That's What I'm Talking About... Luck & Lucky Streaks, Pt. 2

Photo: © S. Banos

Recently, I wrote about hot streaks and riding the wave of "luck," something which doesn't much come my way. Hot streaks are such incredibly rarefied creatures, it's hard enough conjuring enough luck for one good shot.

On an ordinary day, on an ordinary late afternoon, there wouldn't have been an extraordinarily handsome couple locking lips all Hollywood like as I was going from point A to point B on a daily errand. And even if there was, that alone wouldn't have made for more than a sappy romantic postcard, unless: the begging guy had also been there to add his layer to the story, and he would've been too far removed, unless the guy walking outta the subway (gotta love that face) hadn't walked between him and the couple to help tie the two ends together, and if the sun hadn't kissed the lovers' faces just so for the spot fill... and had I come just a few minutes sooner, or a few seconds later...

But on this particular day I was still riding the streak; otherwise, the only thing there would've been exactly what I saw there some weeks later- a skinny, dead tree in a pot.

LIFE- It Don't Always Make Sense

     Photo: © S. Banos

I spent a considerable amount of time, money and effort to do "the right thing" and get my father in a different place where he would hopefully have a better time of it in his remaining years. This not to laud my own efforts, they've been absolute minimal- my mother has done the totality of the heavy lifting. And I mention it only because in the end, I succeeded in getting him placed in a setting where he this week broke his hip and now lies in a hospital post op in stable condition with a screw holding him together. 

And all he wanted to do was die in a dignified manner a few years back, when he still had his mind.

3 Good Reasons To Stay Away From A Movie

A) Dumbass, godawful title.

B) Shitty looking trailer.

C) Whole flick takes place on a... train.

Three great reasons that had every one of my natural instincts screaming to stay away from this shit ass movie. And yet, the goddamn critics said that this was one great, intelligent sci-fi flick (with a right on political slant no less)! The eternal quest for that rarest and most elusive of cinematic achievements (and it featured Tilda Swinton)- how bad could it be? I thought of all the sci-fi flicks that I had really believed in, the ones that would finally redeem not only their own hype, but my own hopes and dreams... and how they had all so terribly, terribly let me down. Each and every one. So, perhaps this was it, deliverance disguised- the unexpected sleeper, unheralded in my mind only... I could not let it escape. So I willingly allowed myself to be swayed and suckered... and skewered. Standard action, simplistic plot, ham handed politics.

2 X $13 for this brutally mind numbing, two hour robbery of my remaining life force.

The Man Who Saved The World

Why every Tea Party Republican (and every single American) should kneel down and KISS this ever lovin' Red Commie's Ass!!!

Fate Finally Annoints Me!!!

The one man show long denied? The dreamed of mid life crisis retrospective? Acceptance into a private collection?

Well...

More like some bird finally shat upside my head. Yeah. The inevitable. On my bike. Heard a splat. Thought a twig from a branch had permeated the holes in my helmet- but there were no trees in sight. My middle aged head was bequeathed with what for all practical purposes looked exactly like mustard- though I dared not taste it. Fortunately, I had a few tissues on hand to wipe it off (one of the few advantages of having a shaved head).

And all I could think as I wiped was--- What short humorous anecdote of interest would I tell the audience if I was on Jeopardy! when Alex Trebek interviews you after commercial break???

Waiting In Vain...

So I waited a whole goddamn year to take this one photo. Dissolve, fade...

About ten years ago when I first came to San Francisco, I was ambling about one evening after a few beers and just happened to turn and glance on a sight that stopped me dead cold with awe and delight. There before me stood a giant, humongous bust of Michelangelo's David, as large as the full figure original. It was situated in a building lobby and plainly visible directly from the street. I was dumbstruck. Huge, imposing, gaudy even, but beautiful all the same. 

For years I looked all over downtown for the damn thing but could not find it. After a while, I just figured it was more a temporary installation than an hallucination, and left it at that. That all changed January of this year... there it was- sitting pretty and mocking me, defiant and aloof as ever! It was not downtown at all, but in a sketchier, less traversed area I don't usually frequent. So I whip out the ol' WA and I'm just about to press the shutter, when this woman comes up and says, "Think it looks good now- should have seen it a couple of weeks ago with the Christmas wreath around its neck." And then, of course, I couldn't take the picture. She had implanted an even better picture in my head that made the current one sober by comparison. And so I vowed to wait and forgo the single to hit the home run later this December. This time there was no forgetting the location. 

