April 1, 2021, tomorrow, Leica raises the prices on most of its digital cameras, including mine. This post offers earnest appreciation for making what I own more valuable. I don’t plan on selling anything, but […]
Category: Leica
How I use a Camera Differently Than a Smartphone
On March 16, 2021, approaching the Vermont Street Bridge, I stopped for a single shot using Leica Q2 Monochrom. When wielding the camera, or my regular (e.g. color sensor) Q2, my habit is this: Stop, compose, capture one or two photos—single more likely, as is the case with the Featured Image. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 200, 1/400 sec, 28mm; 11:21 a.m. PDT.
When handling iPhone XS, I point and shoot, with little to no regard for composition—typically taking four to six shots, minimum. One reason: The display isn’t easy enough to see in the bright San Diego sunlight. Additionally, when there is motion, such as a frisky feline for my “Cats of University Heights” series, the smartphone proves more able, because of its smaller size but big screen for fast, on-the-fly composition.
An Early Easter Bouquet
Palm Sunday is unseasonably toasty here in San Diego. As I write, the official temperature is 27 degrees Celsius (81 F)—and that’s the forecast high, which means more sizzle to come by early afternoon. As I walked along Madison—between Alabama and Mississippi in University Heights—orange and yellow flowers beckoned my attention. At first, I passed by, then turned back for a quick shot, using Leica Q2. The Featured Image is the first of four captures and best composition. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/2.8, ISO 100, 1/2000 sec, 28mm; 10:13 a.m. PDT.
As I lay low for the final photo, an older fellow walking a dog asked, as he passed: “Have you got good Macro on that camera?” I replied affirmatively—even though not using the mode right then. Vitals for that shot, which is cropped: f/8, ISO 100, 1/250 sec, 28mm; 10:14 a.m.
Don’t You Mean Four Bucks?
Someone tell me where Joe Wallace lives, because I want to go there. Yesterday morning, I read his Wall Street Journal story, “Leap in Gas Prices Puts $3 a Gallon in Sight“, in state of disbelief. In sight, as in coming? Because here in San Diego, that reference means looking back. We passed three bucks a gallon well more than a month ago. In fact, before President Executive Order killed off the Keystone Pipeline, the price had been $2.86 for months—and that was up 30 cents from Summer 2020—at my local economy filling station.
“Gasoline prices at pumps in the U.S. hit an average of $2.88 a gallon over the past week, according to the AAA”, Joe writes. “In California, the most expensive market, average prices stand at $3.88, according to AAA”. Hours later, I shot the Featured Image, with Leica Q2 Monochrom, specifically to illustrate this essay. Granted, Chevron charges more than many competitors but not outrageously greater than the $3.88 at nearby Valero.
The Clearcutted Cottages
This morning, my wife rightly suggested that yesterday’s before photos aren’t enough to show just how brutal was the massacre of palms, shrubs, succulents, trees, and other green growing things before and among one of the neighborhood’s rental properties.
Compare the Featured Image to the one from the previous post. Those buildings and windows were obscured by a lush, well-tended, tropical jungle. My understanding: The pruning, and perhaps reconstruction, is planned to continue all week. That means the bearded tree to the left may also be removed.
Before the Clearcutters Came
Sometimes changes occur so abruptly and unexpectedly in my San Diego neighborhood of University Heights, I regret not documenting what was—never anticipating that the thang could be gone. The tree outside our primary windows and palm at Cleveland and Monroe are examples. Today’s loss, on the inappropriately-timed first day of Spring, was catastrophic for some of my neighbors, who were reminded: renters have no say.
Calico Harley resides in a row of cute cottages that, until this afternoon, were almost completely obscured from view because of the variety of succulents and trees growing in front of the property and down the side. The well-tended, and healthy, jungle was lush and lovely. When workers started cutting down a single tree this morning, I complained to my wife about another horticultural butcher job. What I could never imagine is how devastating would be the clearcutting. For today, I refrain from showing what is. Let’s look at what was.
The Cats of University Heights: Gallant
Along Cleveland Ave. on Valentine’s Day 2021, my wife and I spotted a harnessed black-fur outside one of the street’s larger-looking single-family homes. No leash was apparent, but there was an open front door, and—not meaning to snoop—through which we caught glimpse of an older couple watching Sunday morning television. We hadn’t seen the brightly-green-garmented beastie before and not since.
