Beginning of Fall

From 09.28.11 Fall

I left work snarky and tired. All I wanted to do was go home for the night and park myself in front of a television and become zombified. My thick cotton uniform pants were about a thousand degrees too hot for my legs, and even though it wasn't very hot outside the car remained stuffy. Eva was gone for another night and the idea of going home to an empty house and kicking back was thrilling. Even as I drove, my mind settled in to the anticipation of drool slowly crawling out of the corner of my mouth as the TV endlessly rambled on in the otherwise quiet house. Nothing could be better! I pictured my self waking, startled by a loud infomercial, deciding to have a cigarette on the stoop and play games on my phone. And then I thoughT how nice the sun would be as it set over downtown, streams of light piercing through the trees and around the house that kept my side-yard mostly dark and cool. And I thought what a nice photo that would make. It occurred to me then that I wouldn't take that photo. My nice little day dream on my drive home was quickly sucked away by the realization that, in fact, I would not go home and sleep on my couch. It was a fact that I would not be woken from my blasé slumber by an electric barker. I wouldn't do these things because there were other things to be done. I would need to pay bills, or make dinner. Laundry was an option, so was bathing. There was just simply too much to do that should rather be done than sleeping away an entire evening. The idea was a thing of splendor, but I knew that my mind would not allow me to achieve such a restful status.

The idea faded from my mind as I continued down the highway in what can only be described as a driver's coma. Slack jawed and mentally detached, my car cruised on towards home, towards a restful yet somehow energetic evening. It was then that I realized what I wanted to do. Since going home and being useless wasn't an option, only something productive would do. That light, the light from my day dreams, the light that penetrated the trees and escaped the shadow of the house next door, that was the small start of the fall light. The earth had moved enough that now the light bent and fell in pleasurable ways. Buildings cast half in shadow and half in an orange glow wrought by the waning sun beckoned to me. But where to go? Where in the city would I be best suited for taking pictures of such a lovely event? My mind was now awash with memories of other places that tended to look good at this time of year. It was overwhelming, Portland was such a picturesque place. The first thing to happen was to get those fucking pants off. My trusty Levi's were no doubt feeling neglected being all balled up on my bedroom floor. No, they would be joining me on my journey.

My car rumbled home. I ducked inside and changed my pants. I assembled my camera bag, and in a flash I decided that I would go to industrial south east and see what sort of photographic damage I could do. My pictures lately had really been bothering me. Every time I looked at them after a shoot, all I could see was how horribly mundane and boring they were. The framing was off, the shadows non-existent, contrasting colors were an unknown to me anymore. All of the pictures were trash. Gone were the days where I could just press the shutter button and amaze myself. I had some success with recent engagement photos that I had taken of friends of mine. They were pretty decent, mostly because my subjects worked so well with one another. It occurred to me around that time that they were decent pictures because it was a new type of photography to me. Since I was inexperienced and clumsy with people, I was willing to make mistakes and take chances. To that point, I had no idea what I was doing so there was no memory of a photo taken long ago that was nice at the time. There was nothing to compare against so there would be no disappointment. I felt on the outs with myself because I hadn't taken a picture I liked in months. Slowly it dawned on me that I would have to start taking risks and challenging myself again. Except this time, the risks would need to be calculated rather than accidental. My 'fun because its new' attitude would have to go.

I parked my car on Stark, just off of MLK. Traffic was heavy going eastbound on Stark from the highway off ramp, but parking was a breeze. I assembled my scattered supplies and bumbled my way out of my car. As my feet touched asphalt, I could hear a freight train sounding it's horn between the ancient warehouses and highway overpasses that webbed the east side of the Willamette. The buildings caught and amplified the already deafening blow of the horn. This was a scene I wanted to avoid. I had already tried my hand at taking pictures of the train, but found that I still wasn't quite sure how to capture the enormity of such a serene beast in such a closed-in environment. So I walked parallel to the tracks, only several blocks to the west so that I could avoid the temptation to get stuck watching the train and wasting the precious light of the idyllic fall afternoon.

From 09.28.11 Fall

After a few minutes of wondering I realized what my subject was to be: buildings. I had tried my hand at photographing buildings before, but without much satisfaction. My problem, I deduced, was that a building was not like a flower or a cat. It was not small, it was not afforded the gift of free will, nor was it able to sway and shake in the wind. It could not be easily manipulated by any power that I possessed. Although I did prefer to not stage my photos, I had generally taken comfort in the idea that most of what I felt successful at taking pictures of were objects that I could, if desired, move freely about. That is to say, I could either pick up and move the object, or I could move my body fully around the area of the object. This is rather difficult to do with a building, especially when there are other, sometimes larger buildings in the way of a potentially wonderful shot. But today, the decrepit, urine stained buildings living under the shadows of the bridges of Portland called to me. The streets were more or less empty, and I felt free to move about in ways that didn't seem likely in other parts of town. I felt the buildings aging in front of me, I could see it. The mix of old painted adverts on large brick canvases mixed appropriately with the new redevelopment of these well used buildings, and the sun light was deep and low. Shadows were everywhere to be found, yet the ambient light was such that little detail got lost.

I wondered on through empty lots, past impromptu homeless camps, around the urban scene finding shots that I hadn't considered before. I took a picture of a discarded shoe. This was a big step for me, pun intended. That sort of trash, this obvious decay of some person's life was generally a taboo thing for me. I found it to be too cliche. But that afternoon it seemed appropriate. Continuing on my trash theme, I had a nice session with a pair of trash cans outside of a bar. At first, I saw the street. It was desolate of people, but there were many parked cars. It drove me nuts; I could see the street without the cars in my mind and I thought how beautiful it would be to just see this landscape in it's natural state without the presence of or even any evidence of people. Then I saw the cans. Nicely green, set in front of a yellow-tan wall that looked like it had at least a dozen layers of paint on. There were several grates set in the wall just off to the left of the cans, and they provided a nice break in the otherwise smooth texture of the building. My several minutes spent with the trash cans were my favorite of this session by far.

From 09.28.11 Fall

I continued to find buildings suited to my pleasure, sometimes stopping to take more detailed photos of strange portholes or funny looking street signs. Eventually I found myself at the train tracks, under more bridges. The obligation to try some sort of vanishing point crap was too overwhelming, so I got down on my knees in the middle of the tracks and clicked off a few. I moved then to the bridges them selves. I have always been amazed at the look of these roads in the sky, admired the ability of human ingenuity and the glorious rigor of physics that allowed these spindly structures to support themselves, and the cars that needed them. My camera moved up, and I moved around, taking pictures over several blocks and of several over passes and bridges.

By that time, the sun was sneaking back into its diurnal hiding place and I felt I should do the same. The walk back seemed to take longer than the walk to, and on the way I found another interesting building that beckoned me. It was large and not a uniform shape, its bright yellow surface greebled with windows and false awnings. The building was massive, much more so than its neighbors, and presented an impressive sight when bombarded with the dying light of the sun. I didn't even try to frame up the whole thing. It seemed unnecessary. I pointed the camera up and took shots of just part of the building. The details were much more impressive than the whole, which would have been impossible to take a picture of completely without using some photographic devilry.

From 09.28.11 Fall

Minutes later, I was back to my car. I felt satisfied. At home, I put the pictures on my laptop and began to color correct as needed. Many of the pictures had too much color, so I made them black and white. It is sometimes amazing what a little desaturation can do for an otherwise bland photo. I looked back over the day's collection and felt good about it. I felt good that I didn't just go home and start drooling on the couch pillows. Chances were taken without regard for failure, and I felt like I made good choices. This was going to be a good fall for pictures.