Portra 160

Capturing Grace

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It seems that I tend to write about writing and doing more than I write and do. And now I'm writing about writing about writing. Lame.

I've been doing a bit of soul searching and I'm discovering that I'm a serious right-winger. Not in regards to politics or religion (though admittedly I'm pretty hard-core in regards to both) but in the soul-character spectrum.

Kabbalah teaches that there are ten soul faculties. Three intellectual, and seven emotional. There is a right side, a left side and a middle. It goes right, left, middle, right, left, middle, right, left, middle, middle.

The right side is outgoing, challenging, always looking for the new, restless, visionary, revolutionary, fast, and furious.

Left side is calmer, reserved, disciplined, organized, submissive, evolutionary, focused.

Big plans excite me. The minutia of actually implementing it, not so much. And that just ain't cool.

I like me some new cameras. Holy moly I like new cameras. I've gone through more in the past three years than most have seen in a lifetime. I have this weird aversion to what's popular. "If everyone likes it, it must be really bad." Which oftentimes is true, but it's a bit (a bit?) elitist, and you know, sometimes it's good enough that even the proles (sic) get it.

I wonder if everyone shot film would I shoot digital? I don't think so, but it's hard to know the working of the subconscious. Who is deciding here?

So I raise this cup of ice coffee to the lefties of the world. The plodders, the planners. The ones who get stuff done, and are able to focus the crazy ideas out there and actually implement them. And a special sip for Estee who holds my feet to the fire.

Not that I'm boxing myself in. One isn't "either or". There's always some sort of balance and we can always work on ourselves. It's just important to know one's merits and faults. Both to capitalize on what you've got and to work on the other half.

Truth is I'm getting better. Slowly, but it's happening folks. One day I'll be a picture of orderly submissiveness. With a huge side of rebelliousness.

***

One of the good things about being a righty is the questioning of things that are. The why. And the why behind the why. In between checking ebay for new cameras and expired film, I do my fair share of thinking, especially in the field of photography. What I really wish I had from my childhood (besides Microsoft, and later Apple stocks) is an album or two, from different stages of my life, of how we lived. What we did, how we interacted, what our house looked like. I want to know what we wore, and how many dishes were in the sink. What was in the fridge and what we did at the park. I'd want a beautiful family photo every once in a while.

I had the recent pleasure of photographing Amy Grace and her beautiful children. Amy, besides being a beautiful person inside and out, is a wonderful artist (and I don't use that word lightly) with both images and words. And she gets it. Her photography is quite different, but it is much more of "this is how it feels" than "this is how it looks".

So here is just a normal day at the Graces. Breakfast, chillage, playing, getting food, park, ice cream, back home for some more chillage, reading, back to the park, bathtime... You get the gist. I also busted out my new polaroid machine made by some good friends of mine in LA (it's a modified Speed Graphic with a huge old aerial lens). That thing is annoying, huge, slow, and challenging, but that's why I like it. Nothing normal allowed here. Oh, and the images it produces are spectacular.

Enjoy!

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And some instant film. I gave the prints to Amy, these are scans of the negative (which are cool, but not as pretty as the actual prints).

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Please check out Amy's work. You'll be happy you did.

***

If you haven't heard... I'll be having two (or more) quickshoot days with all the profit going to help my brother in law who has been diagnosed with ALS (Lou Gehrig's disease). One in LA and another in NY. It's a wonderful chance to get amazing photos of your family and help a family who could really use it. You could see the details here. Thanks!!

I'll be wandering around the East coast towards the end of October, so if you want to book a session do so before the fat cows sing (that's the deadline).

Let not today be yesterday's tomorrow

It's 1:47 AM here in balmy Hancock Park. I'm sitting on a sheetless mattress in the back of my minivan, cushioned with a down blanket and pillow, propped against the sidewall, waiting for sobriety to make its beleaguered appearance.

There's a sort of battle being waged between my stomach and a slightly copious amount of aged fermented barley (single malt of course) from some far flung corner of Scotland. My anti-alcohol muscles have recently been suffering from atrophy. Shrinking, drying up, and generally falling into various states of disuse.

Yesterday was the third day of the Jewish month of Tammuz. On this day nineteen years ago, our Rebbe and leader left this physical world. Unlike the previous leaders, there was no successor. No child, no in-law, no prodigal student willing and able to fill the void. I was just a child, much more oblivious than most, but even I remember the feeling of confusion, the fear of uncharted waters.

As the weeks, months, and years went by, it became clear that the Rebbe, while physically gone, was very much here, still guiding and leading. He somehow left his essence in a prodigious amount of talks, letters, correspondences, lectures, and stories. And through reading, studying, and learning we can not only connect with him, but gain answers and insights to our current challenges.

