Terns at Oceano Dunes.

Date: July 10, 2006
Place: Grover Beach, CA at Oceano Dunes
Modus operandi: Thinking about Edward Weston
Weather: California gorgeous
Time: 9:03 am
Gear: Canon 5D, 24-105mm at 105mm, ISO 400, 1/2000, f/8
Medium: RAW original processed in Aperture
Me: Thrilled at this bit of serendipity
My age: 54

It is impossible for any photographer to visit Oceano Dunes, here in central coastal California, without thinking about Edward Weston and the generation of early American photographers who did such land breaking work here. So I was walking on the beach with the intention of clambering up the dunes to absorb some of Weston’s spirit. Parking by that little restaurant, I was walking down the path to the beach when this blast of noise and commotion caught my eye. It was literally a second’s work to crank the lens to its longest setting followed by a stab at the button. Thank God for automation! The image reports 1/2000 at f/8, but I can assure you I had nothing to do with that!

And if you wonder about that broad aspect ratio, well, I can seldom go to any beach without Boudin’s paintings dancing in my head.

I never thought there were decisive moments to be had on the beach …. and you can still smell the sea in this one.

The Painter.

Date: 1982
Place: Broadway on Manhattan’s Upper West Side
Modus operandi: More intent on grocery shoppng than photography.
Weather: Outdoors overcast.
Time: 3pm
Gear: Leica M3, 50mm Summicron
Medium: Kodachrome 64.
Me: Looking forward to the smell of all those cheeses at Zabar’s.
My age: 31

The Story: Few who are familiar with New York City’s west side would deny that amongst the greatest cultural attractions to be found there are the Julliard, Carnegie Hall, and the Carnegie Deli. And let’s not forget the greatest deli grocery store in the world, Zabar’s, up the road a few blocks on Broadway.

Now Broadway holds many precious memories, not least of them being this snap.

Once, lazily catching a Broadway bus rather than walk the few blocks home from 80th Street to 56th and Eighth, I sat transfixed opposite none other than the gorgeous Lauren Hutton, and found myself getting out on the opposite side of town, having missed my stop. On that same Broadway I lost my seemingly nuclear war-proof doorman’s umbrella, double struts and all, in a blast of wind when coming out of the Met with my mum in 1986. The umbrella died magnificently, sacrificing itself under a massive Checker cab. Every Thanksgiving you would have found me during the years 1980-86, cheering the Macy’s Parade on Broadway. And every winter, there I was on Broadway at Columbus Circle, watching the marathoners come home.

Now Zabar’s is far more than a European grocery store. It’s a place to meet, to argue, to debate. Art, politics, food, music, ballet, it makes no matter. A place where I sometimes went to gaze at the arcane cooking instruments, trying to work out their uses. A sure cure for depression. Add a pumpernickel bread my Polish forbears would have died for and a selection of coffees unparalleled in the Western hemisphere, and you have a special place.

So intent was I that Autumn day to get my provisions that I shot right by this amusing scene. Nothing gets between a hungry polack and his food. My mind’s eye caught this little piece of drama, however, and a few seconds later, disregarding the urgent messages from my tummy, I was retracing my steps. The tableau was still to be had!

After that, I was on autopilot.