Outside the Frame

Blog is moving

2011-07-29T20:13:00.000-07:00

This blog is moving to http://jdoiy.wordpress.com/

please update your links. thank you

Archive-John Denver 1995

2011-07-28T11:05:00.001-07:00

The first State of the World Forum was held in San Francisco in October 1995 at the historic Fairmont Hotel in San Francisco.

It's All in the Details

2011-07-20T09:26:00.000-07:00

Roll your mouse over the image to see the changes.

I bought a set of genuine handcuffs from Amazon.com and had a guy paint them with the stars and stripes. I then set up a white, tabletop studio-shot. Lighting was one main diffused light on camera right and two small diffused lights, camera rear, pointing back at the cuffs.

The real work began once the photo was shot. Moderate processing, consisting of a slight levels bump. The big deal was lack of contrast. By far the biggest pain was the amount of cloning needed. Small flaws in the paint required a tremendous amount of touch up. The area where the chain links rubbed together were the worst. Red paint was mixed with the blue and vice versa, making that section look muddied and worn. Stars were retouched as well.

The final step was to create a path around the handcuffs to mask the background 100 percent white and lastly add in a drop shadow.

I didn’t log the amount of time this image took, but it was a lot. Needless to say I haven’t even made back the cost of paying the guy to paint the cuffs. However, I do feel it was worth it in processing experience alone. I was able to hone a few techniques on path creation, masking and cloning. And that has made a world of difference in other illustrations.

Liberty

2011-07-17T08:11:00.000-07:00

“No one aspires as a child to grow up and enter into a domestic partnership. But they do aspire as children to grow up and be married.” --Ted Olson, attorney

click for more images

Inspiration

2011-04-15T18:57:00.000-07:00

Photo-illustrations most often begin with a discussion and this one was no different. For a story on how the California Judges Association blasted back against the Administrative office of the Courts, I had an inane discussion about judges at night with pitchforks and torches outside the building. I say “Well that sounds really fun, but we’re gonna need a permit for the torches.” Heads slump. Then I pitch a reasonable solution that involves a reshoot of the Hiram Johnson State Building and later I’m walking up the street with a 24mm and wondering if I should have brought the 16mm.When I arrive I realize I should have brought the 16mm. I can’t fit the building in and I decide to shoot multiple photos and stitch them together. I get on the horn and ring up a courtroom for a gavel and we’re in business. A little later a clip, a snip and were finished. I’m looking it and thinking there isn’t anything wrong with this, but I wonder what it would look like if the hammer was actually blasting out part of the building.

And that’s how it goes.

I thought I would talk about illustrations and how my thought process has evolved. Most of the time you start off with nothing more than an idea and that idea can be quite vague. The secret is to transform a vague idea into a concept that can be executed without becoming overly literal. The key is transitioning the concept into something realistically plausible within a given framework. Budget, cost, availability, and timeframe were all factors why the judges with pitchforks and torches idea wouldn’t work. Avoid ideas that become too factual or literal. Instead try to envision a hyper-real image of something that itself is a concept instantly understandable to the viewer.

The mechanics of the illustration isn’t as important as the concept, but understanding Photoshop and what you can do with it shouldn’t be underestimated. Lastly I’d add that your understanding of photography can help create better, more powerful illustrations. In the coming weeks, I’m going to go over some other illustrations and talk about my process and maybe I’ll throw in a few tips and tricks.

-$250 an Hour

2011-04-02T08:06:00.000-07:00

That’s how much I lost by waiting 3 hours to respond to an inquiry for a job. The kicker --- I didn’t want to sound desperate or overly eager so I sat on the email.

Fee negotiation remains one of the most important and challenging aspects of the business of photography. Buy camera, get good, get paid right? Not quite. Some hard rules to consider before you price any job are.

1) What’s your cost of doing business?
2) What’s the market I’m in?
3) What rights agreement and fee is right for my client?
4) What's my clients budget?

That’s a lot to consider and certainly it might seem daunting and there are many potential pitfalls along the way, like waiting 3 hours to not seem desperate.

Don't settle for what doesn't seem fair or reasonable. Be willing to negotiate and perhaps even accept less, but don't accept less than your worth.

The photo above was a composite image of three shots. The $100 dollar bill bent on it's side to simulate swimming (later rotated in PS). The hook, poking through a hole in a piece of paper (no 100 dollar bills were actually poked in the making of this photo). Lastly, the line and hook were shot separately.

Lighting was one light camera bottom and beneath for 100 dollar bill to create camera-right light when rotated. Line and hook were both shot with one light as well.

Show me the Money

2011-03-07T19:29:00.000-08:00

I have a few readers, maybe enough to count on one hand. Then I have the accidental, stumble in from the cold (there’s no cover charge is there?) kind of reader that stops by after looking at my main site.

I marvel at the world as it exists today. That I can even have a stumble in from the cold reader blows my mind. I remember back when I was using a dial up modem (no not DSL) to connect to bulletin board systems and I thought I was hot shit. Well I wasn’t then and I’m certainly not now.

So, where I’m I going with this? I have always wanted this blog to be about what it’s like to be a photographer; about thoughts, fears, breakthroughs and self-discoveries as a photographer. At times I think it’s worked profoundly well and others times it hasn’t.

Going forward, I’ve made a couple steadfast rules. 1. Always post a photo. No EXCEPTION. 2. Stay on topic. This blog exists to inform people of what goes on inside my head while I’m taking photos or talking about photos.

So I present you with this photo.

It’s my boy’s room. And that sock monkey was given to me by a friend. Now here comes the discussion. I hated taking that photo.

What?

It’s got the nice side-light, nice composition (sort-of) and it’s a touching image of a major event that happened in my life, but here’s why I hated it. I felt obligated to take the photo.

No one asked me to do it. I did it on my own and no one would even know about this now if it wasn’t for this blog entry. Here it is, the crux. I felt an overwhelming urge to shoot this image and send it to my friend to validate my appreciation for the gift, which I really do appreciate. The trouble is, I live and breathe images all the time. I am a photographer and the last thing I want to do is more work. Maybe this sounds trite, but I’m amazed at how often people ask “Wow you’re a photographer, what’s it like doing something you love and getting paid for it?”

Well it’s a little like this. Imagine you love ice cream. Now imagine I’m going to pay you to eat ice cream all day long. Sound good so far? Well unfortunately this ice cream tastes like a sweaty CEO at some company and he needs a good portrait, so get right on that.

That’s the trouble.

You have to reconcile your love for the craft with the subject matter and while the sock monkey is cute and very unlike a sweaty CEO, at the end of the day I won’t even be getting paid for it.

My New Friends

2011-02-20T09:06:00.000-08:00

I have a lot of time to stare at these guys across from where I now spend hours rocking back and forth. So let's welcome Explorer Pig, The Bumblebee Man and The Bear.

Who Are You?

2011-02-18T16:21:00.000-08:00

It's 6am and I'm spoon feeding a 4-day-old baby. He's red from crying. I can't stop wondering how did this happen? It's surreal and awkward. I have no idea what I’m doing and that is exactly how it is supposed to be.

I can't stop thinking who is this little guy? What will he be when he grows up? Who will he love and who will break his heart? I wish my dad could have seen him. I wish my dad was more of a dad to me. And I wonder if I’ll ever be as good of a dad as I can be?

Walking in LA

2011-02-12T08:58:00.000-08:00

A one-day trip to the City of Angels for some portraits. I found time, along the way for some tourist snaps.

Hustler HQ

Wilshire

LACMA

Variety

405

Connect U

2011-02-01T22:24:00.000-08:00

This is from a few weeks ago. It was really great, hanging out with the Bay Area press photographers, waiting for the Winklevoss twins to leave the Ninth Circuit.

It was like old-school social networking.

I don't normally like doing these types of assignments as you never really get a great photo, but some highlights were the twins arriving on foot instead of the usual black Lincoln Town car and the press pack facing the wrong way. Them slipping past us. Later, while leaving they refused to comment and the pack chasing them down the street until a video guy trips on a curb and everyone, including the twins stops while he is helped up.

Good times!

Nico's Jacket

2011-01-26T22:30:00.000-08:00

I find it amazing how the simplest of things can make the most powerful photogaphs. My son is coming soon.

It's strange and odd saying that. His arrival is less than five weeks away and I have trouble imagining what it'll be like, but seeing the jacket ... air-drying, I can almost picture it.

