When times are hard, we look for clues. Clues about the escape route, the treasure map, the method to slay the beast. We seek these clues in the usual places. Or, we don’t look for clues at all. Sometimes clues find us. Every morning, I need to imagine a new reason to get out of bed, seek the treasure. Here’s a clue:

As luck would have it, (or, is it habit?), I found myself looking at photographs taken by a stranger. This time around, an empty and whited time like any other, I saw a plaintive photo among hundreds of other photos, a matter-of-fact image of an old grave with an old name;

Ralph Waldo Emerson.

It’s a name that carries some weight, three names actually, signifying Historical Importance of a High Order. Of course, it’s a name not unfamiliar and, of course, most famous to amateur speechwriters everywhere as the source of many inspiring aphorisms that leap off the pages of your favorite catalog of famous quotations.

Emerson sure could turn a phrase. Hell, I unwittingly cited him with my high school yearbook quote, pulled from Bartlett’s, perhaps:

Whoso would be a man, would be a nonconformist.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Ta daa! Profound, yeah? Suits me.

And, for years, Emerson was just that; a clever name. A name that when dropped, lends the speaker the gravitas of One Who Has Read. Of course, nobody I know has actually read Emerson.  Somewhere down the line, however, I did the unthinkable. I actually did.

I picked up Emerson’s Essays at a second-hand paperback shop. My copy has the single ugliest most unreadable cover in the history of visual design — something I take a perverse pleasure in owning.

To read Emerson takes some time. You must dive in to the deep end and immerse yourself in an old prosaic style that takes some getting used to. For me, whiskey speeds this process nicely*. When you break through, Emerson can hurt you. He will call out your foibles and failings and show them to you. But, within that you can find pure inspiration. The reason Emerson is in so many quote books is that he inspired so many, who citied him, and thus inspired others, thus trickling down to be mere caricature, a footnote. But, there is real meat to Emerson. I read and I got it. But, it was a long time ago. It feels like another life.

This is what I was reminded of when I saw the photograph of his final resting place.  And, therein is the clue.

Chief among Emerson’s work, for me, is the essay Self-Reliance. You could run off and read it, but keep in mind my admonition that you need to acclimate yourself to his prose. Im fact, just for now, let’s do what so many have done and distill him to a quote. For me, the ultimate quote:

Not for nothing one face, one character, one fact, makes much impression on him, and another none. It is not without preestablished harmony, this sculpture in the memory. The eye was placed where one ray should fall, that it might testify of that particular ray.

There it is; a mere handful of words that have kept me going in dark times such as these. You may find it dense, dry, or powerful. In any case, let me dive in and break it down:

Not for nothing one face, one character, one fact, makes much impression on him, and another none.

What Emerson is saying here is that when you see something interesting, it means something. Your point of view, your eye, has intrinsic value.

It is not without preestablished harmony, this sculpture in the memory.

He means that it’s all part of a piece. Your take on the world is part of the world. Your ideas are part of what make the world what it is.

The eye was placed where one ray should fall, that it might testify of that particular ray.

This line has moved me to tears on not a few occasions. Even as I write about it now, it is with a tight and urgent excitement. (I take a deep breath) Not only is your vision meaningful, it is also unique and necessary. You have to be there to see what you see. And, you have to bear witness, in whatever way you know how; Write, take pictures, tell stores, give hugs, smile, clean houses, fix tacos, till the earth, have children. Testify! Your story, your life is the testament to a the way the heavens have aligned just for you. Only then is the harmony of life complete.

Now, go and read the essay. Understand it, I hope, or don’t. When I feel I can never take another picture, when I feel I can’t rise from my pillow, this is why I can.

* in actuality, may increase the level of difficulty

Play it: “Winners Take All” – Aesop Rock

The MLB Playoffs mean way more photogs assigned to cover each game. I was at the Phillies win on Monday night. Quite a tense experience, I can say. I can’t say it was completely fun. For 7 innings, I was the lone red hat in a sea of blue and my team was losing.  I was alone and dejected. Then, when my team took the lead and won, I was alone and a target! But, I survived.

In the post-game searches I thought these four photos were particularly inspiring.

• Matt Stairs’ homer from behind home plate
• Brad Lidge punchin’ suckas out
• Matt Stairs gettin’ mobbed in the dugout
• Manny’s helmet

Other blogs would just steal the photos. I’ll link to them, because they’re commercial. And, I respect the image.

Play while you read: “Blinded By The Light” – Manfred Mann

Thirty-six hours straight! When someone asked me what I was up to this weekend, that’s how long I claimed I was going to sleep. I figured that was about how long it would take for life to finally leave me alone. If I could sleep for thirty-six hours, maybe my problems would forget I existed and move along.

