Beholders

I am waiting in the lobby of the SF Superior Court for what seems like forever. The sheriff manning the metal detector and x-ray keeps glancing over at me. The lobby is warm and bright.

He walks in and after introductions, the first thing he says is, I absolutely hate having my photo taken. I start up a conversation about hotwire.com and ask him to tell me more about the once federal case. They are seeking class-action certification against the travel booking site for tax-juggling that puts the burden on the consumer and shifts the weight off of the company. Of course, customers don’t know they’re getting the extra fees tacked on and more than likely the judge will grant cert.

We end the shoot and then lean up against the wall and continue talking. The light is just pouring in behind him and I want to shoot more. I ask for one more shot and surprisingly he agrees. I notice some quirks about his face and although he definitely has a “good side” I completely understand why he hates having his photo taken. I am biased, and realize I am trying to create an ideal.



What ends in the frame begins in my mind. My perceptions about what is attractive, desirable, respected and accepted by our society are largely based on what society dictates. Sometimes you can break out of the box, other times you are merely just breaking into another one. Is beauty in the eye of the beholder and what if all the beholders are completely crazy? You decide.

Love Letters

Everyday Department of Public Works descends on United Nations Plaza with high pressure steam cleaners. This bit of graffiti will be gone in a few hours, but for the time being I wonder about Amanda and Josh and if they scored. Are they getting the help they need? Probably not. There aren’t any quick fixes to an incredible downward spiral that has people living in poverty, drugs and alcohol abuse.

I once saw a guy holding a big bottle of malt liquor staggering up the sidewalk. He started to fall and as he is dropping, he is eyeballing the beer slipping out of his hand. Both he and the bottle hit the ground with amazing force. The bottle shatters on impact and this guy is out cold; gurgling a bit as someone starts dialing 911.

The sanitary smell of the soap from the pressure washers hits my nostrils as I exit the building. Men in white waterproof suits blast the plaza free of urine, shit and puke. The homeless, drug merchants and other plaza dwellers are displaced for a few hours, but return nonetheless. I wonder if this is official policy to combat homelessness in the Tenderloin or just the city being annoyingly stubborn about clean streets.

Either way the plaza smells better for the time being.

Growth

The Presidio of San Francisco was originally the site of a Spanish fort, built 1776. Seized by the gringos during Manifest Destiny in 1848, the Presidio remained a military base for the next 147 years, making it the longest continuously-operated base in the United States.

Now in the hands of the Presidio Trust in conjunction with the National Park System, the Presidio is undergoing a transformation. Sections have been converted into commercial spaces, like the old Letterman hospital has become the home of the Letterman Digital Arts Center and Lucasfilm. The Presidio today is a balancing act between being financially self sufficient and an open public space.

Walking in the door to the Officer’s Club is like entering a ghost town, so I wander around thinking of how best to photograph a group of 75. I suddenly realized as I take a few snapshots of the room, how much I have grown as a photographer. Much like the Presidio I have transformed myself into something half commercial and half artistic.

X-rays, Pat-Downs and Beyond

Family law court is always a nice change of pace from the usual parade of (cha-ching) attorneys in the Valley. During the drive to Sacramento, I can't stop thinking about taking lunch and buying some olive-oil bottles and checking out a mandoline slicer.

I am about a half an hour early and I enter the courtroom at the tail end of the “calendar.” The last case is reminiscent of Kramer v. Kramer without the kid and without the humor. Ok, so it’s nothing at all like the movie, but the mom is asking the judge to extend her restraining order against the dad. The judge spends the next five minutes citing all the different things that would violate the order and then asks the dad if he’s ok with that. He says “Yeah” and exits visibly upset.

After some photos of the judge, I head over to the Third District Court of Appeal, where the security is lax and the judges are high profile. I am amazed at the disparity in security at courthouses. At the family law court, I am scanning my baggage and being questioned; now I am simply telling the lone, bored guard that I’m here to shoot photos of so-and-so. My bags don’t even get noticed as I am led upstairs and ushered into the judge's chambers.