"PhotoPlus 2019" - The end of the game........

For the last few years, I have left the annual PhotoPlus Expo here in NYC feeling a combination of pissed off and.......more pissed off. For those who don't follow such events, the Expo is the biggest photography trade show in North America. At least, that is what their PR flacks call it. I can't argue with the size: it occupied thousands square feet of exhibit space on the floor of the huge Jacob Javits Center (the edifice itself a boondoggle of historic proportions, but that's another story). There are also dozens of related events for the desperate like 'photo walks' and endless lectures, some worthwhile others not, available at a fee.

Anyway, there was a time- and I am not talking all that far back – when this event was really important. It was the place to check out the latest gear, talk with company reps and even learn a bit. No complaints there. One time I talked with a tech guy at the booth of a major lens maker and learned that they were using plain old Windex as a lens cleaner! That saved me a few bucks over the years.

Bit by bit (no digital pun intended!), that has pretty much changed. When digital medial hit the consumer market it became a new game. Techies replaced artists. Dum-de-dum-dum. Photoshop filled gaps in creativity. Gear became obsolete in months and prices start climbing. OK, that happened. Since then we have a slew of makers flooding the market with lots of variations on the same theme: smaller and more expensive! And I am talking really expensive. Relatively simple 'point and shoot' cameras, filled with useless features, are pushing $1000 price tags. Simple accessories are being re-engineered to the point where one maker has proudly come up with a $600 “travel” tripod.

At shows past, I used to really enjoy wandering around the smaller booths along the perimeter show. I guess space was cheaper here, but more important, these were the places where the new guys on the block could show off their latest stuff. Admittedly, this wasn't always the greatest or most useful selections of items, but every once in a while there was something that really grabbed me and made the visit worthwhile. This year they were pretty much gone. Lots of really overpriced camera straps, camera cases and such.

Probably the saddest part for me is the death of darkroom skills. This is where I and a million photographers of my generation (and past folks too) learned our craft. It is, for all practical purpose, gone. This year out of about 1000 exhibitors, there were 2 who made darkroom supplies: Bessler Enlargers and Ilford Paper and Film. That's it.

A final reminder: Eastman Kodak - the company that for years had the biggest, most elaborate exhibit space at the show, the company that invented digital photography and then out of stupidity and greed - they didn't want to loose the film and photo processing business – sat on the patents for 25 years. When their heads emerged form their collective butts, it was all over. 

  And here is this year's offering from Kodak: a line of crappy, overpriced cameras:

Squad 18, NYC Fire Department, 9-11-2019

Squad 18 of the NYC Fire Department is housed om West 10^th Street in Greenwich Village, a few blocks from where I live.  When the call came in on the morning 9-11, all 6 members of the 18^th Squad responded. None returned.

In the days that followed, the building remained closed but the street in front was filled with an outpouring of love and sympathy from the community,  bouquets, balloons, stuffed animals, cards and signs and personal notes.

 In time the station was  reopened with a new crew and a plaque was place to honor those 6 firefighter. When I passed this afternoon it was also closed, this time the members of the unit were out on another call. There had been a small gathering there earlier to remember the lost heroes and several bouquets of flowers were set off to one side of the door.

Today there was also a reading of the names of the rest of the victims of that day. It was held at Ground Zero. This year I found a particular meaning of that ritual, oddly enough - for me, anyway – a religious one. I am a Jew, not particularly observant and probably more of an atheist than anything else. But a Jewish one. And there are still a couple of traditions that I observe. Like my Wife and I observe Hanukkah even though she's not Jewish - she loves the idea of exchanging the 8 presents, not to mention the latkas. Also, I kind of remember promising my father that I would observe the Kaddish, the prayer for the dead, on Yom Kipper. I am not really sure that I made an actual promise to him, but it sort of seems like something I might have done. Maybe should have done. Anyway, each year I find my way to a temple and repeat the appropriate prayers.

Now, back in those dimly remembered days of my religious schooling, I recall being told the significance of those particular prayers was the tradition that as long as a person's name was spoken, their spirit would live on. Seemed fair enough a deal.

There is also yet another bit of that old superstition at work this year. In the old Hebrew system of counting, letters were used as numbers much like Roman Numbers, but unlike Roman numbers, the letters were not repeated. The result is that numbers could be made into words and words into numbers. This has given rise to some weird mystical stuff that I won't even attempt to go into except for the number 18. Remember that this was the 18^th year since the 9-11 attack. In Hebrew, the number 18 can also be read as 'chai,' which translates as 'life.' As in the toast L'chaim, to life. Cool, huh?

So today, as I listened to the names of the dead being read, I found myself, the Jewish atheist, musing over the dual meanings.

18 years later, who is not to say that by speaking their names, their spirit lives on.