Mr. Grumpy

2010-12-22T06:17:00.000-08:00

I think this Stag Mule Deer was a little cranky that it was still snowing lightly three days after the initial storm. I only got a couple good frames of him. He was completely nonplussed by my presence and half the time wasn’t even facing the camera. I was actually a little disappointed that he didn’t run in terror or even charge me!

In his defense, it was early in the morning and maybe the continued snowfall coupled with my presence left him feeling thoroughly depressed. I’ll never know, but I did get quite a few photos of his rear-end while he looked off into the distance. Then, he sauntered down the ridge, disappearing into the wild.

Archive: Tonopah and a Motorbike

2010-11-07T10:34:00.000-08:00

Self portrait on the road to Las Vegas in 1995. I bought a KZ-440 and drove it from Carson City without registration or a motorcycle license all the way to Las Vegas and then cut across through Bakersfield and up Highway 1 back to SF.

Somewhere near Tonopah 1995

Marty Lurie's Changeup

2010-11-02T18:07:00.000-07:00

For the Love of the Game from Jason Doiy on Vimeo.

Brewer in SF

2010-11-02T11:26:00.000-07:00

Arizona Gov. Jan Brewer, showed up for arguments at the Ninth Circuit Monday. I doubt she stuck around to celebrate as the Giants beat Texas.

Archive: Stabbed in the Back

2010-10-31T08:57:00.000-07:00

A photo from my archive taken in In New Jersey overlooking the Hudson river. The statue is dedicated to 15,400 Polish soldiers ambushed by Russian forces in 1939. This photo has always reminded me of the headless horseman and thus a good image for Halloween.

My Favorite Photographer

2010-10-23T10:41:00.000-07:00

Daniel Doiy 1938 to 2010 - Images by Jason Doiy

Daniel G. Doiy passed away on Oct. 13 after a long battle with cancer. A life-long political and animal rights activist, he was born in 1938 in Akron, Ohio.

He served in the Navy aboard the USS Intrepid before moving west during the heyday of the 1960’s; finally settling down to work 26 years at Cal State Hayward as a systems engineer.

He is survived by his daughter Danielle Addleman (Aaron); sons Jason Doiy (Caroline) and Alex Craig; grandson Micah Addleman.

My dad was my biggest inspiration for me becoming a photographer.

Cantil-Sakauye named to replace Ronald George

2010-07-21T09:58:00.000-07:00

If confirmed Tani Gorre Cantil-Sakauye, 50, would be the first Asian American chief justice and give the court a female majority for the first time in history.

"She is a living example of the American Dream and when she is confirmed by the voters in November, Judge Cantil-Sakauye will become California's first Filipina chief justice; adding to our High Court's already rich diversity," Schwarzenegger said in a news release this morning.

SF Pride Prade

2010-06-27T21:03:00.001-07:00

Evol Photoshop

2009-11-25T13:32:00.000-08:00

I love you Photoshop and Adobe. Thank you for creating an amazing and revolutionary program that goes beyond what I first imagined. I scoffed when I first saw version 3.5 , "What the hell? What could possibly be added or improved?" Indeed, many versions have come and gone, but the depth to each upgrade has continued to revolutionize my creative process and thanks to you I have a deep understanding of graphics and imaging.

On a shoot once, a subject asked me if I used Photoshop and I responded with a resoundingly cheerful "Yes!" He then told me how he thought that it was the biggest rip-off he'd ever seen. He proclaimed "With that kind of money I would expect that when I put a photo into it I should get something better out of it." I started to explain, but stopped myself. Why bother.

2009-08-26T11:48:00.000-07:00

Mo Money

2009-07-14T09:27:00.000-07:00

For a story on clean technology companies getting money from the federal government with strings attached.

Failing to Win

2009-06-11T20:19:00.000-07:00

I wish I could tell you this once and you would understand, but you won’t.

Sometimes it’s easy, like a lightning strike, you just get it.

Often I don't get it, but I keep trying though.

Trying is all you can do. Keep trying and you’ll avoid failure.

I had less than 12 hours to make an image out of an assignment about the law firm billing model--the billable hour. I could have just opted for a stock image of money. I had an idea and not being sure how to execute it, I could of very easily fallen back on a plain, but yet perfectly acceptable photograph from a readily accessible image archive. Instead I started to plan my idea out. I’ll get the hook from somewhere near my house. I asked one of the more flush looking editors to get me a crisp $100 bill from the bank. He looked at me like I was running a hustle, but shrugged as if to say “I know where you work.”

I got up early and hit the hardware store. FAILURE. Even though the store is near the ocean and the pier where people fish on a daily basis they didn’t carry any “tackle,” that’s what the shopkeeper with the three Yorkies told me. One of them was sniffing my pants leg as I turned to leave. I then realized that I should have gone to the Sports Authority, but when I showed up they wouldn’t be open for another hour.

I experiment shooting a one dollar bill tapped to a light table lit by a single strobe. I am able to shoot this successfully and then proceed to rig up the hook and photograph it separately. Next the line and the 100 bill are shot. I puncture the one dollar bill with the hook and shoot that as well. I take the four images to the computer and start. I clip them out, rotate and drag and drop. A few clicks here and there and it's finished.

It was a lot like something I saw on the NYT a few weeks earlier and after the day was done I knew that I had exactly the same experience this photographer had in 2,500 miles away when he photographed his exploding pie. Sometimes you don’t know what your doing and win or lose the best thing you can do is try.

Swim From Alcatraz

2009-05-19T16:06:00.000-07:00

Dad and Cat

2009-03-31T11:52:00.001-07:00

"Do You Know the Way to San José"

2009-01-25T08:19:00.001-08:00

My way to San Jose is usually 101 South, but tonight after a long fruitless day sitting around worrying and waiting by the telephone I found out there is more than one way to get to San Jose.

Dad,

the phone keeps ringing and I am wondering why you aren’t answering. It goes to voice mail for the third time and as I turn into your driveway and see your car gone, a pit opens up and I feel like I am falling ... I am falling.
Inside I don’t see much—the TV is on. The lights are on. You’re gone. I dial your cell again and am horrified as I hear it ring in the house. You don’t have your phone.

Your IMRT (Intensity Modulated Radiation Therapy) appointment is in 45 minutes and the only thing I can think of doing is sitting down and calling Danielle. I don’t really know what to say to her except that you’re gone. I feel responsible for your disappearance. The second call is to your Oncologist saying you won’t be attending your radiation appointment. They’re polite.

People start searching for you. I answer the phone a lot ... No, I don’t know. He wasn’t here when I arrived. No, he took his car. I am calling the police. They refer me to the Alameda County Sheriff because you live in a section of Hayward that is unincorporated and doesn’t have a police department. The sheriff takes a report and gives me his card. He doesn't even get out of his car.

It’s a big world. Where did you go?

Alex is the one who found you. Your credit card was charged $943.94 for some clothes in San Jose. You're in the parking lot of a nearby Denny’s. You’re dehydrated and keep saying it is really great that we bumped into each other in downtown Berkeley. We ask you where your car is and you shrug. You don’t know where your keys are either. We’re heading to the Emergency Room now in San Leandro to have you checked out. You’re angry and don’t trust us.

A Picture of Change

2009-01-20T09:41:00.000-08:00

For the last 8 years George Walker Bush's photo has greeted people in the lobby of The Phillip Burton Federal Building in San Francisco. At exactly 9am Pacific Standard Time it was taken down to be replaced by a portrait of President Barack Obama.

Ironman

2009-01-09T08:11:00.000-08:00

Dear Dad,

The chemo and radiation is affecting your brain. You keep forgetting things. But not like the normal stuff that I’ve gotten used to you forgetting, you know like when you try to remember the name of a movie director. You say What’s his name? Umm Jason help me out here?

That’s not what worries me now.

Last night we were watching Iron Man and today you don’t remember it. Later we’re watching it again for a second time. When I tell you that we watched this the night before, you shake your head. You look at me like you’re trying to remember and your eyes light up for a second and I think you have it, but then you go back to shaking your head. You don’t have it. The doctors say that this is fairly common in older patients that undergo treatment and also because of the location of the radiation treatments being close to your brain. The tough part is a radiation treatment a day, five days a week with only the weekends off. It is hard getting you to keep going. Yesterday when I said it was time to go, you got quiet and like a child whispered Can we just skip it today?

