A New York moment...

Just got back from a two week trip to New York. Saw several friends, ate great food, had loads of fun, saw lots of changes, and made lots of great memories. More on this later...

I just had to write about a New York moment.

We stopped in the Brooklyn neighborhood of Boro Park and walked around the uniquely Hasidic Jewish neighborhood. Most of the stores are Jewish owned for Jewish customers. We stood out like sore thumbs among the black coats, long beards, and peyos (the distinct curly sideburns). I am not sure if the really anyone took much attention to us but no one really talked to us or seem to welcome us wandering around the block. They all seemed somewhat standoffish and rude but this is New York and most everyone can be standoffish and rude.

We ate pretzels and meandered through the street and stores. Funny enough, I noticed most of the workers besides the Jewish shop keepers were Latinos. Mostly Mexican in my view but probably from all over. Immigrants from Mexico and beyond are found working everywhere. Its amazing. I wonder what would happen if the Mexicans stopped working for a day.

As we wandered, I didn't take too many pictures as I didn't want to draw much more attention to and kept a low profile but I kept my Leica around my shoulder. I mean we really stood out.



We walked past a street musician playing a violin while two men chatted. The violinist transported me back to an old time, Eastern Europe at the turn of the century...melancholy and comforting.

We walked down the street and stopped in this grocery store which was run by a rude Israeli who didn't care for us. As we browsed the lox and schmaltz, these three young Hasidic kids, brothers, no doubt, took an interest in me and my camera. Their little curls bounced back and forth as they stared and slowly surrounded me. A fourth older kid wearing a dark overcoat and heavy brimmed hat hovered next to me but never said a word to me.

The kids didn't say anything to me and they just kinda stared. Their father talked to them in what I think was Yiddish but the kids really didn't pay much attention to him. I figured the kids wanted to stare at me as I just didn't belong in the neighborhood and tourist generally don't run down and hang out with the Hasidum.

Finally, the youngest asked me if what I had around my shoulder. His brother then answered that it was a camera and asked if it was from the 17th century. Then, the older unrelated kid all of a sudden quipped if that was the camera Einstein used. It was as if everyone was really staring but was afraid to talk to me. Then the younger kid just reached up and took the camera from me and started to fiddle with it. Pointed it at me and started snapping away. His older brother then wrestled the camera away from him and started to fiddle with it as well. Unrelated, as I will now call him, asked why I had such an old camera and pulled out a shiny Canon powershot from his coat pocket as if bragging he was was more up to date than me.

Funny--all these Hasdium with their turn of the century fashions and customs were bettering me with camera technology! Ironic, no?

As the wrestling kept going on over the camera between the two brothers, I feared the camera was going to crash to the ground so I took the strap and placed it around the youngest ones neck. Their father, who was dressed in dark knickers, coat, and black socks, snapped at the kids to leave me alone but they persisted despite his protests. I then was absorbed into a conversation by Unrelated who wanted to know where we were from. He was probably in his mid teens and had a voice which made him sound like Brando with Seinfeld's NYC Jewish accent. I told him we were from Hawaii and he had a look of amazement on his face as he probably searched his mind's map to find out where Hawaii is. He then said he'd just read Obama's biography and asked if I liked him. We then talked quickly about politics as my attention was focused on my Leica and the fear it would come tumbling to the ground. The younger brother figured out focus and snapped a picture of me.



Unrelated continued the political talk on Obama and said remarked how the US military supported McCain and how it would be difficult for Obama to win. I asked him if the Jewish community supported Obama and he took a look concern stating he didn't think many would support him. He was quite young to know so much about politics and I was impressed with his level of education.

Finally the father of the three won the battle and the kids gave me back my camera and ran off. But not before I was able to snap off a quick one of the three Leica tormentors. My camera survived the Jewish attack and I walked away with a great little picture of a funny New York moment.

Wall on Waikiki

My Leica and myself have been spending time at the beach. A little creative photoshop and I am developing a nice view of what I encounter on a sunny afternoon.

I keep thinking film is better than digital but in all aspects, digital wins hands down for its versatility and ability to capture detail film isn't able to get. However, film still retains that je ne sais quoi digital can't capture. Sure I played with the film scan in photoshop but there is something to it that makes film a bit magical.

