Music permeates North Hollywood Arts District on the first Thursday of every month with Hear NoHo, a nascent showcase of local musicians performing in community venues spanning the community. I’d written about the series debut a few months ago. I even took photos then. My work makes up the bottom banner at HearNoHo.com. But, I hadn’t been back until July’s summery set. This time out, organizers decided to focus on women in local music. I decided to focus on them with some black and white film. I wanted to try the Rollei in a musical setting. It has a slow f/3.5 lens, but I had a roll of medium-format Ilford Delta 3200 in the fridge. If there was ever a time to use ASA 3200, this was it. I also brought along the M2 with some Arista Premium 400 that I’d push to 1600.

Taking pictures with film is a much different than taking pictures with a digital camera. But, taking pictures of people in action with film, especially older non-motorized manual focus cameras, is yet another level of difficulty entirely.

In concert photography the keys are light, eyes, mikes, movement, and backgrounds. The photographer must keep all of these in mind, and in sight. But, when you shoot one frame at a time with no instant review, you need to have a strong reservoir of faith. And, practice helps so I was going for it.

Results? I struggled with the roll in the Rollei. Even at 3200, with the 3.5 lens there was not enough light to get what I wanted. I struggled to see the images that were there for me.
But, with the Leica, it was a happier story. I found a couple images I am really proud of, and the 50mm Serenar f/1.8 lens helped me get them.

The first Hear NoHo was free. But, the organizers were upfront about the inability to keep it that way. This time around it was a ten-dollar wristband. Access to ten artists at five venues, a couple NoHo Commons lofts, the Cella art gallery, the NoHo Arts Center theater, and even the loading dock for How’s Grocery Store.

I went in expecting a mixed bag of music, but everyone I saw put on a good show. Happily, my favorite artist of the night also gave me my best photo of the night. Adjoa Skinner (above) played to about twelve people in a loft. She kicked off her sandals and walked around while playing her guitar and singing, she was such a comfortable player.

I saw the names “Frank and Derol” on the schedule of a female-only lineup and thought: “Oh God, probably a lesbian folk act!” But, when I got to the theater it was a trio of perky young girls with a backing band playing brisk, sunny indie pop. They, too, impressed me. Billy Ray Cyrus’ daughter – no, not Miley. A different one – is in this unsigned band. I saw Beck’s sister, too: Alyssa Suede is her name and she captivated the crowd at Cella Gallery. Paris Carney packed the Arts Center: It was standing room only for that show! So, no good photos for that set. So much for needing to keep it free. I underestimated the support of the local community.

In developing the 3200, the book calls for fourteen and a half minutes when using HC-110. It’s a warm summer, so I probably should have backed off a few minutes. The fact that the film actually expired six years ago, though, caused me to go the full time. I figured it would just even out. The resulting grain was huge. Probably a mix of high ASA mixed with overdeveloping with an industrial developer. Nothing really came out impressive, but it was fun. I should try it with a smoother developer.

 

Pushing the brand new Arista Premium to 1600 was much more effective. The book on that is sixteen minutes with HC-110, but since I was developing at roughly twenty-five degrees, I backed it down to thirteen. I was very, very pleased with how Frank and Derol came out.

I resolve to go to more Hear NoHo events. It’s a fertile ground for my photographic adventures. And, the music isn’t bad either.

Bonus: Here’s an Adjoa Skinner video clip:

Anonymous tip leads police to dead body in car trunk. My hood.

http://www.mymotherlode.com/News/article/id/D96PJTBO5

I can see the killers now: “Who knew we did that? Who owns a fax machine? Oh your ol’ lady! Get her!”

We gotta watch out for each other VV Massive. Throw ya VV up!

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!

Song of the day: “Hologram Buffalo” by Brightblack Morning Light

On Wednesday I went to the beach before work. I saw three great morning sunlight photographs I wanted to save but had no camera. Thursday morning I had hand therapy and could not go back. This morning I left the Valley with camera in the back and bright sunshine overhead. But, as I rose up out of the Sepulveda pass coming over the hill towards Santa Monica, I bore witness to the marine layer of clouds bubbling over the coast like new pancake batter. Spooky and symbolic, I go from such bright sunlight to thick griddlecake of overcast in the space of a few hundred feet.