When I woke up this Saturday morning almost exactly twenty-eight hours shy of my goal, I didn’t feel as if I had failed. Yes, life was still there, a brutal tiger pacing outside my cave waiting for me to show. But, there was no pressing reason for me to go wrestle with it. I slept in and browsed Flickr instead. Ah, visual heroin.

As I clicked around, I also pondered a theoretical brunch of diced chicken with melted cheese in a tortilla — the only food left in the fridge at the moment. Rather randomly, I came across this improbable photograph on Flickr of a fireworks show and crowd that simultaneously captures a spectacular distant lighting burst. What are the chances? And, oh by the way, there’s also a comet right in the middle of it. A freakin’ comet. Really. Here’s the link again. Go ahead click and understand. It’ll open in a new window so you can come back here to finish reading.

So this is what I’m up against, I thought. No problem. I could dedicate my life to photography, but how am I ever going to get a shot like that? Curiously, I wasn’t defeated by this. No, I was moved. I didn’t care what was going on. I was headed out into the world, and I wasn’t coming back until I got my own Lightning-Fireworks-And-a-Comet photo! No sweat! I threw on jeans and a t-shirt and sneakers with no socks, fastened my ballcap to my head, and bolted out the door. I didn’t know where I was headed, but nine times out of ten, hitting the pavement is the best medicine.

Did I mention I didn’t bring a camera?

I walked. I was hungry. I walked by El Pollo Loco which I never, ever go to. But, I saw a poster for their New! menu item. That looks good, I thought and went in. Something New! sounded like just what I needed. After I ordered, in my innocence, I realized abruptly that the New! Grilled Chicken Tortilla Wrap was exactly what I could have made for myself at home.

Like the cat said, I has a pifanee! With strawberry soda to wash it down.

I was back on the street and found myself at the door of the local camera shop that is always closed when I’m near it. I’d never been inside. But, now it was open. I went in just to see what it was. Small, cozy, and manned by someone eager to not have me browse. I asked him for a couple rolls of black & white film, hoping he’d have something besides Kodak and Ilford Delta.

“Which kind do you want, the Kodak or the Delta?” He asked.

“Anything but the Kodak,” I said. As if I had a clue what I was talking about

Another man’s voice boomed out from behind me. “Phillies? I can’t believe you let him in here with that hat on.”

I forced a smile and tried to think of something. “Hey, its not over. You still have a chance,” I said. For some reason I wanted to console him. He said something about how he was used to disappointment, being a Dodgers fan.

“Like, I’m not?” I said, inexplicably trying to establish empathy. Brotherhood in a history of baseball futility? He didn’t get the connection and looked like I was trying to pick a fight with him. Another personal interaction failure for my bag. I left. But, I had some film.

Outside the shop, walking aimlessly down the street again, I reflected on all this: The baseball, the lightning-fireworks-and-a-comet photo, and my quest. I passed a family getting ready for lawn sale. Then, I passed people going to the lawn sale. I said hello to one man. He smiled cheerily and said hello back. Moments later, another man carrying a lamp and looking agitated. I said hello again. He instantly brightened and smiled back as best he could. Time stopped. If there were clouds in Southern California, they would have rolled by.

I knew what I was going to do. I walked to the grocery store. No sweat!

Whitening, Fire (Works!) and, uhh, Comet!

Play: “Wishing (If I Had A Photograph Of You)” – Flock of Seagulls

As strange things go, this is me: a month ago I never would have considered myself a candidate to get into film photography. I was a digital guy for all the reasons digital cameras make sense. Film is tricky, unwieldy, expensive, slow, and requires skill I probably don’t have.

But, a few weeks ago I read up on this classic type of camera called a “rangefinder” and it sounded pretty neat. I read of some enthusiastic accounts by fans of the camera, and decided on a whim to set up a craigslist alert for one specific model – this Canon QL17 “Canonet” .. the budget rangefinder that compares to deluxe Leica cameras ten times its price. I don’t know why I did it, the idea of film still seemed ludicrous to me. The Canonet seemed to go for $40 to $140 bucks depending. At the very least, I thought, if I found a cheapo one, it would be something cool to take pictures of if not with.

“I’ve Got A Miniature Secret Camera” – Peter Murphy

But, not a week in, an ad came down the feed for a Canonet right in my neighborhood — well, the Valley anyway. The price? $50 with case and flash. So on an overcast Saturday morning, I went out to an Encino hair salon — the seller’s place of business — to check it out. As I understood it, the camera had been inherited after a recent passing in the seller’s family. It was screwed into its case and looked like it hadn’t been removed in 30 years. It was gorgeous. I was sold. I got myself an old camera.

Once, I had it, I was still unsure what the heck I was doing. I drove to a drugstore to try to find some film. It was cloudy. I looked through the viewfinder, and: Whoa! The act of focusing a rangefinder camera is an amazing enlightenment. The viewfinder presents the scene in front of you, and a ghostly superimposed version. You slide a lever back and forth and watch as the two versions of the scene merge into one. It’s a transcendent moment of satori.

