Do Better At This

This keeps happening to me and I walk away from these encounters shaking my head disappointed and feeling/wishing I had handled it much different.  The other day a woman was walking up 7th, away from skid row towards downtown. She looked to be about 30, and was carrying a blanket.  Probably her only possession. I was waiting for a bus and she caught my eye, I think because her eyes looked clear and for lack of a better word, sane.

There seems to be various levels of sanity on the street.  Some people I pass are not only talking to themselves, but involved in a heated discussion with thin air.  Others seem almost normal, clear eyed, lucid and can carry on "normal" conversation.  Not that I would know what that's like myself.  Of course I'm completely ignorant on the mental condition of the homeless. These are just observation and conjecture. I couldn't tell you if time is what makes the difference between being almost completely gone or just one click removed from having a roof over ones head and watching television.

I was wearing sunglasses but I think she could tell I was looking at her eyes.  She slightly diverted course and said something like "Can you spare a quarter to catch the Dash"  The Dash is a line of small buses that run around downtown for only 50 cents. "I just don't want to walk all the way uptown"  Me:  "Honestly, if I had it I would." This was not a lie, I didn't have any change in my pocket.  "It's OK honey"  she said with a smile and kept walking.
The second after the words came out of my mouth I regretted it.  I had my metro link ticket so I was not paying for any bus fair for the whole day, but I also had my TAP card and could have easily just paid the 50 cents for her bus ride.  But I didn't.  It's not that she was starving and in great need, but what the hell, I can afford to give someone a bus ride.  Why not.

My instant reaction upon being asked for anything on the street is NO.  I don't know you, I don't trust you.  You are probably just scamming me for money and it's my money.  I always regret feeling this way and worse acting this way. This is a bad habit I want to break.

This morning, a friend had come to stay with me in LA and after the required early morning Starbucks visit, we walked down Broadway towards the impressive Eastern Building that glowed in the early morning light.  As we approached the lobby, which many times has a doorman, there was a man laying on the ground. He asked me something which my brain instantly converted into a plea for money.  "No" he said "I just want help getting up"  This was not a scam, he was a mess, soaked in urine and clothes that were caked in dirt.  Mentally he was not gone but physically he was a mess, and very weak.  I went over and tried to help him up, it was not easy, he was stiff and weak.  As soon as I got him off the ground and on his two feet he started to go over again and I caught him before he smacked into the ground.  I didn't know what to do, he was now closer to the curb and I got his wet blanket and covered him with it.  "Do you want me to call someone" I asked.  "No, they'll just take me to county" he said.  He seemed clear headed, just weak.

I have a list of excuses, I was with a friend, I didn't want the police or paramedics messing with him.  He'd be fine.  But as I walked away I felt heartbroken and horrible.  He needed help and I didn't help him.  As we got down the block I looked back and he was on his feet walking very slowly down the street. As we packed up to head back to Orange County we put all the leftover food and some cookies into a shopping bag and we went back to see if we could give him the food but of course he was gone and nowhere to be found.

I always rail on this countries ridiculous war on the poor, how we blame them for everything from financial collapse and national debt to high insurance rates. And yet when faced with it, I react the same way.  This card carrying liberal did nothing when another human being needed my help.  I need to do better at this, I will do better at this.

Lamp Posts and Surprises

Some moments catch me by surprise and those are the best. The afternoon light at the Orange train station yesterday around 2 PM was soft and warm and dramatic. Like a good woman.  Without the Nikon heavy artillery I was forced to use the camera on my Droid.  The results are noisy and less than stellar but worth sharing anyway.

Chapman University tore down an old warehouse structure to build another self aggrandizing building.  I was really bummed when the old rusted tower came down.  To my surprise and their credit, they kept the rusted panels and are reattaching them to the new structure. Who knew they have a soul.

I can't explain it, but this is one of my favorite views, sitting on a bench on the train platform. I've drawn this scene often. The clouds were a real treat and added a sense of drama to the old industrial space and lamp post.

The lamp posts around the train station are beautiful, especially when the backdrop is electrical wires and clouds.  All aboard!

The Bates Motel on Sunset

Sundays are nice downtown.  Quiet, only locals walking around at a more relaxed pace.  After sleeping in a bit, I scurried down to the Starbucks on 6th and Spring to grab the Sunday times and sip a grande. Sundays are a big day for film crews downtown.  Much less traffic and noise.  I made my way through a big crowd of interesting looking people and traffic cones when I realized I was about to walk through a set of big cameras.  A friendly guy said, "It's OK you can walk through" I turned and smiled but continued my roundabout path.  I'm sure it would be OK because these people are never really filming anything, they just stand around 99% of the time.  It's funny to see.  As I sat at the window in Starbucks and read the paper I could see the same people standing on their same marks the whole time across the street.  The life of an extra.  For a ten second flash of a scene in a commercial, it must take a half a day of prep and standing time.  Maybe they are waiting for magnificent light. Somehow it's still exciting to see.  I can't imagine a cooler job; except maybe being a pirate.

