The Pier

This is the scene at 'The Pier' San Diego, CA., USA. one day not so

long ago. Your ratings, critiques and observations are invited and most

welcome. |f you rate harshly, very critically, or just wish to make an

observation, please post a helpful and constructive commentary, please

share your photographic knowledge to help improve my photography.

Thanks! Enjoy! John

She looks critical to what's in front of her. While if she was lookin' to the right she would see beauty as I do, or wouldn't she?

For the first time in years about a critique, I'm completely stymied by your remark and cannot understand it.

 

Woe is me. Guidance would be helpful.

 

John (Crosley)

 

(Perhaps it's finally senility creeping in.)

 

(Or is it senility's finality creeping in?)

 

Now if I could just figure out how to add up my checkbook -- oh, I don't have a checking account . . . seems I have no money to put into a bank . . . and with $35 fees for overdrafting 35 cents, it's a loser's game anyway.

 

jc

I would have liked to be able to read the menue.

Part of the aesthetics (if this photo has any) is that you may feel compelled to 'want' to read the menu to avoid focusing on the dreariness of the woman (if 'men' indeed is what it is, and I am doubtful), but cannot because of depth of field issues. The 'menu' or whatever is out of the depth of field and thus blurred.

 

You are forced to focus on this somewhat ordinary and even very dreary looking woman . . . a woman all Americans have known . . . . for some of us she is a contemporary, for others she is mother or mother's friend, for others a grandmother or a friend of grandma or grandpa, and for others of us she is someone who is very much an elder - perhaps someone who had an afternoon bridge club (with cocktails) for friends, while her husband worked selling insurance, or worked in some factory job that paid high, which now is gone forever -- exported to China, Bangladesh, or Mexico, or just taken over by El Salvadorean or Mexican laborers who (partly because of visa issues) will not make 'union' demands.

 

She is a woman 'pre world economy' who probably lived a 'good life' as she knew it, but also of an age that heralded 'Librium' and saw the demise of good manners. She saw smoking as something EVERYONE DID, even in elevators, and saw nothing wrong with it.

 

She is a kind hearted woman; she knows that in her heart, and maybe many others will agree.

 

Time has passed by, and the smoking no longer is fashionable; she clings to the older ways; they're her ways -- like 'em or not.

 

For gosh sakes, even Cary Grant smoked in those wonderful movies. She can smoke too, and God help her if she has to follow some doctor's advice to cut down.

 

Those horrible hotels in California which will not allow smoking in rooms and force you outside the front entrance to smoke -- why if it wasn't for the wonderful weather and the beautiful scenery at the waterfront, why they'd never get her business again . . . I'd be willing to bet.

 

Maybe she raised a brood of pretty good,'better-than-average' kids (thanks to author-raconteur Garrison Keillor for that great choice of words -- 'better than average').

 

This might indeed be a boat rental shop or a pedicab base shop with hourly or daily prices posted rather than the restaurant you think it is, but it was not important to me.

 

I had an audience while taking this, and in fact took it from the platform of the front of a pedicab to an admiring young Eastern European on 'job visa' working the pedicab in America who (together with his friends, all highly educated) saw this as a rather biting social comment).

 

By the way, so do I.

 

It's one of my better shots, though as I write this few have clicked on it, and few have rated it at all.

 

Tant pis for them.

 

I'd put it in a gallery (with other work of mine that it fits with.).

 

(which means not too much other work -- does that mean 'elite company' to use real estate speak?)

 

;~))

 

May your neighbors and your small country one day find peace, perhaps in your lifetime or the lifetime of your progeny, Meir.

 

Best wishes.

 

John (Crosley)

 

Meir, she also looks a bit like my mother looked, but my mother shared almost none of the values of which I write; I am more her image than her antithesis, but the image draws me to older times.

 

Here's a scary thought (for me). She might be a contemporary . . . or just a few years older . . . . EEEEEEEEKS!

 

(Can't show this to my girlfriend who already calls me grandpa, but with a very loving and beautiful smile) (and I don't know if I am or not, one way or t'other).

 

jc

When this is finished as 'Feature Photo' of the day (or whenever I take it down and replace it, the issue is where does this photo belong in my large portfolio (or elsewhere)?

 

Single photo color is one possibility, as this is very colorful and that folder is very diverse, and includes both color photos and portraits.