On your second chemo you get the drug Cisplatin, a small amount cloistered with liters of IV fluids to help the body deal with the toxicity of the event. The fluids drip all day as we sit in a room full of other cancer patients. Afterwards, I take you home and you want to watch a movie. You want to watch Iron Man because you haven’t seen it yet.

Live Through This

2008-12-19T06:58:00.000-08:00

Dear Dad,

It’s been a while since I’ve written. We’ve been busy with your cancer treatments. It continues to be very hard to deal with your illness on a number of levels. It’s left me scrambling to find the time to drive us to the cadre of doctors spread out over Castro Valley and San Leandro.

I am taking leave from work and that should help. Have you heard of Family Medical Leave? Basically without retaliation from my employer I am allowed to take up to 12 weeks off in a calendar year to care for a relative or spouse or even bond with a new child and 6 weeks of that can be paid, although at a reduced percentage of my annual income.

Once that’s squared away I should be able to find more time. It’s tough to live through this, tougher than I imagined. On my way back home tonight, I wound up eating a burrito at a quarter to 10 and I know that tomorrow I'll have to be up early to pick you up again. It’s the little things like eating right that get neglected.

You’re starting to worry me though, because you began ever so softly to become ambivalent about the prognosis and treatment. More and more you are becoming disorganized and confused, it feels like time is running out.

Taking Stock

2008-09-12T07:34:00.000-07:00

Before it could even celebrate a one year anniversary, it was announced yesterday that the Photoshelter Collection would be closing. I’ve been in the middle for a while now. Initially I was super excited to get on board with the “Collective” (sometimes I can’t resist my inner Star Trek geek).

I thought I was getting in on the ground floor and bucking the system. I certainly wasn’t about to prostitute myself to any micro-stock company for loose change that won’t even cover expenses. However I still wasn’t able to be in a prominent, large, stable stock house.

I’ll be refocusing on quality images and building a marketable library on the PS archive while investigating my options at other companies. I’ve got a website re-launch planned, that will further link my archive and clients. Lastly I’ve got a whole lot of desire to make this work. I’m excited about my future as an assignment/editorial and stock photographer.

2008-09-05T11:07:00.000-07:00

Abby Road Revisited

2008-05-21T09:40:00.001-07:00

Making Other Plans

2008-05-13T08:38:00.000-07:00

I have been told that life is what happens when you are busy making other plans. When I hear this I divide the difference between what I have accomplished, what I am planning and what has happened instead. The result is often a hodgepodge of successes, failures and pipe dreams that may never be.

Regardless of how much money I spend on a project, it never is a failure. Take Google for example. They recently bid $5 billion on wireless spectrum that they had zero plans for. Google is known for risky, off the cuff decisions that sometimes lead to useless products and dead ends. Ever heard of Google Ride Finder and Google Mars? The question though becomes was it worth the investment and I think looking at their 25 percent net profit is enough to make a case of the end justifying the means.

I am in the subway, staring at a movie poster thinking about what plans I have for the rest of the day when this older Asian fellow strikes up a conversation. He asks for directions on which train will take him to West Portal. He then makes small talk asking me what I do for a living and when I tell him he shakes my hand vigorously and says “Aaahhh.” His name is Dennis Lee and he too is a photographer. Like a magician he suddenly produces a small photo book and starts showing me his portfolio.

We talk about his work and mine. The train comes and he asks for my card and if I want to go get coffee at the Metro Center. Suddenly I realize he is lonely. That’s when I realize he spotted my camera back pack and knew I was a photographer from the beginning. I chuckle to myself; it was his plan the entire time.

Dr. Brown

2008-01-25T06:55:00.000-08:00

When I was a kid I loved Dr. Brown’s Black Cherry soda. One of my favorite things to do was walk up College Avenue in Berkeley to this little café that I can’t seem to remember the name of and buy a can of what I considered to be one of the finest, most exquisite sodas ever made. It came in these cute little bottles with a Styrofoam label that I would try and peel off as thinly as possible in one continuous strand.

This went well for a while, until one day it was declared that my patronage of the nameless café would have to cease. A higher authority, using sophisticated intelligence beyond the comprehension of a seven-year-old had discovered that this unnamed café was a front for a commune of “Moonies.” That’s right, disciples of the Reverend Sun Myung Moon were shamelessly enticing recruits with Dr. Brown’s Black Cherry soda. I was torn between utter loss and thankfulness at not having been coerced into the Unification Church. After my attempts to locate another supplier failed, I became interested in all that there was to know about communes and alternate religions.

This was a strongly anti-cult period of time in America. I read a story in “Life” magazine about a commune that wanted to separate itself from mainstream society and disassociate itself from all things not made by their own hands. This worked pretty well, except that members couldn’t shake their desire for Snickers candy bars among some of the other finer things in life. I remember with shock, watching TV as the camera paned across piles of bodies at Jonestown in Guyana.

Years later I was overjoyed when I discovered the gloriously elusive soda at a small delicatessen in Reno. I bought a bottle and quickly cracked the plastic cap separating me from divinity and quietly wondered if the “Moonies” had moved their operation to Reno. No matter I had the soda.

Last week, I went to see a different Dr. Brown.

Russell Brown is the senior Creative Director of Adobe Systems Incorporated and is fond of telling the audience that it's Russell with two L’s. He has been with Adobe for over 20 years and is a 2002 Photoshop Hall of Fame winner. He writes free scripts which include “Dr. Brown’s Merge-A-Matic” and “Dr. Brown’s 1-2-3 Process.”

Sitting in the audience I am easily swept into the cult of Dr. Brown. In the front row there are a gaggle of devotees that hang on his every word. He makes me want to run right out and trash my copy of CS2 and purchase the upgrade. In fact, as they raffle off a copy at the end of the presentation, I have to hold back tears when I don’t win.

I could talk about the merits and value of purchasing CS3, but if you’re already considering it, I am pretty sure I don’t have to help sell it. So go ahead and crack the cap, it is worth it--every last drop.

Pink is the New Rose

2008-01-03T16:31:00.000-08:00

Mexicali Rose restaurant, Oakland CA

Best of the Best

2007-12-25T06:12:00.001-08:00

Here is a slide show of the year in photos. I hope you enjoy it.

http://www.doiy.com/yearinphotos07/

Slow Ride

2007-12-13T13:50:00.000-08:00

Palo Alto, CA

Smoke Shop

2007-12-07T17:06:00.001-08:00

Tenderloin, SF

2007-12-07T16:34:00.000-08:00

Palo Alto, Ca

To license this image or others click here.

Today's Front Page Tomorrow's Bird Cage

2007-11-26T16:45:00.000-08:00

A newspaper anti-trust attorney leaves a high profile firm to settle down in Calaveras county to publish a bi-weekly newspaper. Did the legal work dry up or something? I don't know, but at least the population is higher than the altitude.

Power

2007-11-16T12:29:00.000-08:00

Bakersfield, Ca

To license this image or others click here.

Fall

2007-11-15T19:04:00.000-08:00

Sacramento, Ca

Leap of Faith

2007-11-15T07:57:00.000-08:00

Imagine waking up one day and being disabled. The day before you are running with scissors and the next day you can’t find the scissors because now you’re blind. No matter what we think we understand about disability it is much harder than imagined.

I spent an hour with Walt Raineri, an attorney at Fenwick & West that lost his sight two years ago to retinitis pigmentosa. Simple translation, 90 percent of his vision is gone because the cells in his retina can no longer process light into electrical signals.

He meets me in the lobby and makes a leap of faith shooting his hand out. As we shake I realize that in a visual world there are a lot of things we take for granted. We discuss the location of the bike and how to get there much like going on a mission.

Passersby say “Hi Walt,” as we navigate the hallway and head towards the basement. Walt says things like “where’s that pole?” and “here’s that curb.” He raises his hand to shield his face when we walk near some low-hanging support beams, saying I learned the hard way to watch out for those.

Pushing the bike out isn’t easy. I navigate and we have to watch for cars and speed bumps. We take the bike up a set of steps and Walt counts them out. He knows the number by heart. Uncertainly on the last step can lead to disaster.

He asks if I can send him some photos telling me his wife will describe them to him later. I am really touched by this.