Maybe its the fact that its not perfect...the exposures are not always spot on or what not. The Leica is also hard to use. Can't focus quickly, load film easily but something about the camera, film and feel just make a sunny day a splash.

London in a Kimono

I'm going through some old files and scanning negs and old photos and found an old photo of Yukako. I think she was about 3 or so and she thinks the photo was taken in London. What heads she must have turned walking down the street.

Obama Visit summed up...

http://starbulletin.com/2008/08/16/news/obama/

Photo Ed George Lee at the Star Bulletin called to thank and tell me about how my work is part of their multimedia slide show released today.

Its a great show showcasing work from Denis Oda, Burley, Jamm, and Alex the AP staffer and myself. Its a good look back at Obama's vacation here.

Please have a look.

Paparazzo!

Sunrises in Hawaii are phenomenal. A blue blanket of darkness warms to an amber glow slowly filling the sky with a brilliant sea of light. Dark ocean waves become bright blue brilliance. Yes, too poetic but nonetheless, its true. Just ask anyone whose been lucky enough to sit on the beach at sunrise. Its great.

However, sitting on the beach stalking someone for a shot is unnerving! Sea spray sticks to your skin and cameras and the windward side breeze blows sand onto everything. Sand starts sticking to your legs, arms, and hands, getting in your ears, pockets, and mouth. Everything you touch gets sandy.

And its just murder on the cameras. Brutal!!!!!!

But this is what I had to endure to get a shot of Barack Obama. Three days of (legally) stalking presidential hopeful is not fun. Obama arrived in Hawaii for a week long vacation to get away from it all before the campaign starts to heat up and the nominations are set.

I got assigned by the Associated Press to sit and wait on the beach where Obama's vacation rental house is. I had to sit, wait, and hope for an appearance. Its not a fun job. At first I was keen on being on the beach hoping to catch him swimming or just hanging out on the beach. I knew I couldn't get too close to him as Secret Service and HPD were all over the place and I surely wasn't going to hide in the bushes to catch a photo of him. The more upfront and honest I was about myself meant no one would stop or bug me as long as I played by the rules. I mean, this isn't Paris or Brittany...I think they be more dangerous to photograph as celeb bodyguards are mostly hired meatheads. They don't know or care for rules or laws hence I'd be in a loosing battle with 'em. A presidential candidate with Secret Service is a different animal. One wrong move and I could end up in prison if not worse.


Snapped off my by Blackberry Curve!

Here I am laying on the beach with my 400mm camera lens hidden under a raincoat. Secret Service had already made me and twice came up to me and asked me who I worked for and what I did. I kept my gear out of sight for several reasons, one for a bit of secrecy but mainly to keep all the elements off the electronics.

I don't want to claim I am or do paparazzi work because I never have nor do I wish to. I don't care to sit on the beach or stalk around town for some silly celeb of the moment. It just doesn't appeal to me. Sure the money might be nice but I have to live with myself afterwards.

Obama had already been photographed on the beach once several years back and he wasn't pleased. I mean it wasn't a bad photograph. He looked in good shape and gave the appearance of youth. Not some straggly old man struggling in the rough sea. He almost looked Kennedyesque.

So...Obama didn't want to be caught on the beach. He wants to ensure his image is strong and powerful, not one who vacations and slacks off on the beach. As I sat on the beach waiting for him, I knew I was going to have a struggle and sure enough, a long wait.

But I had to make sure I followed all rules and not do anything to piss off the Secret Service. Polite, respectful, and out of their way is the standard rule. No aiming lenses over bushes, through windows or anything you see on TV. You don't stand in front of his motorcade surrounding Obama's car and snap away. That kinda stuff with get you a flight to Guantanamo Bay.

For two days, I arrived at the beach no later than sunrise, set up camp on the beach and waited. Almost immediately, I was spotted by Secret Service and/or HPD. As I'd set up camp, security would slowly saunter up and check me out. Its a bit scary to know Secret Service know has my name, they have my number! SO you don't mess around with this level of security. You play by the rules.

First day...sat on the beach. Talked to lots of beach walkers and gawkers who think I am some friendly guy and want to talk about photography and tip them off to Obama. If you are one of the gawkers reading this blog, please, don't talk to photographers when they are working! Its hard enough let alone want to be asked about our camera lenses and compare your point-and-shoot to what I have. We don't care!