Yesterday's adventure was by design.  I took the Red Line train to Sunset and Vermont with the plan of walking back downtown along Sunset Boulevard.  I usually plan these things a little better but as I got underfoot I realized I had forgot to bring my umbrella.  The clouds looked dark and showers were in the forecast.  I also had not treated the small blister I got from wearing dress shoes to the interview the other night.  I was worried but I couldn't seem to make myself turn around.

As I got off the subway and made my way to street level, another traveler asked me which way was east. Good question. I keep forgetting to download a compass app for my Droid.  We kinda figured it out and each headed our merry way.

About 10 minutes down Sunset and I hit the jackpot.  An abandoned motel covered in graffiti and surrounded by barbed wire.  It was beautiful. An epic statement on man's desire to creatively mark his territory and proudly express his unique name... on somebody else's shit.  Oh how I wish I had a time lapse of what was once a brand new motel as it devolved (evolved?) into beautiful chaos.  The notorious motel has the nickname of "Bates Motel" because it's near Bates Avenue and it's creepy. Yah, creepy beautiful. According to local lore, at the turn of this century is was full of drug dealers, hookers, murders and IT recruiters.  I found an article in the LA Times dated 2002; the locals were all terrified of what when on there and a judge ordered the owner to fix up the place. I believe it was shut down in 2003.  So what you see now is 10 years worth of decay.  A very rare sight these days.

The rest of my walk down Sunset was coffeehouses and vegan restaurants through Silver Lake with a few interesting bars and not much else.  The light was gray and muted, but it was still a good two hour walk with a few spots to add to the list of places to stand; when the light is magnificent.

What You're Going to Get

I know I've been a little complainy lately, but really it's not all that bad in LA. Here is why I like living in the urban.  You never know what your going to get.... Forrest.  Today, in my desire to get out of my shoe box size apartment, and outside of my own fucked up cluttered head, I decided to take a walk to Grand Hope Park.  For those of you not hip to the DTLA scene, it's the premier babe watching spot in the city.  This is because of it's intimate proximity to the Fashion Institute for Design and Merchandising.  To put it bluntly, it's a babe fest.  All the women going in and out of FIDM are hot, and not surprisingly, dressed to the nines. When I need a pick me up, I head there.  And even if I'm not, it's one of the few green spaces in DTLA.  Sometimes it's not just the scenery, it's the scenery.  So about noon I head out the front door of the Huntington Apartments with my camera and sketch pad in hand.  But never one to take the direct route anywhere, what's the fun in that, I decide to head south towards the Fashion District before looping back towards babe-land.

I had made a slight probing walk towards that area about a week ago and it peaked my curiosity.  Here's the thing about downtown; in any given direction, any street, any block, it can be so different from the next block over.  7th is so different from 8th, and Los Angeles Street is so different from Main.  One is borderline hipsterville, the other is skid row. When you're a downtown rookie, like me, you never know what your going to get, so you tread lightly.  Today I ended up on an adventure.

If you Google the Fashion District it's about a half a block from my apartment. But after my walk today I would say it's heartbeat is really Santee Alley off of Olympic.  For blocks in any direction it's the fabric capitol of the world.  I have never been in a place with more bolts of fabric in my life.  Blocks and blocks of stores with hundreds and hundreds of bolts of wildly colorful fabric.  You have to walk it to believe it.  I shot 4 GB worth of photos, it was so wonderfully colorful and unique.  I tried to get a shot of the inside of some of the stores but, I'm not kidding, everyone of them had a guy standing outside with a stick.  In my LA security guard paranoia I was convinced that if I asked anyone of them if I could take a picture they would just start hitting me with the stick.  I mean why would they all have a stick in their hand unless to whack photographers.  

After the breathtaking walk through fabricland, I walked up 11th towards Staples Center and the park. Each street is such a treat in the urban.  I had never heard of the Mayan Theater, but there it was off of 11th and Hill, and amazing.  Pick a direction and just walk, you'll be amazed at what you get.

