I came out. To the streets. Of the place.
I thought that I’d photograph the Dumaine Street Gang second line. It was mostly fun. I worked it in slightly different way. I set out to photograph little slices of it. Trying to capture the entire sense of the second line is almost impossible in Treme’s tight streets. Next time, I’m not going to stand where we all stand, at the coming out place. It’s too hard to get ahead of a second line once the first line passes by. Especially in those tight streets. And, with my slow speed. These days.
A word about this trumpet player. I don’t know him. But, whew. Mostly what I hear on the route is sort of a chaotic blaring of music. It heard that. But, this guy… he was wrapping wonderful notes all around the inside of the song. And, he kept doing it as he and I walked.
The picture. Sometimes I start to wonder if I can produce a straight, documentary photograph. I think I proved that to myself yesterday. That gave me the framework to mess around after I made the original image. I’m not sure I could tinker with this particular picture, but there are some that would be pretty good candidates for playing, maybe producing my kind of art. Also, it felt really great using a real camera. Smartphones are fine, but there is a certain join joy in holding and working with a camera. Especially since I understand it way more than I do my current phone.
I did something good for me today. Normally I read the news in the morning. Today, I didn’t. I read sports, arts and a wonderful column about 41 by The New York Time’s Maureen Dowd who was The White House reporter during his administration. I barely even looked at social media. The places I look at have become too infected with politics, which has become like watching a sporting event. Everybody counting balls and strikes, or touchdowns and field goals.
Give it a rest.