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Image by wakingphotolife
Low on spending money for the rest of the month, John and Anne thought it’d be a good idea to find work. It would only be for a few weeks and their trip would start soon. Since the holidays were coming they anticipated a rush of seasonal jobs to be available even with the poor economy.

They stalked about it in the living room while watching TV on a Monday morning. The volume was on low. The channel was showing re-runs of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. The episode where it’s revealed that Geoffrey was a shamed former marathon star in England.

“I don’t want to work in retail,” Anne said.
“That’s fine. I wasn’t considering it. How about being a barista at the campus coffee house?”
“No. I’ve been there once and I’m not going back either. I want to do something fun. Or interesting. I don’t want to slave away. What’s the point?”
“Money’s the point.”
“We’re not broke enough to be desperate yet.” She leaned all the way back into the bean bag chair until it looked as if her shoulders had disappeared. Lhasa came from around the other side and curled around her feet.
“I have an idea,” John said. He leaned forward with his forearms resting on his knees. “Do you know the studio on Q St.?”
“You mean the one by that salon, what’s the name…Sally’s?”
“Yeah,” John said. He lifted his cup of the end table and had a drink. Lately, he started adding sugar and milk to his coffee because of his upset stomach. It had been bothering him for weeks so he held back on the black coffee and drank less in the evenings.
“What about that place?” Anne said.
“I was thinking we should apply there.”
“A photography studio?” She smoothed the hemline of her dress and came back from the folds of the bean chair while scooping Lhasa into her arms in one continuous motion. She stroked the cat underneath its chin. It turned its head up and closed its eyes.
“What’s wrong with that? They’ve a ‘Now Hiring’ sign on the front window and I think we’re competent enough. It’s just pictures. We’ve taken plenty of them for Ray, Doris and most of the other people we know.”
“At parties and dinners and things like that. There’s a difference.”
“What’s the difference? Don’t be so down on ourselves. We basically live across the street from that place. Everyone thinks ours photos are nice. It’d be perfect.”
“Don’t be so naive. There’s a huge difference.”
“At least we can try hm?” He got up and opened the blinds. “What time is it?”
“It’s ten.”
“I didn’t realize we’re up so early today.”

John and Anne cobbled some prints together from Costco. They printed twenty 8×10 sized pictures on lustre paper. The pictures were from their personal collection of friends, scenes, animals, landscapes, and other ephemeral things that caught their attention in the past few months. In order to maintain some professional distance, they did not include photos of each other even though it was these photos that they valued the most, personally and aesthetically. Along with their resumes, they placed everything into a box made out of beech that had a sliding tray and brought it with them to the studio. It was like high school again when they had gone business to business, door to door, dressed in the same clothes they wore to homecoming dance and looking for summer jobs.

From the outside, the studio looked shabby. There was a sign that said “1 Hour Photo. Passports and Portraits.” Green chairs with metal legs were lined along the front of the store and the adjoining wall to form an L shape. The counter sat within the rest of the room and had a glass display filled with film boxes – Fuji Sensia, Reala, Velvia, Kodak PortaPro. The colors on the face of these boxes were faded from too much time spent in the sunlight that came in through the open door of the shop. They were only for show since John figured that it had probably been over half a decade since film was last used in here. The green on the Fuji boxes especially, were now a milky ocean gray.

The shop keeper was a middle aged Vietnamese man, who introduced himself as Vincent. He had thinning hair which was combed over the top of his head. He laid the photos on the counter and looked through them. Some of them, he rearranged. This annoyed John a bit, since he spent most of the morning finding a certain order in order to hint at a narrative. “Besides Ray, no one can read your mind. I think only you and him can see the connections that you’re trying to make,” Anne said while patting her blouse down with packaging tape to remove lint. She didn’t even bother to turn around and watch him sift through the pictures. Now they were all mixed up.