 

Another possibility is 'fine art' which according to today's gallery standards, I think may be a good fit . . . . or is it just something I'm smoking?

 

I'd like your opinion and ANY suggestions . . . but I'd like you to state coherently (at least try to be coherent) your reasons for sending this any place you think this photo belongs, in my portfolio or elsewhere (Ash can?, If so, tell me why, and in some detail, please . . . . and be prepared for some questions . . . .)

 

;~))

 

John (Crosley)

"For those a hundred from now; this is how we lived.". I thought they'd like to know how much a burger and mikshake costs back in our times. Things I appreciate myself on seeing old photographs.

Aha,

 

I fully understand and share the sentiment.

 

However, this is NOT a burger stand.

 

Review of other captures reveals it has to do with other tourism ventures which are not easily price compared. Such info basically is useless / unlike the old signs that said 'steak dinner 25¢' - among my favorites anyway, 'with onions and baked potato 5¢ extra' or some such.

 

For that I am in agreement.

 

It's one of those things that make browsing old photos worthwhile.

 

Have you seen my old B&W photo of the liquor store with prices on the shelves, taken in San Francisco, 'No Checks, No Minors, Don't Make Trouble'

 

Here's a link. See if you can see the prices on the shelves: Photo, 1969, Summer. San Francisco, Market Street, near Fox Plaza. (this was a mom and pop and prices were high even then, no discount liquor stores in the neighborhoods or 'large box' dealers for competition, so this guy had his prices set to the sky -- 'fair trade' laws also applied (remember 'fair trade' a form of price fixing?)

 

http://photo.net/photodb/photo?photo_id=2551132&size=lg

 

Meir, sometime writing more is helpful, so I can figure out what it is you're interested in.

 

John (Crosley)

mom and pop liquor store.. hmmm is that pop?

You have lived in the USA, you know English, and you surely know that 'small businesses' colloquially are known as 'mom and pop' businesses.

 

John (Crosley)

I don't think I've ever witnessed such a long and vivd explanantion to such a short critique, though I must say I enjoyed most of it as much as I enjoyed the image, apart from a few colloquialisms that escape me, though an educated guess would put "large box" dealers as "big businesses" and "Fair Trades Law" well thats fairly self explanatory.

But back to the Image, or rather my interpretation of the image.

 

The woman sits in quiet contemplation of her surroundings and fellow man, her frown of disapproval hidden behind the sunglasses (or maybe it was just a bright day) She sees a world that has changed beyond recognition, and resigns herself to enjoying one of the last pleasures she has in the world, having a quiet smoke, and reflecting on life.

Her thoughts are of her grandchildren and what kind of world they will grow up in and the old knot of fear in her stomach as she considers the war in Afghanistan, terrorism and how it will shape their world. Then of more mundane thoughts, that she must remember to to collect a carton of milk on the way home, and feed next doors cat as thay are on holiday.

She thinks about the part time job she has as a cleaner in the office up town, she smiles briefly because has a laugh with the girls she works with, but sighs in the knowledge that deep down she knows she could have done better if she'd been allowed to go to college, a husband and three kids at an early age put paid to that! Finally she stands on the cigarette butt and slowly and deliberately grinds it into the deck with her heel, and then turns and starts the long walk home.

 

I have tried street photography and failed miserably, it's one of those excercises that look so easy, but invariably remains difficult for me. ( I'll stick to landscape it don't move about as much)

 

The above image is testament to your skill and observation, I enjoyed it immensly and I congratulate you!

 

Kind Regards

 

Alf

It should be remembered that the text is entirely separate from the image, and that I have absolutely NO PERSONAL KNOWLEDGE of this woman, other than as shown by this photograph and other behaviors I observed.

 

Those two things have been a 'jumping off point' for me (and for you) in my soliloquy about 'life', as I reflect on this photograph.

 

It has been said by some experts (to my surprise, initially) that each of my photos tells a story, and I was literally the last to understand that -- other people knew it instinctively, but I though it was the accompanying text.

 

Hah!

 

In any case, this woman's photo is a story, and whether you (or I) got one letter or iota of her life story correct, or whether she is Mother Theresa re-incarnate, we cannot know. She may be the hidden co-founder of NOW, that we do not recognize, or some anti-abortion rally scoundrel, who chanted in front of some doctor's office unbeknown to us, but somehow we doubt it.

