Wednesday, June 21, 2017

Its 2 eighteen am and I'm between sleeping posts in the Atlanta airport main lobby

As might happen my Delta flight was delayed coming out of LaGuardia in New York and I missed my connection in Atlanta for Tucson, my home. It is 112 degrees where I live so maybe sleeping amongest the travelers and homeless at the airport is a blessing. I fly out tomorrow and arrive in Tucson near noon and I have a reservation at the Shady Dell in Bisbee by 3 pm. Im staying in the 1950 Spartanette and shooting my friend Tatum.


Two days ago I spent the day at Philip Johnson's glass house

 outside New Caanan, Conn, introduced by my sister Lisa

two days before that I went to the Met and saw Irving Penn's exhibit. They had his travelling background and my daughter Leah shot me with her phone in front of it.



none of these things remind me of my El Salvadoran restaurant at the swap meet on Dexler but Im putting it here anyway because its almost 3 am in Atanta.


Before I left for NYC to see family and a few friends (based on the advice from Kurt Vonnegut's purported commencement speech ("sunscreen") I sent Cy, my assistant, into my local Subways next to the Bashas's supermarket I'm no longer allowed in. I gave him $10 to buy himself lunch and when I joinded him minutes later with his earning there was a man with his young son waiting to order food. The young man behind the counter saw me and yelled "get out....you're not allowed in here. You took a photograph of one of our workers and she didnt want to be photographed."
I was embarrassed and freaked by his reaction. I remember asking and taking one photo of a young blonde woman. I left getting the phone number for his boss. I called the boss and explained I had just been kicked out of my local subways for taking a photo of a worker that I thought agreed to let me take her photo.  He knew of the incident agreed with me that he had no right to tell me to leave.
 For whatever reason this occurrence turned me away from taking photos as I have done all my professional photographer life. Danny Lyons nor Robert Frank could do today what they did decades ago and neither can I. The Subway incident drove me back iinside to my long ignored archive.


my artist friend Kayla when I lived in Silver Lake district of LA.


my friend Maya on Fillmore st in SF before she got married


big Sarah ock climbing in heels



Skye putting on her make-up



Nancy Lewis (part of my collection)

I guess I'll go find me another abandoned chair to sleep on. I dont see myself travelling by plane to New York City for another several years. It bad for my sleeping pattern.