The sun started to rise and get hot. Someone mentioned being on the beach is like sitting in the desert. Water everywhere and not a drop to dip in. Its hot, windy, yet cool. Its nice sitting on the beach but its no fun when you are trying to get a job done. And the most worrisome part of it all is you are never sure if you are gonna get the shot.

So after the first day, I got one Obama sighting. He quickly peaked over the bushes to meet someone coming on the property and was visible for about four seconds. Its not enough time to aim, compose and snap. Besides, Sonny from KITV was chatting my ear off so I lost concentration on the task at hand. I finally got info Obama had left the house and it wasn't a minute too soon. Being on the beach at 6AM until 1PM isn't fun. I was tired, sweaty, a bit sunburned and generally worn out. I was dreading my failure and predicament of having to return the next day.

Second day equaled more of the same. I was a bit more prepared by wearing jeans and a long sleeve shirt. The sand became more bearable and I wasn't covered with grit within three minutes of my arrival. I got to the beach much earlier as I had been tipped Obama had taken a swim on the beach at 5:30 before the sun rose. I got to my spot earlier but found even if he had been on the beach, a shot would have been nearly impossible as it was way too dark.

Nothing happened again. Just security around the house and the same gawkers asking silly questions. Again, Obama peered out of the house for a few seconds but nothing. It was another fruitless day.

The third day proved to be magical. I knew I couldn't just arrive and sit on the beach for an entire day so I ended up arriving after six, made camp and read a book. It wasn't much more than a pretty day on the sand. Again long pants and long sleeve shirts, floppy hat, sunglasses, water, sunblock, and a snack of dried mangoes to make the day go smooth. I was getting used to the waiting and in all honesty, sitting on the beach isn't all that bad. I mean, hell, its Hawaii!

I started to doubt he'd come out and I also realized he and his staff knew I was out there on the beach waiting. I doubt he'd come out anyway so I decided to just leave and come back a bit later in the day.

Sure enough, when I came back, Obama and his daughters were just walking out the house for a nice walk on the beach. I, being a consummate, readied my camera in an unhurried manner, set exposures, and fired away. I kept a respectable distance and also introduced myself to Secret Service who also kept their distance. I shot with my 400mm 2.8 lens and really took control of the situation. Nothing could have been better as everything just lined up perfectly. The slow walk with his daughters in the surf, hand holding and just general coziness with his kids. It was almost planned but I know it wasn't.



After following him with lots of respect and care, he finally seemed to notice me but I wasn't sure if he got irritated. He met people, shook hands, and signed autographs. He was cordial and polite to everyone as he is running for president of the United States.



At one point he raised his sandals towards me and muttered something but couldn't hear if it was at me or at people behind me. I was the only pro on the beach (EXCLUSIVES!) so I knew he was aware I snapped photos. I started to feel funny and realized this is why I don't do paparazzi work. I knew I had enough and left him in peace.

Besides, I did rattle off a fair share of images.



But after a long three day stake out, all suffering is put to rest when you get a special moment like this. Obama and his kids made great art and I am glad I suffered like I did. I am sure his people will like the images as it portrays him as a caring fatherly figure. I kind gentle man who spends times with his young kids. I think the images are defining and surely do not harm his image.

I got on the tele!

Seemingly at being at many big events in Honolulu, I find myself on tv. Yes, it's a bit gratuitous to show myself on the tele but sometimes I just can't help myself.

Obama visited Honolulu today and AP sent me out to cover the event as a secondary photographer to the staffer who travels with Obama as part of the permanent press corp. I had to arrive at the welcoming reception center at 10am and wait for Obama's arrival which ended up being close to three pm. What a wait. My forearms are sunburned!

You can see what AP along with Reuters put on on Obama's visit at news.yahoo.com. Search for Obama or Hawaii under the news search. You can also search at Google for images of Obama's welcoming event.

I did get a great (relatively speaking) lunch by walking down the beach and found a Samoan type of festival. There were several tents which were selling Samoan barbque and it was pretty tasty but couldn't all they served. For ten dollars, I got a entire leg of BBQ chicken {yum!) along with salted brisket, bananas, turkey tail, chicken long rice, and a pork quisantes type of dish. Way too much food. The salted brisket was odd and tasted like spam but with a beefy taste. The turkey tail was really tasty...a odd mix of dark meat and cartilage. The bananas were not edible. Odd, dry, yet smoky. Not a taste I liked.

