and he didn't take kindly to me smoking half of the loosey I got for him yesterday - - a deal is a deal).

As I was pulling the cigarette from the box to give to the man in the wheelchair I noticed that his hands and face were completely covered in a thick dry black grime and he smelled as if he had been soiling himself for quite some time.

"Do you want to light that now?", I asked pulling out a lighter.

"Sure. Can I ask you something?"

"Okay."

"Do you want to take my picture?"

It's hard not to notice the big ole digital SLR hanging from my neck. I said "Okay" and bent my knees to get to his level and his odor became more noticeable and didn't pay any attention to the camera's settings. I just wanted to try get a decent portrait.

I was already standing with my hand in my pocket when asked, "Can you help me out with something?".

I looked down and he had lost his legs from above his knees. I also noticed and thought that despite the filth that surrounded him and his odor, the blanket that covered his lap and legs was powder blue.

"Hey, it's not a problem".

"You can take a picture of my leg."

"Here, look at the picture I just took of you." I showed him his image as it appeared on the back of the camera.

Again he says, "You can take a picture of my leg."

"Nah man, there's no need for that."

Suddenly feeling horrible about my own self I gave him money as he insisted that I take a picture of his leg.

Minutes later i thought about what had occurred. Amidst the upscale Chelsea galleries of New York City this man lives this existence. And the money I gave him - - what a joke! What would he be able to do with it?

Grand Central Encounter

2006-03-26T13:52:00.001-05:00

So I was out and about with some Flickr friends yesterday when I was harassed by a New York City cop stationed in a little air conditioned booth in Grand Central Station. There was a yellow pipe covered in some sort of corroded substance that also obscured a "DANGER" sign against a deep brown wall - - could be a great shot.

I got down on one knee and start to get my breathing just right so I can hold the camera steady enough for long exposure when I feel some one's finger tips forcibly push my left shoulder - - my first reaction was that some was pushing me so that I would fall down. I was ready to scream and hit someone being that I was fairly close to the platform's edge.

"Hey!", I said before realizing it was a cop. "I'm sorry you scarred the crap out of me."

He says, "You can't take pictures here."

"I'm sorry."

We had an exchange along with my friends and the more questions and responses we had the more the cop's reasoning for me not being allowed to take pictures changed.

First he says I can't take pictures of the subway infrastructure. Then he back peddles and says I can't "take pictures of tracks". Then he falls back some more and says the "the Transit Authority policy allows you take pictures, but the Police Department policy doesn't allow pictures of tracks and tunnels."

So I have to ask the cop, "Well how about if I take the picture I want to take, show it to you and you decide if it's okay?". I think that was a bit too much decision making for one cop to handle.

He then dreams up some other stuff about "Homeland Security... blah, blah, blah, blah... Al Qaeda... blah, blah, blah, blah... The size of my camera, blah, blah, blah...". He has no idea what the f- he's talking about now.

Frustrated the cop asks me for my identification at which I soundly say, "No. You may not have my identification. I have not done anything wrong yet."

Surprised the cop responds, "Most people would show their identification." "Well I don't want to." I say.

Naturally I fire off a couple of shots as I pretend to be listening.

Killing A City

2006-03-17T18:03:00.000-05:00

I think I'm getting closer to wrapping my head around all that has been happening in my Brooklyn neighborhood and in other parts of New York City; we're becoming more like Paris. Rich in the middle and poor on the outs.

Gone is the notion that blocks can be different from one another and neighborhoods are well, neighborhoods. This change has happened in Manhattan in such a quickness most folks can't recall the working class neighborhoods that once were. The same is happening in Brooklyn.

I also think it's important to say that New York has not only been known as a place with diversity simply because of the people who have been able to live here within fantastic proximity to one another, but also because of what people can do. Namely, New York's diverse economy is what has made it strong. The day it takes someone to trael an hour by subway to pour a cup of Starbucks in Midtown to a well-paid office exectutive you can count this city amongst the dead.

Light manufacturing that helped to create a diverse economy in New York is being replaced by tall and quite expensive apartment dwellings.

This was shot from inside what was a rather large tool and dye factory on Bedford Avenue and N5 Street.

Sometimes You Get Lucky

2006-03-11T18:48:00.000-05:00

So this guy and another were sitting on folding chairs in the middle of a sun drenched parking lot in my neighborhood today and together they made wonderful photographic fodder. I stood outside the lot checking them out and I swear it must be the huge DSLR that hangs from my neck that makes all the difference - - I don't think they would have waved me over otherwise. Maybe size does matter?