After some time, Vincent put his elbows on top the counter and rested his cheeks in his hands. He sighed. John could not tell if the he was disappointed, bored, or for recalling some old sentimental memory. Maybe he was just relieved to be done with the pictures, so that he could usher them out and return to his computer screen behind the counter.

“Look at the photos along these walls,” Vincent said. He stood up and waved with his hand a large swooping motion. John and Anne turned their shoulders and heads to follow. There were portraits of all kinds. Couples. Wedding photos. Teenagers coming for wallets sized prints. Prom. Some more elaborate glamour shots. Everything was soft brushed, blemish free. Each face manipulated into a dream like focus. The colors of the background intense, yet never dominating. Wallpaper. “I enjoyed going through your photos but I don’t think this place is for you.”

“I’m sorry. Thanks for your time then,” John said.
Vincent put the photos back into the sliding tray, slid it back into the box and gave it back to John.
“No. Thanks for coming by.”
“Was there anything that you noticed in the photos that would you didn’t like? I mean with the portraits we had.” Anne said.
“Well there are some things…Hello. I’ll be right with you.” A family walked into the shop before he could finish his sentence. It was a man wearing navy suspenders, trousers and a stripped tie. next to him was woman in a gray blazer and pencil skirt. They held a set of boys, twins, who were dressed alike. John and Anne turned around and smiled at them. The woman caressed the baby underneath its chin and made soft cooing sounds. “Say hello Davey,” the woman said as she lifted the baby’s hand to wave.

“Thanks for stopping by. Please keep doing what you do,” Vincent said, bending down to go through a a file of photo envelops.
“Thank you.”

John and Anne walked home. Though it was the middle of the afternoon and the sun was shining directly overhead, around lunch time, both of them felt sleepy. “I’d rather take a nap first before eating,” Anne said.
John didn’t answer and they walked until the end of the block.
“Don’t you think that was a bit annoying?” he said.
“What?”
“He was so damn cryptic. And the way he said ‘I don’t think this place is for you’. It was weird. What does he know?”
“I suppose a lot.”
“Ah. I don’t get it. Forget it. You were right.” John laughed a little. “Let’s just go home. Maybe he’s right too. I just don’t like being told I can’t do something or don’t belong. My confidence is absolutely crushed.”
“My photos were in there too. Don’t just think about yourself.”
“You’re right. Yours aren’t good either.”

When they got home, John set the box on the coffee table and feel asleep on the sofa while watching a documentary. It was about the formation of life on Earth. Anne took Lhasa and went upstairs into her room and didn’t come out for the rest of the afternoon. The had set when she finally woke up. She walked down the stairs and turned the lights on. All of their photos had been taped to the walls in the living room, staircase and kitchen..

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elegy for an uncommon mannequin 6

Image by jetheriot
I first stumbled onto Saloom’s during the days I spent as a Katrina refugee driving around the streets of Lafayette looking for something to photograph. Saloom’s was photography gold! I approached the window display in awe of its faithful recreation of a mid-century design aesthetic. I wondered where the window dresser had found those cool retro mannequins, so tenderly posed and positioned. Then it hit me. Those mannequins weren’t ironic at all. They weren’t brought back because they had never been sent away. It felt like I had stepped into a time capsule. Those mannequins were the real deal. The LAYAWAY sign was the frosting of authenticity on this too too precious cake. I snapped away.

I posted some photos from that day here on Facebook recently and it triggered a request from my friend Bryan. The photos were right up his alley and could we come up with something for his apartment. I was thinking of a posed-feet montage, so on my latest trip to Lafayette I stopped by Saloom’s to take some more shots. The letters of SALOOM’S had been removed, the awnings rolled. Where mannequins once stood empty dresses were draped. Wow, even mannequins meet their maker. The LAYAWAY sign still sat cushioned by the pile of an off-white carpet. After 99 years of business . . . RIP Saloom’s.