Interesting day.

Dancing Tejanos!

San Antonio Express News
West Side Section
circa 1995?

As a budding photographer I had to take many jobs I would never consider taking now but sometimes cutting teeth is more important than making a decent living. The San Antonio Express News community section hired me as one of their freelancers to shoot stuff around town their staff wouldn't touch as it was community work. You know all real photojournalist only shoot pro sports, fires, and press conferences. Never do they dip into the community section. Hence that was my opportunity to get published in a big daily. Little did I know images like this mean so much more than the said real journalism. Pride and prejudice get in the way of making good judgements and make us not realize how important photography is...not just to the hardcore element who have to sit in mud up to their necks in Africa but to the viewer who's life is so much better than they get a chance to see themselves in the pages of the city paper.

I imagine this shot is still saved somewhere in someone's scrapbook...yellowed and all. I am glad to have made that memory a good one.

San Antonio

The Alamo at sunset...

Thanks to Tracey W and Essence Magazine, I was able to escape to Texas for a long weekend for work (shot a feature for the mag) and see my parents who are still alive and kicking in San Antonio.

I've not been in SA since 2005 or so and every time I go back something has changed yet nothing is really that different. More corn tortillas are served over flour, there are spidery arms of highway stretching all over the city (HONOLULU TAKE NOTE!) and the city is a bit more browner than before.

I stuffed myself with Mexican food, BBQ and sadly not enough Shiner. The Mexican food, something that just doesn't exist in its proper form in Honolulu, is just fantastic. We went to the usual haunts like Blanco Cafe and Pico de Gallo, but the winner of the trip was the dirty little cafe at the Michoacana Grocery store at North West Center on Fredericksburg Rd. Unbelievable lengua tacos. UNBELIEVABLE!!!! I mean its like the stuff we ate near the Zocalo in DF. The lime, onion, and cliantro do the trick. What a surprise to snack on that...something you probably are going to find more and more around the US.

The BBQ is always fantastic. You just can't go wrong. And everything else about San Antonio makes it a wonderful place but a hard place to go back to after living abroad for so long. I mean, Texas is a great place and all Texans seem to know this and we all tend to be proud of who we are. Hugh the Giant once asked me...How do you know someone is from Texas? They tell you...sorry Hugh, no one cares if you are from North or South Carolilna, or is it Tennessee? Maybe Georgia? I can't remember...nor do I care...cause you ain't from Texas...but like I said, and as he said, Texas is pretty proud.

I just don't think I could go back. The weather was way too hot, photo work might be limiting, and life in general might be as tough as the scrub brush. Its not like life in pricey Honolulu is easy...but being a photographer might keep me away from the place I once proudly call home but who knows. And then having a Japanese wife...well, ,if she can't have her ramen...well...there is hell to pay.

Life is what you make of it...nah thats too much of a cliche...

I wrote a few weeks ago about a "...the only thing I can share with you while I am so far away is the moon... as it will always be the same... no matter where you are...the moon is always the same..." I think what all that means is that we are always the same no matter where we go or live our lives. I am still defined by where I was born, what I grew up eating, who raised me, what culture surrounded me...all to some extent mind you.

**********

One of the projects my Mom set out for me while I visiting was to throw away lots of old stuff that was cluttering my parents closet and garage. My Dad and brother have laid siege to the empty spaces of my parent's home with stuff that should just be thrown away. What good are old memories when they are gone? The present is sometimes much more pleasant that the distant past. Why hold on to a match book from a long gone date? Or a photo of someone I can't even remember? Even old awards and swimming medals are hardly something anyone would have a strong interest in seeing other than a sad me. Oh longing for youth and simpledom...

I trashed old love notes, letters, books, reports, and junk that needed to be tossed. I would like to be nostalgic but its just not practical. I can't drag 20 years plus of old stuff with me where ever I go...I threw away old school projects, creative writing, some old photos of people who don't exist anymore for me, and thoughts from a long time ago. I did save old photos of times I hardly remembered. I shipped those back and hopefully I will spend some time scanning some faded dirty negs and remind myself of what I've become.

