Archives for posts with tag: urban

Airplane #1

Celebrating Worldwide Pinhole Photography Day!
April 28, 2013

The book is done, pre-orders for signed copies have been brisk. And of course, my mind is already moving forwards, further along. Art happens now, in the moment; exhibition and presentation always happens in the past. Art is always abandoned, never finished. New work leaps out of somewhere I cannot know. New things surface to my eyes, the next book project is already on the table. It is carrying a working title of The Drum … 

But the book signing and reception is coming up next week! 

Waystogether-bookcover

Ways Together

Come to the reception and book-signing!

ModernBook Gallery
49 Geary Ave, San Francisco, CA
August 2nd, 5:30-7:30 pm

I’ll be taking pre-orders until Thursday, write me at godfreydigiorgi@me.com for details. 

I hope to see you at ModernBook Gallery … ! 

– Godfrey

Sorry I missed posting last week’s entry. I was down with a truly nasty cold and flu, and for the past week I croaked about like a frog with the sinus runoff and little energy. I’m back in the flow again now, the camera’s back in my bag, and new exposures are happening again.

Over a year and some now I’ve been shooting and posting the series called “Communicating”. The latest addition happened last Monday evening..

Communicating #72

I’d started with the germ of this idea in 2005, portraits of people in context I’d titled in my head “This Cafe Life” that eventually just became “People.” It finished up as a picture a week project slide show. (Viewable here as a flash slide-show presentation … yeah, back when I thought flash was a potentially useful presentation engine. People 2005.) 

Revisiting the idea half a decade on, what struck me as I continued my cafe rounds was the way that communicating in these ‘third place’ situations varied and how the electronic telecommunications age had infiltrated since even 2005. So many people now head to a cafe, buy a drink, then immediately plug into their email or web browser oblivious to the surrounding play of goings on. Yet those outside the web of electronic comm still interact … if you keep your own head out of the cell phone or the web browser for a moment, communications do not cease. 

The end product idea of this year and some worth of effort has been to put this series into a book. I have enough photo material now to make a solid 30-50 image book. So this week I start a photo book making workshop. 

The reception and book signing event will be in July. Invitations will be sent. Stay tuned.

– Godfrey 

 

This morning’s walk, a cool and quiet morning. Two women dressed in mid-calf-length black dresses walked side by side up the sidewalk about forty feet in front of me as I was making my way home. One white haired, the other dark haired, hands held between them. Pretty sure it was a mother and daughter out for a morning constitutional.

My imagination was drawn, not unkindly, by the rhythm of their walk and the movement of their heads, to the crows’ stately parade from the other morning. 

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I’d been wandering through recent posts by my flickr.com contacts as I sat with my coffee. Some interesting photos of people surfaced this morning … they brought me back once more to thinking of Robert Frank’s The Americans. So much of these photos is all about gesture, the look with eyes or body from one to another, the context and situation of that look. 

Sunday afternoon … the last Sunday of August 2009 … I went to the Willow Glen neighborhood in San Jose . They’d had a street fair all day, an Italian Festival on the main drag through town. It was late in the day, things were winding down. 

A sense of witness, of distance-in-observation. I watched the sometimes random, sometimes not, interactions between people on the street as I walked around with my camera. This small boy and his father listened to the last moments of the band. Just a boy, tired, sitting his father’s lap, while his father watched the band. The expression of the boy’s arms and legs, the relaxed sense of strength and protection in dad’s hand. My shutter released almost before I was conscious of pointing the camera. I was there with a friend; we walked the length of the fair and back looking, making photos. We left as things closed down. 

The two women’s voices drifted quietly back to me as we reached my last cross street on the way home this morning. They turned right, I turned left. Across the street and down the increasing distance of the block, I stopped to watch them for a little while longer: they disappeared around the next bend, hands held still.

That intimacy of gesture.