Pete Lit

A belated welcome

I'm a photographer and small-time camera collector. The collecting mania hasn't completely taken over, but whenever I see old cameras at yard sales, estate sales or antique stores I always stop for a look. These photos are of my most recent acquisition, which I made a couple of years ago but never blogged about. It's a Kodak Hawk-Eye No. 2 Folding Cartridge, which I picked up at an estate auction in Joliet for $20 (as part of a boxed lot of various items). I haven't been able to dig up much info on this specific model, but it must have come out sometime between 1910 (the patent date, visible just below the lens aperture) and 1926 (when the followup Model B came out). It's a very clean camera, the aperture works, and it uses 120 film which remains commercially available, so this could conceivably still be functional - though I'm sure I'll never use it for anything other than a fine display piece. That last photo shows the pieces taken apart (which would be necessary to load the film) - the shaft of the takeup spool is actually made of wood, which I was quite surprised and pleased to see.

The Hawk-Eye shares a bookshelf with my Mamiya C33, Beacon and Kodak Brownie.

Contemplating Bette

This past weekend, I found this interesting snapshot in a box of old family photos. As you can see, it's a man standing outside a movie theater (the poster is for Jezebel, starring Bette Davis), apparently on his way inside. Based on the man's general build, hair color and attire (hat cocked to the right), along with the fact that the photos in the box are all from my mom's family, I'm pretty sure this is my grandfather. The movie's appearance dates the photograph at 1938. I'm very glad to have this unique view; almost all of the other photos in the box are standard, straight-on posed shots, but this one almost has an artsy feel to it.

Special thanks to Michael Leddy for identifying the movie, based on just that visible portion of the poster.

Honor Bright

Demolition of an old building in Highland Park, Michigan, has revealed two beautiful faded ads. How poignant to realize that the ads first appeared during a time of great prosperity, then were covered up and only revealed again after decades of decline.

When the ads for Honor Bright and Black Beauty first appeared, between 1915 and 1925, Highland Park was in glorious ascent. The Ford assembly lines were humming, and the city had become a desirable community whose population had grown tenfold, to 45,000, in a decade...When the ads reappeared, it was to an entirely different city, one of abandonment, decline and the hope for a return to days when children carried schoolbooks and rode bicycles, carefree and smiling.

And it's always nice to see a quote from my friend Frank Jump, who has really become the go-to guy on faded ads.

"It’s a reminder of our own timeline and how quickly things become obsolete," said Frank Jump, a photographer and the author of Fading Ads of New York City, (The History Press, 2011). "One minute people had thriving businesses building buggies, and the next minute Henry Ford is pushing out automobiles on an assembly line and nobody wants horse and buggies anymore."

Frank's book is next on my buy list.

(Photo credit: Nicole Bengiveno, The New York Times)

New Orleans coffee, 1935

I love the riot of signage in this Walker Evans photograph, taken in New Orleans in 1935. And though at that exact moment it was 11:45, or past primo coffee-drinking time, I still would still have stopped in at that restaurant for a cup of Luzianne coffee. This photo was reproduced in Soul of a People: The WPA Writers' Project Uncovers Depression America, and when I searched for it online, the first result that came up was at Shorpy, my favorite photoblog. Serendipitous.

Winter stimulants

Coffee grounds, tea leaves and paper filters, all on a snowy compost pile.

Chicago billboards, 1901

Check out these billboards on South Michigan Avenue in Chicago from 1901, taken from this panoramic view at Shorpy. Cigars, champagne, oatmeal, kidney water and some sort of haircare product, along with the soon-to-be-missed Kodak cameras. The panoramic looks north from 12th Street (now Roosevelt Road), with Michigan Avenue on the left, Grant Park in the center and the Illinois Central railyard (plus a bit of the lake) on the right.

Bygone days

I love this old photograph of Frisch's Resort in my hometown of Cary, Illinois. The framing is odd - all of that foliage! - but I really like seeing the gentleman (apparently well-dressed, in suit and hat) as he takes a rest while likely admiring the view of the river. This might even inspire a story from me.

(Via Jeff.)

I scream, you scream...

Love this photo from Bighappyfunhouse. The guy on the left apparently was not enjoying himself, and preferred cigarettes to ice cream. Also, the lady of the house must not have wanted her kitchen messed up, thus relegating the ice cream-making to the basement.

Serious fans

Love this image of University of Pittsburgh students watching the 1960 World Series from high above Forbes Field, apparently atop the Cathedral of Learning. Several of the guys even appear to be wearing suits and ties. Truly a lost era.

(Via Big Other.)

Curbside Castoffs

First in a series of memorable curbside discards from around Joliet. Here, a console TV on Mason Street.

Randolph Street, 1900

At Shorpy, here's another lovely turn-of-the-century street view from Chicago, this one of Randolph Street, looking east from LaSalle. Sadly, unlike that fine stretch of Wabash Avenue, virtually none of the buildings shown here are still standing. The block shown here on the left (between LaSalle and Clark) was demolished to make way for the Thompson State of Illinois Building monstrosity during the 1980s.

