Cocoon mode* - day 9: Three more pix from the car: little kid morphs into cop, then insurance salesman; bike jump; Iona Grotto - I get my tail kicked by a lady at the New York Times

Every morning before I go to bed, there are a few blogs that I must check out. At the top of the list is, Lens, the photojournalism blog of the New York Times, and I have mentioned it before. This morning when I opened it up, I damn near died. It featured a photo story titled "Essay, Motor Drive," by Monica Almeida, a talented photographer who relocated to Los Angeles from New York City, but still shoots pictures that wind up in the New York Times.

The essay was comprised of 16 pictures that she took from her car. It was presented as a visionary leap of sorts, the transfer of street shooting skills from the sidewalk to the vehicle.

And of course I have been doing the same thing for years and years and if I could select 16 of my best shot-from-the-car images and put them before a national audience... well, I know this sounds arrogant, but I guarantee you, that audience would see something that would go even beyond what was presented today in Lens.

And now, if I ever get the chance, everyone will think that I am just a copy cat.

Oh well. Monica did it. I didn't, and that's that.

Congratulations, Monica.

Speaking of which, all three of today's pictures are from the car.

This one as I wait in the drive-through to Metro Cafe.

The young man to the left is Dave Eller, who I pretty much got to watch grow up as he was a classmate of Jacob's. Dave grew up to be a cop and I was always worried that one day he would pull me over for speeding or something, but really, I don't speed much and he never did.

In fact, I got my last speeding ticket close to 25 years ago, when Dave was still a kid.

This past year, he left the full-time police and joined the police reserves. I believe that he is an insurance salesman now, or works with insurance companies in some capacity.

This belief is born out by the fact that his camera-shy companion hides his face behind an Insurance brochure from Hartford.

As for the Metro Cafe grand opening Saturday, from noon 'til two, I failed to note the location: Lucille Street, just south of Spruce. 

And here I am, driving by the skateboard park. One commenter on Lens expressed his horror, charging that the practice of drive by shooting is more dangerous then driving and texting.

I suppose it could be, but not the way I do it. It is not anywhere near as much a distraction as talking on a cell phone. When I drive by shoot, I do not take my eyes and concentration off the road ahead for even as long as does every driver who turns his head to look over her shoulder at the traffic behind him. 

When I see something that looks like it might make a good picture, I lift the camera, point like a gunslinger shooting from the hip without ever bringing it to my eye, shoot, and put it back down again.

Usually, when I shoot, I am not even looking at the subject. I have already got a glance of it, just as anybody driving past at that moment would have, and a glance is all I need to know that it is there.

I have a very good sense of where a camera is pointing even without looking through the viewfinder, although it is a fact that sometimes I miss the subject completely.

In this case, the subject was beyond the practical reach of my pocket camera, so this is a significant crop.

Shortly afterward, I passed by Iona Grotto. Remember how, on that day that I pedaled my bike past the bare-breasted young woman and wound up on my knees in front of a grave here, I gave myself an assignment to learn more about the husband and wife buried within? Paul and Iona Mahoney.

Yesterday, an airplane mechanic by the name of Ray Cross called me on behalf of Paulie Mahoney, the daughter of that couple, who asked him to give me her phone number. I called her today. She was very happy, glad that I am interested and promised to help me piece that story together, once I get my big project out of the way.

So, even though I have not done a very good job of it so far, please stay with me. I will yet find the soul of Wasilla, as I promised I would when I began this blog, one year and nine days ago.

And even as I do, I will keep searching for the soul of the larger Alaska. And, in this cocoon mode period, some ideas have come to me on how I might do that.

Speaking of Cocoon mode, I have gone over my time limit by about 15 minutes. Damnit! I so lack discipline!

*Cocoon mode: Until I finish up a big project that I am working on, I am keeping this blog at bare-minimum simple. I anticipate about one month.

Comments

[Reese Dixon]

Hi Bill!

I finally got a chance to check out your blog, and now I'm really truly appreciate your compliments about my photos. You're a man who knows photos!

Thanks for coming by!

Oh, I wanted to tell you that an agnostic mormon has a whole lot more company than you'd think. You should definitely hang out around the bloggernacle, especially http://timesandseasons.org/ which is a great openminded blog.

[debby]

Despite your false advertising, I enjoyed this post.

[Steve]

I really like the first and last shots a lot. I too have been known to shoot while driving and I'm extremely conscious of whether I'm jeopardizing drivers around me. Usually now it's while I'm at a red light. Biking is much easier - I can just stop. But I have shot pictures rolling too.

And I have to say, you show a Wasilla that Anchorage folks who only drive by on the way somewhere else, wouldn't recognize if it didn't say Wasilla.

[Wasilla, Alaska, by 300]

Glad you came by, Reese. Once things settle down a bit for me, I will find the time to do that.

Debby - False advertising? Wouldn't even think of it. Glad you enjoyed the post.

Thanks, Steve. I shoot lot of bike drive-bys, too. Sometimes I stop, like for the old man on the fourwheeler going up the hill, but usually I just keep rolling. I am very deliberate when I do it, though, because these days I am more afraid of falling then I used to be.

That's what happens after you fall (from a chair, not a bike) and wind up with an artificial shoulder.