“Focus On Sight“  Thievery Corporation

So over the next few days, I took pictures. I had no idea if the camera was working. I was using a rule-of-thumb method of guessing exposure called “Sunny 16” — for there is not much automatic about this camera. I went through that roll of film. A film-nut friend recommended I try the cheap Kroeger-branded film at Ralph’s, for it is actually an Italian film notorious for a antique look that some people hate and some love. I shot three rolls of that — still not even knowing if the thing worked. I was hooked. The rangefinder shows a scene in the viewfinder and lets you focus even with the cap on. of course, I kept clicking pics with the cap on. Newbie! I even had a little micro-adventure when I was out taking photos in Santa Monica. I left the cap on when I tried to take a photo of a mysterious photographer.

Then, I had to get it developed. Really? What year is this? Who even does that now? I found a lab near work. I rolled in and said, “I’m here to drop off film. I have never done this before!*” The proprietor was amused and then helpful. I had to wait a day to get the pics back. A day! I still was convinced the camera wasn’t even taking pictures. See with a rangefinder camera there is no “mirror slap” — that’s the telltale mechanical event in a common single-lens reflex (SLR) camera, the reflex! — when you trip the shutter. Very little happens to reassure you, when you use this camera. Every press of the shutter is a lottery ticket into the photographic future. I hoped I’d be lucky.

“Photograph” – The Verve Pipe

But, the next day came. I had been told they’d be ready at 2:30. I called the lab at noon hoping my photos would be early. Nope! “There are no shortcuts! Get used to it,” I told myself.

Fine, enough anecdote! The pictures came back. Some were surprisingly good, even great in my eyes. Some examples? Sure. Even some pictures I was positive that I took behind the lens cap miraculously really happened. very strange. Strange and wonderful, I guess. At least it distracted me from everything else for a few moments.

“Pictures To Prove It” – Mighty Mighty Bosstones

* In actuality I had dropped off film dozens of times when I was a kid — even when i took photography in high school with a film SLR. But that was clearly some other universe. I remember no details.

You really want to know what happened? I’ll tell you: Wednesday was slouching off into the sunset, and I got off work too late to do anything about it. Still, I grabbed my cam with an eye towards checking out the Santa Monica Pier with the ol’ fisheye. At the last minute, I grabbed the nifty fifty and clipped it to my belt. Just in case, I thought.

The Pier killed all remaining hope in me. I did get one photo I liked — mostly of emptiness — but I failed to solve any of my problems. I’m not sure who gave up first, me or the sunlight, but I floated back towards my car in a daze of anticipathos. Just before I got there though, I saw a red stoplight reflecting off the always-polished Santa Monica sidewalk. I found a perverse, masochistic cry of inspiration and swapped out to the fifty-millimeter lens. My goal, suddenly,  was to capture these forgotten shadows in this artificial light. Shadows left behind by people who didn’t need them. Shadows of strangers, my best friends.

I walked down the Promenade, not seeing what I wanted to see. I told myself, hey it’s the trying that counts, knowing that trying has always counted for nothing unless you’re worth it to begin with. Once again, back towards the car. Defeated, quixotic.

On the final street corner, last chance, I got the photograph below. No one will ever love it as I love it. It’s what I was hoping for. It’s a dream. It’s real. It’s everything that gets ignored.

I even matched it with a song that jumped into my head as soon as I saw this photo enlarged on my screen. It’s rather …well, you know. Make up your own mind.

Play: “Shadowplay” – Joy Division

To the centre of the city where all roads meet, waiting for you,
To the depths of the ocean where all hopes sank, searching for you,
I was moving through the silence without motion, waiting for you,
In a room with a window in the corner I found truth.

In the shadowplay, acting out your own death, knowing no more,
As the assassins all grouped in four lines, dancing on the floor,
And with cold streel, odour on their bodies mad a move to connect,
But I could only stare in disbelief as the crowds all left.

I did everything, everything I wanted to,
I let them use you for their own ends,
To the centre of the city in the night, waiting for you.
To the centre of the city in the night, waiting for you.

Play while you read: “Hoodie” – Lady Sovereign

From my divine vantage overlooking the 3rd Street Promenade in Santa Monica I see them all.

Tourists. Camera-toting tourists. And, more and more I see them with cheap SLRs with curious appendages:

Lens hoods!

I mean lens hoods are great accessories that prevent lensflare in relatively rare occasions. Yes, they also afford some protection for the front of your lens.  I, too,  used to obsess about rocking a hood one-hundred percent of the time. In my youth.  Now, I might or might not.  It just adds bulk and weight and precious seconds while I attach or flip.  More and more, I just can’t be arsed with a lens hood.  Somehow, though, I’m doubting that most of these tourists are worried about lensflare in their vacation snaps.  No, the real reason I think I’m seeing a veritable explosion in lens hoods among the monied amateur — and yes part of why I used to be so diligent in using one:

They look pretty badass!

