7X7 Adventures...

Photos: © Stan B.

Retirement, and the long daylight summer hours, continue to allow me the time to explore the nooks and crannies of this 7 square mile plot of land known as San Francisco. I've actually discovered places unknown to this East Coast transplant these past two decades, places like the non presumptuous Turtle Hill, which allows one the most panoramic view in all San Francisco- from the downtown skyline to the entirety of Golden Gate Park (20 acres larger than Central) to the Pacific Ocean itself... a spectacular vista from such an unassuming and unheralded viewpoint! 

One day I zigged instead of zagged in an area I had previously frequented and found myself in the neighborhood of... Sea Cliff, an area tantamount to a drug induced experience- LSD in the morning coffee! Most of San Francisco, no matter what the geographic or economic environment, has a certain rhythm and familiarity to it, particularly in its unique architecture. Sea Cliff left all that far behind, it didn't look like anything, feel like anything even remotely connected to San Francisco! By the mere turn of a corner, I had been somehow, someway rather magically transported to a Riviera seaside resort, a very wealthy seaside resort. I was now in the land of, not the well to do, but the filthy rich- mansion beside mansion beside mansion... with curiously little real estate separating them. A goddamn ghetto of mansions! And I do mean... Mansions! With a beach on either end of this very compact and ultra exclusive neighborhood. 

These photos are from neither of the aforementioned, not much purpose in my book if the photos can't in some small way capture some of what the place actually feels like. If I can't do the place some kind of justice in my small way, well then, I'd rather it live in my mind just how I wish, rather than belittle it with an image that just demeans the entire experience. Fortunately, I do, on occasion, get photos where I never anticipated, expected or contemplated;* these are the neighborhoods I've been exploring, usually working class, mostly residential and on the outskirts of town, far from the hipsters, tourists and tech nerds the city is known for; neighborhoods such as Bayview, Excelsior and Portola. Rounding the corners and traversing the hills and crevices, one will occasionally (very occasionally) be rewarded with the odd, photo worthy streetscape or unique, unforeseen point of view...

Photos: © Stan B.

*I still see young 'street shooters' moping about in the SF downtown area and I wanna yell at them (or at least gently suggest)- why are you wasting your time trying to retake classic street photos... on streets devoid of people?!? Move on, adapt- do something different! Even pre-Covid, when downtown SF streets were bustling, it was good to have a more varied diet of photo resources, now it's 100% crucial! It's why I expanded to also do essays on: pet cemeteries, 'bipping,' graffiti (and painted over graffiti), cars, Oakland Mail Trucks, panoramics, the SF leather Fairs and just about every protest I can attend locally. The latter will culminate in a book entitled 45-46-47 (ie- the Trump years) which will end in (god spare us all!) '28... Point is, ya gotta keep stretching the envelope, testing the waters- or rot on the vine.

The Joys Of Retirement

Photos: © Stan B.

I still wake up giddy most days, two-thirds of a year in, retirement has certainly not lost its sheen! Don't know if a return to employment will mar the scenery at some inopportune time hence, but for now... 

One of the things I find (that I could in no way foresee) is how in the moment I am now allowed to be, to experience, to feel! No longer consumed by time restraints, one can now truly relax, enjoy the moment- free of schedule or time limit. Weekends, holidays, even vacations are all finite, so that even while enjoying, one is forever aware of the ever present temporal restrictions. Life is forever consumed by the accountings of everyday life, the eternal ticking of the clock, the push to get things done, before...

Being free of that particular anxiety and apprehension is liberating indeed, and can even lead to more thoughtful and contemplative photographs, and perhaps more important, definitely more important- if I don't get the photograph... at least I fully enjoyed the moment itself! Felt it, breathed it, took it in and experienced it! There's always another day, and another picture- up until there isn't, and then... I needn't worry that possible return!

One Man Level of Cool!

Photo: © Stan B.

Having grown up in New York, I've always admired a sense of style. It takes something to possess one, even more to own it; and says something about the person and how they move in the world. Of course, it's ultimately superficial (never judge a book by its cover) but in a world so dominated by the visual- it can carry the day! Some may call it, "Cool-" the look, the manner, the very presence.

There are many things I admire about San Francisco, where I have lived these past 25 years. One thing it clearly does not possess however, is a distinct sense of personal style- it's never recovered completely from the Flower Power days, but its denizens absolutely jump at the chance of getting into costume for whatever generic holiday, event or celebration (they even run their foot races in costume)!

I was on the return journey home from Crissy Field in SF, a simply gorgeous day in a simply gorgeous area around the Golden Gate Bridge, enjoying it for what it was since I knew I was returning home with nothing to show for it, when I happened upon this gentleman who seemed dropped by the hand of god beside that particular signpost. A surreal off site presence, as if he had created his own French New Wave retro movie in which he was clearly starring in the leading role! And star he did!