I used Leica Q2 to capture the Featured Image, which is cropped nearly 100 percent. Vitals, aperture oddly set: f/5, ISO 100, 1/500 sec, 28mm; 9:25 a.m. PST. For no particular reason other than intuition, I nickname this fine feline Gallant.
What Have We Become?
During my thirteen-and-a-half years living in San Diego, I have resisted taking any photos of the city’s thousands of homeless—whose presence is more pronounced by the day. They deserve dignity, rather than exploitation by street shooters. But, today, the sorry state of a gentlemen sprawled out nearby the entrance to a pharmacy in Hillcrest demanded attention, and mention, so here we are with a Featured Image and companion captured using Leica Q2. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 100, 1/1000 sec, 28mm; 11:02 a.m. PDT. The other is same but 1/1250 sec.
I was aghast at how casually people walked by the man, who was stretched out in death-like position facing the building. He was an obstacle that passersby moved around. No one bothered to see if he was alive (after some long observation, I detected breathing). I was immediately reminded about history lessons and news stories read during my grade school years about the USSR—people lying dead in the streets and Soviet citizens walking around them; commonplace sightings, presumably, become part of the background of life. Is that really what we have come to be in the United States of America—or in what I unaffectionately call Communist California?
San Diego County Partly Reopens, But Not Soon Enough for Some Businesses
One year ago today, California bars, breweries, and eateries stopped serving customers indoors, shifting to delivery and take-out services only—as ordered by Governor Gavin Newsom. On March 19, 2020, he issued a “stay-at-home” order for all Californians that went into effect the next day. Restrictions would later lift only to be reimposed—nearly as harsh during the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays as the pandemic‘s early-declaration days.
Today, after months of onerous prohibitions upon local businesses, San Diego County rose from the most restrictive tier, which permits malls and retailers to operate at 50-percent capacity; aquariums, churches, movie theaters, museums, restaurants, and zoos to allow customers indoors at 25-percent capacity; and gyms and hotels to operate at 10-percent capacity. Oh joy. Beat me with the stick, because it feels so good compared to the baseball bat you were whacking with.
The Cats of University Heights: Mane
We return to Alabama for the sixty-first kitty from the street, between boundaries Adams and Lincoln. This magnificent ginger is also sixty-third seen behind door or window. The longhair is third, following Goose and Olive, of five newcomers on the same block. And, finally, the cat resides in the apartment directly below the flat where once lived Holiday (family moved away). For fabulous ruff, the animal earns nickname Mane.
I first spotted the beauty on Sept. 7, 2020, sitting on a cat tree looking out an open window. But I couldn’t produce a portrait on that day or others; unsatisfactory lighting is reason. Then, unexpectedly, on Feb. 18, 2021, Mane appeared in a side window, while workers whacked to pieces a beautiful palm tree in front of the building. The Featured Image comes from Leica Q2. In post-production, I used DxO ViewPoint 3 to align the lines. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 100, 1/1250 sec, 28mm; 11:33 a.m. PST.
Fear is the Contagion
The four words of this essay’s title are exactly my reaction to learning about China’s massive quarantine for the Novel Coronavirus in late-January 2020. I warned my wife and anyone else to prepare for the spread of fear: How it would infect and disrupt distribution of goods and services; how panic would lead to supply shortages; how desperation might cause people to react violently. But following the World Health Organization declaring a pandemic, one year ago today, the outcome over 12 months is much worse than I expected.
Society didn’t suddenly break down from widespread contagion, like portrayed by Hollywood films and TV shows. Instead, the economic and social fabrics shredded over longer time, as well-meaning citizens obeyed orders to “shelter-in-place“, “social distance“, and close their businesses. My contention: When Science catches up with collated data, the forensic analysis will show that governments over-reacted with lockdowns that inflicted more harm than the virus that everyone feared. Meaning: The cure is far more damaging than the disease, which danger is overblown.
The Cats of University Heights: Aisho
Seventeen year-old Aisho (real name) is surprisingly spry, considering his advanced years. Along Maryland near Madison, I passed the ginger and his owner as she chatted with another neighbor on March 4, 2021. I used Leica Q2 to capture the Featured Image at 10:58 a.m. PST. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 100, 1/400 sec, 28mm.
For people who have trouble pronouncing or remembering his name, Aisho also goes by Mr. Jones.