Looking Ahead...

In the immediate future, things don't look all that great here in San Francisco, photographically (and otherwise). Downtown, a once hustling, bustling metropolis is now a veritable ghost town- not conducive to photo ops, and apocalyptic street scenes have long grown tired post Covid. Protests have dried up and it ain't always easy executing 'alternative' photo projects. Fortunately, SF does have biannual leather fairs, Bay to Breakers (an annual bacchanalian foot race and costume fest- don't ask), Hunky Jesus (Easter) and Fleet Week. But even those can hardly fulfill a year's worth of shooting. It just looks like it's gonna be real slim pickings next coupla years.

And two years hence, at seventy, I plan on (hopefully) retiring, and unless some phenomenally phenomenal phenomena occurs to make things more livable here, financially (and otherwise), it's on to... I don't have the slightest! I'm a city boy. And walkable, affordable cities in the good ol' USA are pretty much non-existent.

All Photos: © Stan Banos

Folsom St. Leather Fair

9/24/2023

End Of A Short Lived Era

An hour and a half at a time...   Photo: © Stan Banos

This photo was taken directly across the saloon I've come to call home now for a year. And when I say home, I'm talking an hour and a half a week on an early Friday evening, enough to down three pints, approx one per half hour- which borderline breaches my personal barrier for waking up the following morning in good humor.  

San Francisco was rife with old neighborhood dives and has still managed to retain a few in these days of $8 pints and wretched sports bars. I would frequently make note of them, promising to return for a drink one spare evening, promises never consummated. This is one which I actually entered one long ago weekend afternoon (probably during yet another unsuccessful photo walk); the vibe was right, the people were friendly, and I was happy to have a beer amongst the crowd, and depart- pity it wasn't in my neighborhood! 

When The Wife and I separated, there I was, but two blocks away- but it was the height of Covid, and boarded up tight... didn't seem it would ever open again. When this picture was taken, the protective paneling had just come down, and I saw a sign being posted on windows made visible once again. The guy invited me to come over and check it out sometime- he needn't have asked. The name of the bar is The Utah Inn. 

Now, Stefano (the sign posting bartender) was totally cool, I actually got by-backs (first time in decades!) on a coupla beers! From the rough and tumble part of a rough and tumble town outside San Francisco, he was nevertheless, always welcoming- but if you said the wrong thing, rubbed him the wrong way, you'd get one very sober look and the frivolity would quickly dissipate. Fortunately, we were fairly copasetic, I understood the general parameters; we weren't best of friends, we were chill is all, and he had a job to do. I was just happy being a cool (uh-huh) old guy at the bar, happy just to hang in a relaxed, judge free zone after a week of work, and have my mood adjusted accordingly for a pleasant if uneventful ninety minutes... And god forbid you should ever motion or call out for a beer- you were done for the evening! I would silently smile to myself witnessing various people wander in off the street and wonder why they were waiting endlessly...  

That was pretty much my 'social life,' not a helluva lot, granted- but how I treasured that hour and a half! Two weeks ago, just after I had left, the new manager (of one whole week) told Stefano that he should clock himself out since things were slow that night. Predictably, he wasn't having it, besides, the (SF Giants) game was soon to let out and the place would be quickly packed- as it soon was... but the damage was done.

Bottomline, he was right, and he was gone- and so it looks am I...

Let's Say...

 That maybe (just maybe) it's all true...

Black And White And Color

Went to see Matt Black's photographs at the Robert Koch Gallery. All save for one photo consisted of his vintage B&W analog. The prints were magnificent! I stood there thinking how lucky I was to have belonged to this club, to have personally experienced the particular medium as both viewer and practitioner, to have produced (at least technically) somewhat similar work (albeit on a considerably lower level). The nostalgia was palpable. 

Thought I could conjure up something profound to say as to the differences between B&W analog and (digital) color, insights into their individual strengths and processes- and came up with a plethora paucity of... the usual. While comforting and reassuring to know I still appreciated a great B&W print as much as ever, I felt no distinct urge to return, even though I never pictured myself ever departing- it was home, familiar and capable of great beauty, humor or drama. And yet, leave it I did, and I've more than tripled my output since 2016, compared to 4 decades of B&W when I looked more intently at other people's work than actually produce it (not that I didn't want to). And a lot of the work I looked at was color, I could appreciate both mediums equally even though I only practiced one- and it enabled me to hit the ground running when I switched. And still am; at 2 years, 2 months till seventy and peak Social Security (and supposed retirement)... the clock is ticking- loudly!

Photo: © Stan Banos

2/3's Year in Review

Very decent, very economical 11in work prints!