They Carried Their Service

2007-10-25T18:19:00.000-07:00

This year I read Tim O'Brien’s "The Things They Carried," and when I walked into Judge James Ellis' chambers it didn't take me long to figure out this guy was in Vietnam. There was a gigantic American flag tacked to the wall and a framed tiger print hung above a bookcase. On the bookcase was a miniature "MIA" flag, the type of flag people wave with one hand at parades. He is sporting a boot-camp buzz-cut and is the right age.

He walks with a cane and limps across the room as we talk a bit about his tour of duty. He was a platoon leader in Vietnam and after six months was severely wounded. He looked off longingly as he talked about his service and trailed off as he said he planned to make a career out of it. I asked him if six months in action felt like six years and he said yeah we were all so young back then and thought we were invincible.

Highway One

2007-10-10T13:40:00.000-07:00

To license these images or others please visit my PhotoShelter site.

Flight for David

2007-09-11T22:11:00.000-07:00

In college I had a professor that was once a television reporter. He told a bulging roomful of us, young and eager, but naïve, budding journalist that he discovered every time he skipped lunch his story was that much better. He used to survey the room after he dropped this comment and scan our faces. When his eyes hit mine I always blinked disbelievingly.

I got up at 4 am to do my first ever for publication multimedia project on a guy with ALS. David Ames was denied a commercial flight to undertake an experimental surgery, but was donated a private jet by a couple of anonymous donors. It was my idea and I had thought a lot about it. I planned out sound clips and visualized what photos I could shoot.

I went to work after the session and then much later continued working on the project after most everyone left for the day. I skipped lunch that day too, but it was that much better I think.

click for slide show

Hope Street

2007-09-09T21:59:00.000-07:00

Dr. Sandra Steingraber asks the audience to visualize breast cancer rates stretching back from the 1940’s to 2000 as a small girl walking along a scenic rural road. As the years pass, the girl matures and the flat road gradually begins to incline. The incline represents the increase in breast cancer rates, by the time the girl is in her late 30s she is practically climbing vertically.

Steingraber presents breast cancer as a human rights issue in her book “Living Downstream: An Ecologist Looks at Cancer and the Environment.” She cautions against despair asking anyone in the audience to stand if they are a breast cancer survivor. Half the room stands. Steingraber says “when you were diagnosed you didn’t say that’s ok I’ll skip the chemo resign myself to die.”

Steingraber is hopeful and wide eyed and the room erupts in a standing ovation.

A Tale of Two People

2007-08-22T19:57:00.000-07:00

“The only people for me are the mad ones. The ones who are mad to love, mad to talk, mad to be saved; the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!” – Jack Kerouac

Tiburon is the last place I would expect to meet a guy like criminal defense attorney Jon Rankin. I am parking next to boutique shops that quietly hawk overpriced glassware, jewelry and high end chotchkies. I enter his office at the bottom of the stairs in the middle of the deserted shopping strip.

I call out and he enters from an adjoining office welcoming me. I am immediately struck by his jewelry and the gurgling sound of half empty fish tanks. He ushers me into his office where I notice a corner dedicated to flamingos and even more fish tanks in various stages of evaporation. He says “I collect them,” pointing to the flamingos. Everywhere I look is vivid detail about this guy’s life. He’s an extrovert in this quiet Marin county hamlet and I have to struggle to pay attention to him as he’s talking to me.

He’s telling me about a guy named “Nazi Low-rider,” currently doing time in Pelican Bay in the SHU as they call it (Special Housing Unit). Mr. Low-rider wants to replace the Arian Brotherhood and sends Rankin artwork from time to time. Rankin tells me some of it he has to keep in a drawer because it is too offensive.

I get him to pose with a polar bear skin rug. He points at his ’58 caddy and that’s where we head next.

Imagine yourself buried in Concord, in a quaint house on a half acre lot and you dig in for 26 years. Later you find yourself squaring off against MediCal in a fight for your home with everything but the ONE you moved in with. Meet Donald Townes. He’s got garden gnomes scattered across his back lawn, roses adoring a trellis and a nearby thriving vegetable garden.

This 1,000 square foot home in the hot Concord baking sun is something worth fighting over. He’s a quiet guy, a sensible guy. Donald tells me he is heading out to Mexico for a getaway in the morning. He needs to clear his head with the trouble from MediCal.

Book Sale

2007-07-30T20:31:00.000-07:00

It’s hard to say something when you don’t have much to talk about. The last few weeks have been pretty uneventful or maybe I am just not paying enough attention. Oh there was one tiny, slightly interesting thing. Maybe.

I jerk up the parking break on Washington Street, right near the Oakland Police Department and look through the passenger window. There it is, a book called “San Francisco: A City for all Seasons” with an introduction by Steve Young sitting in the front window.

I remember the phone call. Elise Hochstadt said I should submit photos for a book project on San Francisco. I was excited and nervous at the same time In the end I managed to get an image in the book. I never got paid from the publishing company and I gave up trying. I somehow managed to squeeze a copy of the book out of them and now there is another copy for sale in this used book store.

Thankless Job

2007-07-03T22:04:00.000-07:00

The 37th annual Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender Pride Parade starts right on time with a deafening collective roar of Harleys as the “Dykes on Bikes” gun their way up Market Street. In their wake a much quieter and smog free contingent of “Mikes on Bikes” peddle and squeak by.

Thousands of spectators line the streets watching as politicians including City Attorney Dennis Herrera, Mayor Gavin Newsom, District Attorney Kamala Harris and Public Defender Jeff Adachi cruise up the parade route waving and smiling.

The public defender wears a shirt that says, “Getting you OFF since 1921.” As his float passes me, Deputy Public Defender Tal Klement grabs the mic and in a pull you closer at a bar kind of way says, “Let’s give it up for the Public Defender.” I can actually see a collective puzzlement sweep across the crowd as people struggle to grasp the concept. Then gentle, polite clapping, much like when the school know-it-all wins yet another award.

There’s a theory that law school grads go into private sector legal work to pay back large school loans and then later venture off to the PD’s or DA’s office to pay back a different kind of loan. Most people will never think of ever needing a public defender, but Edith Delgado will probably never forget hers.

She was labeled a speeding out of control youth, a barely passing continuation high school student with a penchant for reckless driving. The day she pinged a Ford Explorer carrying the Tonga royals, causing them to rollover and kill everyone on board was the beginning of her end. Delgado was vilified by the press, but forgiven by the Tongan family. Her trial lasted a year and in the end to everyone’s surprise she was found only guilty of misdemeanor vehicular manslaughter.

She was apologetic, remorseful, grief stricken and genuine. Probably the best defense a PD can give. Randy Moore her lawyer truthfully put his client out there and got her OFF.

I stalk and chase a couple down Market Street trying to get a picture of them holding hands. They keep waving and dropping their grip. Finally I get it.

Destination Everywhere?

2007-06-21T09:53:00.000-07:00

Up North past the "Drive Through Tree” in Myers Flat, within spitting distance of Oregon lies Eureka, CA also known as the “Lost Coast.” Eureka is home to 26,000 Indians, rednecks, hippies, homeless and truckers. It’s a quaint place and I love towns on the edge of everything and Eureka is just that. It’s a small town on the beginning of nothing.

A week earlier I got my passport. After recent changes these blue gems are a hot commodities and it took me two months to get mine. The last time I had one, I had a Mohawk and wanted to marry Penelope Huston from the Avengers Today, I hope that maybe I’ll get an international assignment leading to fame and glory.

The Eureka court administrator intensely tells me a story of how Wayne Adam Ford walked into the main lobby and sauntered up to the sheriff’s window and confided that he had been very bad and needed to be locked up. He produced a bag containing severed women’s breasts, shocking deputies and leading him to be charged and convicted with killing multiple women while engaged in long hauls in his trucking rig.

I am led around the courthouse and move from area to area photographing the events in the courthouse. I am pretty sure nothing like Wayne Ford will happen, but you never know. After some convincing I am allowed into the criminal arraignment afternoon calendar and I make a great photo. Later I polish off some wheat beer at Lost Coast Brewery in downtown Eureka while posting photos to my flickr site. I have a long and pretty drive ahead of me and I can’t wait to see the Redwoods—the true gems of up North.

Good Sport

2007-06-08T18:13:00.000-07:00

Its tough illustrating stories with photographs and sometimes being creative isn’t even the hard part. The story du jour is about pants. Men wearing pants, men without pants and a judge that sued for $65 million because a dry cleaners lost a pair of his pants. Yes, a judge.