There's this wonderful concept we have called a Farbrengen. In short it's a gathering of friends, where we talk about real issues, personal challenges, sing Chassidic melodies, and strengthen each others' commitment to keep on rocking the good fight. And there is always the the presence of some good 'ole alcohol to help open up (but drinking too much is strongly frowned upon). One of the concepts that we farbrenged about was the idea (something the Rebbe spoke about very often) that every single day was its own unit of time. Suspended between yesterday and tomorrow, it takes on its own meaning. Not limited to the mistakes and accomplishments of yesterday, nor a pawn to the plans of tomorrow. Yes, yesterday may have been an epic disaster, and tomorrow may be shaping up to be the bees knees, but today is an island. And wallowing or waiting is not an option.

So to all those who find themselves floundering in the narrow chasm between yesterday and tomorrow, I raise this glass of todayness, rich with opportunity, truth, and nowness. Bottoms up!

***

In my travels I've met some people deserving of all sorts of wonderful adjectives. One of these colorful folks is the inimitable Rabbi Shmuel Marcus and his merry band of the Mrs. and co. Living between yesterday and tomorrow, constantly pursuing new ideas, many of which succeed, some not (one of the successful ones is his band Eighth Day. I had the pleasure of photographing them some time back). Shmuel has been an awesome friend for us since we moved to Long Beach. I've worked for him in various capacities (running Jewish clubs, teaching high school students, adult classes, and currently I design his soulwise magazine) and he is always looking out for us, throwing ideas our way, and acting as a sounding board for my crazy plans. He's also insanely supportive of my photography. This here below is his family.

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Vir. G. Inia.

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Here's how I write a blog post. I sit down (possibly with some sort of vague outline of what I want to write about) and just start writing. Usually with a beer (this time it's with an "Old Rasputen" a 9% stout. And for a stout it's pretty darn good, but I'm not a huge fan of stouts.) Sometimes I stay on track, usually not. Coherence is not really a goal but it's nice when it happens.

As it is my office is in my garage, and my fingers are semi-numb; making typing not so much difficult, as just weird. For all you funny people who will make fun of a Californian complaining about the cold: It is colder here than in most parts of the country. We don't have well insulated houses, nor do we have good heaters. Every morning its well under 60 degrees in the house. And we don't want to put on a sweater when we go outside (even though it's the high 30's or low 40's, because in a few hours it will be in the 60's…).

I'm selling some gear (to make room for even newer (to me) and cooler gear. Which will of course make me happy. 'Cuz that's what new stuff does). In order to sell said gear I need photos of said gear. I had three choices. A. Shoot it with film, and way a few weeks to get the scans. B. Shooting with polaroids, scan them in and use those, or C. Snap some digital photos. My brain and my heart took it outside (leaving me looking for OZ), and my brain won. After taking some lame shots of my non-lame camera (was selling my Pentax 6x7. It's a huge and awesome camera and it sold within 10 minutes) I snapped a few of my daughter (you know, those pretty shots from above focusing on her eyelashes (I had a macro lens on)). After dragging it into photoshop and working on it for 20 minutes, I gave up in disgust. I just couldn't make it look even nearly as awesome as film.

In case you were wondering, I don't have a point. Onto one of the coolest families in the whole state of Virginia (which, from the small population I saw when I was there, has the highest beard per capita outside of Oregon and Mother's Market).

Disclaimer: I was assured that Kelly and her family are not confederates.

Now that we have that out of the way… If all my clients were as awesome as Kelly, I'd be a very happy man. She contacted me a while back, asking if I ever plan on traveling to the east coast, and if I did to let her know. Fast forward a few months and I had my wonderful east coast trip planned. Kelly contacted me and we made it happen. And she didn't complain at all when my lab took double as long as usual, "quality takes time" she said. I agree.

I actually took a train there. I'd love to say it was interesting. It wasn't (I did sleep though), but the shoot was.

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Little boys with their blankets and sticks...

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520 Days of Summer

5 days a week for 8 weeks for 13 years. That's how much time I spent at the camp currently known an Silver Gan Izzy. Previously known as Camp Gan Israel of Long Beach. Then it moved to Westminster. A few years later they figured that although the property was in Westminster, the actual address (the street in front) was in Huntington Beach. Now, while it may be true that Westminster is an "all American City", winning the prestigious (ummm, maybe) award in 1996 (when I was a wee lad of 12. Probably winning because that's the year I left to New York), Huntington Beach is a much cooler, hipper, prettier, and richer city (it's actually the richest of the largest 100 cities in America (for all my Canadian readers, when I say America I mean the USA. Don't get insulted, I love you guys, your mountains, and your beer (not the exported kinds though))). <<<< yes I just did that. So the address, letterhead, and promotional material were all changed to reflect this fact. More to the point, I spent a large chunk of my life at this joint. 10 years as a camper and 3 as a counselor. Being that I lived there as a counselor, the 520 number may be a bit off (I spent my Sunday's there as well), on the other hand one year I had a ruptured appendix, another I broke my arm (and on the day I had my cast removed I broke my pinkie finger (is that real word? Pinkie?) on the other finger and had I get a full arm cast), and in another I broke my jaw. From a hockey puck. So I may have missed some days...