Lo, last week I returned to take what was rightfully mine, having waited so diligently, so patiently- but again, it was just not to be. The full sized neck wreath had been replaced with one sitting daintily atop his head as a Roman victory crown befit a Caesar. It certainly looked cool, almost made me laugh- had it not deflated an entire year's worth of anticipation. Cute, imaginative- but visually, it wasn't nearly the home run the much larger wreath presented. Maybe next year...

Photographer, Hero, Human

This issue comes up every couple of years, whenever the photo warrants. In part because it raises some pretty significant questions, questions which will never be adequately answered to anyone's satisfaction. And the first one that always gets asked is, "Why didn't the photographer save him/her?" Of course, the question that should be asked is- would I have saved him or her? And if 99.99% of those who asked themselves were open and honest, they would simply reply, "I have no fucking clue!" Of course, nearly everyone fancies doing the right thing- and everyone loves being the hero. Truth is very (very) few are the latter, which is why only a handful truly earn the title. Thousands passed that shoeless man on that cold night in Times Square recently- and only one did the right thing, and that was far from an "heroic act."

Wesley Autrey is one person who is very much a hero. He actually did what so many others can only dream of... in their very worst of nightmares. And like all true heroes, he was lucky beyond belief- lucky the person he rescued did not thrash about in panic, lucky the trench they jumped into was deep enough to hold them both (they are not uniform in size) while the train passed harmlessly over them. Had it been but two inches shallower, there are those who would have labeled him 'Fool' at his own funeral.

That uneasy and life defining borderline between bravery and foolhardiness is a decision that gets crossed between seconds. James Nachtwey has personally intervened and saved lives on location. Why would he choose to not only put himself within the line of fire, but directly within the gun sights? Why place himself within the picture frame, beyond the measure of self preservation? Perhaps it's altruism in its truest sense, or perhaps 'nothing more' than a way to ease the recurring nightmares. Only he can say, maybe. But it's a safe bet that if such behavior were the norm, he would be neither photographer, nor alive.

The fact that a person is a photo/journalist does not mean that they have an increased responsibility to personally intervene in a matter of life or death; neither does it magically absolve them because they are a professional- or anyone else at hand. We can bullshit ourselves till the cows come home as to when or why someone, anyone has the responsibility, opportunity or wherewithal to risk life and limb for the sake of an-other. Truth is, unless you or I are in that place, at that time, neither of us have the slightest clue...

Yuh Never Know...

On any given day, whenever ya walk out the door, yuh never know... Yuh never know when that big, Mack truck of destiny is gonna smack ya upside the head and send ya down for the long count. Yuh just never know...

101 Tragedies of Enrique Metinides is the illustrated accounting of that fatally simplistic, but fatefully prophetic wisdom. Car accidents, train accidents, plane accidents, earthquakes, fires, and electrocutions to name but a few.  And perhaps it does happen more in Mexico, or any developing country one may choose, but only the fool would think him or herself immune or invulnerable, no matter where they may live. These photos do not blink, they confront these tragedies straight on, and yet they never seem disrespectful of the subject(s), or their fate. Many are presented matter of factly, death as a fact of life- but never as leering, voyeuristic creepshots. Others still go well past the fact, and actually make you reflect... and feel. Perhaps in part, because these are not the consequences of terrorists acts, or acts of war- but the domestic and civilian tragedies of everyday life. The penniless mother who carried her baby in a coffin, walking all 9 kilometers home; the guy who simply slipped on the sidewalk and cracked his head open till the life drained out of him; the mother who asked a police officer which was the oldest tree in the park- and then hung herself from it when her husband refused to allow her at her daughter's quinceanera.

No, they may not even look like you, but deep down, gut level down, you know you can't deny- their fate is every bit as universal as your front door...

Photo: Enrique Metinides

The Strange Story...

... of the man behind Strange Fruit.

Billy Holiday

Southern trees bear a strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black body swinging in the Southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant South,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh,
And the sudden smell of burning flesh!
Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for a tree to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.       -Abel Meeropol

Matt Black- After The Fall

Photo: Matt Black

I can't say more about Matt Black's photography than I already have, and that said- it's good to hear that After The Fall, the third part of his People of the Clouds project, has been completed. And I certainly hope a book is soon in the making...

Sadly, this latest chapter documents the wholesale destruction of an indigenous peoples' land- land they have successfully cultivated for centuries... a slow and mysterious destruction that occurred at the same time they adopted the government sanctioned methods of modern industrialized agriculture. A move that has condemned indigenous farmers and their lands in countless developing countries throughout the world.

Two Enemies, One Heart...

This story had me to the point of tears on several occasions...

Unbelievable. And well worth the listen.