Before exposure I only dared look at him peripherally, trying desperately not to be noticed- while positioning myself directly in front of him (with no one else beside or around me for cover)! To make things worse, there was a group of tourists directly beside him- I would have to wait, and clearly he would change his position or just wander off while I waited for them to depart and leave us. My previsualizaion was most certainly doomed. Meanwhile, I turned around, checked my exposure and distance- and... prayed. 

As the crowd finally (finally) moved, I turned and quickly took a short series of exposures with very minor alterations from left to right. In my absolute haste to get it in the can, I still didn't get the opportunity to assess the totality of the image (and subject) I was capturing. And he never did look in my direction or acknowledge me (at least not while I was looking), although he certainly had to have sensed my presence. I thought perhaps it was just another street eccentric who temporarily succeeded in  rising to the level of his own imaginings (the most any of us can usually aspire to)- but upon examining the image, it was clear the guy's no simple poseur, this guy's the real deal! Cool? The man defines it!* The suit, that pose, the whole freakin' shebang- goddang, he is a goddamn, one man movie! But is he hero, or villain?!?

*He even balances the phone parallel to the horizon line!

American Fear

7/25/2026                                      Photo: © Stan B.

It's a sad and sorry situation- but true. There's this growing trend of mistrust and fear even among peaceful protestors where some participants are now worried of being photographed, identified and made to face retribution. The result is that they now purposely position their signs in front of their faces in order to dissuade subsequent identification. I've also had some confront me openly with mistrust, even hostility and question who I am, who I'm with, who I represent... This rarely happened before and is becoming considerably more commonplace. And we are not talking "illegals," we're talking White American citizens.

It's sad, and at first made me both confused and a tad ticked off, to be honest. But it is understandable; we live at the behest of a tyrant who has openly made retribution a reality he both flaunts and relishes, and people have undoubtedly suffered due to the retaliatory actions of his fragile, childlike ego- and immense far reaching power. All the more reason to call out, confront and demonstrably defeat this fascist bully- and set precedent for any that follow...

Across The River

Photos: © Stan B.

I was walking out of my mother's nursing home when I was hit with the hottest wind I ever experienced in my life, unnaturally hot, radioactively hot, and having grown up in NY, having experienced many a NYC summer, I realized- this is most definitely not normal! 

It was 98 degrees that day and the major reason I wasn't spending extended periods of time pounding sweltering midtown city streets in the little time I had. So, I continued my Queens bound journey to Long Island City- which I once termed "the armpit of NY." For decades it was the land forgotten by time, one of the last stops before Manhattan on the 7 IRT subway line. Not many people lived there and it wasn't anything even remotely resembling a city, the area immediately surrounding said subway stop was just a stagnant, malignant area of decay- like a hoarder's long forgotten and abandoned living space. The area adjoining it was a mixture of longtime residents living in small residential communities separated by areas of light industry, spreading from the aforementioned LIC to neighboring Astoria- as sleepy and domestically banal as neighboring Manhattan was forever busy and bustling. It was an area I frequented while living in the Lower East Side for it's relative solace and tranquility, streets where one could find themself the only person afoot, where even the occasional horizon line could be spotted.

That all began to change the end of the last century, when hyper gentrification began to rear its head in the NYC real estate market directly across the river. It began quietly in the eighties with PS1, a beloved art museum alternative- when someone once proclaimed: "Artists- the shock troops of gentrification!"* Anyway, by the turn of the century there were Manhattan sized skyscrapers (both business and luxury) springing up all around- a trend that continues to this day. Still, there are pockets of quiet and stillness not found beyond the riverbank, as well as the occasional tree for shade and solace, which is where I headed to and found the included photos (as well as the best bagels I ever did eat)...

*I suppose one could now substitute "techies" with artists.

101 And Counting

Some things will always lie beyond human comprehension.                                Photos: © Stan B.

The one thing I found myself most wanting to do when I was in Washington, DC this 7/04 was to walk about, megaphone in hand, proclaiming, "Climate Change is a hoax" as we all collectively melted in the 101 degrees of sunlight and heat. But I came armed with a coupla cameras instead, which were useless after an hour and a half. Oh, they worked alright- my brain no longer did. I arrived around noon and there was many an American flag bedecked person and situation to photograph, but after that first ninety minutes of walking about in such utterly diabolical heat, thoughts of shutter speeds, light and composition went quickly out the front door, back door and every window in between- photography was no longer an option, everything focused on survival. 

Fortunately, National Guardsmen along with many a sidewalk merchant were handing out and selling (respectively) bottles of water, and the umbrella I took in case of afternoon thunderstorms became absolutely crucial to my survival in the sun- would not have survived without that goddamn umbrella; it was beyond brutal! Three hours into my six hour stay, I fortunately snuck into an air conditioned hotel that had some mighty comfortable lobby chairs where I managed to nurse myself back to humanity for an hour upon the onset of nausea. 

