Last week I did a test shoot with Andrea, a SF local, and Crystal, who was visiting from Hong Kong, where she writes for Harper’s Bazaar. This is one of the looks.

I was going through my old photos and found this one. Last Thanksgiving we went on a road trip to Portland and drove by this beautiful town on the border of California and Oregon. We stopped there to get breakfast and I’ve noticed this abandoned café.
Anyway, here is another Amichai’s poem, hmm it looks like I’m really obsessed with his poetry.
 

Near the wall of a house painted
to look like stone,
I saw visions of God.

A sleepless night that gives others a headache
gave me flowers
opening beautifully inside my brain.

And he who was lost like a dog
will be found like a human being
and brought back home again.

Love is not the last room: there are others
after it, the whole length of the corridor
that has no end.

I haven’t posted anything here for a while, so here is photo of the Alex’s grandmother. I took on a trip to Houston last January.

A shilling life will give you all the facts:
How Father beat him, how he ran away,
What were the struggles of his youth, what acts
Made him the greatest figure of his day;
Of how he fought, fished, hunted, worked all night,
Though giddy, climbed new mountains; named a sea;
Some of the last researchers even write
Love made him weep his pints like you and me.

With all his honours on, he sighed for one
Who, say astonished critics, lived at home;
Did little jobs about the house with skill
And nothing else; could whistle; would sit still
Or potter round the garden; answered some
Of his long marvellous letters but kept none.

W.H. Auden

This is a shot I took shortly after seeing the Anselm Kiefer exhibition in the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. I had never heard of Keifer before and was deeply impressed by his meditations on the nakedness of man in the face of the absurd loneliness of the human experience. One piece in particular has stuck with me ever since – The Renowned Orders of the Night. I go back to it in my mind’s eye on a regular basis, more often than just about any other work of art. I think you can see the influence in this photograph of my little borther, Grisha.