Anyway I around the corner and into the lot on my tippytoes to keep the mood light as this guys buddy looked sound asleep. The chuckles woke him up. I took a few shoots and thanked them.

Red Alert. Change Has Happened

2006-03-06T19:16:00.000-05:00

My rediscovery of photography seems to be ongoing. This weekend Amantha and I went to see the Superstars of Bellydance and sat next to a Serpentessa who is a well known dancer. Amantha has admired her work for sometime and introduced me as an "amateur photographer".

I was stunned. I had never been referred to as that and it felt good. Weird huh?

Today after getting out of the subway I saw this woman walking ahead of me holding the bright orange flower up high in her right hand as she walked. I had to get her photo. I shot a few behind her but taking photos of woman's behinds - - or having my photos confused as being that isn't satisfying for me and I certainly don't want to get caught acting like a pervert in public either. I had to stop her and to ask to take her photo.

"Why do you want to take my picture?"

I was a bit shaken by this because I thought for some stupid reason she'd just say "okay". I told her I like the colors.

Then she asked what I was going to do with the picture. Thinking of how Amantha introduced me three nights before and said, "I'm a amateur photographer." Pointing to my little canon S70 I said something or another about 'the other camera' as if I was cheating on my DSLR or something.

Then she asked for my card. Well don't have a business card or even Chucky Cheese Card. I wrote my name and email address on the back of a receipt stuck deep in my over-sized winter coat and took two pictures.

The idea of asking more people if I can take their pictures instead of sneaking them is beginning to sound, and fell appealing.

Taking Aim

2006-02-09T21:53:00.000-05:00

WHOA! Stepped onto the L train coming home during this evening rush to find this guy.

I knew I wanted the shot without being shot - - I mean like who knows? He does look the part with Marine haircut, boots, hunting vest and flannel shirt.

I slipped the point and shoot digital out of my jacket pocket and didn't bother to hold the camera right for fear he'd see me aiming. I fired three shots, each one with the camera upside down in my left hand.

I think I ran with scissors on this one.

Dorothy?

2006-02-06T19:03:00.000-05:00

Seems like flashy colored high heels are plenty to be found in New York this season.

Can't Take Pictures Here

2006-01-25T23:44:00.000-05:00

I finally heard the words, "Excuse me. You can't take pictures here." And yes I thought I was in the right too; I asked, "How about the art?" "No, You can't take pictures here."

I didn't push any further although I felt I should have. I mean it was done by WPA workers paid for by tax dollars. Then the ironies struck me: A mural of workers working with their hands in the lobby of the Financial Times Building in Rockefeller Center; A high school history techer can't take picutres of these historic pieces of artwork to bring back to his classroom; I'm firing the camera while being told to leave the joint; I'm taking a picture of this mural celebrating work as the Ford Motor Company is announcing the laying off of tens of thousands of employees and that their stock is rising rapidly because of the layoff...

Next time, I'm going to bring 30 annoying teenagers with me to that lobby.

He Got Me

2006-01-23T19:57:00.000-05:00

armed with a point-and-shoot with a considerable delay in low-light situations i missed the shot i wanted.a young girl with multi-colored hair stood on the other side of the pilar and he looked as though i was talking to himself. it was one of those great new york moments people talk about during thanksgiving dinners.she saw the camera and turned away, i moved to get him alone and by the time the camera focused he was loking dead at me.i guess i can't run with scissors all the time.

a quickr pickr post

Why Is Queens So Freaky?

2006-01-22T19:17:00.000-05:00

My ability to get lost in Queens may be unparralled.

This Sunday afternoon I thought I could walk across Astoria from Ditmars Boulevard to Steinway Avenue and catch the G Train back to Brooklyn. WRONG!

Because of construction I eneded up on a local train to Jackson Heights. There I jumped on the F train thinking I could transfer for G Train at Queensboro Plaza. WRONG!

Before the train ended up going on to Roosevelt Island and on to Manhattan I jumped off at this weird looking station. Not I'm I unfamilar with Queens, but I think someone went out of their way to make the subway stations there look completely different than all others.

I walked through Long Island City to Court Square for the G Train and got to see how quickly that area of New York is changing.

I'd Take Your Camera

2006-01-14T14:36:00.000-05:00

So the guy sitting next to me says, "How'd you like if someone took your picture?". "I'm alright with that", I said. "Well it's not with me. I'd take your camera if you took a picture of me." Then I surprised myself by saying, "Yeah. I heard that before."