Yeah, a tad early for a year in review post, hence the title. Didn't get to travel much this year except back home to NY, but have still managed a few keepers (with a couple more hopefully to come). Recently though, got kinda depressed that I would never be able to afford even a quarter of the images I'd like to have printed- and then it finally dawned on me... follow my own freakin' oft repeated advice and print all my landscape oriented keepers vertically in a series of 11in Blurb zines- dirt cheap, decently printed work prints for posterity. Not the ideal solution for having your own personal plethora of exhibition quality prints ready to hang on moment's notice at MOMA, but a half decent workaround for anyone on a poor man's budget. So that'll be an ongoing project commencing this winter. 

This Labor Day weekend I got busy reediting my Windows On The Bay project, it was a bit on the thin side when I initially released it unto the world in a semi-manic period of frenzied activity, but the added time has allowed me to round off the project with more images that help fill out the narrative some- so it no longer looks like a work in progress!

And speaking of more images, added about a dozen more recent shots to the color section of my website last weekend, reaching my current subscription limit. Finally, since I'm certainly not getting any younger, I'm gonna send a few of my book projects to a few indie book publishers. A lot of 'em take pdf's- not a problem via Blurb! Yeah, I gotta .004% chance of being accepted by any one of 'em, but- what the hey, something to do till MOMA and Gerhard come a callin'...

Fade To...

Photo: © Stan Banos

He made for such a very singular looking fellow upon first seeing, looking out so intently upon the bay. And then I would see him again, and again and again- always at the same place with the same attire in the same manner, the orange a bit more faded than last...

For The Love Of Movies

I love 50's B&W film noir, the whole nether world of dames and gams (legs of the former), peepers (private dicks) and screws (prison guards). Ninety percent of the TV I watch is easily from 2 channels, PBS and a local channel that shows film noir on Thursday nights. Problem is, there's only so many of those celluloid wonders- and they sure don't make 'em like that no more... 

Somehow, I read up on a movie called Dragged Across Concrete (currently streaming on Netflix). I was going to embed the official trailer, but it makes it look like a dumb ass, Grade B, cop buddy, action movie. And it gets worse, it also has... Mel Gibson, yeah, the one and only, as if there's any other. And sure enough he's accused of abusing a suspect and proceeds to whine. So I'm about to put an end to it early on when I say to my self- why would Michael Jai White be in a movie that okays police abuse? The same reaction I had when I first heard Bill Burr- oh great, another middle aged White guy yelling and complaining. No, thanks. So why were there videos of Black guys laughing uproariously at his standup? So I watched on... 

Gibson mercifully under acts and has good chemistry with costar Vince Vaughn. And rather than simply going into reactionary Dirty Harry territory, it gives a pretty contemplative reflection on race, politics and the trials and tribulations of life in general. There's some serious violence for sure, but action movie it is not. If you liked A Simple Plan and American Animals where easy-peasey rapidly cascades into all hell breaks loose, chances are you'll appreciate this particular tale of woe and topsy turvy happenstance.

While I'm at it, wanted to see Oppenheimer recently, got online to get my seat (forget first come/first serve at your local googleplex these days) and was absolutely gobsmacked at the prices for a simple goddamn movie at your local movie theater- $25 and a $2.50 service fee! $27.50 for a goddamn movie!?! Ya gotta be shittin' me...

Fortunately, I was able to see it for $12 at one of the few (very few) remaining smaller, movie theaters in town. How does Hollywood expect to revive a movie going public at $25+ a pop?!?

The Happy Dogs

I recall one woman approaching me back in the day and saying, "I have this theory that there's really only one of these dogs, and they just switch owners at night." And after watching many of the videos featuring English Bull Terriers currently on You Tube, I can't also help but be amazed at just how many do look so amazingly alike- even by someone like me who had one and can more readily identify even minor differences in physicality. But it's not just their looks that can be so strikingly similar- it's also their behavior(s).

They're highly excitable laddies, and when in such a highly charged molecular state, they usually resort to two distinct modes of action. One is the circle dance, where they repeatedly (and I do mean repeatedly) pivot in a tight circular bit of frenetic foot stomping; the other being the diagonal dash, which consists of running about from room to room, wall to wall as fast as their muscular appendages can possibly manage- they brake by rearing their bums into the opposing walls and harnessing the resulting kinetic energy to jumpstart the next run into the next wall. Repeat...

 

 

Just be alert to the fact that they don't stay in their lanes and will topple whatever's in the way. Mind you, they're just happy- happy to see you, happy to play, happy being... happy! 

PS- Except on those highly irregular occasions when they enter their uniquely inexplicable fugue state, commonly referred to as "trancing."

$15 Million Trumps $2-3 Billion!

Anybody and everybody who can add knows that Hunter's $15 Million is way, way more than with a... B! Jared's measly little $2-3 B-B-Billion 

Right? Right!?! 