Like I said, its not so much of where and how I am, its more of who I am and where I came from...no?



I shot my Dad in front of the mural at Pico de Gallo downtown. My Dad is probably singlehandedly the worst photo subject hands down. If he doesn't have his eyes closed, he just doesn't let us capture him. As a younger man, he peacocked his way through life with dandy clothes, slick hair, and a debonair flare that lacked substance but full of style. I am somewhat amazed that he actually came out pretty decent in this photo.

Overall, San Antonio proved to be a great trip. Lots to ponder, lots to miss, and lots to remember.

Thanks Tracey Woods!

TEARSHEETS!!!!!!!

On line is my tearsheet section. Please have a look and see some of my work in print!

www.marcpix.com

1997-2008

My father once used to brag about all the countries he went to with the Army. Lots of those new people my father encountered wanted to kill him and his buddies but thats the nature of traveling with the military. My travel adventures, on the other hand, (Central America, Mexico, Asia, Europe, etc...) rarely took the form of digging trenches and eating c-rations, although many of the things I ate made my father's MREs into candy. Dog, anyone?

My first encounters with Tokyo were absolutely amazing...nothing could have prepared my little shallow San Antonio mind for the mind blowing excitement of Tokyo. Bright lights, big city! So many people whose faces were so different than mine, fashion, trains, buildings, signs written in Japanese and none of it I could read! It was all so different. One of the most striking facets of Tokyo life was the barrage of advertisements: from neon billboards toting the newest J-Pop stars, to beer, to tea, to cell phones...endless amounts of selling in every imaginable place. And everything was larger than life ads. Huge photos pasted on walls, subway halls, hoisted on building, gleaming with that language I still can't understand. So unique. My first photo travails with my Nikon allowed me to capture and record human reaction with such advertisements. How small and little we are compared to these larger than life ads.


Shinjuku Station, 1997

I snapped this beer ad shot in Shinjuku Station and at the time it was the "cats meow." The ad for Suntory beer features a Japanese baseball player named Kiyohara. The sign translates roughly into "It tastes good...how about one?" "Supah Mah gu nam Duur eye! (Super Magnum Dry--I had to do the accent.)

At the time, I though I couldn't have taken a better photo. The timing, emptiness...the image itself growled back at me. I though I knew so much about photography and myself and I was ready to launch a career. But as I now work on a new portfolio showcasing images from Tokyo over a 10+ year experience, I quiet a different story and view.

While editing and choosing new images, I came across the original negatives (YES NEGATIVES!) and I re-edited the image. There were so many different angles I didn't blink an eye at and actually forgot about the scene.



My editings led me to see a variation of different scenes. Different angles, different thoughts. An unfamiliar look at what I though was one of my better images.



Mysterious blurs, people ghosting in the shot. I wasn't sure why my original "cat's meow" doesn't strike me any longer but maybe its my growth as a person, my experiences, all the things that have made me into a professional. I don't know.



My hero shot would now take a back seat to the others I think duly take the winning slot as a moment.


June 2008, Shinjuku Station

Oddly enough, my last trip to Tokyo this past May produced a very familiar image. It is not as if I though to frame this image as such but the poster, the look on the model, and the motion of the blurry Japanese girl truly captures a moment in Shinjuku Station Essentially its the same shot as my original. Different time, different medium, different me. Yet something struck me again about my life and how experience has defined me in my mid 30s'.

I remembered an amorous letter I wrote long ago during a trip away which I prosed the following: "...the only thing I can share with you while I am so far away is the moon... as it will always be the same... no matter where you are...the moon is always the same..." or some insane dribble about something or another. I doubt the validity of what I wrote back then but it made sense but it was the musings of a young romantic. A romantic before the reality of life took hold. (What? Charm can't get me through life?) I though U2, rum, and a dirty school bus trip through Nicaragua defined it all.

I guess what I am trying to get at is no matter how much I have changed as a person, I am still like the moon...meaning I am still me. I haven't changed nor has my view changed on what I see. Experiences have made me different but I am still me. I still see what I do and I capture what I want. Do I ever miss photos when I don't have a camera, do I miss moments? Sure but it doesn't matter cause I wasn't there to capture it.

