We finally made it back to Art Murmur this last Friday. It had been several months since the last time we made it down there. We probably would not have made it on our own, but the excuse of hanging out with friends we had not seen in a while was also irresistible. In the intervening time, the first Friday art gallery night in downtown Oakland has continued to grow. This night several blocks of Telegraph Ave were closed to traffic and filled makeshift stages, street vendors, buskers, food trucks, and drunks. It was also my first time shooting out on the street with the replaced D800, and I took couple dozen shots. This is my favorite one of the night. I saw her first and lined up to get her contrasted against that outrageous orange wall, and then she saw me and gave me this fantastic smile. That’s hella Oakland for ya.
Just two generations apart, my mother and my son are also 84 years apart. That’s what happens when the generations have children in their 40s. Of course, my father would have been 113 this year, so that would put him and Theo a mere 104 years apart.
If one’s parents are going to drag one all over Seattle while they live out their nostalgia for relative youth, especially by frequenting dank, hipster, second-hand shops, there could at least be a big comfy couch on which to rest.
We finally made a terribly overdue visit to dear friends in Seattle. It is bad enough that we hadn’t made it there in about four years, but worse still, we missed the celebration of a significant anniversary. So a couple of days before school started, off we went, squeezing in one last get-away for the summer. At least we know enough to go in late Summer when one is as guaranteed as one can be in Seattle of clear skies. And clear skies is just what we had for four beautiful days.
As you can see from this, the first picture I took after arriving in the emerald city, the interiors aren’t bad either. That’s what you get with artist friends. In fact, the whole trip was a stunning reminder of what I miss about living here — the abundant creativity and aesthetic sensibility falling like rain, soaking everything.
Awnings. El Caminos. What else can I say?
Yes, basically boring. But somehow I kinda like it. In a retro sort of way. I don’t know why.
The title is a cryptic reference to what one finds when examines things a little closer and a little deeper than what is offered by a patriotic veneer. That analysis will have to await the next trip down to Fresno, when I have chance to take a slightly closer up shot.
Another photograph from my trip up Friant Rd.
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