I took a few more shots, put my camera away and looked into his dark relective sun glasses, "I like to think of the joy my pictures bring to people."

He said nothing.

Blood

2006-01-09T22:59:00.000-05:00

Although the 'gang situation' on New York City and in the schools has cooled off from several years ago, young people still do join the crips and bloods.

While I have met many "wanna bes" the real deal often shocks and surprises me.

Schools smarts, musical talents (voice), polite and personable ought to be some of the ingredients for solid citizenry, not criminality.

from the first roll shot with my used canon f-1

The Teacher's Voice Wins Again

2006-01-05T22:59:00.000-05:00

I was out with my point-and-shoot digital this evening shooting in the subway when I came upon these ballons.

I wasn't thinking much about the people holding the brightly colored ballons in the drab and dull subway as it's difficult enough for me handling the camera whenever i'm shooting moving objects in lowlight. then I heard, "Why you takin' pictures of me?! You betta not put dat on a Internet!"
Sternly i replied, "They're going on the Internet!"

"Oh" she replied, "Let me give you a sexy pose."

The 'teachers' voice wins again.

mi segundo cuidad

2006-01-02T09:28:00.000-05:00

My second city, a city with soul.

It was the spring of 2000. I was worn out from three and half years of going part-time to graduate school, working weekends, changing careers, going through divorce, not dating, getting fat an not doing too much of anything. I was fatigued and it showed.
I was a wonderful srping day in Williamsburg, Brooklyn and i was walking with a neighborhood friend Simon. He's English and well travelled and when we cam upon a particular flyer posted on the window of the local health food store his eyes lit up, "You need to do whatever you can to do this!"
The flyer advertised a proposed apartment swap, a summer along La Rambla for a chance to stay in Williamsburg for that time. Within two months it was a done deal. I got my passport and tickets and was to leave in early July and not see New York City until the end of August while some woman who I didn't know would live in my apartment during that time. It turned out to be one of the best things I've done for myself.
So you're saying to yourself, 'Ken, you were 35 and you didn't have a passport yet?' Yep and i was going to get on a plane by myself too and go somewhere I hadn't been before.
I signed up for a language immersion class for the first weeks I was in Barcelona and befriended a group of college-aged people from a variety of European countries. I drank and danced nearly every night. Swam in the Mediterranean naked, lost 30 pounds, got tanned in a heart beat, learned enough Spanish in a week to go out and get my hair cut and buy new clothes and meet people.
Soon I began to fit in. People woudl ask me for directions or for drugs when I was at clubs.

Just yesterday my wife and I begun to long to go on a vacation to somewhere tropical and different and I began to think about my time in Barcelona. a time when I re-created somewhere far away and came back into my own world anew.

Clean & Sober

2005-12-30T19:31:00.001-05:00

1987-88 I went cold turkey from drugs and alcohol after seven years of so of heavy drinking everyday. There were some fairly serious symptoms of physical withdrawl during the summer of 1987, but I got through that much on my own without anyone knowing about.

At the time I worked as a supervisor for the United Parcel Service in the personnel department as editor of the local edition of the company magazine. Although it was a part-time gig, I don't think I've had a better paying job since. I was paid $16-20,000 to work 20-25 hours a week during the nearly five years I was there. Unitl recently, I was paid far less than twice that as a public high school teacher. Amazing.

Once sober and removed from my old friends who became addicted to crack I went out and got a new wardrobe as I tried to learn how to dance and went out each weekend to a variety of clubs in Manhattan like the World, and various places along and off of Avenue A and way over on the Westside. All of these places are long gone as is the hair I used to pour globs of goup into.

Looking Back And Comparing, Again

2005-12-28T09:14:00.000-05:00

I like to think of it as my 'Lost Summer", 1983. I shopuld have graduated Truman High school in the Bronx but was bounced out in march of that year instead. Things at home weren't going much better.

Between my parents and I we saved about $800 for college tuition. Looking back it's no wonder why my father didn't want to give me $16 to take an SAT exam or $25 for a college application. then again it was confusing to me since they bought a new car that year and were preparing to move from the Bronx to the suburban New Jersey.

I asked my father to change the status of the savings account that he had custody so I could take money out of it; this he did willingly and I spend very quickly. I bought some darkroom equipment, a second used Canon F-1 body and lots of drugs and booze.