So whether or not my moon musing holds water, I guess I do still am the same, see the same and shoot the same, sharing the same views as I once did with someone so long ago. Maturity and vision could be one in the same but then again...

Four on the Fourth

Last week, I put a roll of color film into my camera and didn't finish the roll before it got dark and kept the film in for next time. For that week the film lived in the camera, I was completely anxious and obsessed about seeing what I had shot. I did get about 14 images on the roll before it got too dark and left but I wanted to see it!

We've all forgotten (for good measure in many cases) the anticipation, and for some, the anxiety of having a half roll of film left in the camera. I didn't want to take the film out and waist the unused half. Penny pinching is important at times and film isn't cheap. Digital photography has taken away all this good (and bad) anticipation on waiting with excitement to see your images on the light table. You can see immediately your images on the back of the digital camera which in many ways has taken away the excitement of photography.

Imagine this...you take your film camera out, you see the shot of the day, you focus, snap, and smile. Now you got 35 more frames on that roll before it goes to the lab. Sadly, the sun goes down and you can't shoot anymore today. Throughout the week, you take more pictures hopping to get to the end. 12 frames, 22, frames, 33, 34, 35...oh finally! The end. After six days, you finally take the film out of the camera. You pull it out, get to the lab...the lab's machine is down until tomorrow morning. Argh! You drop it off while you curse under your breath and obsess about that first frame you shot...obsess all through the night. Its it sharp, was the exposure dead on, did she blink? On and on and on...

Next morning you get up thinking about frame one. After coffee and breakfast you are still obsessing. The lab doesn't start their first processing till 8am. Your film won't be ready till noon. Wait and watch the clock. Wait....wait...and finally, you get in the car and rush over to the lab. Pay your money and run home.

Rush inside, throw the film on the light table and bam! There it is...the shot!



This shot of the four teens on the wall at Waikiki struck me cause of the moment, time and place. Its really nothing special other than the moment in my eyes.

But the most important think about this image was the time waiting to see it. The simple anxiety of waiting to see your work that you took all so long ago. And like I said, looking at the back of my digital camera doesn't offer the same fun.

4th part 2

Went down to Waikiki with the Leica, the 35mm, and a pocket full of film. Actually it was only three rolls of film.



I came across two women lounging in the sand when I spotted their tiny little baby wiggling on the blanket. His size, serenity and pale skin amazed me. All this stuff was going on around him and he dozed away as if nothing else mattered.



Seeing what I shot most often than not is beyond me. What I mean is sometimes, the mechanics of photography, the focus, composition, etc...just flow around me and disappear into the mist of my subconscious. Yes, yes...this sounds like a bit of bull but I can't explain why I see and capture what I do. After getting film back from the lab and doing my edits, I find myself sometimes returning to this unique archetype of style that I see. I took an art class in University and the professor would remark at my graphical sense of composition. It was stuff I never understood or studied but opened my eyes to see what I saw.

Does that make sense?

Why I am struck by this picture of the kid crawling under the rails is not so much the starkness of the ocean, the emptiness of the beach, but the lines that all form and fall into place. I didn't see it...it wasn't as if I lined up the camera this way. It just happened. Something subconscious took place inside my head and I just pulled up the camera and snapped.



These two girls were watching the multitudes of swimmers swelling away in the surf near Queen's Beach. It was a nice day and the light fell really nice on them.



Now this girl was classic...she was a bit of an odd ball and I have seen her around a few times...at least I think I have. She's covered in a few tattoos and she was parading around in a very very tiny string bikini. Her front didn't leave much to the imagination either. We came across her and I first thought she was completely naked. Nudity isn't de rigueur on the beach nor are Brazilian bikinis. Most girls are a bit more modest if modesty counts on the beach and wear fairly fleshy suits but she really kicked it up a notch.

She was chatting with some guy entranced by her peep show. She must have known her g or string or what ever its called was slowly advancing to the point of no return. She couldn't have cared less. Neither did he.

4th

Fireworks at Ala Moana Park seen from my downtown digs...

talking

Waikiki, 2008

Obon Dancing!

Summer time in Hawaii brings the sweet sounds of Japanese folk singing and taiko drumming from the many Buddhist temples around town. The traditional obon dance is a Japanese Buddhist tradition honoring departed ancestors and the Japanese community comes together for this special event.



