Croked Door to a Salon

I was at a food festival yesterday in Bethesda Maryland USA; so I turned away from the food—the best picture is always behind you—and took this photograph. Perfect light: clouds which diffused the 9 a.m. stuff from the good old sun.

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I studied a barn. 1.

I came across this barn, proud weathered but unvanquished eloquent somehow masterful defiant to nature, while I was driving north on Route 1 in Delaware USA.  I was in the far left lane, the left turn only lane, the barn was at about 2 o’clock, and so I inched out across a solid white line, not to get far.  Cars piled up, blocking me.  I waited for the light to change and the cars to pass, and I pulled out, but still unable to get over to the far right, I continued for a half mile or so and u-turned it.
I took two or three or four shots of the barn, and when I edited its photograph an hour or two ago, I felt guilty, for I believe I was unable to capture the barn’s majesty.  It was a gray thing, and the grayness didn’t come out of the camera.  I believe I have transformed the barn, maybe, hopefully, into something for us all to wonder and awe at: The Proud Indomitable Barn at Route 1 and 16.

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Ketchup et cetera

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Bethany Beach Delaware USA july 7 2012.

Slip a New York City Model in a Red Dress and Platform Shoes Into This Picture and I Am a Millionaire.

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Bethany beach Delaware. 8 9 in the a.m. morning. Me, lookin’ to pick up a girl, stationed strategically on a corner, thinkin’ “What the hell did Einstein study light for?” no chicks to pick up. I’m lonely and bored.

The Lonely Garden Hose

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Guys surf at the beach. Guys pick up chicks at the beach. Guys drink beer at the beach. Me, a guy–I take pictures of garden hoses at the beach.

Ah, Newspaper Stands, I Remember Them Well 4.

In 1966, at 6 a.m. in the morning (sic), Jimmy Day and I used to deliver The Washington Post newspapers to the residents of the McLean Gardens Apartments over there at Van Ness Street and Wisconsin Avenue in Tenleytown upper-Northwest Washington D.C. USA.  There were paper boys in the day.  Perhaps there still are paperboys, but I never see them.  There were also boys shouting out the latest headlines as they sold newspapers on street corners of New York City.  Maybe there are boys who still do this, (but I haven’t been to New York City in a decade or two).  And there were, and are, newspaper stands on the streets.
We are not going to be seeing these things much longer, as much as we might long for and love and adore the past.  So I thought I would try to memorialize newspaper stands, and maybe newspapers too, in art.
I am posting four pictures.  Each of them is the same shot I took of some newspaper stands I came across on the main street in Bethany Beach Delaware USA, at 9 or 10 a.m. in the morning (sic), on July 3 2012.
I edited the picture in four different ways.  I was trying to get them to look like modern art drawings, maybe modern art paintings.  They remind me of the work of some modernist, but I can’t figure who.  Do they remind you of some artist?

We are not going to be seeing these things much longer, as much as we might long for and love and adore the past.

News Boxes

In 1966, at 6 a.m. in the morning (sic), Jimmy Day and I used to deliver The Washington Post newspapers to the residents of the McLean Gardens Apartments over there at Van Ness Street and Wisconsin Avenue in Tenleytown upper-Northwest Washington D.C. USA.  There were paper boys in the day.  Perhaps there still are paperboys, but I never see them.  There were also boys shouting out the latest headlines as they sold newspapers on street corners of New York City.  Maybe there are boys who still do this, (but I haven’t been to New York City in a decade or two).  And there were, and are, newspaper stands on the streets.
We are not going to be seeing these things much longer, as much as we might long for and love and adore the past.  So I thought I would try to memorialize newspaper stands, and maybe newspapers too, in art.
I am posting four pictures.  Each of them is the same shot I took of some newspaper stands I came across on the main street in Bethany Beach Delaware USA, at 9 or 10 a.m. in the morning (sic), on July 3 2012.
I edited the picture in four different ways.  I was trying to get them to look like modern art drawings, maybe modern art paintings.  They remind me of the work of some modernist, but I can’t figure who.  Do they remind you of some artist?

In 1966, at 6 a.m. in the morning (sic), Jimmy Day and I used to deliver The Washington Post newspapers to the residents of the McLean Gardens Apartments over there at Van Ness Street and Wisconsin Avenue in Tenleytown upper-Northwest Washington D.C. USA.

Ah, the Newspaper Stands, I Remember Them Well 1.

