Archive for the ‘Photography’ Category

Tied

Tuesday, November 5th, 2013

On our tenth anniversary of being together, Hurly and I drove to the ritzy courthouse in St. Paul and got hitched. Like legally!

For someone who can hardly buy a bottle of spring water without wonder-worrying about its aesthetic impact on their life, I was surprisingly intent on keeping our big day totally low key. I wanted the focal point of our nuptials to be us and our love, not how expertly/obnoxiously art-directed and Design*Sponge-y every needless little detail was. Enough of my life is sacrificed ritually to the Style Gods above. A wedding day seems like it should be void of all that ego-driven energy.

I mean, I own American Apparel tote bags more expensive than my suit was. And I looked at dozens of rings but the one that excited me the most was a vintage, twenty-buck thing off etsy. From top to bottom, our wedding day remained remarkably immune to my otherwise omni-present materialism.

And although we had small-scale simplicity in mind from the beginning, that isn’t to say that plotting our wedding day was easy or stressless. Being among the first same-sex couples to be married in our state, Hurly and I were working without a template or set of traditions to follow that reflects our generation’s revamped definition of marriage.

We kept it simple, partly just because we’re two dudes who grew up figuring weddings were for everyone but people like us, but I really hope in the coming decade that same-sex couples will begin to establish their own thoughtful traditions for future generations to adopt. And that it gets easier and clearer to envision what a Guy on Guy wedding should/could be.

Once it finally went down, our own Guy on Guy day was great. I don’t remember what words our judge used to tell Hurly and I that it was finally legal and that we could kiss, but after we kissed, all I wanted was a hug. Not from my new husband, exactly – but from my old friend, from my favorite friend.

My first pet name for him was Treasure and the name of this blog actually (plus my whole life) is a wink and a nod to him.

L.A. Story pt. 1

Wednesday, February 27th, 2013

A lifetime ago I lived in Los Angeles for half a year. I’m nothing if not a nostalgist, so it finally seemed time to book a flight to LAX so I could stroll down Memory Lane/Ventura Boulevard.

The dozen or so retail spots that made up the bulk of the itinerary, however, weren’t a part of my past, but the path to future treasures, I hoped.

Straight from the airport, Hurly chauffeur-ed me to Silver Lake, where the first shop we stopped at was The Mohawk General Store. They had a Gitman Vintage shirt I almost bought, and bundles of sage to burn, and liquid soaps so super-natural there were actually chunks o’ stuff floating within.

Next up was the first of two Lawson Fenning furnishings stores we visited. The Silver Lake store was more affordable and antique-filled. They stocked incredible lamps, and hempy pillows, and tarnished wind chimes. So so So-Cal, I so totally loved it!

The store I was most excited to check out was RTH Shop, with its New Mexican brand of crafty chic. I was scolded by two separate staff members for taking photos, but I’m a rebellious little rascal when I want to be.

I thought I might buy all sorts of smocks and suede totes from RTH, but in the end I just picked up this over-sized greige pin I’ll probably fix to a duffle bag or display in a dish or something.

Sometimes a site is worth it just for its signage alone. Fred Segal’s font and ivy-covered storefront are throwback-y classics, and shap-shooting musts.

Our second day in L.A. brought us to the Santa Monica pier, where further font-fueled photo shoots were mounted.

And then!!! Not until we arrived in L.A. did the lightbulb go off in my head that we totally needed to visit the location they used as the exterior of The Townsend Agency in Charlie’s Angels, and shoot me in front of it for fourteen or fifteen hours.

Before we got around to that though, we drove past The Sportsmen’s Lodge near where I used to live in Studio City, and I was almost certain it’s where they filmed the episode of Angels where Jill goes undercover as a hotel maid, Sabrina poses as a near-sighted waitress, and Kelly makes a joke about Pat Nixon and a pot of chili.

So I had Hurly pull a sharp right into the parking lot, and we stormed inside. I don’t know for certain yet if The Lodge was indeed where they’d shot that episode, but the place was so gloriously stuck in 1977 still that the clues certainly seemed to add up, don’t they, Bosley?

Tune in tomorrow-ish to see what happens when I finally arrive outside the Angels’ office. It’s quite the shocker!

Forget Tomorrow: Fuji’s XF1

Wednesday, January 23rd, 2013

It’s been a great while since I’ve pined for or posted about a camera. I’m not even positive that now is an appropriate time.

It’s possibly super inappropriate because…I already have two Canon digital cameras circa 2010, and Hurly has a digital SLR, and I shoot on 35mm film when I can handle the hassle, and everyone ‘n I just shoots everything on their phone these days anyways, and most of all: What does it matter what one shoots an image with today when the image can, and certainly will, be Instagrammed into faux importance anyways?

But here’s why it might be a completely appropriate time for me to pine for another camera. This Fuji XF1 exists.

And it looks exactly what everything should look like: Today making out with Yesterday, on a train, in a tunnel.

And, I don’t like my two newer Canon cameras and sorta never have. Neither of them takes photos as reliable or well as the older, more archaic Canon PowerShot A530 I had back in 2005 (oh, how its images glowed!) or the Nikon Coolpix 3100 I had in 2003. The flash on my newer Canons are always out of control, yet the images too dark. The colors always Kermit-y and sickly.

So…Is now an appropriate time to pick up a new camera? Maybe not.

But in a post-invention-of-the-iPhone world, it might not ever again be an appropriate time to pick up a new/actual camera. That’s what Today making out with Tomorrow would look like, and it’s icky and it’s ugly.

And Yesterday and I can’t sit back and let life look like that.

