Making time to walk

Distractions. My home is full of them and I lack the discipline to keep electronics off especially after a long day at work and evening classes. I like to seclude myself in various places to read or write. My favorite spot is at the central library as I’ve mentioned in previous posts. I especially love the cubicles. I like reading in public places without feeling like I’m being watched. Its just a thing I have…Although this is as close to complete seclusion as I can, I do like to carry a portable window with me.

An unwelcome walk...

Digital reading for film project

There are many days when I wish I would have been an aspiring photographer during the days when having your picture taken was a rarity and a privilege. People seemed more willing to let a stranger capture their image…or so the history books have made it seem. Too often I’ve seen people dodge my path at the sight of my camera, whether it’s an SLR or a little point and shoot. I sense their uneasiness immediately. Some see me as a type of thief. No one has ever said that to me but that’s the vibe I often feel.

Recently, I was walking westward on 8th street, expanding my collection of payphones. There was one outside of a small liquor store that I came across and shot it. Immediately, I noticed the storeowner nervously come out to see what I was up to. Having captured what I wanted, I continued on with my walk. As I did this, I also noticed a customer step out behind me. I was about half a block down when I heard the heavyset customer exclaim, “We don’t like cameras”. I didn’t turn back, although I did think about how many photographers they’ve come across and felt photographers are only interested in the exploitation of the area and the people.

This wasn’t the first time I’ve been confronted by someone because I took a picture of a payphone near their store. On Washington and Central I took a picture of a payphone near an entrance to a salon and a nervous young Hispanic man came out and asked me if I had been sent over by someone. I said no and explained the objective of my project. He went on to tell me that his store had been vandalized continuously because he was gay. I apologized for causing any alarm and hoped his troubles would stop soon.

I’ve also been confronted by less understanding storeowners. On Broadway and 8th I took a picture of a payphone that was across the street from the Orpheum theatre. The phone wasn’t next to the convenience store entrance so I was surprised when I saw the storeowner come out to the street and attempt to cover my lens. He was an older man of Middle Eastern descent. He told me I wasn’t allowed to take a picture of his store. I calmly explained what I was doing and assured him that his store wasn’t in my frame, only the payphone. He didn’t care and told me not to shoot anymore. I said the phone was city property and he couldn’t tell me what to do. To his disapproval I quickly captured my picture anyway. He kept an eye on me as I walked down the block. Normally I’d be intimidated by such a confrontation, but honestly, not in my hometown.

I would love to know the specific reasons some of the storeowners have for hating the use of cameras near their stores. Then again if they’re confronting me then they’re probably not in a chatty mood. Either way, this is my ongoing project and it’ll take the actual disappearance of the payphones to get me to stop.

A walk around the world...

Hollywood, Ca c.2009

Outside of the Kodak Theatre, near Hollywood and Highland, the Oscar winners of the best picture award are chronologically listed on lit pillars. Looking at some of the film titles reminded me of the time when I went through a classic film phase in my late teens and made a silly little goal that I’d watch every “Best picture”. Well, that still hasn’t been accomplished but I would like to pick up where I left off. A film on that exclusive list is Jules Verne’s adaptation of Around the World in 80 days. Although I’ve never seen the film (either versions) I must say it is my favorite book of all time.

Film versions of classic literature are almost always different than their written counterparts and rarely get it right…if your definition of “right” means keeping the original story the same. Breakfast at Tiffany’s, The curious case of Benjamin Button and The Count of Monte Cristo are a few of my exceptions in which I enjoyed the movie just as much as the book even if the original stories underwent some serious “Hollywood editing”. So why haven’t I seen Around the world in 80 days? I just don’t want to. I picked up the book at Borders one day and read it cover to cover in a very short time. I can’t remember the exact time but I do remember loving the charm of the story, and the way the contemporary technologies were written in. I even caught myself laughing out loud which is something I don’t do often while reading. I loved this book so much that I decided to take a train trip that follows a similar route through the western states as described in the book. The Amtrak California Zephyr definitely left me with a memorable experience. I would love to see more of this country by rail.

I can’t recommend a film I haven’t seen but I can definitely recommend this book for any lover of travel and history. As a matter of fact I’m going to dust off my copy and read it again…

A walk I should remember

I forgot, Los Angeles, Ca c.2010

The text in this image embodies what photography means to me and to so many other enthusiasts and professionals alike. I honestly cannot remember where I took this, but it obviously had enough of an impact that I had to take it home with me somehow.

Although I suspect it was taken at the Central Library, I can’t be certain. Not remembering where I walked isn’t very characteristic of me. “Citing your source” is something that was etched in my mind as an undergrad. I also have a freaky memory for the mundane things. Or maybe remembering the mundane things is just part of being a female.

Either way I can’t remember. But I do remember why I liked it so much. I credit the selected quote by Edward Steichen. I was a fan of Steichen before I even knew who he was. I remember checking out a book from the Central library popular culture in the 1930s when I was about 16 or 17 . There were several old Hollywood portraits I loved, especially one of George Gershwin at his piano smoking a cigar. I photocopied it and placed it in a sheet protector in my school binder.