Look who was guarding the ol’ apartment this morning. Looming on the railing, this wrong-colored mantis was sunning itself. I thought they were green? But, tt made for a good outdoor photoshoot. Then, norbs had to go and add a monkeywrench wth this comment on Flickr:

You need a song to accompany the photo Mick. Great stuff

-norbography

This was a tough gauntlet to pick up! I’m a music guy. I love picking songs for photos! But, at first glance this seemed to be the exact sort of photo that resisted music. Forced to pick, what could I possibly choose? Didn’t want to just go with “mantis” in the title. I struggled even titling the photo. Insect humor isn’t my thing. So instead of the funny-ha-ha choice, I decided to think of the mantis itself and the movement of it.

And, that made me think of the tuba. For some reason, I needed tuba for this. The slow mechanism of this wily bug matched the low plodding buoyancy of the “king of the brass.” But, definitely not in an oompah-oompah polka sort of way. In this photo, the mantis reigns over the scene from above, watchful and in control. It couldn’t be menacing, there’s a blue sky. The more I thought about it, the more I realized exactly the vibe I wanted.  This wasn’t going to be a funny punchline song. So, norbs, here’s my soundrack for this photo, an obscure post-rock instrumental by the band Drums and Tuba. It’s kinda spooky, kinda chill. And, it has cool tuba:

Play: “Brain Liaters” – Drums and Tuba

What do you think of this?

Listen while you read: “Flashing Lights” – Kanye West

This story of Kanye vs. Paparazzi is burning up the wires! From the AP:

Airport police arrested [Kanye] West and his road manager, Don Crowley, who also serves as a bodyguard, on suspicion of felony vandalism shortly before 8 a.m., LAX spokesman Marshall Lowe said. He said early reports indicated that a camera valued at more than $10,000 was broken.

I was wondering what camera might be worth $10K — even a 1Ds MkIII with a 70-200 2.8 isn’t quite that much.  I checked the video on TMZ though, there was a lot of smashing going on. It looks like a video camera got smashed by the bodyguard and Kanye himself smashes not a camera, but a speedlight! Kanye trashed a  flash!

Nooooooo! Kanye West hates Strobists!

Side note: The very first time I went to Coachella with a press pass, Kanye was the very first artist I tried to photograph “professionally” — but I couldn’t find the entrance to the photo pit! Dumb rookie! I missed it.

Listen while you read: “I Don’t Wanna Hear It” – Minor Threat

You may or may not have seen the new Flickr Home page. You can read about it at the Flickr blog, or at Wired if you want an objective take. Like any update, there’s a handful of useful tweaks that will please some, and enrage a few. You should check it out. If’ you’re not seeing the new page, look at the bottom of the page for a link to turn it on.

Here’s my favorite tiny detail:

Flickr has long understood that people need a way to follow the responses to their own comments. So they’ve had a prominent way to see “Comments you’ve made.” This lets you see if anyone said “thanks for the nice words”, or “screw you, I like it underexposed”, or answered your burning question on how they got that heart-shaped bokeh. It was a great feature that encouraged a lot of back-and-forth, the sort of sticky social interaction pageviews that sites love.

The problem came if you commented on a picture that was destined for popularity. If you commented, and then a hundred other people commented, you’d see all the follow-up comments in perpetuity — comments that had nothing to do with you.  In fact, if you’re a jealous sort, they’d eventually start getting on your nerves. “Nice capture?” That’s a dumb comment. Or, hey why am I not getting all these great comments? Ah, please shut it off! And the way to do that was delete your own comment — a really anti-social solution for sure.

But, with the update tweaks to the Flickr home, they’ve offered a mute button for individual items. So you can stop seeing followups long after it’s clear that the original photographer is never gonna thank you or say hello or whatever, and you don’t want to be confronted with how popular they are while you suffer in obscurity. Here’s where the glorious mute button is hidden, under a mouse-over in the time-it-was-posted element:

Flickr blog: There’s No Place Like Home

Wired: Flickr Home Page Update Exposes Hidden Social Features

Well, I said if Kentucky Joe got a W in September, I’d do it. And tonight, he pitched a piss-poor game against the Marlins, but was somehow bailed out by Jayson Werth’s big bat. Hey, a win is a win! And, I’m taking full credit for it, too. Never let it be said that I’m not true to my word, at least when it comes to ridiculous wagers. Ladies and gents, my ridiculous new chinbeard:

Update: As seen on The700Level

Update II: THis made the lower levels of Flickr Explore. It’s a juggernaut!

My new theme song: “Ugly” – Fishbone