I’ll try again next week, I suppose.

Play this while watching: “Dog House Blues” – Bill Monroe

The adventures of Peri and Sophie at the dog park, gettin’ into all kinds of good clean trouble. Dont forget to hit the music playbutton too. Wish they could sync up. Thanks to Greg for coining the term “DPU”.

Play this: “Alligator Wine” – Screamin’ Jay Hawkins

It’s just another day in the Valley:

“That’s kind of the problem with wild animals – they do grow.” – Kathy Davis, assistant general manager of Snark & Sarcasm the Los Angeles Animal Services Department

Alligator found in Valley home – LA Daily News.

“Advance Cassette” – Spoon

I took a bikeride in the Valley on a scorching summer afternoon. I rode by this wonderful bit of “found art” near the 170 overpass on Chandler. There was a drug deal going on, so I just kept on going of course. But, an hour later I circled back on the return trip. Damn, but it was hot on the pavement. That’s some street photography, no?

Music to read by: “Cameras in California” — Kirk Wheeler

“Thanks for nothing,” I say to the editor who writes headlines like “Photog Allegedly Assaulted 3 Aspiring Models“  This salacious story of a man arrested for allegedly luring girls to motel rooms under the premise of photographing them to make them stars — only to then sexually assault them — has been all over the local news and Web the past few days. It’s abominable on many levels.

Foremost, of course, sympathy goes out to victims of such an act. That anyone, especially females, need to fear for their physical safety in any human interaction suggests we’re not as evolved a species, all of us, as we think we are.

I have no idea if the charges are true. But, I do know that true or false, this guy is toast. The nature of this sort of story is a complete presumption of guilt on the part of the media and the consumers of the story. That’s it. There’s no “until.” The vast majority of people who will consume this story will assume the guy’s guilty, and they’ll move on. The smaller group who actually follow the story will likely assume his guilt even if he is not convicted. It’s just too juicy a story to doubt.

Beyond the impacted lives of the victims and the accused is an issue of lesser importance, but perhaps one of broader effect.  It affects me as a hobbyist photographer who can occasionally be seen walking down the street with a camera in my hand. The above events are alleged to have taken place down the street from where I live. I’m pissed. The way the story is presented will plant yet another seed of a subliminal idea that will grow in the minds of everyday people: The idea that photographers are a threat. Increasingly, people with cameras are portrayed as a threat to public transportation, as a threat to national security, and now we’re to automatically assume they’re a threat to young girls. Some attention may eventually be paid to the psychology of the suspected perpetrator of these crimes, what factors were at work in his impulses or urges. The same criminal could have used other tactics: dinner with a non-existent movie exec, a meeting with a fake lawyer. But, almost nobody will ever pay attention to that. The story here is that a “photog” did a terrible thing, and that’s all anyone will remember.

I’m already terrified of asking strangers if I can take their picture out in public on the street. There’s a Flickr group dedicated to taking portraits of strangers that should be fun. I see faces every day I wish I could take a photograph of. Stories like this only make approaching strangers harder. The next person I ask while I’m holding a camera could well scream for the cops. And, then in the eyes of the police, and then the media, I’d be guilty; Guilty of having a camera.

Do you think I’m over-reacting?

Listen to this while you read: “Transmission” – Joy Division

Life isn’t perfect.

I know this isn’t a shocking revelation. But, sometimes I’m reminded of this in funny little ways.

About a half a mile from where I live in the urbanish San Fernando Valley sits a large and lonely radio transmission station. An otherwise-vacant city block supports a squat brick building that says “50000 Watt Station” along the side, and three massive transmitter antennae. The impressive ensemble is guarded by two forbidding obstacles: A conventional chain link fence serves notice to casual passerby. For the bold explorer there is, improbably, a more stealthy deterrent: hundreds of small sandy hills in the scrub housing voracious red army ants.