George Gershwin, c. 1927 Edward Steichen

This particular book (which I also can’t remember the title of) and photography pretty much solidified my interest in history, which would later lead into a serious interest in photography. I didn’t know Steichen was to credit until I saw a traveling exhibit at LACMA back in 2008 titled ‘Vanity Fair Portraits’. This is where I saw and recognized so many of the photographs I had seen in that book nearly a decade ago, including that George Gershwin portrait that I had photocopied. By default, he already was one of my favorite studio portrait photographers. All it took was a single quote to remind me of that fact.

Premeditated walks

Most people that grow up in big cities are exposed to graffiti along with other forms of public defacing. I remember one of the reasons my family moved out of East LA in the late 90s was because the gang graffiti had leaked onto our block and a little too close for comfort. It wasn’t all bad. Some of which could be considered art was ugly and rushed, and other times it would consist of elaborate designs. It always got painted over, but it stayed up long enough where the neighborhood would have had a chance to see it.

During my time in the artists’ district in downtown, I noticed homemade stickers and spray painted stencils were the norm on street posts and signs. This didn’t bother me since I usually stop to read what the perpetrators want us to read. Most of them aren’t worth the time but like the occasional personalized license plate, some do make me laugh or chuckle or provoke thought.

Some of the things I've chosen to capture have deteriorated or got painted over. I guess the universal hope is that someone will notice your mark before it disappears.

A walk towards a dead end

Hope's dead end, Los Angeles, Ca c. 2009

Whenever I have some spare time on the weekend, I like to visit the Central library on Sunday afternoons. It has been a pastime of mine over the last 13yrs or so. When I was younger I'd enter through the south side of Hope since it was near the metro station. Since I started driving however, I choose to park in front of the fire station on 1^st st simply because the parking meters aren’t turned on Sundays.

I know this parking spot is a good 5 blocks away from the library but I enjoy the walk. Uphill on 1^st, turn right on Hope, past (sometimes through) the Disney concert hall, down the flight of stairs near the library tower that lead directly to the 5^th street entrance. I enjoy the light exercise and I like to notice new details along the familiar path.

The northern side of Hope St is so peaceful on the weekends. I definitely understand why Downtown L.A. is such a popular location for film production companies. I’ve seen countless commercials and film scenes being shot in the area.

A couple of Saturdays ago I went the library to work on some pictures on my laptop. The library doesn’t have the fastest wi-fi but it’s better than using the public computers. I went late in the afternoon and I thought I was running out of time until I noticed a small sign nearby concerning a change in the library hours. The library now closes at 6 on Saturdays instead of 5. That was a pleasant little surprise. I had an extra hour before I left.

There were more things I wanted to work on and I had every intention of returning the next day, my preferred day. As I went to the bulletin to confirm the hours of operation on Sundays, I then read that the library is now closed on Sundays and Holidays. An adolescent "shut UP" escaped from my mouth.

I understand the state and the city are in some serious debt but I immediately blamed our elected officials. I thought of our mayor offering to pay for Michael Jackson’s funeral service at the staples center last summer. I wondered how much of the city’s money had been misappropriated to get us in a mess where public libraries are taking the hit.

To me, libraries are a place of hope. THIS library is a place of hope. I think it’s interesting that this library is located on Hope St’s dead end. A place where kids want to learn, & where adults want to expand their knowledge even further. With this change, limits have been set even further. Honestly, I wish the library was open all night. I’m sure many of the homeless folks that I see take literal and intellectual refuge would agree.

Time escapes so many of us due to the responsibilities of life. With a weekend day stolen from Los Angelenos, we must now pencil in time to learn and juggle anything else beating down on us . I guess all I can hope is that Saturdays aren’t stripped from us either. At least for the time being...

A walk through hell on the 6th St. bridge

A while ago I was on a class assignment to find hell on earth. I didn’t have anything specific in mind as I walked along the 6th street Bridge. I hoped I would think of something, as I looked wish fresh eyes along the bridge.

A storm had recently passed over the city so I was happy to take advantage of the bright blue sky as a backdrop. I walked along on the right side of the bridge facing east. As I reached the middle I noticed two clumps underneath the first arch. It didn’t take long to realize these were dead baby birds that were blown away from their nest that was built inside the arch.

While I was kneeling on the floor, a foul stench reached my nostrils. I took a few steps forward and saw a strange pile of dirt. It actually looked like topsoil. Once again, it didn’t take long to realize this wasn’t a pile of dirt; rather it was a pile of fragmented human waste.

I had seen literal piles of shit along the 4th street Bridge, which naturally grossed me out and surprised me. Call me naïve but I thought if people are going to shit near a bridge it would be underneath it, not on it.

I could only hold my breath for so long before I took a step away from the pile and ended up underneath the second arch. In one of the inner spaces I noticed someone had stored some garments and a book. I’ve seen the homeless use these gaps as public storage before but the sight of the book fell heavy on my heart. I didn’t open the book. It didn’t occur to me until I got home. Even though this was stored in a public space, I felt I would’ve been intruding on this person’s property. Maybe this person defecated near his things to keep people away.

I returned home completely humbled. I’m not sure what made this inanimate encounter different. I’m not sure why the evidence of homelessness affected me more than usual.

This began as another mere walk on the same ‘ole bridge and I came away with yet another perspective of it. That certainly was a glimpse of hell on earth.