Dress Land

Monday's Photo du Jour

Calling Collect

I was 27 when I got my first cell phone. Not because I wanted one. But because my boyfriend at the time, like a teacher escorting the troubled kid to the principal's office, marched me down to Crossgates Maill to buy me one. He was tired of leaving messages with my roommates, wondering where I was, and most importantly (to him, anyway) why I wasn't returning his calls. To be honest, I liked being off the grid. Still do. There's freedom in being unattached to technology and all it's bells, whistles, and yes, ring tones. Which is why I find it interesting that as a photographer, I am fascinated by pay phones.   

The first public pay phone was invented in 1889. At the height of pay phone madness, there were over 2 million of them in the United States. Who can't recall a popular movie from the 80s that didn't include a pay phone scene? And now their worn-out, beaten-down shells are like bones of a dinosaur - decaying remnants of another time.

Which is perhaps the attraction. With today's incessant connectivity, we forget that there was a time, not long ago, where it was easy to feel the anxiety of wandering astray from our regular routine. Perhaps the pay phone represented our desire to return to the grid, to hear a familiar voice and know that wherever we are, we're never truly lost...

Transformative Trash

It was apparent immediately that I had worn the wrong shoes. My city-worn ballet flats were no match for the pebble-marked, trash-strewn trails and non-trails of the Albany Bulb. The "Bulb", a peninsula jutting out from Buchanan Street into the Bay, was created in 1963 after the City of Albany signed a contract for the disposal of construction debris at the site. As such, it's a granite graveyard, with precarious slabs, wires and metal scraps littering the walkways. For some people, it's trash. For other's, it's art. Over the years, many groups have had a presence at the Bulb, but perhaps none as impactful as the urban artists who have transformed it's debris into artistic treasures, turning the Bulb into a poor man's Burning Man by the Bay. Metal scrap statues keep watch over the Bay like apocalyptic robots re-stationed from their stint in Beck's Midnight Vulture's days. Giant concrete slabs act as canvases for colorful graffiti masterpieces. Even the day artist can find a rock or wood scrap to express their message du jour. It's a place that simultaneously feels lonely and alive. It's a little like stumbling upon the island of misfit toys, where there is both sadness but hope that we can transform even that which is most ugly and unwanted into something of beauty...

The Last Cemetery

Mission Dolores is only cemetery remaining in San Francisco. While many may remember it from the scene in Vertigo, it is the resting place for many Ohlone, Miwok and early settlers. On a chilly winter day, approaching the end of 2011, it seemed fitting to pay my respects to the passing year and the lessons it's taught. And in that reverence, a prayer for colorful new beginnings...