So, to those members of Squad 18 who never returned and to the nearly 3000 others who died that day, we repeat their names that their spirits may live on and add:

L'Chiam, To Life!

And yet another time forgotten........

I bought this button on the Mall in Washington, DC on that August afternoon, sometime during the march. Somehow, I still have it all these years later. I had completely forgotten about that day and this button. Seems like the media and most folks did too.

The Return of Brother Fartman!

And then of course, we’ve all heard the argument 
that the right person only appears at the right time,
but if it’s the wrong time, it’s the wrong person,  

Or, as they used to say in the old neighborhood:

Brooklyn in passing.........

The year I turned 17 my parents moved from an apartment in the Bronx to a private home in Brooklyn. It was a traumatic move for me. I hated it. Reaching “civilization”now required a bus ride plus an hour on the subway. Our new neighbors were a xenophobic bunch who lived in fear of everyone else. I moved out when I was 20. I think I still have a demented cousin who lives there. We haven't been in touch for 40 or so years, so I am not sure. And not anxious to find out. Today I still feel a vague sense of discomfort just about every time I venture accords the East River. One day I will add more details. Mean time, today's Brooklyn snapshot:

"Pride Parade 2019:" OK, now go home!

The head of the parade passed 11^th Street, in front of my apartment building, at around 12:30 this afternoon. I went out a couple of times in the course of the day and banged off a few snapshots. A neighbor with a huge apartment facing the Avenue invited us to a “Parade Watching” party. We watched the parade for a while from there. 

At 7:30, when the front of the line reached the official end; they then held the “closing ceremonies.” At least that was what the news reported. It is now a bit past 9:00 PM. They are still marching. Someone said it will probably go on until past midnight. I am glad our apartment faces the back.  

-ps: the next day I found out that the end of the parade passed us at around 12:30;  that meant it did not reach the end of the route until 2 hours later!

(the end)

Dykes In The Night 2019

..........and no, before I get the nasty postings, the title wasn't my idea: it is what the marching ladies call their march: “Dykes In The Night” and anybody who has a problem with that can go argue with the 20,000 lesbians who just walked past my building. 

 Actually, it is an un-official prelude to tomorrow's march. That's the 50^th “Heritage Of Pride” march and it promises to be .......huge!  I mean, last year the parade ran 8 solid hours start to finish. This year, being the 50^th one - and in case you have been living in a cave for the past year – has been hyped 9 ways from Sunday by every corporate entity that could put a rainbow logo on it's front door. Just about every business in NYC has the flags flying and suddenly a “proud sponsor!” Predictions are for over a million spectators. That is conservative. To add to the mess, they have shortened the parade rout, so all those folks are going to try to crown into a dozen fewer blocks than last year. 

 The parade is due to start at noon. We are going to hide.

In Case You Were Curious.............

(and)

Tartan Day Parade - New York City

Parade Addict? Me? Well, Well maybe addict is too strong a word. I mean I do love to shoot parades and there seem to be lots of 'em. I could probably quit anytime, too. Actually I only shoot an occasional recreational parade and most are held on weekends so they don't interfere with the rest of my life. And I live in the middle of Manhattan, so I have lots to choose from. Right near by, too. Some even come past my apartment building. So, no problem. 

 But I am also happy that there are no 12 Step programs for Parade Addiction.

Yea!

Chinatown Insider!

As photographer for my school paper at Theodore Roosevelt High school, I was was often able get out of classes to shoot pictures.  This turned out to be one of the most useful skills I was to learn there.  Actually, it was just about the only useful thing I remember learning there.  Parenthetically, I don't recall a single classroom hour ever spent on learning anything about Theodore Roosevelt, but that's a topic for another rant.

Anyway, getting out of those classes turned out to be a double win: I disliked most of those classes and I loved to shoot photos. Soon enough I learned that as a photographer I could – if I played it right - also get into places that a teenage boy might not normally get into.  Places like press conferences. My newly honed skills got me into City Hall a few times and right next to Hizhonor! On a good day, I might get really close to some famous stars or work my way back stage at a rock concerts. I also got to be pretty good at getting through police lines. I even had a press pass, purchased from an add in a camera magazine, but a press pass none the less. Times were simpler. 

These days I rarely need to get into places I don't belong anymore, but every once in a while I get to try just for the fun of it.  Which is how I came to march in this year's Chinese New Year Parade.

See, I never intended to actually crash the parade, I just I went there looking to grab a few snapshots from the sidelines.  I did not figure on the mob between me and the parade.  Seems it has become quite an event and the sidewalks were packed.  So I cut over a couple of blocks and.......well, the details aren't important, but soon enough I was in the middle of the parade, marching along and having a ball.  I also discovered that these folks loved to have their pictures taken.  In fact, they often stopped, smiled at me and waited for me to shoot a few frames.  A fun day.

So, wishing all a 

Happy Year Of The Pig

 – from the inside!