It’s seemingly deserted. I never see any cars on the lot nor anyone coming or going. Yet, the lights are on and the transmitters twinkling red lights promise that all fifty-thousand watts are hard at work sending some sort of information out into the ether. A barely-alive imagination could easily picture some sinister government operation at the heart of this inexplicable installation, and my fancy is more than healthy.

I’ve always wanted to photograph the place. But, as intriguing as it is in concept, visually it poses some problems. The scale of the place requires a wide-angle, but there is so much empty space that a wide angle ends up being boring. Getting right up to the antennae might work, but I’m not yet ready to risk black helicopters by scaling the fence.

I figured the key would be to wait for a breathtaking sky. But, its rare to get skies in the valley. It’s always blue skies.

The weather in the valley has been hot over the past few days. It’s always hot in the valley, in the summer. But even the beaches have been hot this week, and that means a bit of moisture in the air that drifts over the hills.

As I drove home, I noticed the skies, normally a spotless blue, were mixed up with swirling clouds. As I drove past the radio station, as I do every single day, I wondered idly what the sunset would be like, an hour or so away. I didn’t plan to do anything, I was just wondering.

I got home, and brightened up knowing I’d walk the dogs. For just a moment, I considered taking them on a long walk to the antennae. But, as we made our way round the far side of the block, we were attacked by some insistent midges. Midges! Little bugs, just like in Cleveland in last year’s baseball playoffs, were dancing happily around my face. I mean, I am just guessing they were midges. I’m no entomologist. Just crazy. Luckily on our own block, these insectoids were nowhere to be found. We’re in a slightly more respectable neighborhood I guess. As we made our way up the steps to our front door, I noticed the sky was getting rather interesting, in places. The sun was setting quickly

I made up my mind to try.

I’m occasionally big on preparation, and in other things not so much. Riding my bicycle is one of the things I prepare meticulously for. Gotta wear shorts. The helmet. The rear-view mirror. The bandana under the helmet, the gloves, the backpack, and the tire pressure. It’s occurred to me that it often takes a half an hour just to get out on my bike. Some might call that anal. I think they’d be right. Yet, I never wash my car. Curious.

But, like I said I made up my mind. I made up my mind that I’d go to the antennae to see what I could see, and I decided that  instead of driving that I’d ride my bike to get there. I realized there was no time to do anything at all that I usually do. I threw my camera over my shoulder, grabbed my bike and went.

Riding a bike in jeans is just annoying. Not having my helmet and rear-view was disconcerting. Feeling the handlebars in my hands was new. It was all good.

I got to my destination probably three minutes after the best sky of the night. And, even that sky wasn’t that good as it turns out. It certainly wasn’t Flickr-Explore good. Oh well. I rode my bike over the grass, over the ant hills! I pulled up next to the fence. I took some pictures, making sure not to stand in one place for more than a few seconds. I’ve had experience with angry red ants in the jungles of Orlando, Florida. I wasn’t going to let them get me.

The photos weren’t anything at all like what I wanted, but I still don’t know the right way to photograph this location. I chafe against the reality, unescapable in the end,  that I’ll never have the true photographer’s eye. I’ll always be a dilettante. So, I’m mildly disappointed with the photo results, but I’m not at all disappointed with how it went down.

Life isn’t perfect, but sometimes it’ll do.

While it may seem that just about anybody can rob a bank, you do have to at least keep your gun out of the hands of the other bank customers. “Can you hold this for a second while I put this cash in my “$$$” sack?” But, really — bank patrons ganged up on this fake moustache-wearin’ perp. Nice work!

ABC7 – Robber Shot With Own Gun at Van Nuys Bank.

“It was a good knockdown fight between the security guard and the suspect,” Capt. Jim Miller of the LAPD told the TV station. “On its face it appears that the suspect may have been beginning to gain the upper hand when the customers joined in to assist.”

This was 4 miles from my apartment, and two blocks from a major police station.