The National Disaster

Another day, new deal.  Late in the afternoon, I went out into the 'hood with my Liberator anxious to further the victories of the day before.  Nothing doing.  Emboldened by my minor success, I walked tall with the Frankencamera under my arm looking for an appropriate subject.  And soon enough, I saw two girls about ten years old dressed alike pushing a twin baby stroller with two babies in it.  Holy smokes, holy smokes, I thought, this is BEAUTIFUL, but right away the two little girls looked at one another, gave out two shrieks, turned the carriage around and sped back to the place from which they had come.  And I was there soon enough.  On the carport sat a bunch of women and children.  One woman, who I assumed to be in charge of the two little girls, stared at me as I passed, mouth agape.

"Hey," I said like a white man studying the natives, "what are you kids afraid of?  Did my camera scare you?"

They just looked at mom who looked at me without registering I had said a word.  I continued to walk as the crowd in the carport studied my back.

I crossed the tracks and was at the old train stain which now served as the Farmer's Market on Saturdays.  I spied a wedding couple walking with a photographer who had four digital cameras and two assistants.  The bride looked at me, then at her fiancé, and said, "Is that a camera?"

"It sure is," I said like Pecker, and continued, "and I'd take your picture with it."

The photographer looked at me with unguarded antipathy, and the wedding party turned to run away.  So I walked on further 'til I came to an old wagon made of wood and steel.

"This will be good enough for a test," I told myself.  "It will be plenty good enough."

And so with my test frames shot, I returned to my studio to develop them in my new formula to see how they'd look.

They turned out to be too weak.

So I headed out again.  Maybe I'll be luckier this time, I told myself.  But I wasn't.  And after walking only two blocks, I was out of my crack neighborhood and and into the million dollar white shopping street.  It's the south.  Not kidding.  So, quickly coming upon a Vespa. . . I shot that.  And while I was working away, a youngish, middle-aged couple walked by.  Two film packs lay upon the sidewalk.  I heard the woman give a little snort in passing.  Sure, I thought, it is the same as it's always been.  Distrusted by the one crowd, disliked by the other.  How long, oh Lord, how long.

But that is how the neighborhood surrounding my studio works.  Next door, there was a fellow selling crack.  A block away, all the fellows hang our all day and drink beer under umbrellas set up on the big side yard.  There is some dealing going down there, too.  Another block and there are Vespas and expensive restaurants, lingerie stores, cello shops, etc.  Thinking about that, I got the idea that I would go to the big church up the street and talk to the preacher.  I would tell him that I wanted to record a history of the neighborhood, the challenges and changes it faces, in photos and words.  I would make prints that he could show at the church.  Yes, yes, I thought, this is my golden ticket.

Back at the studio, I put the negatives into my further modified formula and peeled the instant film.  And in the end, everything had worked like a charm.

But I'd forgotten what a pain in the ass it is to work with film.  I've gotten so used to the kind of process I do with Polaroid that I haven't had to worry about dust and scratches.  So for a tediously long time after scanning, I touched up the images for spots.  I am not a careful man, but I if I continue to work with film, I am going to have to learn to be careful.

O.K.  Welcome to the National Tragedy--Daylight Savings.  They need to quit fucking with the time.  It is bad for people.  Studies show this is true, but none of us need a study to know that.  Which western state does not move the clocks?  I think it's Arizona.  Or is that the state with all the inexplicable lights in the sky?  It is probably both.  One might have something to do with the other.

Well there's a dull report.  Hope you find it useful.