Fame And (Mis)Fortune!

I had no idea whatsoever about the torrent of copycat infiltrators Jake Ricker was subjected to at what would mark the forced conclusion of his Golden Gate Bridge project. I can well understand wanting to see him in action, congratulate him, engage in conversation and possibly learn from him- but I just can't even begin to contemplate what was going through these people's minds that they would willingly try to copy his photographs... directly in his presence! How does one even begin to make sense of that- the audacity, ignorance and sheer impudence of such an act? How do their minds (not) work- somehow, someway thinking they can magically glom on to his hard earned work, talent and recognition simply by trying to directly imitate him... right next to him!?! How dishearteningly surreal is that- particularly at such a world famous venue which is both so uniquely public and yet singularly isolated? We're such an utterly flawed species...

Hope he eventually gets his well deserved book deal!

The Unrelenting Universe...

Photo: © Stan B.

Through The Past / Into The Future...

I don't particularly enjoy viewing images of myself, but I do love viewing images and memories of the places I've been. Curiously all of these images were made stateside- haven't been abroad in twenty years, or on a road trip in over five! Taken and compiled by 'The Wife' (Thank You!), it's curious to see the sad, few vestigial hairs upside my head in '05/'06. Look closely, one can also note the evolution between old school Nikons and Fujifilm (X-T1) in hand- with ever so brief Widelux and GR cameos. And you'll never see me in shorts again- take that to the bank! Anyway, do plan on getting back on the road before checking out...

Plenty to do this new year: edit and organize my old (and damaged) B&W analog negs, and my new digital, color files, re-edit some previous essays, put together some new ones, and try, try, try to get some of it seen... somewhere! Once that's done in a year/year and a half (all estimates guesstimated) I'm then free to ponder where I'm gonna live out the remainder. You can purchase a house somewheres in the Texas Panhandle for $40,000- that's minus the shotgun and other home security hardware you'll most assuredly need. I'm already paying a whopping $1,500 a month for a 'mini-studio' (emphasis on mini) in SF, and being that it's a post 1967 building- it's not rent stabilized (that's the law here)! NYC's every bit as expensive, but a bigger apartment in Spain would be considerably less, with easily accessible train service to the rest of Europe- maybe time to polish up mi Espanol... 

People keep asking, "What's it like being retired?" Can't deny breathing a whole lot easier not having to answer to most anyone, not having to live on a goddang clock, coupled with the feeling that you finally have all the time in the world- just a tad ironic when you're just around the corner from not having any left... permanently! Hey, is what it is- gotta make the most of it like anything else, especially when the little I have is so much more than so many the world over have to call their own.

Happy Holidays!

Photo: © Stan B.

Everyone likes to, wants to think that everyone is having the best possible holiday season imaginable, and I'm sure many good folks are despite whatever circumstances they may find themselves in. But... It's also good to keep in mind, those who can't: Palestinians who have been whack-a-moled across the land being stolen from under their very feet as they're repeatedly sent scurrying hither and yon, purposely targeted, bombed, shot and dismembered sometimes literally for laughs; Ukrainians wondering daily if they'll be obliterated in their very bedrooms before the morning sun shines anew, and the people of Sudan whose stories never even reach us, except to hear that their bodies are being collected to be dumped in mass graves by those who slaughtered them for no sane reason.

And even in the land where gifts are exchanged that we neither need, nor lack, there are still those amongst us in very real need- Just a Christmas thought...

San Francisco Mystery Photos!?

This shouldn't be a mystery forever, I mean, should be someone left around town who can identify who took these. Hey, I should be so lucky- the most important thing is that the work lives on....

The Perfect Slice!

Photo: © Sean Poremba

Pizza was a way of life in old school NY- 15¢ a slice plus 10¢ for a small coke (mid-sixties)... yeah, you read right (subway an additional 15¢- OW)! Now, I ain't got nuthin' against a good taco, but good (cheap) pizza was what I grew up on, it was the universal lunch or dinner food when ya didn't have much scratch. Practically every neighborhood back in the day had a coupla good (ie- really good) pizza joints- now, it's hard to find good pizza by the slice most anywhere... even in NYC! And with all the miserable pizza chains that have proliferated, most people have no (and I mean no) idea what good pizza even looks like, let alone tastes like! Some of the stuff I've personally seen passed off as "pizza" is simply unconscionable...

