As heard in your bungalow last night, the song “Rollin and Tumblin’” is a song with a great history. We love Muddy Waters‘ version of course:
…and it has inspired a raft of covers, and perhaps all of rock n roll while it was at it.
My most recent favorite version is Jeff Beck’s version, when he got Imogen Heap to do the vocals. It’s pretty intense.
Imogen Heap seems like she might be up your alley. Currently a moderately successful solo artist, she was for a time in a duo called Frou Frou that really decimated me personally. I worshipped their one single album and wore it out — more of a chill out vibe to this though — it still gives me goosebumps, much like you do
She writes rich, literate lyrics that bear many, many listens.
But back to the subject at hand and how “rollin’ and tumblin’” so easily rhymes with moanin’ and fumblin’ in my head right now. And that leads to many other images that would have been suitable for certain explicit “Lit Night” evenings.
“Artist Jason Polan has an ambitious goal: to sketch all 8.3 million people in the city. He captures his unsuspecting subjects eating pizza, riding the subway, catching a train.”
My take: He probably gets less flak this way than if he were photographing people. Cool. As an aside, I think the photos in the piece are ace
A few weeks ago I went out with some friends walking around Downtown L.A. on a Thursday night. I brought the Canonet with a flash on an off-camera cord. I flashed random people on the street I thought looked interesting. I got a lot of photos , but the more I look at them, the more I lose perspective. I’ve alreadypostedmyfavorites, but are any of these rejected nighttime street photos worth also posting to my Flickr stream? Hmm. I had high hopes for the wrestler, too. You see some strange things walking around in L.A.
A few nights ago I went to see Leroy Powell at Harvelle’s — a very dark little bar. The only camera I wanted in that situation was the Leica M2 with the fast f/1.4 lens. But it had a roll of ASA100 film that wasn’t usable for a dark bar. So I rewound the film, making note of how many exposures were left. I popped in a roll of Arista Premium 400 that I pushed to 1600.
Today I put the old roll of ASA100 film for a day of daylight shooting. I loaded the film and started to click-advance to the point I had stopped. But, I didn’t have the lens cap on! I just caught myself after advancing past the leader. Whew!
I headed south on the one-oh-one freeway towards downtown Los Angeles to seek out Walter. See, my trusty Canonet had failed to fire a few times when I was out this week — there are exciting photos to come when I get around to developing. This is the Canonet that came to me through the grace of a unique soul in Australia who gave me his when my last one was stolen. It has deep emotional value to me, as it represents the beginnings of my true photographic self.
The misfires were intermittent, the camera works. In fact, I couldn’t duplicate the problem when I got back from the field. Still, I didn’t like the nagging possibility that I’d miss something someday at a crucial moment. I thought I’d try to poke around inside on my own. Following the guidance of eminently reliable sources, I still managed to tear the leatherette covering badly in the process of removing it. This wasn’t a crisis; in fact it gave me an excuse to order a fancy new leather for the camera, something I’d always wanted to try. But when the camera was open, I could make no sense of it, and saw nothing I could tighten on my own. So while it was in it’s wounded state, I figured I’d take it to a pro. I should never open cameras. Ever.
Walter.
I’d never gone to Walter before, but he’d come recommended by anonymous internet sources. His Web site is pure kitsch, suggesting exactly the sort of man needed to overhaul a wounded camera from the early nineteen-seventies.
The scene in realtime: I park and try to find the shop. A hippie on a bike with a skateboard slung over his shoulder says a bright hello. We agree how beautiful the day is. It’s a beautiful pure moment in Los Angeles.
And there it is: The shop, open Saturdays, small and is on Cesar Chavez near downtown. One needs to be buzzed in. And, there he is. He is short and substantial, grizzled, dark and unkempt, in other words, Walter is a camera wizard level nine. I give him the Canonet and as I am describing what happened, he interrupts me to say “What happened to the leather?” I tell him that too. He is unconvinced. We both try to replicate the conditions by which the shutter does not cock. We cannot. I ask about the ever-so-slight wobble to the lens. Is that normal? “That is normal,” he says. He even takes out a roll of spent film, we load it and try again. With every successful shutter click, he seems more resigned. This was almost a replay of the first time I met Fleenor. Except this time, it ended with Walter saying, “Well that is no good. Now, I can’t take your money.”
“How much did you pay for this?” he wants to know. I think I know where he is going; get a new one rather than pay sixty bucks to fix it.
“What kind of work do you do?” And so it begins. We spend the next half hour talking about the economy, politics, algae-powered cars, what he Kurds are really up to. Walter is from Egypt. He’s been in Los Angeles for thirty years. He loves America and will spend the rest of his days in Los Angeles. He’s not happy with what is happening in this country, but he is adamant on how it will be fixed: Vote! No revolution! We must vote. On this we can agree. He implores me to see the movie Food, Inc. I say that I will.
Every ten minutes or so, someone comes into the shop with a claim check. Picking up their camera. Walter says the same thing to each of them about their camera: “Don’t leave it in the car. No water, no sand! And, don’t let anyone borrow it!” He takes a call looking for an estimate. He can’t give estimates over the phone because every problem is different. If Walter is sure my camera doesn’t need service, I will have faith for now. Perhaps the simple laying of of his hands shall keep it safe. I shake his hand and bid him farewell. He thanks me for the conversation. I wish I had more for him.