A Downside to Upgrading?

Wednesday, November 16th, 2011

Next week I’m eligible to upgrade my phone, which I’m only partially excited about because the subpar camera on my iPhone 3GS has taken some really above-par images the past year that it’s been stashed in my pocket. The fuzzed up photos it captures I’ve found to be rather dreamy and almost Polaroid-like. (With or without post-effects apps.)

I’m crossing my fingers that the three extra megapixels, better optics, and built-in flash that’ll be heading into my hand next week won’t perfect away all the awesome imperfections I’ve gotten so used to.

Because I don’t really want to document my daily life in crisp, accurate reality. I want to keep capturing it abstracted and veiled, like it all took place 25-extra years ago on the sets of strange Sissy Spacek movies.

Speaking of which, I now present a series of never-before-seen images from the past seventeen months, taken and never Tweeted while on the sets of strange Sissy Spacek movies while I lazily lived my life.

Goodbye, ol’ phone!

Fashion Getaway pt. 2

Wednesday, January 26th, 2011

All that was worn way down where it was warm…








Holiday Haul pt. 3

Sunday, January 2nd, 2011

And now, the very best present for last!

An original 8 x 10 promo photo from 1990 of Audrey Horne brooding in the halls of Twin Peaks High School the morning the blue body washes up, and everything starts to change.

And so with that, on to a new year!

Costume Department

Wednesday, December 8th, 2010

Taken in 2001, while pretending it was 1964.

I played Daniel Patrick all that summer. A baseball-loving night-school teacher who fell for a young co-worker pretending to have lyme disease.

We didn’t have style blogs back then, so what else was I expected to do with my time or my skinny wool ties?

Cover Girl

Friday, September 3rd, 2010

Some free legal advice:

Kirsten Kennis may be 5 feet 8 inches of WASP-y gorgeousness but don’t even think about downloading or re-tumblr-ing her beautiful face for your own enjoyment, artistic or otherwise.

If she’ll take Ezra and his boys to court, I don’t doubt she’d do it to all of us as well.

In or Out: Working The Sport Boot

Thursday, September 2nd, 2010

Since publishing an entry this past January with an early 70s photograph featuring Paul Newman, a dirt-bike, and a pair of biker-esque boots, I diligently hit internet auctions every morning for seven months to race down, at last, this “near mint” pair of 1960s Red Wing Irish Setter Sport boots.

They differ somewhat from my original inspiration, but they were just the style and color I figured would work with my day-to-day wardrobe. Now that I’ve finally got them, I’ve had to figure out to make them look cool with my pants when I’m not wearing slim 60s denim and sitting on a mini-motorcycle as Mr. Paul Newman was.

First I started with my pants crammed inside, but it takes time and it takes work to get them in there alright, and the resulting look is undefined and essentially dowdy.

Pulling the pants out streamlined the silhouette, but I can only think of electricians and dishwasher delivery men wearing them this way.

Neither in nor out was working, so I finally tried my pants the way I normally wear them, cuffed up twice. So far that gets me and my boots nearest that Newman photograph so I’ll roll along that way and see how often I end up wearing these biker-y boots I spent all year yearning for.

(Slimmer pants will probably help too. I’ve loved these canvas, khaki ones quite a bit, but half a year without fried chicken and chocolate milk and they’re just too big now.)

Time Travelling

Tuesday, August 17th, 2010

Up in Northern Minnesota, time stands still in a way that wouldn’t be possible down here around home. And even when something you loved up there finally moves on or fades away, signs of it will still remain for many summers to come.

I’m trying to comfort myself here, but honestly I feel a little bit blue.

America In Color

Monday, August 9th, 2010

Did you see these yet?

Taken between 1939 and 1943 by the Farm Security Administration/Office of War Information to document the effects of the great depression on the super-great citizens of small town America.

Whatever you call the crimson cap atop the boy on the right, let’s all find one for fall!

There’s something so elegantly nonchalant about the way they’re tending this soil. Perhaps they’re just posing, but next time I have back-breaking work to take care of under the summer sun, I’m going at it as cool and casual as they all did.

Oklahoma kiddies worn out by a square dance. Someone host a square dance, invite me, and we can all get worn out together! I’ll bring sarsaparilla, or something.

These images (and all the others) make me wonder if the sky was more cyan back in 1939, or if the grain was more golden. Surely not, but it always seems that way.

The Perfect Summer Car Wash

Tuesday, July 20th, 2010

My car is nothing fancy. In fact its pretty much a rolling disaster. But when I bother to spiff her up I refuse to take her anywhere but The Mermaid.

First off, The Mermaid’s logo and branding is pre-millenial, photo shoot perfect, and perched just about everywhere.

As you exit your vehicle, rolling waves murals carry you through the air-conditioned corridor toward the cash register (and candy bar/greeting card shop).

Before they drop you off on dry land, the painted waves roll you past a plastic dome of complementary donuts and pastries. (If its still early in the day and they haven’t all vanished yet. If its after 2pm, you’re left to just pout in the surf.)

Once you’ve paid your bill and picked out an Obama-themed birthday card for your mom/boss/parole officer, you can play with the chatty parrot perched in front of the car freshener section. Its at this point in my visit each time where I’m certain a strange Steve Buscemi film will shoot here someday.

After all this fluorescent and feathery fun, your car is usually already done.

The final mermaid bids you farewell, and your soaped up and sea-sprayed car carts you off into another two (but for me, more like six) months of dead bugs and grime.

If only every mundane errand could be ran in such amusing establishments as The Mermaid.