Did I just have a genuine spiritual moment?

Alright. So tonight standing around I took the opportunity to ask the young man in my class who was so bothered by the picture of the bird what the deal was.

His eyes widened slightly. "It wasn't personal," he said.
"I know that. I wouldn't ask, otherwise."
And then he told me about how after Freshman year he had hoped he would never have to look at another fire hydrant, hubcap, or pigeon on a subway platform again. He invoked the word cliché. And he told me he thought it brought the other images down.

Which are reasonable thoughts to have about it.

I was about to write that the question of separation of the images had already been dealt with, but I suppose there are simple things to learn here. Something about grouping, sequence, etc. But, in this case, I'm going to overrule those issues, because the greater issue is of a difference of opinion in regard to the edit.

Perhaps this is a roundabout way to think about it. But I think the merits and flaws of the photograph are fairly obvious. It's not an abstract image, full of depth and symbolism, or overflowing with the "human spirit" or "hope in the face of adversity." With some pictures, it is what it is. This sounds dismissive, but I don't mean it to be. Part of me wonders, and sometimes worries, that I'm a bit too attached to the "straight" shot. By that I don't mean unmodified (which we won't even think about getting into here), but in regard to an image "trying to tell me something."

Are these conflicting ends of a spectrum? I'm talking in big, broad, fundamental outlooks, here. Our sweeping, Ansel Adams at a lectern statements.

"The moon... can only be photographed... at... f 11, with a 2 % cyan filter, and an exposure of no fewer than 47 minutes." [Uproarious applause.]

Do any of you view photographs in this way? As, on a fundamental, even unconscious level, that some images seem to simply be, while others seem desperate to tell you something.

I think the thing that can really get on my nerves with these kinds of images is that often, an image can be doing something unusual, or confusing, or drawing attention to itself, and you can be pulled into looking at it, and thinking about it... and it ends up being a stupid piece of shit. And it doesn't even have the decency to know it!

It doesn't know that tight jeans are annoying in the eyes of older people, or that piercing and tattoos are oddly cliched photographic elements as well, or that sex is inherently an awkward, sensitive subject, and that it takes deep consideration and... well, basically, they're like mines.

And we, aspiring, young, inexperienced, semi-educated photographers can only paddle worriedly through an ocean of cliché.

How do you do this?

The only method that I know, from my own experience, is that you have to attempt to photograph with the mindset of a little girl.

How else can you explain why it is that every photographer, every photographer eventually finds him or herself drawn into shooting flowers?

We're like moths; we can't not.

I accept this, because I must in order to continue to love photography. We will all be repeating subjects with historical precedent. There is nothing we can do to avoid this, other than being aware of the predecessor's existence, and having thoughts on their work, which, if we're any good, we should have some insight on their work, since we're obviously two people who share an interest.

So to all you freshman photographers, figuring out what shutter speed means (my big realization right now; underexposed pictures look kind of amazing if you're shooting on high-quality glass), squeezing off shots of your first real-life bum, or sleeping man, or the ferry at Staten Island, all you millions of cliched photographers; I'm right there with you. Don't let your edit go cold. Include your brother's birthday party. Take a picture of you grandmother's dog, but take it very seriously. Try to pose the dog against a regal background.

Take pictures that say absolutely nothing at all, but are interesting in and of themselves, as pictures. Two things I've internalized lately; turn your flash off and it's never too dark to shoot, or more precisely, try to shoot.

If you can start doing that, and know that you're doing it, I say have an edit somewhere that's for fun, and not only "portfolio" stuff. What does that even mean?

I'm just in a good mood. I was taught recently how to print digitally, and I found myself pleasantly thrilled at the quality of the output. They printed wonderfully, and not only that, I was shown how to do proofing easily and economically, in such a way that you can even work around an uncalibrated monitor by simply making minor adjustments based on print test strips instead of histograms and bullshit. If you happen to be near bright sunlight under which to examine the print, this is a big plus. There isn't a light that gives information about real color more reliably and powerfully than sunlight.

I made a few prints with large areas of heavy black to see if the matte Harman paper I had in storage in my locker would be able to get good results.

Expecting loss of detail early helped me have realistic expectations, but what I really wanted to know was, "Can I get the details on Christ?" And they're there like it aint no thing, resplendent in rich, beautiful, muted tones. [Editor's note: We are aware that rich and muted are not complimentary terms; unpaid assistance appreciated.]

Good week. Although I could have done with a day apart for those two mid-terms. Yeash. I'm always a burnout at the end of the week.

Don't ask me why this image looks like it's from a negative that was carefully stored at the bottom of a bus driver's pocket. I don't know. I could get the dust, and I would if I wanted to print this, which I think is inadvisable, but that hair/scratch doesn't look like it's going anywhere. If it bothers you, does it help if I claim that it snowed early in NY this year? Also, you can tell at night I get much more stalker-ish about photographing people. And most people accept this! They don't know if you're wasted, or a cop, or what. If you're not popping your flash in people's faces (which I still try to be respectful about), they seem to accept that being out at night on the street means they will be photographed.

Admittedly, less so in the Bronx and Uptown than in downtown Manhattan.

But enough that it feels normal. Also, another big epiphany was in my demolishing my aversion to landmarks. What a fool I was! A famous location is a perfect photographic pass. If you're near one, you're fair game.

Before work on Sunday last week, I stood in front of Tom's Diner on the corner of 112th and Broadway, holding a cup of coffee and photographing with abandon. Tom's, but mostly the people outside Tom's, and people photographing Tom's, or being photographed standing in front of Tom's.

Everyone shoots in, around, and especially in front of Tom's. Tom's is that stupid diner that was the exterior location of the diner in every episode of Seinfeld. After deriding them for years as rube tourists, I now find myself walking with them, sharing their moments, elating.

We're here together, stranger. Let's share this moment forever, and it will be weird.

Let us pray.