In 1966, at 6 a.m. in the morning (sic), Jimmy Day and I used to deliver The Washington Post newspapers to the residents of the McLean Gardens Apartments over there at Van Ness Street and Wisconsin Avenue in Tenleytown upper-Northwest Washington D.C. USA.  There were paper boys in the day.  Perhaps there still are paperboys, but I never see them.  There were also boys shouting out the latest headlines as they sold newspapers on street corners of New York City.  Maybe there are boys who still do this, (but I haven’t been to New York City in a decade or two).  And there were, and are, newspaper stands on the streets.
We are not going to be seeing these things much longer, as much as we might long for and love and adore the past.  So I thought I would try to memorialize newspaper stands, and maybe newspapers too, in art.
I am posting four pictures.  Each of them is the same shot I took of some newspaper stands I came across on the main street in Bethany Beach Delaware USA, at 9 or 10 a.m. in the morning (sic), on July 3 2012.
I edited the picture in four different ways.  I was trying to get them to look like modern art drawings, maybe modern art paintings.  They remind me of the work of some modernist, but I can’t figure who.

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Mark Rothko PhD 3.

I am doing a series, maybe 6 or 7, of photographs inspired by the late wonderful and great abstract expressionist Mark Rothko. This is the third.
I think this is a picture of a giant HD TV, intentionally blurred a bit to give it that Rothko feel.
Bethany Beach Delaware USA July 4 2012.

I think this is a picture of a giant HD TV, intentionally blurred a bit to give it that Rothko feel.

Mark Rothko PhD 1.

I am doing a series, maybe 6 or 7, of photographs inspired by the late wonderful and great abstract expressionist Mark Rothko.  This is the first.
This is a heavily edited version of a picture of the opening to a metal recycling dumpster.
July 4 2012.

I am doing a series, maybe 6 or 7, of photographs inspired by the late wonderful and great abstract expressionist Mark Rothko. This is the first.

A Most Unfortunate Man

A Most Unfortunate Man

This is a depiction of a man I photographed just outside Union Station in Washington, D.C., USA, on Sunday June 3 2012, at about 3 in the afternoon. The man did not notice me when I was taking the shot, which was all right with me. I steal pictures of people when making street photography, hoping always to not be noticed, because I have been the recipient of much disdain, anger, derision and ridicule when I have pointed my camera at people in public.
An example: One night around 9 not long ago, I was in my car, stopped at a red traffic signal over on Glebe Road in Arlington, VA. I had taken a few pictures of a woman in a car next to me (without her noticing me, by the way), and a gentleman in a pickup truck behind me did not like what I had done. He got out of his vehicle and approached.
The gentleman, with a baseball cap crooked on his head, was perturbed and angry and ferocious and maybe even salivating—I swear. He yelled, as if deranged: “What? Are you some kind of a pervert?”
I was scared, much more scared than I was during my first day of school in 1st grade, and I thought that had he a gun—a hand canon or an Uzi, maybe—he would ruthlessly and mercilessly shoot me and terminate my short-lived career as a humble, broke, art-making photographer. As it turned out, the gentleman did not have a hand canon or an Uzi ; or if he did, he didn’t take it out and point it at me and splatter my precious gray matter. That was fortunate, for I was in no mood to teach the gentleman a primer on the wonders and art and history of street photography, and there was more luck for me: The traffic signal changed to green, as if by miracle. I drove off to safety and a new freedom, but I have strayed from our topic: The Sunday picture of a most unfortunate man at Union Station.
I made this picture not because I wish to criticize our society for condoning homelessness and poverty. Nor did I take it to try to say through art that these tragedies are inexcusable and condemnable. No, I took it because I am selfish. I took it because I want to become rich and famous (probably just like you). I took it because I want to win a photography contest. I am submitting the photograph to a contest sponsored by the China Internet Information Center. The center is calling for pictures on poverty and poverty relief efforts, and I want to win it. As I said, I want fame.
My initial, straight, unedited version of this shot is good, but by no means a prize winner. I like the edited version I have posted here much better, although I doubt judges of the contest will go for it. The picture is unconventional and probably wouldn’t make sense if it were shown with a group of traditionally made photographs. The picture probably will make no sense to many while it is shown by itself here on this blog, now that I think about it; however, I think the photograph is a great work of art.
If it does catch on, keen critics might talk about it in the same breath as Pablo Picasso’s “The Old Guitarist,” which is one of its inspirations; and if you ask me, the picture ought to be hanging alongside this essay (as an art, art-essay sort of thing) in Washington’s Corcoran Gallery of Art or in the Hirshhorn Museum or, better still, in the East Wing of the National Gallery of Art, but who cares about a broke photographer’s grandiose ideas and opinions?
Now, let me contradict myself. Upon consideration, I think the damned thing—the damned picture, that is—just might help shame us all into eradicating homelessness and poverty. It might do this despite the contention of the many pessimists who conclude that these scourges—homelessness and poverty—are inherent to, and an incurable malady in, any human society.
–Tim Ruane
June 6 2012