New Opportunities

Rita was telling me about a photographer friend of hers yesterday, and she said that she was going to be living in UCLA for a few months studying under her idol, that she had had coffee with him and he had invited her to come apprentice. and then she said ” you get out of something what you put into it” which is completely true. If you work hard, If you show up on time, If you’re pleasant and kind, If you really, really want something, then things will happen, things aren’t going to come to you while you’re sitting on your ass, you actually need to go out and grab them, but if you do it, then the skies the limit.

I actually really admire her photographer friend. I think she’s incredibly talented, and she’s further along in this than I am, but maybe if I keep working at it, eventually, I’ll get there.


I miss it.

When a new day begins

Tired. Yep. Here’s a picture, mm hm. Sophie, always good for a good picture. Wanna shoot her with the digital, I get a chance. Okay, back to sleep now. Think I’ve become addicted to coffee, and this is my body punishing me. Gotta go cold turkey, mm hm. Good night (oh wait, is that the sun) and good luck.

Woman In Love

Was there ever a more beautiful sound than your name?  To speak it aloud makes my heart ring like a bell. Strange to imagine that, isn’t it – a heart ringing – but when you touch me that is what it is like: as if my heart is ringing in my chest and the sound shivers down my veins and splinters my bones with joy.

Why have I written these words in this blog? Because of you. You taught me to love this book where I had scorned it. When I read it for the second time, with an open mind and heart, I felt the most complete despair and envy of Sydney Carton. Yes, Sydney, for even if he had no hope that the woman he loved would love him, at least he could tell her of his love. At least he could do something to prove his passion, even if that thing was to die.

I would have chosen death for a chance to tell you the truth, Tessa, if I could have been assured that death would be my own. And that is why I envied Sydney, for he was free.

And now at last I am free, and I can finally tell you, without fear of danger to you, all that I feel in my heart.

You are not the last dream of my soul.

You are the first dream, the only dream I ever was unable to stop myself from dreaming. You are the first dream of my soul, and from that dream I hope will come all other dreams, a lifetime’s worth.

With hope at least


Quiet Moment

I know I’m old, but sometimes I’m reminded in a particularly acute way.

Diana and I are shooting, it is quiet, it’s a perfectly overcast day, the best kind here, which usually sees, true story, too much sun. We’re shooting, laughing it up, and all of a sudden here are two young punks walking up to us at a leisurely pace, these young bastards with no care in the world and infused with strong auras of individuality, despite the fact they’re basically wearing Punk Uniforms, as dictated by something they saw or read.

And they’re laid back, been hiking all morning, looking for a giant cross you can see from the 101 freeway in the Cahuenga pass, a cross I’ve seen for decades, a cross that’s always kind of irked me, not attached to a church, just put up on the hill so that everyone would see it, architectural proselytization.

I tell ’em there’s no public road up there, you’d have to walk right up the mountain, which would require more than a bit of tresspassing and law-breaking.

Which they nod their heads and and get right down to doing.

At which point I realize I’m old. Because I’m jealous. Jealous of that specific kind of freedom, the freedom of believing there are no serious consequences to my actions, and if through some great series of bad luck dominoes falling, I can always squirm my way out.

Magnifient bastards, I hope they found that fucking cross.

I’m lately very much drawn to the color palette of the night

Which means I’m going to be shooting the same thing again and again, trying to figure out exactly how I would like to shoot.The Night, what is, for me, the optimum set-up.

I didn’t realize that for awhile, was just shooting because I liked the frame I’d built, going to a certain stretch of street, using the lights that stay on forever, placing my subject in front of them and having some fun.

But I saw it, last time I was there. Linked it to what I do generally. Trying out similar things, refining, again and again.

For the same reason I like shooting the same person multiple times, I like using the same locations. I enjoy wrestling with a location, or struggling to get a shot of someone’s face juuuuuuust right.

And then on to the next person/location/situation.

But not until I’ve gotten it right…

Is The Spring Coming?

Nach der Musik kommt die Nacht, nach der Nacht der Sonnenschein und du lächelst, weil dich jemand im Arm hält ohne Erwartungen und ohne Fragen. Nach der Musik kommt die Nacht, immer wieder, sie ist kalt wie deine Füsse auf dem Kies in diesen viel zu dünnen Schuhen und den viel zu leicht genommenen Küssen, du spürst dich nicht und dein Herz, es schlägt. Ja doch, nur wie lange schon, in diesem Takt, der nicht zur Musik passt oder vielleicht auch viel zu gut; der Soundtrack deines Lebens ein trauriges Saxophon, gespielt von einem traurigen Mann mit eiskalten Fingern bei drei Grad Celsius. Ein trauriges Saxophon und dein trauriges Herz.

Winter bei 20 Zentimetern Neuschnee und du auf einem einsamen Spaziergang in den Bergen.

Ihr Blick

Da liegt irgendwas in ihrem Blick, das mir den Atem nimmt.

Ein Gefühl, ich schmecke es auf der Zunge, auf der Haut, ich rieche es. Spüre es. Wie das Klingen einer Stimmgabel, wenn der ursprüngliche Ton mit den Ohren längst nicht mehr wahrnehmbar, das Vibrieren der Gabel aber noch spürbar ist.
So fühlt sich das an, was in ihrem Blick mitschwingt.

Ein bisschen.


Shooting as much as I’ve been lately, I get bored fast. Especially when I’m shooting Jessica, who I’ve shot many many times.

The pretty shots just don’t do it for me. The proud stances, the fancy light, when she’s in my viewfinder, I’m constantly trying to figure out something More.
Results in a lot of shots I’ll end up deleting. A lot of playing around, trying to sort through what’s working and what isn’t.
This shoot was very much that, me unhappy with most of the ideas I was coming up with.
Then we both slide a little coming down the hill and it’s a lightning bolt across my thoughts.

I have her slide.
Then have her do it again.
And again. Struggling with the focus, with the light, with just enough flare, with her positioning as she runs/falls.

Then we got the shot.

And I had her do it again anyway. Look at her, it was hilarious!

Boredom gets you chasing fun, gets you this.