Welcome
I have found that, as a rule, people rarely look upward past eye level. They are most often surprised when their attention is directed above to something they have passed by without seeing, perhaps for years. One friend of mine had lived for a long time in a Central Towers apartment, across Turk Street from the old YMCA Hotel (now the Oasis Apartments). When he first saw one of my photographs of the Oasis, he asked me where the building was located. He was shocked to learn it was the same building he had seen from his window all those years, for he hadn’t noticed what was right before his eyes. He has since told me that now, when out and about, he often looks upward and has discovered many beautiful and pleasing aspects of his city that he had never before appreciated, which delights me no end. Cast your gaze aloft every now and then, just to see what is there . . . you might be surprised.
Photo by Theo Rigby
Nice to see you on WordPress … much more user-friendly than *that other place*.
I love Part 1.
looking forward to the rest
Very happy to know you like what I’m doing. I expect to add more material every day, so keep checking in.
This is shaping up nicely!
Thanks! Part 3 is going to take a little while to put together, as it consists of something like 110 entries. Also, Parts 1 & 2 still need some tweaking. I really wish I hadn’t sold my old computer last year, or that I had at least kept the monitor. Having two screens would make this a lot easier and faster.
hey toby, I’ve remembered where I used the senile agitation poster before
http://nursemyra.wordpress.com/2007/05/22/how-to-win-an-arguement/
I hadn’t read that post at the time I sent you those pics. I’m not at all surprised to learn that you were not only familiar with that old Thorazine ad, but have already put it to good use. I forget where I originally found it.
hi mark, I’ve just read “A Day in the Life of a Photographer”. very interesting and great pics.
Glad you enjoyed reading it, nm.
I love Virginia’s photos – some of the best photos anyone has ever taken of me.
Of course, they pale in contrast to some of the stroke-inducing photos I’ve seen of you…
All the photos are fabulous. As you know, I love the squalor thing somehow … I’m always drawn to it. I guess because I’ve often felt just a hair’s breadth away from it at various times in my life.
Your interviews are very interesting to read. Man, you’ve been there and back again, haven’t you?
Thanks for the comments and the compliments, Az.
Although there are certain experiences I wouldn’t care to repeat, I suppose you might say my life has left me, ah, well-seasoned.
Yes, that you’ve been places most people wouldn’t want to imagine, even if they were capable of doing so (most aren’t).
Lucky for them? I dunno. There is something to be said for being well-seasoned.
Az, I will say this: life has never been boring.
the chronicle sunday magazine article was also great. do you know if margaret kelch moved on?
I never met Margaret, so I can’t say. I don’t know how Colin selected the other people for his article, but he knew me through my photography.
Colin is a good writer. He’s a social worker by day and a freelance writer the rest of the time, hence the article’s truthfulness and compassion despite some editorial meddling by the newspaper.
It should be easy enough to find out about Margaret. Would you like me to try?
sure
I checked out the city hall exhibit today. looks like a great party. congratulations (belatedly)
It was and thanks!
Margaret still lives at the Ambassador and plans on staying there.
I came across your website doing some research on the alleys in SF named after prostitutes in the 1800s.
I am an amateur photographer and your pictures inspired me to look at the city different.
Great work!
Thanks, Betty.
It makes me happy to know that I’ve given someone a new perspective.
South of Market is still full of interesting stuff, although much of it has disappeared over the past forty years.
Yes, I enjoy your new space and wish you best of luck. I lived in the Kinney Hotel for 9 months, but left yesterday and moved somewhat upscale over to the Harcourt, which is apparently another grand old hotel constructed in the historic hotel district soon after the fire. It’s quite nice, expensive (yeah, what), got wifi in my room, etc. Happy to be here, rather than on the streets, but the money angle I gotta figure out.
See my blog for more info: Carl Parkes — FriskoDude
Not sure if that comes in hotlinked, but folks with an interest in SE Asia will like my place.