And yet, Dems have let Repubs run roughshod with this BS for how long?!? And how long more?!?

Give credit where credit is due- those MFs stay on message... (and their cult following swallows whatever's shoveled).  

If I'm Completely Honest...

Photo: © Stan Banos

Yeah, sad to say, pretty much my M.O. as well- get mad, rant and rave for a while, then go back to leading my life of quiet desperation. Sure, sometimes I'll actually push back, and sometimes even push back a little harder as do we all- but for the most part...

The Problem With The World

Good Ol' Chuck never made it to the 21st century; god, he would've hated it. And while he didn't offer the following as a prediction, he was always pretty... prescient. "The problem with the world is that intelligent people are full of doubts, while the stupid ones are full of confidence."

-Charles Bukowski

News you don't like can be labeled "Fake News," and facts you don't want to believe can be replaced with the alternative facts of your choice. Back in the day, when people didn't know something, they tended to defer to those who actually... did! Now, actual knowledge of any given subject matter can be considered antithetical to the correct desired answer, and feelings Trump wisdom...

"Look Ma..."

"NO Hands!"     Photo: © Stan Banos

Not uncommon to hear people say there's no one in the driver's seat in San Francisco: tsunami wave store and car robberies, hard core drug addiction rampant in the streets, tent cities blocking sidewalks, filth, litter and human feces everywhere... Yeah, we got it all- in droves! One thing ya don't hear much about though is... our self driving cars; yup, amidst all the squalor- we got those! 

For several years now, we've had a horde of white, EV Chevy Bolts, all quite cute and individually named (see hood), driving about bedecked with rather complex technology, a driver, and one passenger beside him with requisite laptop. A common, everyday site until rather recently, when I first noticed, and gasped, at one very significant difference- gone was the human element; beta beast mode testing had finally arrived!

Sightings were rather rare at first, but then in one week I noticed a half dozen, then a full, and then became determined to get a decent shot of this modern day anomaly before becoming a common, so what occurrence of the future. Try as I might, I just couldn't manage a decent shot until finally having it land at my very lap after a long fruitless walk one lovely summer weekend, returning home directly across the street. Granted, not the most thrill inducing image imaginable- but it gets the point across. Driverless cars will soon become de rigueur everywhere, but for now, they're still quite a novelty as they stop, turn and drive on by sans the human touch. And so far, it's all good- uhhh... unless your home's on fire!

ADDENDUM: WHOOPS!

ADDENDUM... X2!!

He's So Screwed!

So very, very screwed. Orange man is toast. 
Seventy plus years of doing whatever the fuck he wants, whenever the fuck he wants, to whoever he fucking wants, finally... fucking... ends!

Make no doubt there will be repercussions- serious, violent repercussions from his most fervent cult followers all to placate his puerile, vindictive pathology. What else can one expect when a seventy year old child who has never been punished, never told "No" is given the magic wand, only to be told he must someday give it back...

F-Stop Twentieth Anniversary Issue!

It's been twenty or so years since my Pet Cemetery photos were featured in f-Stop Magazine. And they've been rightfully celebrating their longevity by asking those of yore to make a short return appearance and report on what they've been doing since (and I'm honored to do so)...

And Nobody Seems To Notice, Nobody Seems To Care....

I've no doubt posted this years ago, but worth reposting every damn year just as a reminder. It's a lesson in... Civics; a self contained class that should be played in every middle school classroom (especially in Florida). Funny as hell, and sadder still- cause the joke's on us, and we just don't seem to listen, or learn, or even care...

Laughs throughout, truth to power starts at 7:25.

Unknown And Underappreciated?

Photo: © Stan Banos

Like countless others, I too am dreading the inevitable violent repercussions of Trump's MAGA madmen as the former POTUS and career grifter and con man cajoles them to action as he is finally (FINALLY!) being made to pay for the crimes and malfeasance of his own repeated undertakings.

Recently, this guy provided some small measure of solace reminding me of a much preferred brand of madness, the comic kind, as in the comic madman once known as... The Unknown Comic!

In My Dreams And Delusions...

This man would be POTUS, and globalization hating Trumpists would be some of the first in line to vote for him...

The Dog Days Of August

Photo: © Stan Banos

That's right, it's August, so kick back and enjoy the hazy, lazy days of summer when all ya wanna do is set a spell, chill and lazily watch the world go by- I get ya! Just remember to dress appropriately, stay hydrated, and don't get your temperature all up just cause...

As of 2018, twenty of the last 22 years were the warmest on record, and they've only gotten warmer since- with JULY 2023 "THE HOTTEST MONTH EVER RECORDED ON EARTH." Rest assured, Republicans will more than likely be throwing snowballs on the Senate floor yet again this coming winter- it's all so reassuring; so calmly set your mind at ease as our planet slowly simmers while: glaciers and ice sheets disappear en masse, frozen tundra melts, plumes of methane are released, island nations drown, coral reefs are eradicated, storms increase in intensity, wildfires consume ever larger swaths of our remaining forests and temperatures continue to soar unabated...