So yeah, the last 20+ years have been a bit rough here in SF- at first, I figured I could find a decent slice somewhere in North Beach, the traditional Italian section. No such luck! I once sampled a slice at a new place that opened there a few years back- looked great, took a bite, not bad, took a second, what the... they put spaghetti sauce on pizza!?! Who does such a thing!?!?! 

Most places now a day don't even serve pizza by the slice, gotta get a whole freakin' pie, and granted, the quality at some restaurants can sometimes even rise to... mediocre. But what if you don't want a whole goddamn pie? What if you just want a couple of slices for lunch, ya know, so ya don't pass out on a park bench mid-day somewhere as we old farts tend to do... 

Last year, I did find a place that serves exceptional whole pizzas (Pizza Hacker- yeah, the name does not inspire confidence)- alas, it's on the other side of town. But this year, this year I found... the exception- PIZZA PONTE! Now, it's true I have to jump on the train and go under the bay to the city of Oakland just to imbibe... but this is the real deal- a true blue New York slice at its very finest!!!

Bought a regular cheese slice and it looked picture perfect, garnished with a basil leaf and gently shaved cheese. But screw the adornments, if it don't taste right... I pick it up, fold the center starting from the back and I hear and feel the bottom of the crust crack just so- a heart warmingly good sign! Take my first bite, and then another, and another- everything is in perfect harmony: sauce, cheese, crust... everything working together as it should to form the greater good! And you actually look forward with glee to eating the outer crust! I then order a pepperoni slice- oh, yeah! And I'm left contemplating a third... My friend had a Sicilian slice, which are thicker and rectangular (not to be confused with Chicago deep slice shit), said it was not the least bit heavy or doughy... Next time, a Sicilian and a regular slice it is- and I won't be left wanting (or passing out). Yeah, this is well worth the train ride!!!

I'll Take It!

Photo: © Stan Banos

Was on my way to one of those uniquely San Franciscan affairs called "The Brides of March," where everyone and their mom (and dad) dress up as a bride. It was a drop dead gorgeous day and a fun spoof, but with all the mugging and posing, I not surprisingly ended up with a lotta almosts, or worse.* I knew my recent keepers going to and from work during the recent weeks were no doubt gonna balance out with a string of weekend failures. Least, always seems to work that way...

Anyway, on the way home, I had the privilege of running into none other than The Honorable Dr. Sun Yat Sen. And he more than willingly posed quite patiently in the open shade for a rather handsome documentary shot (XT-1, 14mm).

*BTW- My original GR w/flash was a lot more valuable than my Q, with all those blazing white bridal gowns in the sunlight! Hope the GR IV returns its rightful flash- hopefully, I won't be in the market for one, but it really comes in quite handy for sunlight fill!

Digital Dyslexia

I'll spare you the concurrent woes of my dental, parental and prostate woes- cause who the freak wants to hear it! So...

After ten or so years, it was time to replace ye ol' desktop- especially since Windows 11 would no longer be supported on it. So I got me a sleek, little Dell at a good price, uploaded my battle weary PS Elements 9 on it and- Boom, lights out! He just wasn't getting up... Lugged it over to the Amazon return center (as instructed), where I was curtly told they wouldn't accept it- could only return to UPS! This was after the repair man never showed, as scheduled. I'll spare you the details of the Amazon return and Dell repair phone calls- let's just say I indubitably made it unto two more training recordings...

