Left Coast Cowboys

Whatever the success of my first portfolio submission (see last post), it’s time to move on to the next two daunting photo class assignments.

Although, I have to say, even if I flunk out and the professor says I have no talent and will never have talent, I have learned such a tremendous amount, it’s staggering. And we’re only 4 weeks into the course.

When I started, I couldn’t work with my camera outside the Auto mode. Now I shoot every shot completely in Manual, setting aperture, shutter speed, ISO and metering.

And the assignments have really opened up my way of thinking about taking a photograph. The latest projects, received last Thursday and due March 6 and 13, are no exception. I’d love it if anyone wanted to join me in this and post to Flickr. I could use the support. Click “read more” to see the assignments.

(By the way, the image, of course is not mine, but from Ansel Adams, who never would have followed any of the assignments laid out in this post. He never seemed to monkey with depth of field or focus or panning. He almost always got everything in focus in all his photos. Then held the camera still and took great art. But for those of us who aren’t Ansel Adams, the assignment may prove valuable and fun.)

ASSIGNMENT: Motion, Due March 6

Turn in three images capturing motion following the perameters below.

RULES: The same focal length lens must be used for all shots. No photos of cars, motorbikes or other vehicles allowed!

Just had my first portfolio review in my photography class. If you’ve been following my progress on Flickr, you’ve seen my progress through all forty assignments here. (You can review the whole assignment here).

At the review, each of us had to pick five of our best photographs and tack them in a bunch up on the bulletin boards that lined the room. Then we went around and the class reviewed each other’s work. I thought my photos looked pretty impressive and the class thought so, too.

Then the professor gave a quick “thumbnail review” of each class member’s work.

Her reaction? Well, I generally hate the overused Internet phrase “Meh”, but that about describes what she seemed to think of my photos.

She spent a long time looking at my photos, then said, “Well, you have an extremely strong vision of how you want to present things.” Now a strong vision was something I thought we all should be working toward. But she didn’t say it as if she thought it was a good thing.

“And”, she continued, “Your photography forces the viewer to look at things the way you see them.”

Hmmmm. Again, I sort of thought that was the object. To have a very strong viewpoint and to communicate and convince your audience. But again, she didn’t say this as if she thought, in this instance, it was a good thing. After a long silence, she continued, “My job with you for the rest of the semester is going to be to move you away from this vision.” Hmmmmmm.

After class, I tried to ask a few questions to get a better idea what she was saying, but she said, “Wait for my full review of your portfolio.”

Okay, but that’s leaving me second guessing.

Is my “vision” somehow myopic? Or is she thinking that she should force me to experiment with different voices for the sake of clarifying or maybe reinforcing the voice that I’ve already developed. That would be a good thing and I’m ready for that.

Or, given that I didn’t even know how to operate my camera out of Auto four weeks ago. And now I operate completely in Manual, setting aperture, ISO, shutter speed and metering individually, have I been spending too much time on the technical and not enough time on the content?

I’ve also been thinking back on all the slide shows she does at the end of every lecture where she likes to introduce us to great photography and explain what makes it great. Funny she’s never shown us any photographers who specialize in nature like Ansel Adams. She seems to favor edgy, ambiguous, gritty, urban photographers like Diane Arbus, Nan Goldin and Mary Ellen Mark. Although Robert Mapplethorpe did whole series of very sensuous and iconic flower shots, she never shows those, preferring his S&M pictures. So maybe my nature-heavy portfolio isn’t really to her liking.

Or maybe I should just wait and see what she says. And concentrate more on that “vision thing” instead of getting all caught up in the technology of the camera. Or maybe I ought to just get cracking on the two new portfolio assignments we’ve just been given that are due week after next and the week after that. But more on that later.

Another attempt to tick off the 40 assignments that make up my photography class portfolio review that is due Thursday.

I might just have to chuck the picture I took of the Obama campaign kids for this one. Because it’s got a great story.
I was photographing this grafitti in the Mission District when this old drunk came up absolutely reeking of some sort of intoxicant. I think it was meths. I had my camera on a tripod and was focussing on the grafitti but had been metering and re-metering, switching aperture and shutter combinations and changing my angle for 15 minutes and still wasn’t getting the rich contrast I was aiming for.

This old dude asked what I was doing and I said I was trying to complete an assignment for a photography class but wasn’t having much luck. He said, “Oh my father and uncle were both professional photographers in the Forties. Let me help you.” He was dumbfounded by a digital camera, but he said, “Let me tell you the ISO, aperture and shutter speed that will get you what you want.”

