Another Five Paragraphs
Monday. We did indeed get to bed at a decent hour last night, up with the alarm and off to breakfast and back under an overcast, cool, but not overly cold morning. Which one might expect - not overly cold - for an August California morning. Mostly.
Another week, nothing on the calendar, so we'll see how it plays out. We will if, come the weekend, we're still around.
Later. A bus to Broadway to walk to the ATM and then on to Latham Square, thinking there may be a crew working if they're going to get it done by Thursday. And they were. An hour of shooting with a single camera with the 24-120mm lens. This really isn't something I've photographed before, a construction project. How to give the images a feeling for how this thing is going together and still make the images half way interesting?
The manager and crew are aware of who I am and what I was doing (they know the two web sites), but it's still not easy for me to get close and include them in the pictures. And I'm the photographer who goes out specifically to photograph people's faces and expressions.
When they'd finished unloading the truck at noon I took a bus home, downloaded what I'd shot and then ran them through Photoshop. They were just short of a section, so another bus back to the site with two cameras in tow this time, one with the 24-70mm lens, the second and usually most used with the 70-200mm, the standard combination I usually take to the field.
Off the bus at the square, maybe twenty photographs, some five or six of them usable, back then to finish out the HereInOakland section. I'm far from happy with them, but there's no way to learn to shoot a different kind of subject other than by going out and taking pictures. It's called practice. Experience. One pays one's dues if one wants to take photographs or learn any other task in life.
Are we preaching?
To the choir. I'm the choir.
Evening. Another repeat of the French Spiral series at six, so Democracy Now and then chapter 13 of the Korean series that's been running on Mondays and Tuesdays. As I mentioned, it started slowly (and I ducked out on it often as not), but grew as the characters grew older to become proper malcontents. I's been excellent for playing along with on the guitar.
To bed at a decent hour unless there's something on at nine, which it turns out there was, another Inspector Lewis I'd clearly seen before but didn't remember who'd done it until the end when I was able to recall the scene. I'd say odd, this inability to recall, but I've been saying that for long enough now. We'll just say we got to bed at ten-thirty and not explain/complain for another five paragraphs.