I calibrated my monitor on the new, new desktop with a new Datacolor Spyder (my old Spyder 4 also wouldn't take to W11) and it's not quite the same... brightness, color and contrast a bit off, so do I adjust incrementally on my monitor- and have everyone else in the world adjust accordingly? Was it wrong before and right now, or vice versa?!? Or does it all even out in the long run? Damned if I know, so I'm corresponding with Mr. Datacolor Customer Service in Switzerland as to what to make of it.  Meanwhile, Windows 11 has moved everything around enough to make it that much harder to find and locate anything, as any proper update should do- and now for The Biggest Wrench in the whole shebang... what photo editing software do I now proceed with? 

The plan was to get (and learn) a serious, adult photo editing software (as opposed to my juvenile Elements version of Photoshop) upon retirement end of this year when I actually have the time and calmness of mind. Curious how many a photographer complains how overly complex camera menus are- but never a word about ever so much more complex photo editing software!?! I don't need more than1/10 of 'em, can't understand more than 1/10 of 'em, can't bear to look at any more than 1/10 of any of 'em, and yet, I'm cornered into procuring something so utterly complex and exorbitantly priced! Lightroom seems the current tried and true, but apparently not all that good with Fujifilm files; Capture One does Fuji best but either one is akin to learning a foreign language. The latter has a free, more moderately featured program specifically for Fuji I've yet to try (for fear of proving my ineptitude even with the simpler program), but I'd still need something for my Q and GR files. Which means I'll probably go back (at least in the meantime) to using the latest, greatest version of PS Elements. I just got a free trial for a week, and that has changed so much in the intervening years (surprise!), I hardly recognize it and will have to retrain on that as well! And speaking of free trials- let's hear it for those three figure, yearly subscription rates, paid updates and renewal increases...

But why limit myself!? Afterall, there's: Affinity, Luminar Neo, Darktable, GIMP, DXO Photolab 8, Raw Therapee and on and on it goes... a veritable, never ending chain of intricate, labyrinthine interfaces each more brazenly convoluted and byzantine than the former. And my tiny, pea sized cranium short circuits each and every time I just glance at a distance. Mercy! I am truly gobsmacked by these photo editing marvels who can master any of the above to create images of such precision and wonder. And I'm left wondering, how did I ever create any images worth viewing with my paltry peasant's knowledge of a handful of the most basic of tools and workflows- which is all I freaking need! Don't need AI this and that, don't need to detach and replace people's heads, don't need vectoring gradient layer masks... I thought I might be able to logically, scientifically deduce which program would best suit my needs by reading the reviews, viewing the tutorials, listing the pros and cons in order of importance, value and ease. Instead, I surrender (yet again) with a migraine wishing 'em all into the cornfield. The Joy of Photography!

A Complete Unknowning

Never been a Dylan fanboy, but was curious about... the mystique. Why were so many who supposedly knew better (much better) reduced to Swiftian level mesmerization at the mere mention of his name? Are the legendary level lyrics superseding the barely proficient vocal ability and musical command enough to justifiably raise him to his godlike, mythical status? 

If ya asked me, he'd be just one of many stars in the universe of that particular time, stars of whose work I admire, love and respect to a much higher degree. But not here to argue, nor will A Complete Unknown answer or settle much of anything. What it does, is supply a decent scenario as to the time, background and circumstances that allowed the meteoric rise to occur. Actually, it doesn't even do that. In the film, Dylan arrives in NYC in his scraggily jeans and plaid shirt, spontaneously hooks up with the right people, who get him the right gigs, and practically overnight- studio, album... godlike fame! Who knew?!?

There's also a certain electrical problem, but I digress... If you're looking for insight, understanding, an insider's knowledge as to what made him tick and allowed him to set the scene afire- ain't gonna happen. The movie succeeds in the performances. Timothy Chalamet is utterly convincing in portraying the young upstart center of the universe- as convincing as anyone could possibly portray a person completely unknown to everyone including himself.* BTW, Edward Norton is every bit as incredulously convincing as Pete Seeger,** a completely transparent human being, the polar opposite of Dylan. Interestingly, one does get some measure of the intricacies in the love/hate/mutual respect tennis match between Dylan and Baez (another name startingly portrayed). Curiously, we also learn how Dylan and Johnny Cash formed their mutual admiration society! And alas, as in most biopics, a good amount of the scenarios portrayed did not actually happen as depicted... 

