A sign plastered to plastic siding, in a shed for shopping carts outside a downmarket food store in Rimini. Signage reversed, roughened, textured. Feels nautical and underwater to me. Reminds me of a shower stall of sorts.
A wall, a sign, negative space, decay, pleasing complexity of a flat plane. Italy in miniature. In Fellini's home town, no less. I was in town to film the World Barista Championship with Harry, and his Auntie Tot came along to do sound. I took this picture on a twilight walk (passage da toura) after a day of filming.
"McArthur Park is melting in the dark..." I think that song is about Chicago's McArthur Park. This shop window is across the street from Langer's Delicatessen, vestigial limb of a once Jewish neighborhood and the Kodak Baby and the film canisters are melting in the light.
A bit of a cluttered frame, but the electrical plug i what makes it work for me. The jury-rugged quality. The seeming permanence of the temporary solution. The minor tension of it not looking all that safe or reliable.
On my last trip back and forth to from Cambridge (UK) to Santa Monica, I shot stills for a credit sequence for the new movie ("The Trouble with Dot & Harry"). Because I was doing a job for the movie I had no shyness about taking a lot of photos. Making a movie is a grant of immunity, an escape from self-consciousness reticence/reluctance.
Something spectreal and haunted by all those screens careening through the sky...
On a vacation to the interior of Turkey, in January, where and when no one else is vacationing...
My first trip to Berlin, with Harry. Is the Godard quote ("the children of Marx and Coca Cola") nearly fifty years old? Remnant of the Berlin Way and the revenant O2. Harry likes me to tell him a movie before bedtime and one night in Berlin I told him the story/plot of Billy Wilder's "One, Two, Three." Harry wants to see the film but I warned him that I don;t think it's very good (though I love Wilder, and both Dot & Harry are recent fans on "Some Like it Hot").
A moment of chance beauty in the Trader Joe's parking lot on Pico. When I'm in Santa Monica, shopping at Trader Joe's is my hobby, solace, recreation.
I like how the pigeons form discordant negative space, disrupting, disturbing classic form.
Shooting a title sequence for "The Trouble with Dot & Harry" on my journey back to Cambridge (UK) from LA, all my shyness and fear of being upbraided for taking airport photos vanished. I was on a mission. I needed these images for my movie. A few years ago, I asked Tod Papageorge about his Central Park series -- was he self-conscious taking the photo of people in the park? "No," he said, "The people were transitory. Art is eternal." Tod seemed such a self-contained and modest man that the certainty and vehemence of his answer startled and impressed and stayed with me.
Iconic. Accidental. Ambience. Proximity. Posture.
The semiotics of snacks.
I took this photo outside the Santa Monica library. I did not worry about the subject seeing me, so shyness vanished, but I still felt like I was intruding on something private, and disturbing. I did not think of Christo (as an art historical reference) until I started writing this. As usual with me reason and reference follows from the moment of creation (which in photography, for me, is the moment of capture).
Two couples. Which has the better, more stable relationship? Or...neighbors, happily co-existing, at least at the start of the party (this is the corner of a hotel events room -- I know the context because I was there -- does a sense of context leak into the frame?). It caught my eye, of course. Symbolism unforced, not really even thought about until I wrote this paragraph. I swear on a stack of Gideon Bibles (which they don't have in England) that I'm intuitive.
Houston. Oleanders. Collision of textures -- painted metal, painted brick, poisonous flowers. Conjuring up sharkskin in green and gray and pink and red.
My internal label for what I do, wondering the city, eye drawn to accumulation, accretion, sedimentary layers of signage. Accidental evidence. Inadvertent poetry.
This Bell + Arrow in London pairs with the Bell + Arrow in Pasadena (part of "23 Very Short Stories").
As if in a posture of prayer. Looking through a slit in the (for Santa Moncia) ancient creosoted wood.
I now spend my days editing Caffiend, which means editing images of Harry and Dot and Neil Morrissey.