I was better when I was with you, even if I wasn’t good enough.

(07/365)

My new boots arrived. The last of my Christmas presents. The first day of new adventures. OKOK, that managed to sound both generic and pretentious at the same time.

The nice thing about the Nikon system is that you can toss lenses manufactured back in the late 60s onto a 21st century digital slr. In this case, we’re talking a 55mm Micro-Nikkor on extended loan from my friend Dave. On the D50, no, there’s no metering with this particular lens, but that isn’t too big of a deal when what you’re shooting doesn’t move, and you’ve got a screen sitting there showing exactly how the photo came out.

I chose the first shot for project365 because, narratively, it represented progress. New boots. But the other pics from my little product shoot do better to show off the coolness of a macro lens. With the clarity and magnification of this glass you can really see sharply the texture of my old boots: the fraying laces and tiny stitching, the worn black leather and the glinting metal eyelets.

As an aside, the key to getting hits on Flickr (besides, you know, being good at photography, and developing a social network) is tagging, tagging, tagging. And especially tagging for subcultures or interests or maybe sometimes you could say fetishes. I think these photos were up for 15 seconds before I was invited to join the Dr. Martens group. And though no one has ever left a comment, this pic of Tickle Me Elmo is one of my all time most viewed. Just because he’s wearing a ball gag…

(6/365)

One of the interesting things about digital photography is the artistic experimentation it affords, both because of the lack of processing cost, and because of the instant feedback digital cameras provide.

In this instance, I wanted to make an image that could only exist on a digital image sensor. Pure binary light, as it were, and something I wouldn’t do with film. These are actually Christmas lights in the backyard. Decorative lights around the new pool that we’ve decided to leave there year round.

The photo in no way conveys it, but it was dark and freezing cold when I went out to shoot this. I defocused on purpose, and exposed to blow out the image sensor. The resulting images looked, to me, like astronomical phenomena, exploding frictionless nebulae, or like strange microbes swimming through luminescent medium.

(5/365)

Sharp exposure and wonky angle thanks to the Gorillapod I got for Christmas.

This photo was taken the first day (or night) that I returned to college. Winter intersession at Mt. SAC. And though I’m sure I had a lot to say when I first shot it, that moment has now receded into the past.

What I can say now is that I’ve felt very different since I went back to school. I’m optimistic, and–this hard to explain and will sound vague–I have a rekindled interest in things I haven’t thought about in years. These updates, taking photos, fixing the site, these are all small examples.

Partly it is perhaps the mental stimulation, the reactivation of brain centers that have lain dormant too long. I think it is also, though, the sense of actively building towards a future again. As opposed to the terrified scramble back to normality that was last year.

I got As in both my classes, Logic and Microeconomics. That’s two down, 15 or so to go. And then transfer. It’s a plan, and I feel good about it.

(3/365)

Bonus shot:

(2/365)

I can’t count the number of times I’ve stood here, waiting for a bus to downtown LA, staring at that neon arrow.

On on side of the store is a couple exiting the brightly lit door, drinks in hand, smiling and laughing. Circling around each other and flirting. The other side has a door, too, dark and barred. Overflowing the dumpster, rotting and soggy cardboard forms a talus of trash. The two sides of this building aren’t even in the same universe. But that laughing couple will pass from one to other on the way to their car.

How many times have we all walked through this kind of parking lot to or from a bar, a club, a show? You see the dumpster and boxes and let them slide out of your mind. I can smell it, the mold, the spilled booze, the faint scene of urine, just looking at this picture. A thousand interstitial moments from a thousand late nights. We let those moments slide away. They’re not part of the pictures we’re making in our mind.

In lieu of my non-existent January 1st pic (see below), I’ve decided to  choose my favorite picture from 2008.

My favorite picture.

That I’ve taken.

Which is really hard.

My photographic interests include religious artworks, portraits, candids, party shots, landscapes, architecture, and travel shots.  Friends and family. But I guess when I think about one picture I took that represents the most of those categories, it’s this one:

Jeff as St. Francis

We were in Hawaii–I took a trip with my parents, brother, and sister. My friends Jeff and Cami had coincidentally booked a trip there at the same time. When Jeff & Cami got to Oahu, we met up, and they took me on an awesome adventure around the island. One of the stops was the Byodo-in Buddhist temple, a beautiful replica of a 900 year old temple in Uji, Japan. At the gift shop there you can get food to feed the koi, but Jeff quickly realized the birds flitting around the grounds were also interested. He put some in his hand, and got the birds to feed from his palm. Cami and I both took snapshots, and after this one, I exclaimed, “Jeff, you look like St. Francis!” A tour group coming up behind us laughed in recognition, and one lady said “It’s true! It’s true!”

I love the look of joy on Jeff’s face. This picture reminds me of not just the good times I had with Los Hermanns, but with my family, too, and all the beauty and happiness that filled our time in Hawaii. That sounds like hyperbole, but really, Hawaii is just that great. You feel like a grinning moron trying to explain how wonderful it is there.

If it was just a pretty picture, or a reminder of fun times, there’d be competition. But on a deeper level, this photograph also reminds me of how the symbols of our faith surround us. Even, of course, on the grounds of a Buddhist temple. For that reason, it’s my favorite of 2008.