Recommended? Absolutely! Although there's one more thing I'd sure like to know- how did the scruffy looking vagabond from '61 evolve into one of fashion's ultimate Mod icons by '65?

*One thing I'll always give Dylan props for was when Ed Bradley of 60 Minutes fame asked him how on earth he thought up his (Nobel winning) lyrics, to which he responded that they literally wrote themselves as if dropped from the ether. Which in my mind only supports the hypothesis that our brains are merely the individual receivers of a mutual mass consciousness, not its individual creator. If you listen to many of his 'interviews,' you'd swear Dylan got a body double and instructed him to say (or mumble) whatever he liked- no matter what would fall out of the imposter's mouth, it would be greeted with unparalleled gravitas... Listen to interviews of Malcolm X or Edward Snowden- you immediately sense you are in the presence of pure, unabated intellect. Listen to Dylan and it's pure... WTF?

**Much as I respect the guy, there's a banjo twangling 24/7 in the background of my particular version of hell.

Ricoh GR Sensor Cleaning

A poet & he don't know it!      Photo: © Stan Banos

My GR stopped cold a few weeks back while taking the simple snap above- screen just went dead! Found the place to repair it ($274) with a "free cleaning" thrown in. Then thought, why not send in my first, 'retired GR' (well worn, but still works- just needs a sensor cleaning). Precision Camera (authorized Ricoh repair center) wanted the same price just for the cleaning, which true, is still cheaper than a brand new GR3 (if ya can actually get one)- still, it just rubbed me the wrong way. C'mon, make it an even $250 at least- throw me a bone! So I said thank you- no thank you! Which was really kinda stupid 'cause... it's still way cheaper than even buying a used one in Exc Cond- cause even that one's gonna have dust too! 

But what really influenced my no go position was... I stumbled upon this video, and sure enough, idiot that I am, psyched myself up that, yeah, sure, I can do that- and it's the exact-same-thing that the repair guy's gonna do! Except I can do it for absolute... FREE! Except he can do it in his sleep cause he's done it a thousand trillion times, and all I'm gonna do is open it up (if I can get that far), and drop, tear or break something- which at least will spare me from having to not be able to put the whole damn thing back together again!

Too embarrassed to send it back again now anywho. If I can only find the proper sized screwdriver! Say what? Yeah, this'll make a good... retirement project end of next year- a nice relaxing holiday project.

PS- For you GR3 guys.

Photo: © Stan Banos

(Photographic) Year In Review

Photo: © Stan Banos

Well, must say I did way, way better in procuring new images this year than I had dared think possible- all in a city now bereft of over half its downtown population and services (no joke). I actually managed to get fifty genuine keepers this year, which amazes me more than anyone- a guy who for decades struggled for 2-3-4 per year (if lucky)- while living in NYC no less! I'd like to think it's because of a heightened sense of urgency (mortality looms), but I'm trying no harder now than at any other time previous! In part, it's the annual photo op events held here, but maybe this whole color thing agrees with me more than I realize, don't know; whatever it is, just hope it continues- cause I can't continue being this lucky indefinitely...

That said, I didn't exactly succeed at getting any of it actually... seen- ya know, the whole bleepin' purpose of photography! Send it out and it gets sent back in your face... This year I really got creative in the self abuse arena- I actually started sending out the pdf for my zine/wanna be book Broken City! which I'm fairly pleased with. I like making books/zines, and that was a particular challenge trying to corral a whole bunch of loosely related issues into one coherent storyline- using nothing but pictures. Think I kinda pulled it off, least, like to think so... 

I do miss having (not so much making, but having) actual prints though, it's where photography ultimately shines, as in- show me what ya got, close up and personal! Rich, sensual, satisfying, the ultimate culmination of everything that went into pressing that shutter- all the hope, dreams and potential made flesh despite every technical, personal and aesthetic problem that stood in the way! 