 

All we write is speculative, but in my mind that is the power of this photograph -- it inspires such contemplation, at least for me.

 

I had a mother who looked a little like this woman, overweight at the end and until near the end a lifelong smoker (who had a bridge club at one time), and I learned about life from a certain station in society, but not from the upper crust, though I have shared some 'upper crusts' along the way, and found them wanting.

 

I have had my choices in life, including a chance to be mentored by Sam Walton, who went on to become one of the World's Wealthiest individuals, but simply passed it by; I couldn't have been less interested in merchandising discount stores in then small markets in the South.

 

I was more interested in 'ideas' and even the idea of writing business news rankled somewhat after having written about national and international things -- and even passed over an offered editorship of Business Week Magazine to go to law school to cut the ties to a career that I saw no future in (I literally foresaw what is happening today . . . back in the early '70s -- journalism with no future . . . and never any money. I had seen the death of 'magazine photography' as done by the classic magazine photography giants, Erwitt, Doisneau, Cartier-Bresson, as they lost their lucrative markets, with the magazines failing or turning less profitable and becoming less well read after the advent of nationwide and worldwide network television.)

 

 

I foresaw a future when something even more powerful would happen, I knew it would be earth shattering and didn't want to be a victim, merely carrying a camera, so I put down my cameras and lenses and went off to another career or several, never forgetting my love for 'the photograph' but wondering 'who would ever look at my photographs' unless somehow I could score an Aperture Magazine Monograph, as I secretly coveted all those years, but did nothing overt to secure.

 

Now, again with almost no money, but a bunch of cameras/lenses and happy as a clam, I take my photos, with no buyers, no projected sales, just an amateur trying to make visual sense of life's random moments, as you have done so ably, and producing things that sometimes members here pass by, but I think may be wonders, such as this. (it takes some guts to call this that, when it has almost no views and -- except for anything you may have added, it is very low rated and low viewed -- either that or I'm a visionary, an eccentric, or just crazy. (Take your pick and you'll have some budddies somewhere who share your estimation.)

 

You (and maybe I) have seen the poetry in this simple photo, and it has brought out the poet in each of us. Poetry does not require rhyming stanzas in Iambic Pentameter -- just an ability to bring forth or evoke ideas and thoughts which mere prose cannot . . . through a photograph to evoke feelings, whatever those feelings may be.

 

Here, the feelings seem to be about another generation, that smoked freely, that has lived much of its life, is reflecting, perhaps on vacation/holiday (as here undoubtedly) and maybe from the harsher climes of the Midwest or East in balmy San Diego sitting there in a greenish suit-like outfit, having a smoke next to a red plywood-wall structure there on the quay which abuts the piers where cruise ships were Mexico-bound but somehow got hung up and diverted -- by bad weather I think and thrust into San Diego unexpectedly.

 

Maybe she is thinking of those Pina Coladas, she thinks she should have been drinking in Cabo or Acapulco, instead of that late afternoon smoke before the afternoon sailing?

 

Our speculations can go on, perhaps far into time . . . .

 

That is the 'magic' ('focusnik' in the Russian language, a word which I like soo much) of this photograph.

 

It allows us or gives us impetus to indulge our own imaginary peregrinations into her life (and the lives of so many others for which she is an avatar).

 

Alone among the many photos I have taken, it sets a tone and a mood, and allows us to ramble, as you and I both have done, while others simply pass it by, wondering:

 

'WHY did he put it up there and WHAT in God's name does he see in THAT photo?'

 

I invite people with such questions to stroll into an ART gallery some day . . . (or at least I imagine so) and imagine this sitting on a wall with the other offerings

 

(I said 'art' not 'photo' because certain 'photo' galleries deal in photo as 'art' also, and there is considerable overlap between 'fine art' and 'photography' and sometimes the twain meet, but perhaps just an 'art gallery without the word 'photography' attached.)

 

I hope people who ask those questions some day can see this in such a gallery; I really do.

 

I do not make a 'specialty out of taking such photographs, but when I do, I hope they evoke such special feelings.

 

You have shown me that at least for one man beside myself, this one does.

 

Thank you ever so much for the fine compliment of putting your own story of 'her life' with this photo.

 

It has made my own life richer.

 

Thank you again for that.

 

It's why I take photos (and share them).

 

John (Crosley)