Ronald Reagan was president then and the economy was terrible. Scholarship money and grants were drying up and there weren't many jobs to be had either. I had a string of jobs with companies that were already in the process of closing shop. Between march and September that year I might have had a half-dozen different jobs, none lasting more than a few weeks. There was plenty of time to take photographs, smoke pot, drink cheap beer and hang out.

Nearly 25 years later and living a lifestyle that disguises much of the past, my wife and I often compare her difficult transition from her troubled family life to going to college to what I had done. She praises me for getting my stuff together, working my way through college to pay for tuition and ending up with a career that is doing fine by me so far. I on the other hand have a difficult time articulating what I had wanted and what I think I'm missing today.

There were no wild college times, no dorm living, no going away, no globe trotting in my youthful 20s, and there was none of the formal art school training I desired as a teenager.

In my thirties I've run into old classmates and met women I dated who went on to the very schools I wanted to apply to. None of them are photographers today and seem to have instead morphed their trained skills into other areas pulling in six digits designing web sites and such. And again, like many middle class folks, they too have a sphere of people, or a network they rely on from their college days for jobs, apartments, dating and party small talk. It's odd how my atypical upbringing, strange economic status, weird college education and white skin has earned a place for me stand silent with drink in hand adimst those with these networks.

What's most important here is that I was lucky to be able to shoot photographs both then and now. It seems as though it is as much of a coping mechanism then as it is now. So much so that i feel liek running out of the apartment right this instant to take picutres.

Sometimes It Happens

2005-12-25T17:38:00.000-05:00

Christmas Eve day was a day I was waiting for. I spent a good part of the day wondering the streets of my neighborhood shopping and taking photos.

My father-in-law also came into town and along with my wife we walked some more and I took more photos. It's taken about two days to sort through the photos I took yesterday and when I took my first look at the image above I lost my breath.

Running Scissors's Atlas

2005-12-23T11:53:00.000-05:00

Well now that the transit strike is done I thought it would be good to look at where I've been.

Oh, It's the Holidays Again

2005-12-18T09:18:00.000-05:00

The Holidays are here again and it's hard not to laugh. Cheer and big fat kool-aid like smiles are to be found in lots of places. I'm one of those people that have a difficult time with this time of year. The memories aren't grand and it's often too easy to feel out of place and uncomfortable. I am learning to keep it bottled up as to not to ruin anyone else's good time.

Last year my wife insisted that I light a Menorah for Hanukkah. I really didn't want to but she explained it was important to her. Then came the first night of the Holiday and she pulled me away from whatever it was I was doing because hours had passed since sundown when the candles are to be lit. Without emotion I went out to the dining area, loaded the Menorah with two candles. My wife questioned if I was placing them correctly and I said something about reading right to left as an answer. I lit a match, said the prayer quickly from memory and handed the lit candle to my wife so she could light the first night's candle; "Aren't you going put some pants on?" she said to me as I stood there with nothing but a t-shirt on. "Hurry up and take the candle, they don't stay lit for long", I replied.

The best part of the Holiday is cooking and eating. I don't think we enjoyed too much of that as kids. My father would always complain about whatever my mother cooked and Hanukah was no exception. I learned later on in life, maybe in my early 30s' that Hanukah food is supposed to be fried. I love fried foods and I've deviated from my mother's latka recipe just enough to make lots of goyim happy. No one yells and complains. The goyim ask about other Hanukah traditions that were carried out in my childhood. I don't think they take me seriously as they laugh about how lousy the Holiday was for me.

There were never eight gifts of any sort. My sister and I would beg for things we wanted but were always disappointed by ill fitting and not in fashion clothing. I remember in my mid-twenties when I was trying to create an adult-like relationship with my parents I brought my first wife to their home in New Jersey for the first night of Hanukah. My mother was excited because she had gone out earlier that day to get a gift for me. She was usually relieved when I came over because that meant someone was there to yell back at my father when he yelled at her or better still, if it meant I would take over in the kitchen.

I opened my mother's gift to see our family tradition played out; a pair of denim overalls. I smiled and said thank you. My parents insisted that I go to the bathroom and try them on. My ex-wife looked on in horror. She's Puerto Rican and her family holiday traditions were much different that ours. I came out of the bathroom and returned to the living room to show off the garment that was to be worn just this one time. My ex-wife looked like she was going to explode. My parents were relieved the overalls fit. Searching my mind for something good to say was difficult, I couldn't figure out when in the world I'd wear them again or why. I changed and my wife had a conversation with my mother. The next day they went out shopping and exchanged the overalls for something I was more likely to wear.