I grieved briefly for the passing of an institution then was cheered at the prospect of homeless mannequins. I sketched a mannequin montage in the living room of my imagination. The woman who answered the phone said, “There’s years the mannequins have been spoken for.” I scrubbed the mannequin montage from the living room of my imagination, took one last shot and drove home.

When I compared the two sets of photographs, I realized that several of the dresses were the same exact dresses that were worn by the mannequins the last time I had visited, that is to say, September 2005. A three-and-a-half year interval between window display changes may be useful for making museums, but it doesn’t do anything for business.

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Portrait of Yeatman Sisters

Image by Wisconsin Historical Images
Studio portrait of the Yeatman sisters resting their arms on a piece of draped furniture between them.

This image is part of a collection of over 6,000 glass plate negatives created by Charles J. Van Schaick. Van Schaick learned the art of photography after moving to Jackson County, Wisconsin. In 1885, he opened a studio in Black River Falls, Wisconsin and served as the town photographer for over 50 years. His work includes both studio portraits and richly varied and intimate snapshots of small-town, Wisconsin life. A portion of his photographic work is represented in Wisconsin Death Trip by Michael Lesy.

For more information about this image, click here:

www.wisconsinhistory.org/whi/fullRecord.asp?id=29165

Did You Know?

The Wisconsin Historical Society produces giclée print reproductions made from high-resolution scans of original source material from its holdings. Custom orders are printed on matte or semigloss papers using large format printers and archival pigmented inks. All print sale proceeds directly benefit the acquisition, preservation and maintenance of the physical and online collections.

E-mail business manager Lisa Marine for details. For more information, see our FAQ.

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elegy for an uncommon mannequin 1

Image by jetheriot
I first stumbled onto Saloom’s during the days I spent as a Katrina refugee driving around the streets of Lafayette looking for something to photograph. Saloom’s was photography gold! I approached the window display in awe of its faithful recreation of a mid-century design aesthetic. I wondered where the window dresser had found those cool retro mannequins, so tenderly posed and positioned. Then it hit me. Those mannequins weren’t ironic at all. They weren’t brought back because they had never been sent away. It felt like I had stepped into a time capsule. Those mannequins were the real deal. The LAYAWAY sign was the frosting of authenticity on this too too precious cake. I snapped away.

I posted some photos from that day here on Facebook recently and it triggered a request from my friend Bryan. The photos were right up his alley and could we come up with something for his apartment. I was thinking of a posed-feet montage, so on my latest trip to Lafayette I stopped by Saloom’s to take some more shots. The letters of SALOOM’S had been removed, the awnings rolled. Where mannequins once stood empty dresses were draped. Wow, even mannequins meet their maker. The LAYAWAY sign still sat cushioned by the pile of an off-white carpet. After 99 years of business . . . RIP Saloom’s.

I grieved briefly for the passing of an institution then was cheered at the prospect of homeless mannequins. I sketched a mannequin montage in the living room of my imagination. The woman who answered the phone said, “There’s years the mannequins have been spoken for.” I scrubbed the mannequin montage from the living room of my imagination, took one last shot and drove home.

When I compared the two sets of photographs, I realized that several of the dresses were the same exact dresses that were worn by the mannequins the last time I had visited, that is to say, September 2005. A three-and-a-half year interval between window display changes may be useful for making museums, but it doesn’t do anything for business.

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Beautiful:

Summertime lunch at Bryant Park, Aug 2009 – 41

Image by Ed Yourdon
At first I thought this woman had an elaborate tattoo on her right leg. Then I thought it was some kind frilly slip by a too-short dress. And finally I decided that it was actually part of the dress itself.

Note: this photo was published in an undated (Jun 2010) blog titled "Beautiful Women." It was also published in a Mar 21, 2011 blog titled "Vogue Business erscheint wieder."

****************************************

I had a lunchtime dentist appointment in midtown Manhattan the other day, and when it was over, I decided to walk a couple blocks over to Bryant Park, behind the New York Public Library. It was a sunny day, and I thought I might see some gorgeous babes sunbathing on the park lawn in their bikinis (even being an amateur photographer is a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it). If not, I thought perhaps I’d find some photogenic tourists or oddball New Yorkers that I could photograph.