I also met my wife there. She was a a counselor from the Southern part of town. It's an interesting story (the first time I saw her I was walking on my hands in Knott's Berry Farm (I recently tried that. We had just finished an intense game of soccer (the average age was like 4), and feeling gung-ho after outrunning and out kicking a bunch of little kids I figured I was just as in shape as I used to be. I couldn't hold myself up for even a second, and crashed right down on my back. On a better note, earlier in the day we had family races with 3 of my siblings, and I won! Yay me!)) but one I'll have to share another time.

My kids aren't yet in camp, but I figured I'd take my oldest loin fruit, Zevi, there for a day or two and walk around taking photos. Well it turns out that Zevi wasn't too keen on being left with some strangers (he's never done that before), so he ended up following me around. Which was fun, but I couldn't really spend my time getting the shots I wanted. Lesson learned (I learnt (spelled such to placate my Canadian friends, who live in North America, but are strangely not America) a whole cackle of lessons in the past week. But being a professional photographer I'm not supposed to divulge my human tendencies to be quite far from perfect).

And after all that useless (yet oddly entertaining) preamble, here are the photos from a few hours spent over two days in the good ole Silver Gan Izzy.

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a fleeting dream, a passing cloud

Southern California weather. It's the stuff of legends. Always 75 degrees and sunny.

Or so they want you to think.

It's a ponzi scheme. It's a well known phenomenon, that once people pay an over-the-top amount for something, they defend it's worth. "Yeah, I got this camera strap for $389. There's another that does the same and looks the same? Nope, mine is better." Because I paid more for a luxury item, I must defend it's worth (usually subconsciously)

So there were some marketing geniuses (Jews of course) that decided to sell Easterners on California's awesome weather. They bought out all the weather stations, and started reporting that "Sunny skies this week in the mid-70s". Over and over again. Until some people said "hey why the heck are we living in this crazy cold and snow, and humidity and heat. Let's head to California!!

So the real estate goes through the moon, and everyone is so heavily invested in this place that they all tell their friends how beautiful and perfect it is.

It's all a conspiracy.

It rains, and thunders, and lightnings (yeas, that's a verb) all the time.

And my kids love it.

We were supposed to meet up at this apple picking/cider making/hike situation with some other health freaks, but it ended up pouring, we came late and most didn't show. Which was fine, because my kids just wanted to dance in the rain. So we ate. And Danced. Then cleaned up and danced some more. We made some cider, jumped in puddles, danced a bit more. Than we headed across the street for some intense apple pickage. I think we ate more than we picked.

Good times.

It was also my first time scanning film on a real scanner. The Brothers Wright (check 'em out, they are amazing) were kind enough to let me scan some stuff on their Frontier Scanner (it's this huge massive scanning machine). I also used some heavily expired film (Kodak 160VC) so there was some really wonky colors going on (more due to my inexperience with scanning). But I did shoot some new Portra 400, and that stuff scans like a beast. There's a reason they come out with new films.

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There was some crazy thunder going on, and the kids were laughing like crazy (and Estee was like "Zalmy!!! Get that shot", and I'm trying to keep Zusha from eating all the apples, and trying to focus wide open at 1/60 of a second... Not easy).

I got the shot.

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Not sure what happened here (actually I am, but I doubt you'd be interested), but I figured some film peeps would like it (I don't. I want my stuff to be predictably awesome).

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Capturing a family outing is a great way to preserve real memories. Interested? Shoot me an email, or give me a call.

And If you didn't hear the news, I'll be on the East Coast for some time towards the beginning of October. Check out this post for the details.

Geek Speak: RZ67, 110mm, Portra 160vc, Portra 400, Scanned by Superman at the Brothers Wright.

Rachel + Yitzie // Los Angeles, CA

I have typers bock. It's a rare yet harsh malady where although one may have much to say, or even write, those tiny muscles in fingers refuse to translate the impulses sent by the brain into action. Instead somehow I end up in front of the fridge, wondering how long I've been there for.

So I grab a beer (or, if there isn't one in the fridge, I storm away fuming), head back to my computer and type with my toes. Yes, this blog was typed with my toes.

I also used seven cameras for this wedding. Seven. Why? That is a very, very good question. My back and shoulders would like to know the same.

Rachel and her family were part of our community since, well, I can't remember when we didn't know each other. It's amazing to see people grow up into truly unique and special people. Yitzi was always grown up. He may have been a child once but we only met a few months before the wedding, so I have no proof. I do know that he is über smart, witty, and kind. Not a bad combo. There's a lot to tell about this beautiful wedding, with beautiful friends, and beautiful families, but I'll let the photos tell the story.

Enjoy.

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