A few weeks ago, an accident occurred while my wife reorganized photo albums. She cut up an older black-color storage sheet, to which a portrait stubbornly and stealthily clung. Seeing and liking the image, I […]
In reviewing recent photos, I have reconsidered some for preservation and publication, like this portrait of the Barber of Seville taken outside his shop on February 12, 2019. I initially discarded the image because eyeglasses […]
The Fujifilm GFX 50R is meant to replace Leica M10, with which I parted ways four months ago. The camera arrived yesterday afternoon, and I unboxed it last night—in disbelief. The thing is ginormous! Perhaps had I read PetaPixel story “How the Fujifilm GFX 50R Compares in Size to Popular Cameras“, my choice would have been different. The medium format shooter appealed for image quality, rangefinder-styling, and straightforward ergonomics—and all three attributes satisfy straight out of the box. I am pleased. But I don’t know about the size, though. I chose the GF63mmF2.8 R WR as my one—and so far only—lens for the GFX 50R. Applying the crop factor, the Fujinon glass is about 50mm, full-frame equivalent.
This morning, I grabbed the 50R, which is surprisingly comfortable to handle (rather than being cumbersome, as the bulk might suggest), for a photo walk. I arrived at Park Blvd and Monroe Avenue, in San Diego’s University Heights neighborhood, just as my barber opened shop. Explaining about the new camera, I asked to take his portrait, and he kindly obliged.
Perhaps because my parents were perennial renters, our family moved residences every few years during my wayward youth. Undoubtedly, the house on Vesta Drive across from Hilltop School is most memorable place. I fondly recall walking out the front door, across the street, sneaking through a neighbor’s yard, and onto the elementary school’s sports field to classes.
During summer evenings, several adults would fly gas-powered model airplanes, using Hilltop’s driveway to take-off and land. Watching them soar was the coolest thing for a fourth-grader. Drones are their modern-day equivalent and way more prevalent.
Human behavior perplexes me. This morning while walking towards the Sprouts market, here in San Diego’s University Heights neighborhood, I observed a grey-haired woman stop walking to pick up a discarded cigarette carton; a wide-brim hat obscured her face. I smiled and thought: “Good for her! How commendable”.
But she soon followed community-minded behavior with inexplicable action. The lady tossed the thing into foliage alongside the sidewalk. Surely, I misunderstood—but, no, her right hand was empty. So much for the goodwill of grabbing unsightly refuse and disposing in a garbage can—which wasn’t more than 46 meters (50 yards) further along. Passing the spot of the drop, I could see other trash.
Funny, the people whom you meet unexpectedly and the ways that they surprise you. As my wife and I walked up Maryland Street towards Monroe Ave., here in University Heights, an elderly woman raked leaves off the sidewalk. We stopped, started talking, and she graciously shared some of her life story.
Paula moved to San Diego in 1958 but to University Heights just a few months ago. She lives with a 90 year-old man who moved into the house about 60 years ago.
The world is full of narcissists, who gain popularity by self-broadcasting themselves, boasting their own accomplishments, and in process taking praise or gaining glory. They are false. Ingenuine. There is another type of character—someone who naturally gives, asks for nothing in return, and (often too rarely) is well-regarded for their generosity. They are true charmers in the sense self-proclaimers pretend to be.
My mom, who passed away today, Aug. 5, 2017, was social through grace and a kind of innate likability. She was short in stature—adult height of four feet, ten-and-a-half inches—but tall in presence. In any room, she easily became the sun around which all present orbited. I often marveled at how people just gravitated to the small woman without any seeming effort on her part, other than flowing friendliness and generosity. Her buoyant, positive spirit, supported by unstoppable, advocating determination, made mom the person others wanted to be with—and to be like. She was authentic. Genuine.
Some people so surprise me by their brash behavior. Yesterday, I walked over to Frock You!, looking for a vintage leather mini-backpack. My daughter asked for one as present celebrating her 23rd birthday next week. […]
I spotted Santa Claus while walking in Balboa Park this afternoon. He was out for a stroll—to where is anyone’s guess. An elf helper tagged along, so surely there was some purpose. After passing him, I stopped. Hesitated. Stepped forward. Then turned around and approached Mr. Kringle, rather than let the moment pass. I asked to shoot a portrait.
As you would expect, Santa responded jovially, accepting the invitation. While couching low with Leica Q, I asked about his presence, joking that it wasn’t Christmas in July. He smiled and said something about Christmas being every day for people who keep it in their hearts. Now that is a lovely sentiment.
The Fujifilm X100F is now my nearly-always outdoor companion—a role iPhone 7 Plus had filled. The camera is compact and light and comfortably slings over the shoulder attached to the ONA Lima strap. Earlier today, my wife and I walked down Maryland Ave. toward The Hub plaza in Hillcrest. Along the way, we passed a lemonade stand, with some kids fundraising for the local elementary school, Alice Birney. They had already raised $60 when I snapped the pic, at 1:15 p.m. PST. Somebody paid more than the requested 25 cents a cup. Hehe.
The Featured Image is a crop of the original, which is visible below the fold. Both versions are unaltered, except for horizontal cropping to the first and straightening of both. The visual cue is different in each, though. The first is aligned vertically with the lemonade stand and the original against the house in the background.
With great sadness, I must report the passing of my father-in-law exactly one month after his 95th birthday. Bob often insisted that he would live to be one-hundred-and-eleven, and I wondered if he might. Aged as the retired engineer might be, he exhibited surprising vigor and sharp intellect. I will miss the gentle geek, who continually searched for ways to mature his spirit and improve—extend—his livelihood. If only more people, of any age, opened their minds to new ideas rather than crusting over into immutability.
On Oct. 15, 2007, my family relocated to San Diego to be closer to him, understanding that the solitary elderly rarely receive the respect they deserve. Someone in so-called official capacity would have placed Bob in an institution long ago, because of his age. But with a little assistance—our apartment is one block from his—he lived independently up until the end, passing in his own bed. I am especially proud of my wife for being such a dutiful daughter. Anne enabled her dad.
I spent little time online the past week following the unexpected passing of my sister Annette exactly seven days ago. The reaction is strange, seeing how much Facebook, texting, and other connected activities and services enriched and changed her life during the last six months or so she walked this Earth. I was clueless.
Last year, I added Annette to my cellular account; she used Nokia Lumia Icon Windows Phone to start. This opened a new world of connection to children, other relatives, and friends by texting. In November, when switching the family to T-Mobile from Verizon and upgrading to Nexus 6P, I sent her my Nexus 6. Soon after, her fraternal twin, Nanette, helped set up Facebook. Annette’s first post was Nov. 22, 2015—a family photo with our brother-in-law Michael Bellerieve, before his death from cancer. 🙁