As it turns out, almost all of the central lawn was being covered over with some kind of wooden platform — presumably for an upcoming concert performance of some kind — so nobody was sunbathing out on the grass. But since that area was unavailable, and since it was still the lunchtime period, the periphery around the central lawn was chock-a-block with people. There’s now a cafe immediately behind (i.e., to the west) of the library itself, and it was doing a land-office business. And all along the north and south sides of the park, as well as the broader western side, there were tables and chairs and benches where people could enjoy their lunch with whatever food or entertainment they had brought along.

I was already aware of the pentanque court on the western side of the park, and knew that I’d find one or two good pictures there. But I didn’t realize that the Parks Department had set up two ping-pong tables, as well as several tables for chess-players. In addition, there were a few card games underway, and there was also a section set aside for people who wanted to borrow local newspapers to read.

As for the people: I had to remind myself that because Bryant Park is smack in the middle of mid-town Manhattan (a block away from Times Square, filling the square block between 41st/42nd street, and 5th/6th Avenue), most of the people enjoying their lunch were office workers. So the men typically wore slacks and dress shirts, and a surprising number of them were also wearing suits and ties. The women wore dresses and skirts, and generally looked quite fashionable and presentable. Of course, there were also tourists and students and miscellaneous others; but overall, it was a much more "upscale" bunch of people than I’m accustomed to seeing in my own residential area on the Upper West Side.

I was surprised by how many people were sitting alone — eating alone, reading alone, listening to music alone, dozing alone, or just staring into space alone. You’ll see some of them in this album, though I didn’t want to over-emphasize their presence; equally important, many of the loners just weren’t all that interesting from a photogenic perspective. So you’ll also see lots of couples, some children, a couple of families, and occasionally larger groups of people who were eating and chatting and enjoying the warm summer day.

Three activities dominated the scene, all of which were fairly predictable, under the circumstances: eating, reading, and talking on cellphones. You would expect people to be eating at lunch-time, of course; and you wouldn’t be surprised at the notion of people reading a book as they sat behind the New York Public Library on a warm, sunny day. But the pervasiveness of the cellphones was quite astonishing … oh, yeah, there were a few laptops, too, but fewer than I might have imagined.

I’ve photographed Bryant Park several times over the past 40 years, going back to some photos of 1969 Vietnam War protest marches that you can see in this album. I was here in the summer of 2008 to take these photos; I came back in January 2009 to take these photos of the winter scene; and I returned again for these pictures in March 2009 and these these pictures in the late spring of 2009; all of these have been collected into a Flickr "collection" of albums that you can find here. But if you want to see what New York City’s midtown office workers are doing at lunch, take a look at what’s in this album.

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Portrait of the Petersons

Image by Wisconsin Historical Images
Elderly man posed sitting in a chair and an elderly woman standing, probably in a bedroom. Perhaps the Peterson family.

This image is part of a collection of over 6,000 glass plate negatives created by Charles J. Van Schaick. Van Schaick learned the art of photography after moving to Jackson County, Wisconsin. In 1885, he opened a studio in Black River Falls, Wisconsin and served as the town photographer for over 50 years. His work includes both studio portraits and richly varied and intimate snapshots of small-town, Wisconsin life. A portion of his photographic work is represented in Wisconsin Death Trip by Michael Lesy.

For more information about this image, click here:

www.wisconsinhistory.org/whi/fullRecord.asp?id=29153

Did You Know?

The Wisconsin Historical Society produces giclée print reproductions made from high-resolution scans of original source material from its holdings. Custom orders are printed on matte or semigloss papers using large format printers and archival pigmented inks. All print sale proceeds directly benefit the acquisition, preservation and maintenance of the physical and online collections.

E-mail business manager Lisa Marine for details. For more information, see our FAQ.

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