Meanwhile, someone (some mischievous, malcontent of an idiot) managed to shut down half the goddamn city on our nation's premier 250th anniversary celebration- The Washington Monument, Lincoln Memorial, the infamous Reflecting Pool and every other tourist attraction in between were all made completely inaccessible to the public on this most celebratory of occasions of our nation's history! Who even thinks of doing such a thing!?! And this was midday, well before the evening thunderstorms which did indeed come, when shade was very much at a premium, and every tree counted! Instead, some uncaring, unthinking idiot corralled hundreds of thousands of suffering visitors into its hottest of streets, while they desperately sought to find some manner of access to what they all obviously came to see and enjoy... Only to find that every entry way, no matter how far they ventured, or in what direction they veered in the searing heat was guarded, walled off and denied them. That was certainly one helluva way to fill his goddamn, crappy ass, so called 'state fair!' 

Child demonstrates how shade was at a premium- as only a child can!

Why no one complained, or downright revolted was probably due to the debilitating heat and the fact that many of said visitors, probably the vast majority, were of the uber 'patriotic' Trump class. They are not going to find fault with anything this bribe procuring, felon committing, forever lying traitor and pedophile has ever done or ever will do...That was made more than clear to me that day when a small band of demonstrators dared to raise their voice. I had begun to think that there was some small leeway being made of late into the Trumpian mindset that so fervently and fastidiously denied all chance of logic, reason and fact, but sadly- it is im-pen-e-tra-ble.

My train was scheduled to depart at six, arriving approx at 9:30PM in NYC- it was somewhat delayed, finally arriving at 2:30 AM (thank you, Amtrak)! When removing my t-shirt, I noticed it appeared as if tie-dyed, my dried sweat had left decorous, if unsightly rings of dried salt throughout; I drank around six bottles of water that day- and had yet to pee once... 

Photos: © Stan B.

The Unrelenting Universe...

Photo: © Stan B.

For Better Or...

We do it to remember.                           Photo: © Stan B.

I recently burned my greatest hits unto gold discs for posterity's sake... Yeah, I know, I know- delusions of grandeur. They probably won't survive a succession of dark, damp basements, or being melted in the Goodwill furnace. But this concerns... "the process;" no, not how to burn dvd's- that's simple enough (it really is). 

It's about preparing the files themselves- viewing them as critically as possible and making the necessary edits, a lot of basic stuff and small details that somehow previously escaped: localized contrast and exposure, color balance, etc... issues big and small that were somehow overlooked. 

This is "for the ages," so ya wanna get it right once and for all, like when submitting a file for an exhibition quality print- you want everything as perfect (or near perfect) as you can personally manage. And that's what this exercise forced me to do- and there were, admittedly, a lot more images I had to finesse than I previously imagined. I started in January, thought I'd finish by the end of the following month, and didn't finish dotting the i's and crossing the t's till mid-May (although there was a full month's detour shooting and self publishing a whole new & unexpected project in the interim).

Don't know if they'll last the hundred years advertised, but I'm glad I got it done- if only to have said images at a level of competency I can now show without hesitancy! That alone was worthwhile, and there's always that chance, however slight, that the images will actually endure into their stated longevity to be appreciated in a time they long preceded...

Don't Ask!

Photo: © Stan B.

Sperm Racing! Yeah- you read that right!

My eye was first distracted by the assorted collection of Limes and other sidewalk accoutrements, only to focus on the term etched in the window above... What the!?!?

Social Media

We all need to be more civil while using.     Photo: © Stan B.

We Got One In The White House!

Photo: © Stan B.

When Cooler Heads Prevailed

Photo: © Stan B.

After I got over the initial shock of the rather startling and for all practical purposes, unknown bit of history contained in the previous post, I couldn't help but think what Vasili Arkhipov must have gone through as the one dissenting officer (of a required three) who steadfastly refused to launch a nuclear torpedo at American naval forces. The one sole vote that prevented nuclear Armageddon. You just know that was one super heated, supercharged exchange as he stalwartly refused to go along with them- a formidable nuclear exchange of its own as he was undoubtedly threatened and called every name in the book including coward and traitor to the motherland with the rest of his crew in that submerged coffin more than likely thinking much the same... All that occurring simultaneously as American depth charges were exploding all around threatening to end the whole lot of them at any second!

And cooler heads, or at least- one cool dude prevailed. How many millions were reduced to radioactive cinder those fateful days thereafter in an alternate universe where the decision went the other way?