Although something seemed to be repaired, I'm not sure my ex-wife never forgave my mother for this fax pax. She'd always try to bring it up... guess that explains the "ex" part of the story.

Anyway, I think the Holidays do look good from afar. Pretty lights, the idea that people are being made happy in the company of those they love and getting to eat lots of fried foods is pleasing to me.

I hope my wife will let me make batter fried chicken this year.

Happy Holidays!

A Christmas That Wasn't

2005-12-17T18:38:00.000-05:00

It was all part of a scheme to get laid. Heck what else was it supposed to be? I was 18.

I think it was mostly my idea. I went out to Flushing, Queens and rented the Santa suit for like $12 for the day, got the film, made the calls and spoke to the girls. Yeah, the girls. Christine and her friend whose name I can't remember. I was into the friend for sure.

The day started out all wrong. I had to wake Gordon up and get him out of the house and head downtown to meet the girls. The girls were hours late. It was very hot; it was August in New York City. The sun was too bright and it was getting to be fairly late in the day when I needed to do most of the shooting. The images would turn out to be fairly crappy.

We got on the PATH train to Kearny, New Jersey - - the northern point of the nation's rust belt. It was already a decaying industrial town that saw its heights and better times in an epoch long ago. We went there. I shot there.

The idea was I’d get the perfect shot of two sexy, well sluty looking girls with a black Santa hanging out with a black limo. I thought it was an original idea good enough to print out on postcards that could be sold later. Yeah right.

We did the shoot as best we could. I was running out of film, Gordon was tired of carrying the huge Bogen tripod across state lines, the girls were hot and not so bothered. It was decided we couldn't go to Gordon's house for some reason and we ended up at mine. We smoked more hash and drank more too and processed the film in a hurry because they begged for it and was begging for attention too.

I got the film done and things started happening in my room. Suddenly I was getting a little massage of the shoulders and then suddenly - - MOM CAME HOME!

Not only can't a remember the girl's name but the truth is she was seeing some older rich guy who was taking her out to Atlantic City that weekend. Later, phone calls went unanswered and postcards were never printed.

Enjoy the pictures and the Holidays!

To be dressed, or not...

2005-12-16T07:05:00.000-05:00

...waiting with baited breath to see if there would be a transit worker strike this morning.

I was sort of hoping there would be so i could take photos of lots of people coping with the difficult commute. Oh well.

Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work we go....

Down Deep

2005-12-15T21:48:00.000-05:00

Maybe it's because there might be a transit worker strike tonight that made think of this: The subway is underground and is often foul.

And for all the recent efforts to tile over concrete platforms and install panels over walls, it's a relief at times to be reminded of what's really going on - - you're underground where water and soil meet and seep through from above into whatever cavern can be found, or made.

A friend at my old job understands this well. She refuses to leave the crappy place for an assignment in Manhattan because she doesn't like the subway. The bus is her preferred method of transportation.

But think of all she misses out on; the filth, grime, the foresaken, the noice, the vermen and some fat butt hairy freak like me to push her around when she's in MY way.

It's worth the price admission.

Working Up The Nerve

2005-12-12T05:29:00.000-05:00

I ask myself each morning, I'm I ready to take the BIG camera out and randomly shoot people in New York City?

When I was a teenager growing upin New York City I never had a problem taking what i thought were expensive lenses and fancy Canon F-1 cameras into the subway, walk up and into people's faces and release a shutter. Strange what age will do.

I took the image above while pretending to play with my camera's buttons, holding the camera on my knee and pointing. I took three shots in all.

The woman on the left caught my attention when she came onto the subway car - - I mean look at all the colors she has on! She boards the train and swings those neon blue plastic bags onto the seat hitting the woman on the right. No words are exchanged. The woman on the rights looks up once and quickly looks the other way as the other just stares her down - - maybe it was that exhange that made me reluctant to put a Canon D10 digital SLR to my face.

It's not easy teaching myself how to run with scissors again.

Getting Going

2005-12-11T12:15:00.000-05:00

Creating something new is never easy. And the questions always seem to linger, "Is this something worth doing?", "Who is this being done for?", "Why bother?".

The process can be like stripping everything bare and turning things up side down and wait to see what happens.

Careful What You Do

2005-12-09T06:00:00.000-05:00

Welcome to yet another place on the web to look over my images and those created by others that are on my mind.