When Livi and I arrived in Dallas for the very first time I caught a glimpse of this cowboy right outside the airport. With a rush of hot air in my face and the sight of his camel toned outfit I thought, damn, I am in Texas.
Tag Archives: fujifilm
A month ago I stepped into the odd world of Curiosities, a vintage store in Dallas, Texas. Speckled throughout the collection of taxidermy and early 1900’s medical supplies (DIY liver transplant, anyone?) were porcelain dolls. They hung out like mini bouncers ready to follow you around each corner. The collection of stuff was meticulously random, like a Jackson Pollock painting but instead of throwing paint on canvas, they dumped vintage photographs and porcelain knick-knacks. Here are some of the characters I found:
Before my permanent move to Texas I felt a duty festering deep in my soul to visit the city one last time. With my second-hand Fujifilm x100 and Polaroid Automatic Land Camera 360 in hand, I spent hours walking around releasing any fears of separation at the tail end of the shutter sound.
These are my shots from the X100 in their full form, void of any image compression *cough*Facebook*cough* and commentary.
For the past few weeks I’ve been itching to stuff my face with hot dogs and ice cream from the Sonic Drive In. Unfortunately, the closest location is 30 minutes south in Gilroy, a city so opposite of San Jose you might as well be in Texas.
In the middle of my shooting, a large truck swung by. It crept closer and closer to my feet when suddenly a voice came out of the driver seat.
You takin’ pictures of my hoodie?
Ranier: Yea! Is that yours?
Ernesto: I put it up there.
R: What for?
E: I found it so I decided to put it on the pole. That way if they came back they could see it. I also put a face on it.
It was eerie; like a scarecrow to ward off humans.
R: Is this your farm? Do you work around here?
E: Not mine.
He pointed to the eyes hidden beneath those furrowed brows and said,
R: What’s growing around here?
E: Right there is garlic
R: And across the street?
E: Romaine lettuce
E: Here, I have something (he grabbed a bag from the bag seat and handed me a plump, green zucchini squash)
R: Oh wow! I can have it?
E: Yea! Oh wait, take this one instead. It’s better.
R: How do I cook it?
E: I don’t know, I have someone else do it for me. You just put it on the grill
We shook hands, he left in his truck, and I was left standing on a dirt road with two zucchini squash in my pockets. All I wanted to do was go home, cut the squash, and see how amazing it would taste with melted cheese. I wasn’t craving Sonic anymore.
You know those nights when the sky just feels pitch black? Like the uncertain darkness of an Mc Escher sky, you
wonder what is up there, hiding and spying on you.
I had on chunky basketball shorts, a paper-thin t-shirt and a fuzzy Star Wars themed bathrobe my girlfriend
got me for Christmas. I probably drove around for 2 full hours trying to find something worth photographing,
anything at all, really. I remembered a bridge and overpass that looked photogenic during the day so I wondered
how amazing it might look at night.
So there I was, feeling almost naked in my bathrobe with my Polaroid 360 on a tripod on the corner of the road
trying to get a shot. Then a white van pulled up to my left and in front of a house. I looked back and noticed an
older Chinese man who looked at me and without hesitation shouted out to me.
Chinese Man: HEY!
*my head turns to him*
Chinese Man: WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!
Me: I’m taking a picture
Chinese Man: OF WHAT?!
Me: The street
Chinese Man: FOR WHAT?
*I kept thinking he said “of what”*
Me: The street!
Chinese Man: FOR. WHAT?!
Me: Nothing. I’m a local photographer
Chinese Man: *in a very sarcastic tone* So… YOU’RE a local photographer taking a picture of THE STREET?
At this point I became fed up with his CSI interrogation of me and decided to bark back.
Me: YES! THAT’S WHAT I SAID!
He shut up, I turned back to my camera, took a shot and this is what I got.
I kinda like it. The blacks in this shot truly do capture the essence of the blackness of that night. As I walked back
to my car and drove away, I noticed the Chinese man peeking through a small crack in his front door, checking to
see if I were up to no good.
Do I really look that criminal? Perhaps I shouldn’t dress up like such a crazy person in a bathrobe at 1am and maybe
I won’t be so “suspicious” looking.