Fashion, Santee Alley and the Mayan Theater (now a night club)

Learning The Look

OK, I've been here on and off for three weeks and I think I have the look down.  Here's what you do.  In passing someone in the hallway of the Huntington Apartments, do not make eye contact.  Pretend there is not another human being heading your way.  If you have a mobile phone (haha) make sure you're looking down at the device and are texting somebody, anybody, doesn't matter.  Now if your phone is buried in your shoulder bag or low on juice, and you mistakenly look at the other person, don't panic.  I'm going to help you out here.  You must look at them with either the dead dolls eyes, cold and lifeless, or you give them a look of semi disgust, as if they just farted, who knows maybe they did.  Now if you cross paths with someone and they smile at you, that's a newbie, they must have just moved in within the last few weeks.  Don't worry they will quickly learn.  Oh, one last thing, if the person in the hall is over 40, you are allowed to both ignore them AND look disgusted at the same time.  Not required, but just to make sure they understand how much disdain you have for them.  Have a nice day bitches!

The Homeless Face

[I started writing this after my trip to the Pacific Northwest in the spring but didn't finish it until today.  But since I've moved downtown the central theme has raised it's conundral (made up word) head.  So here it is.]

I believe it was a Thursday in Vancouver.  I was killing time at a Starbucks, as I often do when I just need a place to sit and grab some WiFi.  Outside the front door was a homeless man; just standing.  He looked to be in his late 60's, long grey beard, and a look that made me believe he had been on the street for a long time.  I contemplated asking him if I could take his picture for a few dollars. I even had the money in my pocket.  Something held me back, maybe it was my own shyness, or maybe something else.

One morning, about a week later in Seattle, I was sitting in another coffee shop. (It's what I do)  A thirty something man walked up and leaned against the wall just outside the door of the coffee shop.  He was ruggedly handsome and had clear eyes. At first I even wondered if he was even homeless or just interesting, but as I saw him pull off two mismatched gloves, one a cycling glove, the other what looked like a baseball batters glove, I assumed he was on the road.  He went through a side door and laid down to sleep on a bench where he would not be seen by the baristas.

I so badly wanted to take both men's photograph. At the time, it was a lack of gravitas that kept me from even asking.  But after I got home I began an internal debate that I still have not resolved.  Is it OK to take a photograph of these men, even if I pay them?  If I give them money they are in essence getting paid for their service, street models. It would appear to be a win/win. The subject gets much needed money for food or whatever.  And I get a photograph to use for art.  A photograph that could maybe inspire people or at least make some aware of this growing problem, not only in this country but everywhere.

Still, something feels wrong about the transaction.  Sure, artists pay models all the time, to pose for drawing practice or a painting.  Sometimes the models are even sans attire.  Likewise, the model may be desperate for funds; a college student or fellow artist who needs to make the rent or buy food.  So what's the difference.

Could it be that the homeless man is not just a starving artist, but might be in a desperate state and would do something they would rather not do for even a small amount of cash.  Does that level of need make a difference in the morality of me asking for them to pose and then making use of their image for artistic glory mediocrity. Is it akin to prostitution, where the one party is getting paid but looking at the ceiling and waiting for it to end.

And does distance make a difference.  If I take a picture of a man, sleeping on concrete across the street or down the block, is that OK?  If he is unrecognizable does it take the matter of dignity out of the equation.

I still don't know. For now at least, I do not take these type of photographs.  I may never.  This could change down the road, but for now when I weigh all the elements on a scale of dignity and compassion it just doesn't feel right.  For the time being I will draw the faces of these homeless men and women. The're just to beautiful to ignore.

Cat and Mouse

I'm slowly learning the ways of an LA photographer.  Quickness is not a virtue, it's a necessity.  Almost everywhere I have gone, I would classify as photographer unfriendly.  Asking the shopkeeper over by Santee if I could take a picture of his incredible shop of shiny middle eastern trinkets, "No."  The polite but insistent guard at a church on Broadway, converted from a glorious old movie house, "Sorry."  I can't even count the lobby's I have been turned away from as soon as the guard see's me swing around business end of the D600.

Today I went to visit my mom, and take a walk around her apartment in Korea town.  She's a block away from the historic Whilshire Bullocks, which is now a law library, but still holds a great deal of it's original charm. We worked our way around the back and went through a gate that didn't have a sign, towards what was once the entrance royale for the rich and famous of Los Angeles. Built in 1929, this place was the premier shopping destination for Hollywood legends like John Wayne, Clark Gable and Greta Garbo.  "I bet they kick us out within 30 seconds"  I was wrong, it only took 20 seconds for the guard to come up from the stairs below.  I got off two shots before being shown the door.

