It had to come to this sooner or later. Power lines fetish is well documented, just search my tags for it. First thing I ever noticed about San Francisco was the power lines, because they are on poles instead of under ground, like in civilized countries, or maybe we like wooden poles in the middle of the sidewalk.
I call them power lines just for convenience, they might be all kinds of lines. Electric lines, telephone lines, cable cables, closed circuit TV, internet tubes, and private nanopipelines for delivering premium beer to people who deserve it.
There are multiple layers of wires in this picture, like in a shoebox jungle. Which brings up a question why they are no lianas hanging from the wires. Where is the ivy?
Power lines and poles are the rockstars. The city in the background is just a background.
I think it is because their feet are close so there is no current.
When you disconnect this switch, the rocket silo silencer retracts back into the building.
Aztec power lines.
One can call any fire department on the planet from this tagged red box.
I started taking shots of street signs because it used to take me 4eva to figure out where I’ve been. It’s easy, you start following a thread through the cityscape, a line, color, series of shapes, or you chase an airplane across the sky. It’s like attempting to build a secondary mind structure in the middle of an information storm. A total hip shot, current settings, just make sure that there is only one pic, not to waste space.
Some of them come out nice enough that they make the cut, especially if the rest of the place is donkey, or in bad light.
The ones in Chinatown add some flavor, probably the stuff N8 puts in his soups.
And sometimes you have to look for them in unusual places.
This one I took on purpose.
Suggested background music:
A) Hiss of air escaping from bicycle tire
B) 14.5 kHz and above from any Sonic Youth track played at really low volume.
This one on 24th and Balmy had sticker art on it. I did not notice until in RAW software.
Bringing a typewriter to a can fight. Quirky, interesting and original, but ultimately useless.
Movie night was at R’s house, so I had planned to grab all the little alleys along the 24th and 25th. But there was too much color and creative craziness on every corner of 24th Street, it took me over an hour to photo my way through to the Serengeti of street art, Balmy.
Balmy is apparently famous, but I visited for the first time.
Back alley garage doors, escape gates and doorways, dog and cat gangways and the occasional bunghole, are all covered with paint. Some of the murals are new, some really old school, and some were made by famous people.
It is like a real world gallery. At one point it was getting dark, so I set up my tripod and started shooting murals. A group of kids showed up at the other end of Osage and I briefly considered bailing. They set up in the middle, put down a boom box for the boom beats and started hanging out. It totally made sense. Where else would anyone hang out? You look up from your beer bottle and see a painting that would not fit inside a room, and even if it fit, these pieces will be in some aesthetic consensus institution in 10 years at the earliest. It is like seeing Daft Punk in 1996 with 53 other bastards.
This is the ultimate form of exhibitionism, to present reality formatted by me. Filtered by one of four lenses I picked from the bag. Or maybe it is something like a parallel space with reality as underexposed, over saturated and skewed, as my pix. And what is up with the power lines?
But it is my reality. My own personal black hole.
Jack Beats mix from BBC Radio 1. Are you steigening me? A-Trak remix of what you need.
This photo was taken during a trip from Civic Center BART to Academy of Arts in Golden Gate Park. The fog moved in and it was dark and foggy and cold. I forgot my gloves and hat, it felt like I was skiing.
Taken on Birch Street, kind of looks like Banksy.
One side of the street is covered with graffiti and murals.
At the Academy, there was some cool stencil art on the sidewalk, music inside and outside, thanks Rich for the guest list.
On the way home, the bus driver had an argument with a passenger. The bus stopped, the cops came, and we had to wait for the next one. Interesting. I cannot sleep my bike like that.
On a Friday afternoon after work, I assaulted Telegraph Hill with a Google Maps printout and a sharpie. It was sunny initially, but that changed during the shot to dark evening fog.
Picture of the Sodini’s Restaurant neon sign during daylight got 80 hits from Unknown Source in one afternoon. Go figure.
And the photo of Number 55 got 300 hits in two days from an Unknown Source. If I ever have a dog and the dog has a band, the name of the band will be “Unknown Source.” Or maybe it will be a name of one of the trax, a Beatport upload if they play drumnbass or dubstep, or hopefully, some acid breaks.
I still missed a few back alleys.