I tried to get the page editor, the guy who is in charge of the story to pose. He said no. I asked the managing editor and he looked at me like he was going to punch me. Time was running out and after varying the pitch a bit I convinced the paper’s best kept good sport Osker, to drop his drawers and sashay for the camera.

The shoot took place in the middle of the production department and it was over and done in less than couple minutes, but Osker saved the day by dropping his pants.

See previous post "Pantalones"

Pantalones

2007-06-06T17:33:00.001-07:00

B-L-O-G

2007-06-05T17:32:00.000-07:00

For a story on the increasing occurence of blogging in the workplace at major law firms from legal support staff.

Vist my Photoshelter site for images like this one to license.

Busy

2007-05-30T20:44:00.001-07:00

I’ve got a reception to shoot after work and the next day I am meeting an estate planning attorney that specializes in pets. You heard right, as in cute and cuddly Fluffy wants a slice of your estate after you die. And this guy helps divvy it up. He seems flakey and we have a time scheduled for 9 am on a Saturday morning.

I’m on time in the Haight Ashbury district, knocking on his door and I am not surprised when no one answers. I knock a few more times and 5 minutes later the door swings open and a messed up hair, no shirt and barefoot dude squints at me. He tells me he completely forgot and ushers me in to the Victorian foyer. I look past an empty bedroom and then glance over and through a doorway I see a woman pull the covers up to her chin and call out, “Michael can you shut the door.” I tell him to take his time and run a comb through his hair as I creep off to the living room to hide out.

After a while he comes back and suggests I photograph him naked with his cat and we can title it “Cock and Pussy.” I think it’s a great idea, but I am pretty sure the editor wouldn’t want to run it. We shoot some photos and I am thinking there is nothing crazier than an early morning shoot in the Haight.

Grace Under Fire

2007-05-18T23:42:00.000-07:00

I am trying to catch up on some last minute work when my boss pops around the corner and says, “Scheck just got a tip that a supervisor is being searched by the Feds.” I reluctantly grab my gear and head out with the reporter. We head over to City Hall and talk about hockey and softball. My team is 7 and 0 and for the first time in my softball career we’re undefeated.

I dread the thought of waiting outside in the wind, so we head in and wander aimlessly knocking on doors. I notice a cop standing outside a door and suggest that maybe it’s that guy. The reporter says, “Oh I see just because his last name is ‘Jew’ he’s obviously the thief.” After some talking the deputy gives up that the Feds are indeed searching this supervisor’s office on a warrant.

The agent enters the bathroom and unzips in the next urinal. I ask him for his card. He declines, but confirms that they are serving a search warrant.

The reporter calls in his story and stops in the middle of the grand staircase to tie his shoe. Later in the office when I show him his picture he says, “The one thing that separates me from the others is grace.”

The Number 3 Lane

2007-05-10T08:08:00.000-07:00

I remember first falling in love with the Bay Area crossing the Bay Bridge and leaning back, looking out the back of the hatch-back as the suspension cables went up and down. I would plead, “drive in the middle” as this would help foster my fantasy of the bridge raising and lowering the car with every tower. The sun was shining and I would count out the towers silently as we went past. One, two, three, four and then I would ask how come the bridge to Treasure Island doesn’t have cables. Just the kind of question an adult loves to answer.

Mean Streets

2007-04-23T17:08:00.000-07:00

Meeting San Francisco District Attorney Harry Dorfman at the corner of Newcomb and Newhall is something I am looking forward too. When he rolls up in a Crown Victoria, an obvious unmarked cop car with a driver I don’t question the escort’s necessity. Even midday the area is crawling with people milling around. Suspiciously they eyeball me, the detective and Dorfman and spread the word “Po Po.”

I couldn’t feel safer though as the Dorfman starts joking about how this is going to make him famous and fantasizes that George Lucas and Francis Ford Coppola will be lining him up for roles in the jointly directed Godfather IV. He can’t be any happier as one of the most difficult cases in his 23 year career comes to a close and it all started on this block in 2004.

David Hill, in his own words is a “Thugged out Nigga livin da mob life,” and three years ago the killing of San Francisco officer Isaac Espinoza shocked the community as the DA’s office said it wouldn’t seek the death penalty. Now after Dorfman lands a tough guilty verdict for intentionally killing a police officer, Hill is sentenced to life without parole.

The inspector asks me if I brought a gun and when I shake my head he says “That’s ok I brought mine.” He points at some gang graffiti on a wall nearby and jokingly asks me if I need any drugs. Afterwards I shoot some photos of the two of them and promise to send them each one.

Color for Color's Sake

2007-04-12T17:38:00.000-07:00

Sometimes someone on a precarious ledge will say “but black and white photography is just oh so much better than color” in response to me exclaming that I like color better than black and white.

Black and white has its place just as color does. Personally, I am more drawn to color as I can achieve a much more diverse artistic expression, while black and white can be limiting. Most of us don’t see the world in black and white and when we see a photograph laid out in grayscale there is a visual cue that something is different. In that regard you can use black and white to your advantage. However color can be used to cue up that double-take, deeper look that draws your viewer in.

It is challenging to use color photography in such a way that the color imagery becomes meaningful beyond just a mere color photograph. Used in combinations with complimentary colors or primary colors, color adds a dimension and depth that is different and in some respects much deeper than black and white.

Travels with Potsey

2007-03-28T17:11:00.000-07:00

A dog is truly man’s best friend and my buddy Potsey is riding shotgun with me on my way to Infineon Raceway in Sonoma. It’s 6:30 am and he isn’t bugging me to stop for a latte and a bagel; he is just sitting patiently staring out the window. Occasionally he glances over at me and tries to rest his head on my hand when I downshift.

I’m meeting an attorney who owns three Lotus Formula One race cars, one of which is a black 1976 “John Player Special” driven by Mario Andretti. The Lotus 78 also called the “Wing Car” because of its inverted wing look helped win Andretti the 1977 Grand Prix.

I park my 1996 dented and scratched Honda Civic with 140,000 miles just as some guy goes by in a red Ferrari. The mechanics are studied and meticulous; I get the impression largely, that to be here and work on these cars is reserved for only the most patient and proficient. Potsey isn’t as impressed though, but he’s happy to run around the outside of the shop and pee on some old tires.

Crosswalk

2007-03-28T14:19:00.000-07:00

The solid red hand instantly switches into the white walking man and she steps off the curb. Maybe she is delivering some flowers or maybe they are for her. It could be an anniversary or birthday, maybe even a funeral.

The rotund men crossing the street have probably just finished lunch. They could be discussing stocks or plans for the weekend. Maybe one of them will notice the flowers and think about buying some or perhaps they will just pass by.

Trust Your Mechanic

2007-03-19T08:58:00.000-07:00

I answer the phone and my friend is asking me if I want to go on a plane ride on a Cesna out of San Francisco International with Bob the mechanic. It is Sunday morning, the day after St. Patrick’s Day and I’m in my underwear, waiting for the plumber to fix my stopped-up sink, but I say yes.

The fog has pulled back from coast and N58689 is all gassed up and ready when we arrive. Bob gives me some brief instructions, informs me he is the only one allowed to smoke in his airplane and asks me over the roar of the engine if I can hear him on the headset. I flash the thumbs up.

Bob’s a gifted 30 year pilot. The first time I become aware of this is as we are approaching the Napa airport he practically stops the engine and banks a 180 degree turn putting us right in position for a smooth landing, but leaving me a little dizzy. They order some steaks while I eat a salad adorned with beets and cottage cheese, Bob’s raving about the Jonesy Special Potatoes; a freshly grated hash brown, topped with a slab of Velveeta and grilled onions. Apparently Herb Caen mentioned the potatoes once in a column.

Back in the skies we pass over Oakland and hang a right just past Hayward. The radio goes out while were running parallel with the San Mateo Bridge and while bob is changing channels and asking for call backs my friend taps him on the shoulder points out a commercial jet flying in the vicinity.

“Tower, 5868Niner come in?”
“Tower, 5868Nineerrrrrr?”
“What frequency am I supposed to be using?”
“Tower, 120.50”
“The switch panel isn’t working”

The second radio works and we get ordered to turn a hard 90 degrees and queued up for a second approach around the bay. So it’s back across to Hayward and then a few more 90 degree turns and we are now hitting some major turbulence on our approach.