On my way home, I stopped at Freestyle. I needed chemicals, and maybe some film. The Nice Girl I see every other time is there hanging out at the front. She smiles and says hello. She must be a student somewhere. I head back to the film counter where they’re a little more gruff. I’ve asked about Aristacolor film there before. (See why I want some) They’ve already told me it’s gone. Gone for good. Not being made anymore. I know it, but I’m stubborn, and about to ask again. Out of nowhere, Nice Girl has followed me back there and she offers to help me.
There’s no Aristacolor left? I ask innocently. Nice girl looks quizzically at one of the other film counter grunts. “No way, loong gone,” says a gruff and harried voice. “Do you carry any other color films in one hundred foot cans?” She isn’t sure but she’ll check. After a few seconds she comes back. “I think we have one can left of the Arista,” she smiles. She goes back and finds it. Nice Girl is the best.
I leave Freestyle a little giddy, singing for the day. Only later do I make the connection. If I didn’t seek out Walter, if his shot had been closed, if I put it off until next week then the Last Can of Aristacolor On Earth would not have been there, Nice Girl would have been off that day. The two episodes were connected.
Recently, I did a series of publicity photos for local musician Seven Saturdays (a.k.a. Jonathan Haskell). We hiked up to an idyllic mystical patch of forest in Griffith Park where the light was swirly.
It was a fun shoot. Jonathan, like many people, wasn’t a fan of getting photographed. I kept the energy up with a lot of positive feedback. I’d contantly tell him when things were working, and when I liked what I was seeing. We chimped different shots together on the camera’s LCD and discussed what he was looking for. I threw out processing ideas while we were shooting, telling him my ideas for a “cold palette” which would match his intricate music which I found lovely and lonely at the same time. This constant communication kept us engaged and really helped the process. Jonathan said he was a big fan of “accidents” which I thought boded well for me. My whole life is an accident.
I brought two lenses for the Canon 5D: the 24-105 f/4L because of it’s amazing sharpness. I also brought the 50mm 1.4 to be able to take advantage of a really narrow depth-of-field. I also brought a speedlight and an umbrella and a voice-activated lightstand (a.k.a. Molly, the band manager I triggered it with Calumet LiteLinks with wireless RF. I switched back and forth between lenses a couple times. Then I brought out a Mamiya C-330 medium-format film TLR with a 65mm f/3.5. I hooked up the LiteLinks to the Mamiya as I have in the past, but I couldn’t get the Mamiya to trigger the LiteLink. I’m not sure why, I think the jack just needed to be held down. So I ended up just shooting one roll of Tri-X just for another look.
When I did my processing, I worked to get that cold palette for some of the shots, but we also did a lot of experimenting with a sunflare which really needed something a bit warmer. I ended up presenting him with three different series: A cold series, a b&w (film) series, and a warm series.
I felt there were twenty-two candidates for keepers. I shared those candidates with seven friends, just to get some feedback. I asked each of them to pick a least favorite, just to make sure that there wasn’t a clear loser that definitely should be jettisoned. Interestingly, of the seven people, none of them picked the same least-favorite. I decided that was a good sign that nothing was obviously terrible. I ended up presenting all twenty-two candidates to the client. He ended up wanting to use eleven of them, which I felt was a good encouraging number.
In addition to my favorite picture above, here is another example of the cold series:
I shot twelve frames of Tri-X and got four candidates. Really a great ratio. Here are a couple:
And then here a couple from the warm series. And by warm, I meant warm compared to the cold series. It’s definitely still a bit stark, but the forest really glows in those. After spending some time with these, I’ve recently decided not in love with the palette, but I do like how the light looks very alive. Not every decision we make is perfect. The very last photo wasn’t chosen by the client, but artistically I think it’s very strong. So, here it is:
As I was breezing through the monthly HearNoHo musical showcase last night, Laura Duncan was a revelation. I’m talking blues riffs, jazz tinges, and one of the strongest voices I’ve heard in a while. This UK transplant is now based in Los Angeles, and I’ll seek her out again. She can sing, and she can play guitar. I think she’s coming from a musical theatre background. I see she’s played Molly Malones. I wonder if she knows Philip Sayce?
So, Getty Images is no longer reaching into the Flickrverse to anoint a chosen few golden photographers of light. Now they are actively soliciting submissions. Great! Just great. Don’t you see what this means? Before this, I could blame my obscurity on the fact that they just hand’t run into my stream. I’m a great photographer, sure. I’m just unlucky.
But now, now I’m forced to confront the fact that if I submit a gallery of ten images to them, they will see it and go ahead and make the conscious to still reject me. Oh, this is terrible. A sad, sad day.
One of my boring old urban fragment photos was taken by one of my supremely talented Flickr friends and turned into an actual scene. I’m glowing with pride. It’s a stunning transformation that creates a new world in between the ones we know and the ones we imagine. I love it.
I triggered it with Calumet LiteLinks with wireless RF. I switched back and forth between lenses a couple times. Then I brought out a Mamiya C-330 medium-format film TLR with a 65mm f/3.5. I hooked up the LiteLinks to the Mamiya as I have in the past, but I couldn’t get the Mamiya to trigger the LiteLink. I’m not sure why, I think the jack just needed to be held down. So I ended up just shooting one roll of Tri-X just for another look. 