The end of 2025 will also pose new possibilities (and problems) for sure- retirement! Never done it. More time to go out on the road promoting my: books, prints, exhibits and speaking/lecture tours, uh-huh. Which reminds me... all those authors, actors and artists with the nerve to actually moan and groan about having to go out and promote their work on (a paid) tour- a pox on the whole lot of 'em...

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

PS- Saw that poster a half hour previous in a poorly lit locale, carefully untaped and walked about some seeing if I could find it a better venue. The gasoline station seemed worth a try, so I retaped and shot away. The guy on the left center emerged from his gasoline hut to see what the hell I was doing- looked at it, looked at me, and walked on back. Didn't realize how well the blue tape complemented the blue stripes of the station till I got home.

Love/Hate...

Photo: © Stan Banos

Wish I could be so unabashedly, unashamedly proud of my body as the person pictured above. You know, comfortable in your own skin so to speak; just able to let it all hang out and let everyone else deal with any consequent visual dilemma, as perhaps it should be. I dunno. Fine for some, and I really kinda admire them, even though it sorta grosses me out at the same time- and it's just as much my own reflection of self, as of anyone else. But then, isn't life just chockful of these walking/waking contradictions...

Ya see, back in the day, growing up, everyone knew where they ranked on the physical attractiveness/social standing scale- fat people, skinny people, hot, smart, athletic, etc. Sure beauty was still in the eye of the beholder, but ya couldn't talk, fool, bargain your way out of your generally agreed upon classification. I mean, if you were borderline, you could gain a few points and raise your social strata if you were somehow stylishly cool and wore it well. But even most of those attempts were doomed to hideously crash and burn. Nature's just so damn hard to upend, most people just grew into their physical destiny, and learned to deal with what society and their bodies dealt them. 

Shit's different nowadays, it started towards the very end of the 20th century. I remember watching Oprah one afternoon; a doctor was describing the dangers of obesity: high blood pressure, heart disease, diabetes, shortened life span and a myriad of other symptoms and diseases. And then what seemed like the very next day (could have been a week, month or year- I wasn't a regular viewer) there were all these people celebrating how big they were, how large they were, how it was AOK to love, love, love yourself no matter what size you were- it was all good! Five-two and 325? You're good girl- and fine too! Talk about mixed messages...

Then there were the new class of young-uns, overweight or not, who were now presenting themselves as absolute physical paradigms, as being all that, when they very much weren't, not even close! Their origin story didn't matter: blue bloods, inner city, suburbs, trailer parks, black or white, fat or thin, male, female, or... Thing was, they weren't trying to fool themselves, or anyone else- they actually believed it! Delusion's a whole lot easier than a well grounded acceptance of self or anything resembling a more rational societal reset. Everyone a Supasta!

Ironically, to this day, parents still complain that their overweight child is teased and bullied at school. Really? Today, when obesity is practically the norm across this country and rapidly spreading throughout the 'developed' world except in the absolute poorest of countries? I hate bullies, and no one should be body shamed! But if your kid is being bullied today- dollars to doughnuts, it's something more than just the extra pounds. And it's always good to find out why, before they indulge in the other prevalent obsession of our day- procuring assault weapons.

Watch Where You're Going!

Previously, I wrote about tripping and falling spectacularly on an uneven sidewalk (while looking elsewhere other than where I was walking)- something that can be an occupational hazard for a photographer. It was only after I wrote that particular post that I recalled that the exact same thing occurred a few years before under similar circumstances! That time, my camera and I were spared a slightly softer landing (with no less shock) because I happened to land on mother earth after my foot landed in a hole some ten inches wide by 5 inches deep. Needless to say, the possible danger of these occurrences increases with age.

And so, I pass on this blatantly obvious but sage advice- 

Watch Where You're Going!!! 

What I Sacrifice For Art!

Painting: © Niko         Photo: © Stan Banos

So I'm walking back home after a mostly* fruitless photowalk this Sunday. And I'm two blocks from home walking through a small park that was recently renovated. Now, I've seen good renovations, and bad- this was the latter. Previously, South Park (near downtown San Francisco) was like the little park that time forgot. Generally unmanicured and as 'wild' a park as one city block long by one half block wide could possibly get. But neither was it abandoned nor garbage strewn. I loved it... 

