Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow

Yesterday, Iron Bark Kimono was muscled up a flight of stairs.  It was a huffing choked talking push to the landing and a big rest there.  It was heavy even with the drawers out of it.
David said, "I now know why it's called Iron Bark."
A step by step up the final flight and there it be under a Jennifer pen and ink.


This trunk is the reason David is looking at the IBK.  And why we're drinking champagne at noon from cut crystal.

Today I'm in Canyon, California.  DuckDuckGo that.

Ken and Mike are casting some objects.  Let me somewhat take you through the process.
Since phones now are more camera then phone, it tells me pictures are more important than words so let me fill this one up with the visuals for y'all.

Ken is making wood or that is how Mike called it. So what we have here is packed sand around the form in a wooden mold.

Ken firing up the kiln.

Baby powder is squirted on top of the bottom layer of the mold to aid in separation of the top layer of the mold.

More sand is put in.

Mike is making a golf putter head!!!! Yes. That's correct. It's like a arrowhead or something related to humans working stone tools.  Pretty cool.

Ok, so now they're pounding their molds and no hashtaging that alright?

The two halves are separated to extract the positive to leave the negative.

Ken adding more cut up copper drain pipe to the kiln.

Action Sequence Here!  Someone Gif this!

There's more!  "Mike!  You want me to pour yours now too!!!"

Seeing what's what.  What worked, what didn't.  Ken, he don't weigh stuff.  It's all by feel, and you get what you get.  The way it should be.  Hell, this is art, not commerce shit.  This is old drain pipe, fittings, whatever else Ken sees in his life that is copper.  Melt it down, make some thing.  Make some thing.  Make wood from copper plumbing stuff.  Make an arrowhead putter head.  It ties us back to the very beginning of metal working.  One big long string from then to now.....to today.

The Crucible.

Mike's object along with the flotsam.

Bonus Pic!  Ken's front door, well, next to the door.

And tomorrow.  Next project.... Jon's mold.  I'm hoping to get some blessings from Mary on this so it goes easier than did the Iron Bark Kimono.

A snort of Mezcal and I'm toast

Without question, it is impossible (for me) to do Photoshop without the Wacom tablet and it's pen.
Can not do it.

Settled down for a night of Photoshop on photos from Spain and what I photographed yesterday with a bit of Mezcal sitting right above the keyboard.  Most of everything in Photoshop I use the pen on the Wacom but there are some functions that work better (for me) to use the mouse.  I alternate between putting the pen in it's little vertical holder that sits above my keyboard and then picking up the mouse. Putting the mouse off to the side then picking up the pen.

I was working on photo #3  from yesterday when instead of the pen landing in it's holder above the keyboard it landed in the Mezcal instead.  Immediately I took it out and started to shake out the fluid when the pen flies apart, the control panel inside is bent.
It's toast.
A new pen is on it's way.

Iron Bark Kimono is done...whew...
The last thing I always do is to photograph it formally.

Putting the Grip Arms back after the day of shooting.

The piece up against the wall for the night.  Bottles reflecting in the top.

That's it.  Three photos. Can't show anymore until the pen arrives.  Monday apparently it shows up. 

I met her in a bar.

 03.15.18 8:45ish

I was waiting in a bar, having a beer, for my E-6 to be processed half block up at The New Lab.  DanO, The New Lab guy that had the company slush fund credit card in his wallet comes into the bar with a young woman.

This is an early afternoon at The Utah on Bryant St.

DanO and Josephine sit down next to me.
Josephine just moved to San Francisco to become a photographer but first she needs to be an assistant to a photographer.
She's from England.

We talk for a bit, DanO gets up to have a cigarette and whispers something in Josephine's ear and walks out.
"What'd DanO say?"
"You're one of the big photographers in San Francisco and I am supposed to ask you for a job."

Which she did and I hired her.

She assisted me until an ad agency hired her, quickly moved up to Art Director and strangely enough became my boss.

She needed a Visa...not the credit card type, the allowed to be in the USofA type of Visa.  The agency job was starting that process.

She couldn't take the agency life anymore and quit but still needing a Visa I hired her back full time.
Not really, but let's just pretend I hired her back full time.

 That was a long long time ago that the sponsorship started.   What was it, Jo?  18 years ago?

A marriage to an American...very very nice man I must say, and a couple of kids later.... I was no longer needed for the Visa.

Where is this heading?

This morning she swears to do the stuff above.  A couple things especially are a bit strange sounding to me in the Oath, but whatever.  Today was the day for her to become an American citizen

The applicants standing in line to receive official instructions.  The MC of the proceedings later tells them that will be the last time they ever need to stand in an immigration line.  From here on out it's "US Citizen Line"

 I spot Jo's husband, Jay with the two boys looking a bit frazzled.  They were just getting there as things were about to begin.