I walked down to the Honpa Hongwanji Hawaii Betsuin temple with a digital camera and the Leica. I participated in an Obon dance when I stayed in Yokohama many years ago and found the dance a bit odd. The dance is very regimental and has limited moves where you more or less dance around a yagura or bandstand. The dance moves, practiced before hand, consist of slight hand movements and waves along with the waving of a fan or snapping of wooden "candy cane" sticks.

Most of the participants wear very colorful kimonos or yukatas and everyone is having lots of fun. The temple sold hamburgers, shaved ice, and lots of local Japanese fare.




These three ladies eating a quick bite ended up being dance instructors at the dance. They were quite important and were not all to keen with me snapping their photos.


The dance brings together the old and the young and lots of kids participate in the dance. Usual kimono wear doesn't really mandate black Converse but rebellion will always sneak into tradition among the young.





The dance was enjoyed by all. These kids laughed the entire time. It wasn't hard to snap good photos of these two.


Even those who might be a bit shy...

Signs

Today...I walked the Leica down the street and encountered...well... found two interesting subjects to yap about.



Dodo...I mean if someone has to handwrite a warning sign about poop...err dodo...well, i googled dodo and its a bird. I don't know if there is a proper spelling of doodoo. I guess its understandable. But the poor souls who were forced to put this sign up in their front yard. I'd hate to see their shoes!




I mean, who do I feel sorry for here? Fag, Satan, or the teacher who taught this devout fool?

Apples

Another image from the olds days....



circa 1998

Yapping about Dick Frank and the good old days...

Just a quick post on some old thoughts. Here is a large format (4x5) shot of a whiskey glass from my first days in New York. I shot it at Dick Frank's studio...this crusty old Jewish guy from the Bronx who was one of those guys that defined photography back in the day. I assisted him for about 8 months full time. We did a food shot one day and the stylist made really awful looking enchiladas. I mean really off base...they were East Coasters making Mexican food. To a fresh off the boat Texan, they looked terrible! The dish was for some major food company.

We set up his 8x10, pulled around this huge light box powered by Ascor strobes. I think the Ascor company made lights for lighting up airports and other massive areas. So these power boxes dated back to the sixties. And you could really get some power out of this set up.

To make it short, we shot roughly 6 sheets of film in about two hours. He had this uncanny ability to move the f-stop exactly to where he wanted it and knew photography like the back of his hand. He was a really old timer that saw his career end by the new digital world pushing his old world ways aside. He was quiet amazing.

His buddies used to stop by and talk about the old days. Peter Eisenmann would stop by all the time. Pretty neat to meet that guy.

Anyway...we shot about two hours and after the shoot he turned to me and say..."thats how quick it takes to make $20 grand in this town."

That was that...those were the good old days of photography in New York. Big lights, big cameras, and fast money.

Here is my homage and his lessons for still life photography.



Shot around 1998? Can't remember but it was on film!

Film, digital, and the old fashion Leica

I am having a love affair with Leica cameras and film at the moment.



I shot the above image on Kodak 400CN (monochromatic film processed in C-41) with a Leica M6 and 35mm Summicron. I dig the graphic organic-ness of this image.



Here is another black and white shot with the M6 and a 50mm 1.4 lens.

Everything becomes surreal...not so completely real like on a digital file.

The Leica M6, for those of you who don't know, is an old fashion rangefinder cameras which is completely obsolete and awkward to use. The technology hasn’t changed since it’s inception in the 1920s makes it terribly horrible to focus, load film, and see through. Yet its the camera that Garry Winogrand, Henri Cartier-Bresson, and Eddie Adams used to make some of the worlds best photos. Adams shot the famous Vietnam era shot of the Viet-cong guerilla being shot on the street in Saigon.



Leica has a wonderful history and holds a cult status among photographers and collectors. Most people purchasing Leicas these days are doctors and neurotic collectors who drive prices up on the used market. Collectors fond over the mechanics and ooh over the superb lenses yet none of these collectors don’t make a living off their cameras. They mostly shoot images of people walking down the street, bus stop benches with deep shadows, and their cats. Just look at rangefinder websites and the likes. They are hilarious!
Ironically, I don’t blame most of these people cause it is harder than hell to focus a Leica so bus stop benches and lazy cats do make good models!