The renovation featured a nice upgrade of a small playground, but then they created a wide curving sidewalk right through the middle that covers half the damn park- there's enough concrete and sidewalks outside the park!

Anyway, I'm still looking around as one is apt to do on a photowalk and my foot lands right between the edge of the sidewalk and the lower grass area. Down I go- this wasn't a slo-mo, uh-oh I'm losing my balance fall. This was a BOOM! shot by a shotgun immediate deadfall... I couldn't believe how hard and fast I went down- no ice, no banana peel (yeah, I've done both)! And a split, split second after I hit the ground HARD, I hear my camera hit- HARD! My mighty weekend warrior, my one and only L-E-I-C-A! 

Hell, I'm probably headed to the ER, and even worse, my dream camera is dead after a year and a half. Anyway, I usually spring right up when something like this happens- but I thought discretion the better part of valor in this instance, and I decided to stay down for the count to assess my remains, and I sure as shit didn't wanna look at my strewn about camera innards... Finally, no sharp pains and I slowly rise as my body supports its own weight- looks like I escaped major damage! Now, I turn to the camera and the part that didn't hit is fine, of course- and the side that did take the brunt of the impact, also seems... OK?

The pants may be fugly- but they saved the day!

The bottom of the camera had its pants on (ie- its leather half case) and the bottom of said case is rimmed with thick aluminum that had absorbed the majority of the impact. The case bottom was markedly scratched, but the camera itself was unscathed and seemed in good working order! The Leica lens hood, which can double as armor on a Tiger tank, while scratched on the bottom, was unbent and unbowed! This was the second time one of my cameras has miraculously survived a fall to concrete- the first time was completely my fault when I haphazardly placed my Fujifilm in my bag without securing it, and slide on out it did. And once again, the lens hood and thumb grip saved the day, although both of those were good and deformed. 

*I did manage to get a snapshot of what I'm calling the best art show of the year- the portrait above by an anonymous painter (named Niko) on the side of a vacant restaurant put a much needed smile on my face! And hell, I did get a good shot just the previous Friday coming home from work with my GR.  All in all, a bit sore for damn sure, but (fortunately) not the worst weekend.

The Promised Land

 

What a joy it was to see this film! Bleak, barren, unforgiving... That is what we must endure throughout the vast majority of this film that depicts a life as unforgiving as the very soil that our protagonist must somehow tame and cultivate. And then there's Mads, the Nordic, thinking man's version of Charles Bronson. 

And, of course, you sit your butt down and wait for him to set things right- and wait, and wait, and wait... But every little particle of hope that is so meagerly vetted out is met with an avalanche of oppression and despair. You begin to doubt a decision making process that seems to yield only more pain and woe. Maybe he's just more stubborn, than wise.  But in the end, he finally does achieve what he originally dreamed- only to throw it all away to regain that which made the journey worthwhile... 

Origin

 

Origin is director Ava Duvernay's riff on Caste: The Origins Of Our Discontents by Isabel Wilkerson (played by Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor). It's not quite what I expected as a film, which is a pretty dumb thing to say since I had no idea what to expect going in. The film certainly does touch one emotionally,* but most of all, it challenges you to... think.

Isabel Wilkerson's thesis is that what we take for granted as racism in America is actually a system of caste. Not everyone buys in, but she makes quite the compelling case, and I think it has a lot going for it, even if, the end result is just a rose by any other name. Wow, that was the shortest summation dismissal possible- which is why you really have to read the book/see the movie!

Slavery, systematic racism, critical race theory, segregation, Anti-Semitism, Jim Crow, colorism, caste, class... all the aforementioned have their place in said discussion. But the movie also goes further, or perhaps I should say detours into... the writing process, life itself and how one perseveres through it all- while experiencing the loss of your: spouse, mother and best friend.