“That’s a strong tail wind”
“No, it’s a head wind,” says Bob
“Tail, look at the windsurfers”

Bob starts counting out our altitude in 100 feet increments from 1000 down and when we hit 400, he masochistically slows the engine and it gets so incredibly quiet I think I am in a glider. We’re wobbling back and forth and just after we hit the runway the copilot says, “Felt like both wheels hit the ground at the same time.” Bob, says “Yeah.”

Yeah.

A Week's Worth

2007-03-08T19:05:00.000-08:00

Mary Staats, law librarian (grows orchids as a hobby)
Michael Wang, U.S. Attorney (just had a baby)
U.S. District Judge Ronald Whyte (busy guy, caseload is high)
Sixth District Court of Appeals Justice Richard McAdams (amateur videographer
Anthony Falzone, Stanford Fair Use Project (works with famous documentary filmmakers)
Khoa Do, attorney and ultimate fighter (trains 3 hours a day!)
Yuka Sugar, Howrey (took 5 years off to raise 2 kids)

The Town that Doesn’t Exist

2007-02-21T19:16:00.000-08:00

Bolinas is almost just off the map. To get there you need to hang a left at an unmarked road on Highway One. Signs pointing the way have been torn down, helping to hide its location and the reclusive residents like it that way. The United States Census Bureau classifies it as a census designated place or CDP rather than an actual town, but I assure you it exists. I have been there.

The directions are precise, long and complicated. I am constantly reassured by landmarks listed in detail, “a nursery on your left” and “a fire station on your right.” I wonder if a “Tom Tom” would be as thorough. Residents have included people such as Grace Slick, Anne Lamott, Tony Serra and Frances McDormand. I turn left at the “T intersection,” and park on the “pavement under a basketball hoop,” as I am instructed to do.

Two dogs greet me with uncertainty, a wiry Jack Russell and a Weimaraner with only three legs. The hippy attorney is on the phone and none of the hippy staff is expecting my visit. With the dogs on my heels I am back on the porch waiting.

He greets me wearing a t-shirt defining the word “Greek,” a pair of cargo shorts and sandals. He has a goatee and wanders off to change his clothes “into something dressy.” I’m kicking myself for not figuring out how to keep him in his current outfit, but I chuckle when he comes back wearing a Hawaiian shirt, slacks and still sporting the same sandals.

The case he is working on is about a daughter that smothered her ill mother and claims it was a mercy killing. She copped to a manslaughter charge and got pegged to the middle tier sentence—six years. He got the term reduced to three and wants to get her off altogether. I really like his home and Bolinas makes me want to stay for a spell. I want to go downtown and maybe get some lunch, but I spent too much time photographing him and I need to get back to the City. I am hoping I can remember how.

Believing is Seeing

2007-02-15T17:34:00.000-08:00

I am consistently awestruck by the randomness of the world and seeing extraordinary beauty in ordinary things. For example, I never tire of Big Sky.

I am driving back from Sacramento, where I routinely go to shoot photos of not so extraordinary people. The first thing I noticed today is the air is clear, smog less and almost pristine.

Driving on Interstate 80 thousands of times and am still amazed by clouds. However, I wonder why I sometimes neglect to notice the beautiful things all around; a subtle, wry smile or a flower in a crack surrounded by cement. Maybe I am too preoccupied, but more importantly, how does the beauty around us appear ordinary at times? If seeing is an art, then that body of work is lifelong and vast. All I can do is continue to believe in seeing, to find the uncommon in the common.

Duh!

2007-02-06T17:14:00.000-08:00

Alameda County Superior Court in Fremont, CA

If you need a sign to tell you leave your Glock in the car then good luck in court, you're going to need that too.

Beholders

2007-01-25T14:07:00.000-08:00

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

2007-01-12T15:15:00.000-08:00

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

2007-01-06T10:25:00.000-08:00

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

2007-01-03T20:07:00.000-08:00

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.

Last Minute Shopping

2006-12-21T22:05:00.000-08:00

Out on the town I feel it. At parties and walking in the streets of The City I love, I see it. Window displays beckon invitingly, while panhandlers and street musicians double their efforts trying to take advantage of the season of sharing. I feel the elusive Christmas spirit.

I am doing my usual last minute shopping for an image that I can turn into a holiday card. Shopping means cruising, trolling and fantasizing; meandering around city streets shooting random stuff and wishing the light was better. I picture Mary Ellen Mark’s photo of Santa Claus on break, eating a bowl of soup. I think maybe I can find him today, on Muni with a latte. Instead of a cigarette he’ll be chomping on some Nicorette and plugged in to his iPod, oblivious to the rest of humanity.

It’s my birthday and all my friends are with me in spirit. They keep calling, sending cards and taking me out to lunch. My best friend Jen sings to me and sends me a parcel of toys to brighten my day. My boss buys me a cake. I get gifts from people I haven’t seen in years. This is my best birthday ever and its Christmas time in The City. I make a good photo of City Hall and as usual, last minute shopping pays off.

Being There

2006-12-02T18:24:00.000-08:00

It’s hard to know when to say no. I don’t like saying it when it comes to my job. I tend to think nothing is impossible, but the reality is I oftentimes take on more work than I should.

My day starts with a speedy drive to the San Mateo Superior Court, where I photograph a judge that loves talking shop with me. I wind my way though traffic back to San Francisco and when I walk in, the editors are asking if I can run over and shoot a section of the Aids Memorial Quilt at the law firm Heller Ehrman. My thoughts are no, I say everything but, “I am too busy.” The truth is, I am really too busy. I am backed up from days of neglecting non-time sensitive stuff and it has piled up—literally. I begrudgingly grab my camera and head out.

I hustle over to the firm and travel up 34 floors to reception. I didn’t bother to call ahead. I’m feeling edgy as I say, “I am with the Recorder, and I am here to shoot some photos of the quilt.” Surprisingly, the receptionist doesn’t immediately say yes. When you have been doing journalism for a while you know that there are two kinds of stories; ones that they bend over backwards to have you cover and ones they try to stop you from reporting on. This one seems like a ringer for back-bending acrobatics. She is calling the dude in charge of the quilt, which is roped off in the center of the lobby and I am really starting to squirm.

My impatience is growing as I imagine more notes, work orders and photo requests stacking up on my chair. Seconds seem like hours. The receptionist asks me if I want to get started and I jump at the chance.

The dude shows up. I talk to him for a while. He tells me he was at the firm 15 years ago when the quilt was first stitched together and that he remembers all 15 people listed on it. He explains how they have since quilted a new section for additional people that have died. I suddenly realize how important this is. I feel like dropping to my knees. I almost said no to being here and I am so unbelievably glad that I didn’t. Now, I just wish I could have gotten a better photo.

Long View

2006-11-25T22:49:00.000-08:00

So Thanksgiving technically isn’t an assignment, but I have my camera anyway and I am in Nevada, the birthplace of all things Jason Doiy. Seriously, I was born on the darkest night of the year, in the desert of the now fastest growing city in the United States—Las Vegas.

I’m up north though in Carson City, although I was born in Vegas we moved early on, probably before the next summer started.

Big Box stores are all that remain of a once vast high desert landscape surrounded by sage and low property rates. I drive around new tract homes and behind the Home Depot right off of Highway 395. I can almost hear someone say, “If you build it, they will come” as I pass empty lots in between fully developed homes.

I used to ride my bike down this hill before there was even a road. It was a washed out, rutted dirt trail that led down to the only place a kid could buy candy in the whole area. Now its a paved road.

I remember riding my dirt bike with a pocket full of Atomic Fireball jawbreakers and Big League Chewing gum past where these two vistas meet.

Been There Done That

2006-11-24T09:07:00.000-08:00

I am in the Haight, walking towards 96 Delmar Street and I notice this old meets new, yuppie vs. hippie picture.

I remember the first time I meandered up the street made famous by the Jefferson Airplane and the Grateful Dead. I was in awe that such a place of counter culture existed on the planet. Today, I find homeless kids and gawking brats from Concord crawling up the block. Been there done that seems like an understatement for shops hawking bongs, tye-dye shirts, hemp stuff, and the dreams of a past generation turned into marketable products. Maybe I am jaded and just too old (never trust anyone over 30), but more likely it is because the “times they are a changing.”