You know I went in fairly cynical but for whyever, the tears started to flow.  It was beautiful to hear the names of all the countries represented today, even some that no longer exist because for some the process had been so long.  The names of 83 countries.  1085 people (there was another ceremony this afternoon as well.)
It felt pretty good.

A young woman got up to speak to tell them how to go about getting their passports.  From the official passport office.
She said it was her first time at a citizen ceremony speaking and to go easy on her speech.
Three words in and she's crying.
She had watched her grandmother take the oath to become a citizen.  She had a second grade education.
"And me, well I was given a full scholarship to UC Berkeley."
She made her point through her tears pretty good.
Other speakers were on point too.  A real feel good point.

All 1085 standing (you can't see them) as they recite the Oath.

As is custom in the Bay swearing in, they ask for a volunteer from the newly minted U.S. Citizens to come onto stage and lead the Pledge Of Allegiance.  A young man from Afghanistan volunteered.  His friends were sitting right in front of me and they were shocked it was him.  They all sounded English as their first language to me.

And so it was over.

This guy maybe didn't have any family or friends to see him.  A selfie with his new flag.

Jay takes our photo.  Josephine's mother had flown in from London, she's with the kids already.

Jay tells me, he walked out before the ceremony was over.  The second to the last thing in the ceremony was a video from trump and he wouldn't/couldn't listen or watch.  I said I turned my head away.  The words though, boy, I couldn't get out of hearing the words and what a bunch of fucking shit they were.  You should be ashamed trump.


Well, we Americans do love to sell stuff.  $20 a pop for the Oath.  I'm not sure who they were selling to, I assuming the newbies got theirs in the ceremony and I for one would never utter such nonsense that's written there.

Two friends with a new citizen.

I was her boss until she became my boss then back to me being boss and now after all these years she's back to being my boss.  Hires me sometimes to shoot for a startup that she works for.  Even had a international shoot from her.
All from having a beer in a bar and being open to the door to the Utah being opened.

It was Mr White, with the scissors, in the barbershop room

The official before photos.

The Brazilian gave all the clues.  That's him on the left.  The man sitting with his legs cocked open, well, he got what was coming to him, no doubt.

As is my M.O. while traveling in countries, I get a hair cut somewhere on the journey.   I make sure to get my money's worth by letting it go for months and months before.

It's hard folks, to find good ol boy barbershops anymore it appears.  For three weeks I was on high alert, my eyes continually darting into any shops that mentioned hair on the outside.  They've all turned into salons it seems, with hard plastic chairs and shampoo stations, hard formica shelves and those soul-less professionally shot photos of models with fancy haircuts.  That's the dead giveaway clue....those photos.

For three weeks from Madrid to Pamplona to portions of France, back all along the northern coast of Spain and into Portugal.  At one point the plan had changed from getting a haircut in a barbershop to Annie buying some scissors and cutting my hair on the beach in Fisterra, the very western point in Spain.  But I held fast to the original caper because I knew my fallback could be in Porto.
Beautiful old old barbershops in Porto.  8 years ago I had a cut done in one there.

As the sun was coming up, a beeline was made (after shopping in the mercado of course), well and after coffee and pastries, to the section of town I knew that still held to the old ways.

Found one, one block up from the last one.
Luckily the Brazilian was there.  He spoke English.  What we found out from his clues.
He's in the beauty business somehow.
He traveled to Porto to do business.
He loved this barbershop....and the owner, Mr White.
He talked about redoing the old chairs with paint.

Couldn't figure out though if he was just an old barbershop groupie type or if he wanted to buy this old barbershop and turn it into a trendy Mission style joint.  There was one such place two blocks down.  It was real old but filled with young barbers and music.

But the Brazilian spoke English and I found out among other things that Mr White had cut hair for 65 years.  The Brazilian also got him to cut my hair twice.
As well as where to find a very good vermouth bar.

 This man was in the chair upon arrival, after him, the man with the legs cocked open got his done.

My turn.

 Mr. White didn't quite know what to do with my hair.  He cut it the first time around into a blow cut 70's style.  I was ok with that.

He indicated he wanted to give an old fashioned straight edge shave.  That's a tough one, to stretch your neck out to a stranger with a four inch blade at your throat.

He signed, spoke and pointed he was done but was still fidgeting around.  I could tell something was up.  I told the Brazilian to tell Mr. White...
"Tell him, it's got nothing to do with me.
It's got everything to do with him."

He understood, I was giving him free reign.

So he cut my hair again, shorter, hell he may have cut it three times for all I know because he kept on going over  the same areas and cutting more and more off.
Still got the blow dry Don Johnson look but it wasn't about me, remember?

Going in again.

Done.

Now here's something I've never seen.  The seats have this trick hinge on the front.  He picks up the seat and twirls it around and the cut hair exits the hole.

The official after photo.

 By all means, have that straight edge razor shave done.  Never felt my face to be so smooth...and just one teeny nick at the adam's apple.