All How Ya Look At It

 What happens when your own life is skidding, and your mirror image is doing considerably better? An interesting human interest slice of life- equal parts: funny, revealing, bizarre...

Glad That's Over With...

Yes, I know, everyone's been flooding me with inquires as to where I got the face, the logo, the inspiration for my new, cool as shit flavicon- something I did not even know existed as a word until recently. Well, actually... no one's been asking me about it, or probably even noticed it- all 1/4 by 1/4 glorious inch of it! But just in case someone does while I'm away- this is it's point of origin. And yeah, for the record- I'm already sick of it too! Need a professional to design me a new one I can get sick of even faster...

As for where I stand on the issue- you know, for something so damn personal and errrr... sensitive, I gotta tell ya- I'm really not all that sure on this one! I mean, I don't regret having it done (as if I had a choice), but the thought of a chance slip or accident (and it does happen) does tend to sober one up... on what is essentially an unnecessary (and sometimes prohibitively expensive) procedure.

Live And Learn (More or Less)...

I recently posted a question on Flickr (first time) concerning "street photography" that I originally posted here. It concerned photographs not unlike the one above that are very much of the street, but not particularly of the style or subject matter most commonly associated with "traditional" street photography. Things got off to a rather rocky start to say the least before (fortunately) settling down into a more productive, positive space. I'm not going to reiterate all that transpired, but you can check it out (or not) if interested...

Meanwhile, I developed a roll in which I witnessed an image that was truly magical upon first sight. It was from a distance, but miraculous all the same. And then (could it be?), fate was to smile down upon me and have it actually reoccur when I was within shooting range? I just had time enough to focus, compose... and time it perfectly! Did I just bottle that lightning- or what!? It was the second or third frame of the roll- so I had time aplenty to savor the mind's eye image, imagine the grandeur, sweat the unknowing uncertainty.*

Alas, it was nevertheless, not meant to be. The kid got played. The photo gods were just not going to grace me with fruition this time around- in fact, they were quite content to engage me in their rather cruel hoax of allowing me that rare and privileged second chance at glory, full well knowing that it was only to result in the permanent degradation of my once miraculously visionary moment into that of a well done, everyday snapshot. Very cruel, and at the least, unnecessary punishment.

Strangely enough however, they were not beyond throwing me some small bone of consolation deep within the recesses of same said roll, a throw away shot (so I presumed) of some throw away shoes discovered on my way to grab a cup o' Joe during lunch one workday. There's a lesson there somewhere...

*OK, OK- it was a shot of three, thirteen or so budding ballerinas posing for their strategically placed point and shoot, as they struck a pose with their best ballerina high kick (I'm sure there must be a name for it) with the Golden Gate Bridge in the background. I failed to capture the magic (was it even there the 2nd time around?)- but it could have been worse... as soon as I pressed the shutter I immediately expected a big beefy hand to twirl me around by the scruff of the neck, as a red faced, bulging eyed maniac demanded to know what the hell a pervert like me thought he was doing to those young girls. Perhaps the photo gods weren't quite as pernicious as they well could have.

Experiencing Technical Difficulties...

Mouse died last night- could not get online. Got new mouse, but can't use keyboard. Using online keyboard- clicking o-n-e letter at a time. Funnn...

Update...

Well as (my) luck would have it, my Air Tran plane never took off the ground after a dreaded three hour wait on the tarmac that ended at 2AM. Could this possibly be the reason??? I'm betting on it! Never got to NYC, never made the service- and never really wanted to fly on that plane after the first hour they couldn't "fix" it.

Hope Mr. Graham has something uplifting to say tomorrow- or something to really piss me off and light a fire! Now for some sleep...

Brightly Colored Clowns...

I just heard a report where an airport in Germany introduced "brightly colored clowns" to reduce the tension and anxiety in a snow locked airport. I don't think anything would induce the nuclear option more readily in yours truly than to be entrapped in an enclosed area for days against my will with "brightly colored clowns."

The Real Question Is...

Not how much your negs will be worth at the garage sale, but...

Who will store, and keep restoring your digital files for the very chance of being (re)discovered?

God help us all- It's Coming...

The Conficker worm/virus thingie is coming, has come, is in our very homes and will lay waste to all that remains come 4/01. It's the Apocalypse, The Rapture, 666, Armageddon, Y2K and Cindy Sherman all wrapped into one- and there's nothing that you nor I can do to stop it! See you all on the other side of hell...

Hallelujah!

Welcome Back To Pottersville... Reports of it's death were greatly exaggerated by none other than yours truly. Like the mighty Phoenix, it has arisen anew to give light to the folly of our ways! Rejoice!!!