LA is awash in security guards.  Every lobby, every jewelry shop on Broadway, every hotel or micro-loft has a doorman with a walkie talky and a scowl.  Lets face it, the're bored and 99.9% of the time they have nothing to secure.  When they see me coming with a camera they salivate at the chance to earn their pay.  Finally, I can stop someone from doing something.  "Please pull out a camera, punk."

It's a little frustrating, but I'm going to approach it as a game of cat and mouse.  If I can get the shot from outside, I'll take it until I'm chased off. If I walk into a lobby, I'll have to work fast and get shots before being pepper sprayed.  Asking is out of the question.  I will need to work on changing my camera settings with ninja moves and cat like quickness.  The game is afoot!

One ninja shot, seconds from being ejected, the other the exterior on Whilshire

The Rialto

Saturday is different in the city.  It's quieter, slower, more relaxing.  I went in a different direction this morning on a quest to find a simple donut.  Not an artisian donut or a hybrid Donish (some sort of donut bred with a Danish I hear.)  I really didn't want anything to eat, but just a reason to walk around with my camera.  I suppose I could have done that without the excuse, but nobody's perfect.

I headed southeast of my place into the heart of the fashion district.  The early morning light in the city lasts a little bit longer than the suburbs because all the buildings keep the streets in shade and mute the rising sun. And of course somehow I still ended up on Broadway.  Broadway has such a magnetic pull that no matter were I'm heading, I still get pulled into it's vortex and end up excited by the sights and the light. I plan on doing a whole show (site) just on Broadway, but I want to get a lot of material before I put anything out.

I learned a valuable lesson, that at my age should not be a issue, but I guess it's one of those things I have to keep re-learning.  I was on Broadway around 6:30 a few nights ago and the falling light was perfect. They are doing a lot of development in many of these old Los Angeles classic buildings, but thankfully trying to keep the facades mostly intact.  The Rialto building looks to be an old movie theater that is undergoing heavy construction. The theater sign was a magnificent weather warn mix of blue's and pinks and decay.  I took about a half a dozen bracketed shots so I could make a stunning and award wining HDR shot; one that would make me the envy of my thirty five or so followers on G+.  There was a light pole running through the middle of the shot, but I figured I would come back another day and take a different angle.  Two days later the whole front of the building was whitewashed.  Whhhhyyyyyyyy?  Photography is life.

A doorway to a parking structure on Main, just south of 8th.

Die Hipster Die

If you find me sporting a few days stubble and inked up with some meaningless tattoo's and wearing a ridiculous rat pack style hat with a snarky attitude as I head towards Seattle.  You have my notarized permission to smoother me with a pillow.  Unless of course you yourself are a hipster.  Then all bets are off.

Italian Suits

I just walked into my deluxe closet sized apartment damp from sweat.  The walk from Union Station to 8th and Main was nice.  I choose the less polished more gritty Los Angeles street, over the hipster filled Spring, for the adventure of it and to see all the Italian suit makers open for business.  I love walking by the suit makers, every shop on the block has a guy standing near the entrance who looks like he is old school downtown LA.  Not DTLA as the young, and annoyingly hip, call it.  No these guys were here when downtown was rugged, almost brutal.  Makes me want to buy a suit, except I hope to never need one for the rest of my life.

It's a beautiful day.  This morning, as the sun was rising, I tested out the bus and Gold Line to Pasadena to see if I can seriously entertain taking a job out there.  I would have loved to spend most of the day walking around scouting photo spots, but duty calls.  Every single stinking call I get about a job asks the same question:  "Have any MVC and Entity Framework experience?"  My deep desire is to snap back with an angry "No, because both of them are stupid and I hate stupid"  But I know that stands me very little chance to get hired so I have the lame, "No, but I'm working on it."  Which I am and why I'm back in my apartment, learning stupid.

I know this blog is supposed to be about my journey to find the art in life, but for now it's been temporarily sidetracked by my rash decision to sign a 12 month lease in this downtown apartment.  It was originally pitched as a 6  month lease, which would have been a wonderful adventure, but at the last second I couldn't handle the curve ball.  Real apartments with a bathroom that do not require me to dress for company all required a 12 month commitment.  So here I am in what feels like a prison sentence.  The rough sketch plan is to enjoy LA, find a job, save some money, then head off on more adventures, specifically the photo journey to Cuba that I MUST take.

Meanwhile, LA is an amazing place for urban photography.  I could easily spend three months shooting Broadway alone.  Every turn is an interesting street and building.  Yesterday I went to the top of the City Hall building and got some great 360 photos of LA.  Views like this...