I meet a couple in there ballroom apartment. I am not kidding; it’s rumored to be a former San Francisco hang-out for Hollywoodites of the late 40’s. Supposedly, Joe DiMaggio and Marilyn Monroe once danced the night away. Of course my subjects remind me that it’s all just gossip and lore.

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2006-11-18T00:18:00.000-08:00

Depending on who you ask Autumn or Fall officially begins on September 23. No matter who you ask in the Bay Area it is really hard to tell when Summer ends and Fall begins. The lack of noticeable changes in seasons make for an easy, comfortable, almost climate controlled life. What could be better right?

In Mountain View, CA where there is actually no view of or from any mountains I notice, out of the corner of my eye, cheap gas and quickly pull into the station. While the car is filling, I look up and see a glorious elm that has reluctantly let go of some of its leaves. They are scattered around the 20 foot wide grassy planter that separates the asphalt from the sidewalk from the asphalt again. I think this is it. I think this is my own private Autumn, in November and I am not even wearing a jacket. California dreaming?

Stretching the Truth

2006-11-08T04:53:00.000-08:00

In Newark, I am giving two presentations, one on ethics in photojournalism and one on creating photo illustrations. I am in love with the complete dichotomy of the two topics and how they almost counteract each other.

What I discover is that everyone in the room is willing to stretch their own personal ethics to fit individual scenarios that may come up. Pictures are extended horizontally to accommodate typography and layout constraints and objects are removed to make cleaner photos. I am slightly shocked to find out how untrustworthy a room full of hungry photographers can be. However, my presentations are a success based on the dialogue and discussions that ensued. At the very least people started talking about what they are doing and I made a good, truthful pigeon photo on the way back to the hotel.

The Color of Fear

2006-11-05T18:40:00.000-08:00

I am traveling light; 1 carry-on, 1 check-in and a camera dangling from my neck. The shuttle picks my sleepy ass up after only 4 hours sleep and one cup of coffee. It's 5:18 am and still dark outside. We make one other stop, a couple climbs aboard dressed in shorts and Looney Tunes t-shirts. They are excruciatingly chipper and I bet Anaheim is their final destination or maybe even Florida, either way I wonder how cold it is going to be in Newark, NJ when I land.

The ticket lines are light and before I know it I am stripping in front of security, taking off my shoes, belt and jacket. I empty my pockets filling up dull, grey plastic bins with my junk. The intercom sedately announces that we are at “threat level orange,” and I am terrified for a minute, even more so because I don’t know what orange means. I guess red would be worse and something cool, soothing like blue or green would be safer, but how safe? I drift off and start to daydream about lying on my back, in a pool of clear blue water, staring up at the sky on a nice sunny day. I am picking out cumulus shapes that look like elephants and Barry Bonds when suddenly it’s my turn at the x-ray machine. I am standing there with no shoes, holding my boarding pass and an apple. The TSA employee stops me and motions at my apple. I say “I have to scan my apple?” and she nods. I ask how a piece of fruit can be dangerous. She doesn’t respond. I throw my apple in the trash. Oh well breakfast can wait.

It's the People

2006-10-25T21:22:00.000-07:00

I thought I was on an M Train, but it turned out to be a train that doesn't go where I need to be. So I get off at Church Street Station, a stop early and start hiking up towards 21st and Castro. It's a hike, straight up a big hill--a San Francisco hill. I am enjoying it though and when I arrive I see my subject sitting on the steps, wearing his bike gear and holding his road bike. I wave and instantly start shooting photos. I am talking the whole time. I ask him about his trip. How long did it take to ride 2,979 miles across the United States? I ask him about tires, weather, camping and fatigue.

When I finish the shoot, I start to break down my lighting gear and he says "I want to show you something." He walks upstairs and then reappears with a triptych of his grandfather, his father, himself and his son, all with bicycles. I ask to shoot some more photos and he is thrilled that I asked. I love these shoots. The walk down the hill is much easier and I am practically skipping.

Junkies, Dealers and Psychos! Oh My!

2006-10-24T10:05:00.000-07:00

My office is located in one of the worst neighborhoods in San Francisco. On an average day it's not uncommon to see someone smoking crack, shooting up, dealing drugs, drinking booze, going to the bathroom or getting arrested.

On the sidewalk you can peruse an assortment of items for sale from desperate souls. Stolen bicycles, packs of cigarettes, batteries, cases of Ensure and pornography. Every once in a while the police roll by in a paddy wagon van. The driver, wearing blue surgical gloves (I assume to keep the filth off his hands) leans out the window and slowly drives by before turning onto the sidewalk. It's a warning signal. The coherent ones scatter like roaches. Others don’t notice or don’t care and the police make a few arrests, leave and then 10 minutes later the leftovers scurry back and resume operations.

I am heading through the cesspool to my car. I need to run an errand. I need to pick up a modeling light for a flash. I step out into the street and while walking towards my car I stumble across something. I turn around and look at the ground and see that I just tripped on a yellow flip-flop sandal. I look back up just in time, as a full bag of clothing hits me in the chest. I then see a crazed woman cursing at me, "mother!#$!@ don’t step on my stuff bitch." She continues calling me names and generally howling at the moon. I rush past her as she goes to collect her bag and clothing. I hustle to my car and drive away; just another day in paradise.

Making the Call

2006-10-19T16:31:00.000-07:00

I pick up the phone and punch in the numbers for a last minute assignment. A pleasant and cheerful receptionist’s voice greets me and I asked to be transferred. Seconds later I hear a serious and subdued “Hello?” I do my usual spiel and he agrees to be photographed in about an hour. While I am confirming the address the reporter left me, he stops me and says, “Its right above Absinthe.” I respond with a chuckle “That’s convenient.” Dead silence. I then quickly add “I was just kidding.” Again the line is dead silent. I say, “I’ll see you at 4 pm.” After a delay he replies, “Ok,” and hangs up. I am a little worried now. I hope he doesn’t call back and cancel or refuse to meet me when I arrive.

The Absinthe Brasserie and Bar, opened in 1998 and plays an odd homage to the obscure but famous French drink, distilled from aniseed and wormwood. The Absinthe liquor, dubbed “The Green Fairy” is claimed to be wildly addictive and psychoactive. It is banned in several countries including the US. While there is no proof that Absinthe is hallucinogenic, there is however the undisputed fact that thujone (the chemical extract found in wormwood) is toxic and can cause renal failure and death in large doses.

When I arrive, I realize the address can’t possibly be right and I discover that the reporter is dyslexic and transposed the numbers. I stomp up the steps above the bar and meet my subject; he is really just reserved and like the bar below, a bit quirky and unconventional. I was worried for nothing, definitely paranoid, perhaps I was even hallucinating.

A Picture is Worth at Least a Couple of Drinks

2006-10-15T22:12:00.000-07:00

I am helping a friend shoot the Lit Crawl in the Mission. Tonight, I am the lighting wizard. I have a radio slave that triggers my friend’s flash and I position myself about 30 degrees to her right or left at each grouping of literary guru's. It is off-camera lighting at its finest.

Before this though, I spend about an hour driving around the mission looking for parking and by the time I pull into a spot I have made 4 illegal u-turns, burnt through ¼ tank of gas, and have been flipped off by one zealot of a bicyclist. The streets are packed with program toting, literary groupies. They are dressed in the usual Mission attire, which consists of a heightened sense of self awareness, no makeup, a concern for the environment, vegan sensibilities and a general aura of coolness.

The Lit Crawl is a series of free literary readings spread out across the Mission, all happening simultaneously. It’s like the beat generation never left San Francisco and for one night everyone participates in a glorious orgy of word play, a massive boggle festival with no timers.

We finish our venue hopping and head over to the after-party, an exclusive $250.00 per person event that culminates the evening in a celebration of all things par’tay. I don’t have a ticket and we end up having to crash the venue; I somehow manage to get admitted on a “he’s with the band” ticket.

With my hand stamped, I head upstairs and meet some real local’s local authors. We do some “grip and grins” (photospeak for cheesy group photo) and afterwards I get some free drink tokens, which somehow leads to more free drink tokens and then even more free drinks! It’s really cool to have a camera sometimes. People think you’re important.

Digital Castles in the Sand

2006-10-11T18:45:00.000-07:00

Sometimes being lost is good and you can find something along the way.

Today it's Sunnyvale, to a company called SonicWall. I have some poorly written directions that I think will suffice. After exiting the freeway and being unable to find the place, I realized I forgot the subject’s phone number.