And some sixty years later- we have a buffoonish, clown, idiot contemplating dropping The Bomb on... hurricanes! Yes, back in our very own space-time continuum- this was actually put forth by the man in charge of the-world's-largest-nuclear-arsenal! A man whose deep rooted, infantile insecurity is so profoundly ingrained in his perverse psyche that he actually cannot restrain himself from resorting to such flagrantly juvenile behavior- (14:15). 

And we are all currently in the hands of a man-child who has finally been cornered into a situation completely of his own making and short sidedness that he cannot talk, bribe or bully his way out of...

47 = 25

Photo: © Stan B.

Right now, our entire nation (and the world) is waiting to see if (when) Donald J. Trump will needlessly slaughter even more people in a country that was productively negotiating in one sided talks conducted simply to allow the US sufficient time to initiate their attack in the most effective manner possible. Not satisfied that they are unwilling to submit completely to Trump's whim, he is now set to destroy their nation to the cheers of his remaining sycophants.

He is about to commit yet more war crimes en masse and not one active member on his team is willing to confront a now mentally addled senior (who was delusional his entire life) in order to deter even more war crimes in a completely illegal and unnecessary war and prevent the needless deaths of yet thousands more..

They need to invoke the 25th Amendment as-of-yesterday- if only so that this sad excuse of death, corruption and criminality can enjoy the rest of his life explaining how Joe Biden used an autopen to an audience of six year olds... with the strictest adult supervision, of course.

Tomorrow will be too late...

No!

Donald, seen here in much happier times peeing on the graves of SS & the US Constitution.  Photo: © Stan B.

It took eighty years, but Donald finally heard the word "No," firsthand! All his life he was able to stall, able to bullshit, able to bully his way through every problem of his own creation. People might complain, but they would eventually back off, give up, submit. It was how things were done decade after decade in his incestuous circle of illicit money, lies and deceit, whether in New York real estate or DC politics.

But radical Islam doesn't give a flying shit about Donald's ways, about the fact that he's a successful businessman (with six bankruptcies and 64 failed businesses)- and US President to boot! They keep telling Donald to just leave them be, and he keeps insisting they play his game- even killing them doesn't seem to make them understand!

Donald's upset! He honestly doesn't know what to do, so he's: screaming, and cussing, and threatening some more- and promising to keep killing until they do play his game. Someone finally told Donnie- "No!" And now we all must suffer the consequences he has wrought upon us...

Choose Your Personal Jesus!

Easter's coming up this Sunday, and in anticipation of this year's Hunky Jesus celebration here in San Francisco, thought it would be appropriate to let you choose your number one from years past. Feel free to pick your personal favorite from these previous three Jesus models- just remember, they're all winners!

Photos: © Stan B.

 

How Is This Possible?!?

Photo: © Stan B.

Brazil and their fledgling democracy tried, convicted and imprisoned their wannabe king- we, in our democratic paradigm, gave ours more time to commit more crimes...

Yes!

By god, yes!               Photo: © Stan B.

13 And Counted ...

Well... entered the NY Times Portfolio Review for the 13th time this year, and got rejected for the 13th time this year. So, it was not quite without expectation... The thing is, these ten pictures are pretty representative of the best I can do in a cohesive grouping,* which reminds me of an old New York saying, "That and a token will get you on the subway." Or to update that- "It is, what it is." That is, I think I finally got the picture. 

Anyway, here are the final, chosen ten that went down with the ship, yet again...

All Photos: © Stan B.

 

All Photos: © Stan B.

*Not counting my leather fair photos which people will always look at, but never seriously consider even though they all rise to the same criteria for which any street photographs are judged (yeah, I've sent them those too)... BTW, will be updating this project later this year now that I've ended it.

The Face Of War

Photo: © Stan B.

Faces, actually- well over 100 of them... the faces of children. I suppose that's what Popgun Pete meant when he said, "We are punching them while they are down;" that we are operating "without mercy." No accountability, no responsibility, no apology, let alone reparations. 

Trump recently went all out racist (again) stating that terrorism was due to "genetics," I wonder if those same 'laws of genetics' also apply to rapists, the people who applaud them, and to... those who rape children.

Are We There Yet?

One is then left to contemplate- is the statement in the photo that far off?    Photo: © Stan B.

Have we not been lied to enough? Is it not yet obvious enough? Have enough people not been killed yet? Or are we all still so thoroughly enraptured by... "so much winning?" 

He was both career criminal and unrepentant narcissist, pedophile and Russian asset well before the advent of his now irrefutable dementia- while threatening to remain POTUS pro vita. He's run our governmental institutions to the ground, run the very notion of truth, rule of law and common decency into the depths of irrelevance, and is now actively destroying the very economy he was voted to safeguard and rejuvenate, as he humiliates our allies, while recklessly attacking perceived enemies and endangering our citizenry without cause or care...