Where does graphic arts start?

The hardliner in me loves Alcatraz. It’s what a prison should be, compounding a remote location which dares the prisoner to escape on pain of death by hypothermia, with the ultimate cruelty – a view of one of the world’s great cities whose sounds you can hear when the wind blows right. Thus heightening the meaning of incarceration, freedom just out of reach, is true punishment.

But the liberal in me sees those same factors as nothing more or less than cruel and unusual punishment, for no matter how heinous the crime, civilization can do better than that. Visit Alcatraz, look around you and listen to the excellent tour tape and you will know what I mean.

So the other day finding myself on the Marina at the north western end of San Francisco, I naturally couldn’t resist a snap of this forbidding, long unused, fortress by the bay. The icy, biting wind may make northerners laugh with scorn but it reminded me why you wouldn’t want to try to swim from the island to the shore.

As it was a blustery day and the haze and water mist were conspiring against visibility, I didn’t expect much and not much was what I got.

Alcatraz lost in the mist. G1, 45-200 @ 91mm, ISO 320.

But later, sitting at the monitor and thawing out, I thought I would try to make something of it. It took a while, masking this and enhancing that, but the whole process reminded me that nothing is real any more. And, candidly, I have no qualms making something half decent out of an image that would ordinarily head straight for the trash. The final version, antique coloring and all, works for me. The lines between photograph and illustration are now so blurred that nothing is real any longer.

Alcatraz prison in all its threatening splendor.