The Non-Whistleblower Whistleblower

Edward Snowden is a whistleblower, Daniel Ellsberg was a whistleblower- both broke the law (Snowden currently lives in exile, while charges against Ellsberg were dropped due to legal improprieties committed during his trial) to take what they discovered directly to the American people. Both paid a price. 

David Grusch however has not broken any specific law, amazingly he's managed his in house expose all by the book, and still retains his top secret military intelligence classification- which is why he often speaks publicly in generalities (he has given much more detailed testimony to Congress behind closed doors). He must first get clearance from his former/still boss on what he can say and to whom, otherwise, off to jail he will go- for a very, very long time... He has gone out to the very edge of the precipice, but he has not taken the leap- at least, not without a parachute. And I can't much say I blame him, I wouldn't particularly want to sabotage the rest of my life at his age, with a lifetime of even more debilitating harassment, decades of jail time or a fatal "accident." He's already gone well above and beyond.

Prior to appearing before Congress, he had to testify (under oath) to the Inspector General, who then interviewed other military/government officials under oath concerning Mr. Grusch. All this to ascertain Mr. Grusch's character and credibility (before being pilloried by large sections of the government, press and public as just the latest tin foil UFO whacko). Mr. Grusch is more witness than whistleblower; and as Mr. Coulthart curiously reminds us, US courts have had no problem sending people to their death on witness testimony. 

I don't think the current testimony from Mr. Grusch will lead us directly to the much anticipated Disclosure where all will be revealed to the public at large. It will simply let (some of) the secret(s) out to a larger ring of government officials (ie- select members of Congress, etc) so they can cash in. But it does get us one step closer (perhaps now sooner rather than later), until real whistleblowers decide to one day forgo their jobs, pensions, freedoms and personal safety to take that extraterrestrial leap of faith. It's gonna happen, just wouldn't hold my breath...

RIP Sinead

Not her biggest fan by any means, but ya can't deny... what a voice, and what a talent! And if you have any doubt whatsoever, just listen to the first three jewels below that epitomize the very definition of sublime. Have no idea what demons haunted her mental health and well being, but goddamn, at least she was original- and didn't give a damn about celebrity or any of its trappings. She was also spot on about the Catholic Church (for which she was vilified), long before that horror story hit the mainstream, no apology was forthcoming, even when proven correct. 

Yeah, R-I-P...

A Most Unusual Day

I usually go to different neighborhoods in San Francisco on weekends to try and keep it fresh, and lately to get the hell outta dodge (my immediate downtown zombie ghost land). Hadn't taken a decent pic in a while, so this Saturday I decided to revisit a somewhat industrial section of town that has always been rather desolate, it definitely has a different feel than the rest of the town architecturally, and different is what I wanted... but I wasn't welcoming the fact that I'd really stand out walking about and be easy prey for any gang of thieves (be they ambulatory or vehicular) looking for a quick camera heist these days. I managed a sole image of a lost soul, and shortly thereafter, decided discretion the better part of valor before deciding once again to... get the hell outta dodge. 

Photo: © Stan Banos

But I digress... 

Because the most unusual part of the day occurred quite some time before I had even left home. Around eleven that morning, I heard a knock on my door, looked through the peephole to spot two uniforms- WTF? Have you seen your neighbor lately? Whoa! That question usually ends one way. "No, no I haven't- but I only see him like once a month, if that." A gentleman in his seventies who walks with a cane and I always made a point to say hello to. OK, thanks. An hour passes and I hear a bevy of voices outside my door followed by the sounds of things being moved about next door. I don't have to ask what's going on. An hour later I'm headed out and the stench fills my nostrils immediately upon opening the door, just before seeing the latex gloves strewn about the hallway. 

It had to have been a few weeks before anyone noticed. I sure hadn't, and I was right next door- eating and sleeping probably no more than ten feet from a dead guy (yeah, our units are that small); didn't know anything, didn't smell anything... Did just make out the radio or TV late into the night- just thought it a lonely old man accompanying himself to sleep. 

There's a health hazard seal on his door now, and I sincerely hope they clean the place out properly tomorrow ASAP! A bottle of Lysol can only do so much, and I'm fortunate, indeed, that none of it permeates my apt- except for a certain amount of nagging guilt. Should've bothered to get to know him better, asked if he needed help etc, etc- shoulda, woulda, coulda... 

I'm betting there'll probably be a next time to make amends somewhere down the line; and then one day, no doubt, my turn to stink up the hallway good...