Carl
Thanks, Carl.
Best of luck at the Harcourt.
you’ve been very quiet of late…..
check your email
hi mark, I’ve been receiving your emails but I’m not sure if you’re getting my replies. please let me know as I’m concerned
I haven’t received any, nm.
did you work out why nothing is getting through to the yahoo address?
still working on it, sweetie. check your email
more questions
have you thought any more about starting up another blog for your interesting links?
By ‘interesting links’, do you mean the odds & ends i’ve collected in the way of images, or actual links to strange things i’ve come across?
p.s. – i have yet to receive a real answer from yahoo! re: your emails
I mean the links and images that you send to other bloggers like me and daisyfae.
I’m so glad I found your blog. I just got my own camera and have been looking all around me even more now that I can take pictures of the details that I see.
I really am enjoying your photos of these old buildings. I am downtown near the Civic Center every week and have started taking photos. The juxtaposition of buildings in all stages of decay is fascinatingly strange and beautiful. I look forward to seeing more of your work.
Thanks for stopping by and taking the time to comment. I hope you’ll post your photos on your blog. I’d like to see what captures your eye.
I’ve posted a few photos on my blog, but most of them are here for now:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/tangobaby2/collections/72157604225838715/
If you see one or two you like, I hope you’ll let me know. As a newbie with a camera I still don’t understand, any feedback is really appreciated.
I bounced over to your flickr page and looked at a few of your collections. you really get around, don’t you? i left a couple of comments here and there. didn’t have time to look at everything, but i’ll return and take things in a little at a time.
if you should ever want a companion on a photo shoot, let me know; or, if you happen to see me out taking pictures, don’t be shy to introduce yourself.
hi tobymarx – have you started your other blog yet?
No, I’ve put that on hold for now, as I have recently begun working very closely with someone, and the Hotel Project has entered a new phase of heightened activity. That’s as much as I can say for now, but more will be revealed in the near future.
For you, the warmest of welcomes back to the blogosphere!
oh that sounds very promising, I’m so glad for you
Thank you, nm, for your continuing friendship and support.
I wonder when the running began.
When you run there is little else you can do but look in front of you and occasionally over your shoulder. I think it was when as people we left our farms, and our pastures, and everything we were growing. And moved to the cities, and capitalism became more like a machine than a means of employment
And everything just became faster and faster and faster because the machine demanded to be fed, and we didn’t question it. We just served it because we thought that through cars, and houses, and jewelery and clothes it was serving us.
When I ran like that I often wondered what I was running to or running from. It always felt like that.
Now I just write. And the days are slow and languid. And I walk. And I look. And people may think it strange but I feel in communion with all things. The bugs. The spiders. The long worms eating leaves and waiting to turn into huge moths.
And as I walk I feel the roughness of the bark and I think of how gifted I am. How blessed I am. That I no longer have to run.
Rather like the fable of The Expulsion from the Garden, isn’t it?
To live without a sense of wonder must be like sleepwalking. Even on the darkest days of the darkest years of my life, I felt awed and amazed by all that surrounded me. What made it Hell, was that I no longer felt I was a part of it.
Thanks for stopping by and writing, Mandy. Your observations are greatly appreciated.
Thank you for your friendship and support. I am deeply appreciative.
That goes both ways, Mandy.
You have inspired me to include a chapter about some of the people of the central city, beginning with the story of Still Bill.
I’ve been lurking a bit. But this has stayed in my head long enough for me to want to comment. I often ask a friend to drive me on a familiar route, just to have the perspective of a drive without having to concentrate on the road. The change of view always, always astounds me. The way you can see something that has always been there. Something significant. I love that. I love those moments when you see something new, something fresh, as if for the first time. Even though it’s been there, on your perifery.
Thanks. For reminding me.
You’re welcome
Thank you for visiting, Dolce.
Hi stranger … where’ve you been?