I check the directions a few more times and I start to make a sweeping, sector-based grid search, block by block. Just when I am ready to shamefully sacrifice my pride and pull into a gas station, I stumble across the right street. Scanning the addresses, I instantly recognize that I have somehow passed it. Turning the car around I notice the sign. I laugh.

It’s not a spectacular photo by any means, it’s pretty straight forward, boring even; but it does show how Silicon Valley isn’t the juggernaut it used to be. How realtors wanting to move large, empty business parks will try to entice the salivating entrepreneur with his name in lights.

Love Sister

2006-10-04T16:57:00.000-07:00

A senior in-house counsel tells me she is the sister of a celebrity while I am photographing her and of course I have to ask who. Courtney Love she says; I’m stunned. She makes me promise that it won’t appear in the article. I promise, adding if it shows up, it’s not my doing.

I ask her what it was like growing up with Courtney Michelle Harrison and she says, slightly dysfunctional. I never would have guessed that I tell her. We laugh.

The photo shoot goes quickly and I have to work really hard at making her feel at ease. I like her a lot and keep my promise.

Ethical Montage

2006-09-26T13:51:00.000-07:00

A guy leans across a couple empty seats on a Muni J train and asks me if I am a professional photographer. I nondescriptly nod and say yes.

He asks if my digital camera falsifies images automatically and says he can't trust pictures since digital photography. I tell him no and I try to explain to him that photo manipulation isn't anything new. I explain, photomontages were being created as early as 1857 and that the only thing that has changed is the technology has become more accessible and much more precise. I add that ethics are taught and the person behind the camera is ultimately the one responsible, not the technology or medium.

Unfortunately, he then begins to tell me a story about how the City of San Francisco is screwing him out of a patent and has contracted someone else to build his invention. He accuses practically every city official of being corrupt and out to get him. I try listening politely and when it's my stop I wish him good luck and he says "Good luck to you too." I wonder why I’m the one that needs luck.

The Angry Ambulance Chasers

2006-09-21T19:21:00.000-07:00

So I meet some trial attorneys on a deserted road on the outskirts of Fairfield. Their client, driving down this empty road was suddenly struck by a vehicle careening across Interstate 80, crashing through a flimsy fence separating the frontage road from the interstate highway.

One of them curses Caltrans, theatrically kicking the ground, for just replacing the fence and not putting in a guard rail and he quickly follows that he doesn't want to stand here too long because a car could crash through at any moment.

I shoot some photos and they keep asking if I am getting the road in. I am yelling "YES!" over the top of the roar from the interstate. I finish the shoot and start to break down my equipment while they climb back in their shinny, silver BWM with the license plate "9 Jurors" and peel out.

Flies and Cow Pies

2006-09-20T10:33:00.000-07:00

Today I find myself driving up into the Los Buellis Hills, East of Milpitas. I meet a retired doctor who drives me around his 2,000 plus acres of land. We careen around the mountainside through gutted, washed out roadways right next to steep drop-offs. We're not wearing seat belts and he turns to me and says, "Jason, there is one thing you need to do up here no matter what; if I say jump you need to do it." I picture our 4x4 plummeting down the canyon, maybe taking out a few trees along the way and me trying to jump or maybe not. It isn't an image I want to dwell on.

I shoot photos of the Doc near some of his cattle, while flies are buzzing around us both. I step in a fresh cow pie. He laughs. This is a great assignment.

Manufacturing the Moment

2006-09-15T17:01:00.000-07:00

Another day and another photo, but this time the assignment is interesting and I am excited about shooting the president of the American Wind Energy Association.

The name "Altamont" is probably more famous for the tragic Rolling Stones concert in 1969 where a black man was stabbed to death by a gang of white thugs, but the windy Altamont Pass is home to thousands of turbines that dot the hillsides, catching the cool-costal, marine gush before it evaporates into the Central Valley. The pass is said to be the largest collection of wind turbines in the world and my subject is a betting man. He's betting his legal practice on renewable alternative energy as a source of new revenue for his law firm.

I know this is could be a great photo, but I have to massage the moment. I ask him if he has any sunglasses. He shrugs and searches his suitcase (he just flew into Oakland from L.A.). I tell him it'll make a fantastic photo and after some "wrong moments" I create an image that sums it all up.

You Look Marvelous!

2006-09-13T19:34:00.000-07:00

So picture yourself having a baby being delivered and at the same time working a $400 million dollar deal.

I find myself driving down Page Mill once again, the Mecca of Silicon Valley and once again pulling into the law firm of Pillsbury Winthrop. I do my meet and greet with the perp and he’s a little heavy in the middle and although it doesn’t need to be pointed out it’s one of the first things he mentions. I go through the motions and tell him he looks marvelous. I show him a photo and I can tell he is surprised, in a good way.

I leave and head back to SF. I wonder about his kid, I wonder about his wife, I wonder what it would be like if I made as much money as him. I know I wouldn’t want to leave my wife during delivery, even if it meant more money than I could imagine and $400 million is more than I can fathom. Think about it. What would that much money look like in one room?

Hyper Drive

2006-08-29T23:19:00.000-07:00

I did 4 assignments in one day and they were spaced out all over the peninsula. I logged about 200 miles that day and still managed to get all my work done. Skipping lunch, driving fast and praying for no traffic you realize that there are not many people cut out for this job. I can meet strangers and make them my best friend in 5 minutes with a camera, but without it I stumble over every word and feel awkward.

On the River

2006-08-19T00:09:00.000-07:00

I am photographing an attorney that had once won $26,840 on Jeopardy and has now returned from playing in the World Poker Tour. He won his original $10,000 back, but was already on a sponsored satellite program so he was ahead about $9,800. I start talking poker with him and he recommends I read Phil Gordon's "Little Green Book." He jots it down on a post-it note and I leave the building thinking I wish I could win money and not even care.

Snapshots on a Train

2006-08-10T23:34:00.000-07:00

Coming back from an assignment downtown I am tired and feeling burned-out. I notice a small old lady staring at me. She is wearing a berkeleyesque outfit and upon taking a second glance I notice a Leica M6 dangling from her neck. In case you don’t know, a Leica isn’t cheap, in fact it was considered the best 35mm rangefinder on the planet and probably still is. We exchange looks back and forth and I try to smile at her, but she doesn’t return the gesture. I think maybe she might be an older, famous photographer and I should go talk with her, but since she didn’t appear to be friendly I don’t.

Before my stop, I stand up to let elderly people have my seat and I go stand by the door. My sunglasses are on my head and my camera is hanging on my shoulder. I notice Old Lady Leica trying to pre-focus on me without putting the camera to her face. She looks up at me and I smile knowingly and she realizes she’s been caught and her face turns sour. I exit the train thinking I should of told her it was OK to shoot my photo.

Bringing up the Baby

2006-07-11T07:25:00.000-07:00

The new executive director of the LCAV has a 4-week-old baby and I am driving up into the Albany Hills to photograph the new director, not the baby. I wind and weave through streets, barely big enough to pass one vehicle and a couple of times; I need to pull over to allow a more enthusiastic motorist through. She isn't terribly fond of her baby and it’s pretty apparent. She actually says being a mother is "kinda boring," and she is ready to go back to work. She says, “Well maybe when they get older, but not right now all they do is this,” meaning cry. I tell her maybe she has to learn to enjoy the Oprah show and other stuff like that; she turns up her nose and laughs.

Modesto

2006-07-08T07:45:00.000-07:00

I am a photographer. This is a blog about strange events that happen to me when I am on assignment.

I have about 40 minutes to kill before I meet an environmental circuit prosecutor for the State of California. I stop at a McDonalds near downtown Modesto, after passing through an arch that says “Modesto—Water, Wealth, Contentment, Health.” I don’t have much of a choice in restaurants, when I am short on time and a stranger in a strange land.

The security guard saunters over to a woman wearing a red wig and speaks under her breath, while the woman in the red wig continues to eye-ball me, popping her dentures up and down, up and down.

I try to eat my fries but they are cold and lifeless and what little appetite I have is fading fast. I open up the burger and the bun is as hard as the stares I'm getting from denture face and rent-a-cop. I toss the food in the trash and walk outside, take a deep breath and say I’ll just head to the assignment early. Being a photographer isn’t easy in more ways than one.