There are so many alternatives that are completely and utterly cheaper but nothing seems to replace the fact that you have a Leica.




Ala Moana Beach park swim race. 35mm F2, Kodak 400CN.

The first day I took the camera out on the street, I had several people stop me just to talk about the actual camera. People respect the Leica. Now digital is a different story.

Digital has completely surpassed film in almost all aspects although many people would contradict my statement until they are blue in the face.

I equate the decline of film with the decline of painting...sure we'd all love to have a painter brush a portrait of us but who's got the time. Film and processing, like painting, is starting to fall to the wayside. With digital...you can basically, aim, shoot, download, and print (email/ftp to a client.) How simple is that? And digital files are just so dynamic. So easy to manipulate and use.

There are many non-professionals who declare film the only medium as film equals photography. Many pros feel the same; however, most pros all use digital because of the workflow aspects and clients insisting on more images, less cost, and quick turnaround.

Its not so much that digital is better but magazines and other clients all want and really fast turnaround and, in my opinion, push the cost of digital upon the photographer so they don't incur the expense of film and processing, an expense usually picked up by a magazine or agency in the past.

Yet...the art of film is still something wonderful and unique. I regularly shoot medium format and I am slowly sinking back into large format photography. Film is unique. The feel, look, and imperfections. Digital designers are focused on creating a "perfect" image. An image with unlimited dynamic range, no grain, and quality that surpass the largest film sizes available. Film isn't perfect...it shows flaws and has limitations. Life isn't perfect so why should our images be? There are now cameras that can shoot at 3200 or higher ISOs and push out nearly flawless imagery. Digital does as well when you push the files past their apex but film's optimal point is quiet lower.

I remember a few years back when digital was truly taking over the industry, not just the cameras but when photoshop conquered the industry. There was a cover shot of Madonna where retouchers made her look like she was 16 yrs old with perfect skin hair, etc... I don't want to get on a tangent about how retouching celebs gives the public a false sense of beauty but digital camera makers tend to show this mentality when creating sensors that make almost everything perfect.

But do true photographer or artist really want that super or rather hyperrealism of a digital file. Images shot on high end digital camera backs ($20,000 and up) are producing images that are amazing. But is the photographer making a wonderful image or is it a computer tech using fancy software to create perfection?

Film is on the decline as sales are falling but there is a steady group of people who are not ready to throw it all away.



This set of images was shot for the New York Times and I had the luxury to shoot both film and digital. The color files were shot on a Canon 1Ds Mark II (16 mb) with a 24-70 F2.8 lens. The bw was shot on a Mamiya RZ, 110mm lens and Kodak Tri-X shot at 200 ISO. I see a difference. I see depth and feel to the black and white. I see emotion and feeling within the nitrocellulose coated with a light-sensitive emulsions.

Don't get me wrong. The digital files are great. Digital was for the client. Film was for me.

5 minute Mark

Here is the five minute mark photo sent in by the winner!

UpDaTes

I had a scolding the other day from a regular reader of my blog stating I don't blog enough. SOOOO...I need to start to update on a regular basis.

Here is a pix that caught my fancy:



While visiting the Dole Pineapple plantation on the North Shore, I found this young tourist from Japan screaming and pouting for her Mom to continue to take photos of her at the pineapple cutout. As I walked over I noticed she was sticking her head into the pineapple cutout and had a few photos snapped away. After the photos were taken, the little girl demanded that more photos be taken. When her snapper Mom decided not to take any more, the future model went into full pout and tantrum mode. Cutie then squatted down by the pineapple and refused to move or continue with the activities at the plantation.

I watcher her for a second or so until this moment appeared. She lost all interest with the pineapple when her Mom said they were gonna ride the train through the pineapple fields. Attention spans are wonderful.

ALSO....



Mark Niesse, a local AP writer here in Hawaii, holds the record for the fastest time recorded at the Dole Plantation pineapple field maze. His time of 12 minutes was sadly broken a few weeks after he set the mark. Mark, who is known for never backing down from a challenge, went back and SHATTERED his record and the punk who pulled him down. He now holds the record and raised the bar to five minutes. I DARE YOU TO CHALLENGE THAT! FIVE MINUTES!