Wilkerson closely studies the caste system in India, the Holocaust in Nazi Germany along with racism in the good ol' US of A. And I do love the analogy she uses when confronting those who proclaim, Well I didn't own any slaves! No, you damn well didn't, and no one's saying you did. But it's like growing up in a house that shelters you, protects you, and also comes with its own faults: leaky plumbing, roof that needs mending, etc, etc. You might not even have been around when those problems started showing, but they're your problems now- and you acknowledge the good with the bad, and deal with the problems you may not have created, but nonetheless have to address. Yeah, damn good analogy- what should simply be called common sense, what so many Americans today actively refuse to even contemplate, let alone practice...

*if seeing that human beings have to clean out human refuse by going into pits unprotected and up to their very necks in it for a scant daily living in the very same year that we have assholes walking the streets donning $4,000 computer goggles doesn't affect you...

Strangers Amongst Us

Photo: © Stan Banos

Past coupla years I've been going to this annual "Pro-Life" protest held in (of all places)... San Francisco. Yeah, I guess they know they can't get away with a Pro Trump rally here, so this is a pretty good thumb in the eye nonetheless, as they pull in on their chartered buses. I've said what I've had to say on this already: politically, morally, legally; it's one where there's truly no right or wrong, far as I'm concerned- exactly why it should be left to the determination of the person it concerns most.

Photographically, there's ample subject matter here- but I'm damn lucky if I can even get one keeper. They're definitely a different breed than the usual demonstrations I photograph (and personally relate to), and they present a much different visual style and context as well! One thing is that many of these people smile when you attempt a photograph, which instantly negates anything you attempt. I don't think my particular visual and photographic style jives with this crowd. Perhaps individual B&W portraits is more the order of the day here, although I have no real incentive or inspiration to do that at the moment- much as I had none to engage these good folk (I mean that earnestly) in conversation, as I had the previous year (perhaps it was the weather)...

Identity Crisis

There's not a lot I can say is uniquely my own- truly, uniquely, my own. At the very least- I had my name. Sure, my first name, though hardly popular (for good reason), is presumably still out there in various nooks and crannies- but together with the last, ain't no one, nowhere gonna have that combo! And then I ran into the guy below... Now, I full well understand that "Stanley" is of Polish origin, and it's odd enough that someone of Latino origin ended up with that first name- but how the hell did a Pole (from Poland!) of any time period end up with an Hispanic surname? Weird- very, very weird...

Transition

Joseph Craanen, RIP

A few weeks ago 'round about Xmas, I found out a former client of mine was in hospital; a true gentle giant of a man, not a mean bone in his entire body, a body now wracked with cancer. Teachers and caretakers are quick to opine that it is we who learn from our students, our charge; it sounds incredibly high minded and altruistic (it's meant to), but truth be told- it's not quite always the case. I was taken aback when Joseph calmly stated that he knew he was dying, knew that nothing could be done, taken aback by the same amazing degree of grace and dignity I had seen him display throughout his life. You can't teach that to anyone, disabilities or not.

One day when I went to visit, he had been taken out for some tests, and not knowing what to do, I resorted to doing what I usually do in an area I'm not that familiar with, I went out and walked about the neighborhood. Excelsior is a working class neighborhood on the outer periphery of San Francisco. It's where I took the two snaps below, bodies in transition, as are we all...

Photos: © Stan Banos

Everyone Deserves Their Snoop...

Photo: © Stan Banos

It was a freakishly warm day as the temperature broke ninety in the city by the bay which somehow continues to defy the worldwide onslaught of manmade climate change, while slowly rotting from within. In a town where one must wear a light jacket no matter the time of day or month of the year, I felt as if the only man alive who savored a good evening's heat. Walking home from Henry Horenstein's presentation, I savored the night air walking about in a short sleeved button down shirt, stogie in hand. I remembered hot summer evenings in New York with friends, sitting on a park bench beer in hand- the entire city your living room. I remembered first moving to San Francisco, the promise of love and a new life. And although no longer young, in the warm night air, I remembered youth. Everyone deserves their snoop...