I set it to his exact combination and WOW! Deep rich blacks and definitive grey tones. I thanked him and asked him if I could buy him a sandwich. He said, “No, what I really want is for you to take my picture.”

I said, “Sure, now tell me where I can send it to you.”

“Hollywood.”

“Uh, do you live in Hollywood?”

“No, but I can get there.”

He was rapidly losing focus, so I whipped out a pen and asked him where he was staying in the next week, so I could get him his picture.

He faded away mentally and seemed to suddenly have trouble figuring out where he was and who I was. The most I could get out of him is that he likes Mission Street.

I’m going to print out this picture and carry it around hoping that I see him again. If I don’t, “Hey, thanks, Dude”.

You never know where you’ll get help when you need it. And to quote the immortal Jimmy Buffet, “The Wino and I Know”.

P.S. If you see this guy on Mission, please stop and buy him a sandwich.

Saturday night was our sometimes monthly dinner with our friends from the suburbs of Marin. Since they’re doing the trek into the Big City, we let them pick the restaurant and they usually want to go somewhere trendy.

“So where are we going tonight?” I asked Andy. “Uh, AsiaSF.”

I remembered from a restaurant review that the schtick here is floor shows featuring Asian cross-dressers — who they call Gender Illusionists. Not that that would faze us. We’ve been to Bangkok. But people from a squeeky clean, white Marin suburb. . .

“Uh, do Keith and Christine know what AsiaSF is all about?”

“Well, I asked Christine if she knew anything about the restaurant and she said she’d heard it was Asian Fusion.”

Well, yes, you could put it that way.

As we negotiated traffic and the rain, running late to our reservations, we suddenly got a text from Christine: “This place is BIZARRE!”

Andy turned to me, “This is going to be one interesting evening.”

We were greeted at the restaurant by a thumping disco beat, crowds of Britney and K-Fed wanna-bees, what looked like several raucus bachlorette and birthday parties in progress and, yes, lots of Gender Illusionists. They aren’t confined to the floorshow, they’re an integral part of the scene. They seat you, they take your order and they try to get you to drink a shot from between their silicone breasts. But more on that later.

All in all, the floorshows weren’t that spectacular. Every fifteen minutes or so, one of our Gender Illusionists would get up on the bar and lipsynch to some loud song like “I Love Rock and Roll”. But again, if you’ve been to Bangkok, it takes something really inventive — perhaps involving ping-pong balls — to really amaze you.

At last, an older heavier Gender Illusionist got up and actually sang. She channeled Judy Garland by way of Marlene Dietrich through several standards that she cleverly changed to exploit all the double entendres. She was fabulous. Or as she probably would have said: “Fab YOU LOS!”

As for the lipsychers, I got a little bored after the third one and started watching the floor show put on by the people who had paid to get in.

Two things I’ve honed in twenty years of living in San Francisco: my Gaydar and my ability to spot the Bridge and Tunnel Crowd with one quick sweep around the room. Seems there were a lot of people over from the East Bay ready to expand their horizons — but weren’t really batting for the other team. Or at least hadn’t been issued the jersey. I watched one Britney Spears wanna-bee who was trying to tongue-kiss anything that moved. She really gave experimentation the old college try, but I doubted she’d remember anything about it the following morning. So in my book: doesn’t really count.

I must have been more bored than I thought I was, because I started fixating on the Britney and K-Fed style hats everyone under 32 seemed to be wearing. I don’t really follow Britney’s styles, but I do remember wondering why she and K-Fed were always wearing hats that I’ve seldom seen on anyone but 80 year old golfers. In fact, I think other than Britney and K-Fed, the last person I can think of who constantly sported this kind of topper was Bing Crosby. How did this get to be a trend? Who decided this looks good?

Besides the endless food for thought this scene gave me, there was one other experience that I could only have found in a loud cabaret filled with silicon-implanted Asian transsexuals. Andy got so involved in being low profile when a one double DD “ladyboy” was trying to find volunteers to drink a frosty shot out of her cleavage that he did something no former English public school boy would ever do. Even if you put a gun to his head.

He completely forgot himself and ate a full side dish of BEETS. I’ve got it on film for documented proof since this story would never be believed back in Surrey.

The moral of the story: next time, we choose the restaurant.