That was my phone number when I was growing up. Smitty’s was JEfferson 3592. My uncle Rowland’s was AVon 0229. Soon a “1” was added, so we became Redwood 1-1421. Then the names went. Just 731-1421. Now we need to add the area code as a prefix, even before the number. So now I’m 510, then three digits, then four more. Those were the days when phones were, well, phones.
Do people still talk on their phones? Most of us use them to browse the internet, send text messages, and oh yes, take photographs. Point and shoot cameras have disappeared. All hail the mighty phone, er, camera!
People know they can’t provide health care to the sick or injured. They call on doctors for that. They know they can’t design and build a church. They rely on architects and construction companies. But arm them with a phone, and by grab, they’re bonafide photographers. Professionals hear “that If I had your camera…” Yes? Then what? As a professional photographer I know the answer to that: “Your images would still suck.” Fifty years of experience, classes, and understanding count for something. too And yet we’re reminded, “If I had your camera…”
Well, now you do. The following images were all taken with an iPhone. The phone can take wonderful images. And besides, since we always have it with us, we can capture what Henri Cartier-Besson called “the decisive moment” every day. No excuses.
When the morning sun creates a shadow that surrounds her and lights her hair. When the girl in the stroller looks up and stares at the camera, her face a mystery of all that lies behind it.
It’s everyday stuff. A delivery truck driver on break in his truck. It’s the composition, the colors that work together.
It’s children on Halloween. Cousins, one an engine, the other an engineer. I photograph children at their level, not as an adult looking down. Expressions make it work. It’s a sleeping passenger on BART, occupying five seats making others stand. It’s people being people.
And animals being animals. The cat defines what it is to be a cat. The dog, tired and hot, waits patiently for his guardian in an Apple store. In the second image, the position of the phone tells the story, contrasting the softness of the fur with the hardness of the floor.
Some portraits are stronger in black and white.
Brie was a clerk in a neighborhood grocery store. She kindly obliged in this window light portrait.
I followed the woman across the street, grabbing my phone in the crosswalk. We wanted to buy a suitcase in a luggage store and were surprised by the parrot who lives in the clerk’s hair.
On Friday mornings I take a walk along Wildcat Road that borders Tilden Park. Some sunrises are better than others.
Our grandchildren. I try to avoid smiles. In the first image on this post Hazel is happy, throwing leaves in the October sunshine. In these two there is so much that we can’t understand behind the face. Go to the National Portrait Gallery in Washington DC. No one smiles. It’s the “face in repose".”
Some photographs beg to be taken. I volunteer at the Dorothy Day House, fixing breakfast for the homeless. One of our clients.
Herschel Walker complained “Don’t we have enough trees?” We don’t. We don’t have enough flowers either.
Some phone images are easy. I took the one on top through the windshield as we were driving 75 mph on “The Loneliest Road in America”, Route #50 through Nevada. I loved the contrast of the asphalt with the barren grasses on either side. Once again, the leading line of the highway takes you straight down to the snow covered mountains.
The second image, though an iPhone photograph, wasn’t as easy. The ship traveled down the Straits of Magellan to one of the many glaciers that line the waterway.
We pass by flowers everyday. The photographer’s role is to see them in ways that others don’t. The naked ladies at the top were backlit by the rising sun and show their colors in contrast to the shadows behind them. The flowers at the bottom gain interest through the water and the web.
I’m mostly interested in faces. Matthew is one of the Dorothy Day breakfast clients. He entertains us with the harp. He’s 77 and lives on the streets. I saw the woman on the right in Peet’s coffee shop. I told her that she had one of the most interesting faces I’d ever seen, then asked her if I could take her photograph. She very kindly obliged, and I thanked her.
Stuff happens in front of you. Hot car, San Francisco.
More everyday stuff.
The neighbor’s turkey showing me his molting.
Another sunrise along Wildcat Canyon Road. I love the arching shadows of the trees. The yellow lines lead into the light.
Another image through the windshield. Morocco.
Mother and Child Reunion
Colors for colors sake
Ending this post with one of my favorite Covid masks. Selfie mit Covid.