The idea behind Project 365 is a simple one:  1 photo, every day, for an entire year. This is an idea probably nearly as old as art itself, but still a worthwhile challenge.

You might say that I failed before I even started. Because I didn’t fully become aware of the concept, and especially its Flickr incarnation, until January 2nd, I failed to take a photo on January 1st. The nice thing about screwing up right in the beginning is that there’s nowhere to go but up.

I’ll be documenting my try in this ever-growing Flickr set. I’ll also be making daily posts here, because it gives me something to write about–that’s another goal I have for the year–and very possibly be posting bulletins on Myspace for any of the following reasons (Checkmark those that apply): 

• The audience overlap is tiny, or perhaps nonexistent
• Studies have shown that repetition is the key to getting peoples’ attention
• Large amounts of text looks ridiculous on Flickr
• Myspace bulletins are ephemeral
• Photographs are meant to be seen
• No one reads this anymore
• Contrary to my grunge roots, I have developed a need for approval from others
• I’ll never win Her love if She doesn’t see my work
• I like to annoy my friends with self-promoting spam
• Studies have shown that repetition is the key to getting peoples’ attention 
• Other (fill in via comments form)

Anyway, this should be fun! And if you’re reading this and want to try the project yourself, take it from me, it’s never too late! Let me know and I will totally check out your photos!

On the eve of my return to school, I am, of course, confronted with my oldest problem: the inability to sleep.

This mere wakefulness shouldn’t come as a surprise. After two years away from college, going back was bound to cause all kinds of thoughts and questions and anxieties. Excitement, too. More proximately, I’ve spent most of this weekend asleep, incapacitated by a cold I couldn’t successfully ignore out of existence.

So here I am awake. I only bring this up because this insomnia worries me in and of itself. It fills me with dread, the idea that this time will be like all the other times, that I’m broken permanently in my ability to succeed. But this is a late night worry. A demon that attacks in the small hours.

The hero Gilgamesh was only ever defeated by one foe: sleep. The gods of Ur challenged him to remain awake for two weeks, and of course he failed. But his failure will be an inspiration to me: because if Gilgamesh could make a passable try at two weeks of wakefulness, surely I can deal with one sleepless night.

I have never been to a show as tall as the one Jane’s Addiction played last Thursday night.

Because my brother works at La Cita, I was one of the very few, and the very very lucky, to get into their show. He pulled me in through the back gate, where, as if the band wasn’t going to be enough, I was plied with beer and shots. It was strange, at first, actually, surreal even. I’ve been to La Cita so many times–I’m the one who introduced Joe to the bar–but I had never seen it empty the way it was when I first arrived.  

We ended up outside, sitting and drinking at the patio bar. It would be a few hours before Jane’s played. My brother introduced me to a growing swell of coworkers, friends, and acquaintances. He had drinks with each of them–so, of course, he had more drinks than I did.

I bring this up because, well, because my brother gets sentimental when he has a lot in him. A lot of his bravado strips away, and talking–really talking–becomes important to him. When Jane’s set time came close, and I was finally able to tear out of the conversation and get back to the main room–well, I found it as full then as it had been empty earlier.

I cursed a little. Mostly under my breath, mostly. But not because I was mad at my brother for talking– no, it was because I knew I had a camera, and I was afraid that no one else might. And that would mean that the responsibility of documenting this awesome, amazing, epic, historic show would be entirely on me–and I had already screwed it up by sitting too long in the patio, and not staking out a spot front and center.  As I slid in near the soundboard, to the left of the stage, the only place I could go, I kicked myself for my stupidity. Between the pillars and the speaker stands and the racks and equipment I could see a quarter of the stage–and I knew that it wouldn’t be the quarter Jane’s would be facing. My joy about seeing the band was turning into some kind of self-loathing.

This was just artistic vanity. It disappeared. It disappeared because, suddenly, Dave, Eric, Stephen, and Perry emerged onto the stage. Dave started strumming and everything just… melted away.

This is where I come back to the tall thing. When I was a kid, on one of many trips visiting Universal Studios, our tour guide pointed out to us that the houses, barns, businesses, and saloons of the backlot’s Western sets were built at 6/7th scale. Making the doors shorter turned actors into Archetypes: long legged, thin, hard men, as tall as the prairie sky. And there, in La Cita, with its low ceilings and strung lights, watching Jane’s Addiction, I was a child again, thinking of Western heros. Perry, in particular, seemed like some joyous titan, almost having to crouch to fit in the room, but doing it so he could reach down to us and share his fire.

After a few minutes, and a few snapshots, I realized two things: One, that everybody in the audience had snuck in a camera. And two, that because of where I was standing, I could barely hear Perry’s voice. The decision was easy for me. I didn’t come for pictures, I came for the music. I slunk away, and headed to dancefloor. From there I could see even less than before–Jane’s Addiction had brought out fans almost as tall as the bandmembers themselves. People were scrunched up between speaker stacks and hanging off banisters. All I had were peeks of faces between supermodel shoulders, but–and this is why I moved–I could hear every note and every word. Forgetting the camera, letting the circumstances slide away, I let the sound of the band wash over me, and I found again what I had almost, in my vanity, lost.

I came for the music. And I heard it.

Handful of show pics on my Flickr.