Tuesday, September 21, 2010
My Great Grandmother bought this Singer treadle sewing machine from a door to door salesman in 1915. She's been singing in my family ever since. My mother and I'm sure hers learned to sew on it and it retains pride of place in Mom's home even today. The wood finish has worn thin where countless yards of fabric have passed over. The felt strip sewn around her neck to hold pins has worn the Sing off of "Singer". I can remember it being a treat as a child to get to work the treadle. It took a bit to catch the rhythm and then off you go. Tha thunk, tha thunk, tha thunk providing a base beat to the music of the making.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
I spent yesterday afternoon soaking up some vintage/antique/used/chippy/historical/salvaged/re purposed/old atmosphere. There is a great architectural salvage store not to far from work so I headed there after work. Its in a old warehouse right next to the railroad tracks just west of downtown. Its not the best part of town but that part of the adventure right? I headed in and asked the owner if she minded if I took some photographs. She was very welcoming. So I snooped to my hearts content. Stacks of old lumber. Piles of window weights. Bathtub feet lined up like ducks in a shooting gallery. Each piece old, made to last and fulfilling that promise. Their home may have come down around them but they wait, ready to step in again. This image was a stack of old mirrors culled from dressers and medicine chests. They sat quietly, huddled together reflecting the salvages dreams around them.
Monday, September 13, 2010
What an adventure. As you know, this isn't a typical image you are used to seeing from me but you've got to experiment, right? I got the chance to watch and photograph the Luchadores, or Mexican Wrestlers performing on the deep west side of San Antonio Friday night. We are talking total cultural immersion here. The crowd was screaming. The wrestlers were hollering back. The announcers were calling the play by play in Spanish and a great time was had by all. A couple of camera club buddies and I were given free range to take as many photos as we liked. We could do anything short of crawling in the ring with them. This was my first experience as a photographer as a separate observer, as a recorder, not a participant. The music and language and crowd roared around me and because of the language barrier I felt like I was moving in a bubble through the crowd. Buffeted and surrounded but separate as well. On the way home after I'd put my camera up I started to feel the atmosphere humming against my body that I didn't feel at the time. What did I learn? Sports photography isn't my calling. Night photography is challenging (note to self, get over this before the haunted Scotland tour). Everybody needs to get out of their comfort zone every once in a while. The broader your horizons the better.