The second tall building beyond the next corner (Clark) is the Schiller Building (with the "Burgomaster" sign) which was later known as the Garrick Theater. After the theater was demolished during the early 1960s, a new building was built which housed the Garrick Restaurant, where my dad ate lunch every day for years. (His old office was in the Oriental Theater, one block further down.) The Garrick Restaurant building is also now gone, with the popular theater district restaurant Petterino's now occupying the site. Julie and I have had several fine meals at Petterino's, but I didn't realize its distant connection to my dad until just now. Nice.

Wabash Avenue, Then and Now

I was pleased to recently see the first photo, shown above, at Shorpy.com. The image is from 1907 and shows Wabash Avenue in Chicago, facing north from Monroe St. Knowing how well-preserved Wabash is - being next to the El tracks makes it a less-than-desirable location for new skyscrapers, and thus many 19th and early 20th Century buildings remain there - I guessed that a lot of these buildings would probably still be standing. So I swung over there this week and was pleasantly surprised to find even more vintage buildings than I expected. The second photo is taken from almost the exact same vantage point as the first, and almost every building in the first photo can still be seen.

Working from left to right in the original photo, the first building (with the arched cornice) is gone, but remaining are 30 S. Wabash (the tall narrow one, three windows wide), the Atwater Building (pointed cornice), the Barker and Haskell Buildings (slightly shorter), Silversmith Building (medium height with sign painted on its side) and Hayworth Building (tall, at the very center of the photo). And just beyond the Hayworth is the Mandel Brothers Annex (with flagpole on the roof) which was originally part of the old State Street department store and now home to Filene's, TJ Maxx and other discounters. Of particular note, the Silversmith is now a boutique hotel (odd location for one - I can't imagine paying a premium room rate that close to the El tracks); the Atwater, Barker and Haskell buildings date from 1875-77 and are some of the very oldest in the Loop; and recent renovation of the Barker and Haskell buildings revealed gorgeous facades designed by Louis Sullivan.

In framing this photo, I was also quite pleased to capture the young guy with the sunglasses and shopping bag, who nicely echoes the top-hatted gentleman in the original photo.

Faded ads in Seattle

Our recent trip to Seattle revealed quite a few faded ads, particularly from our window on the 14th floor of the Marriott Courtyard hotel, Pioneer Square:



Can't quite read the full name from this view, but from this post it apparently is "Lovera Cigar." The sign is not visible from below, on First Street, so this is the only vantage point I could get.



This one, on the other hand, couldn't be clearer: "Optimus Soda Fountains and Store Fixtures/Crushed Fruits and Fountain Syrups." Also "Wholesale Drugs/Importers & Manufacturers." Nice!



Also on First Street: Black Bear Manufacturing Company. More info, and a street-view photo here. Check out the logo with the outline of a black bear. Double nice!

Kotlowitz and Maier

Two Chicago greats: Alex Kotlowitz on Vivian Maier. I love the suggestion that a pairing of Maier and Studs Terkel would have rivaled the celebrated James Agee and Walker Evans. I think Maier and Terkel might have even surpassed them - though Maier wasn't quite in Evans' league as a photographer, Terkel's subtlety and grace would have easily surpassed Agee, whose prose in Let Us Now Praise Famous Men I often found pretentious and unreadable.

Vivian Maier site redesign!

Vivian Maier's lovely photographs now have the lovely website they deserve. The old blog format really didn't do them justice.

Two lost classics, rolled into one

A few months back, Lynn Becker's ArchitectureChicago presented Andy Pierce's photographs from his final roll of Kodachrome film. That would be momentous in itself, but doubly momentous in that the photos are of the now-demolished Hotel LaSalle Garage. The garage stood right next to my office building, and even in its final, worn and forlorn condition I found it more visually appealing and even physically imposing than the sterile glass condo tower that replaced it. That's progress, I guess.

Vivian Maier

I would just love to know the story behind this scene. The cop being involved isn't a surprise - probably a typical Saturday night on the job for him - but I wonder how the suited guy on the right got drawn into lugging this poor unfortunate around. The suit certainly doesn't seem to be enjoying his task.

This photo is by the Chicago-based street photographer Vivian Maier (1926-2009), a virtual unknown whose works were discovered at an auction after her death. The Chicago Cultural Center is currently running an exhibition of Maier's works that I will be checking out soon. Given my loves of photography, Chicago and the midcentury era, Maier's photographs really resonate with me.

Snowmageddon, Part I

With all the snow the East Coast has gotten this year, I almost feel guilty making a big deal about a single blizzard in the Midwest. Still, there are some interesting sights out there this morning.

Fading Ad: Lyon & Healy, Chicago

This ad for Lyon & Healy ("Everything Known in Music") is on the side of the firm's old showroom building on Wabash Avenue, which is now the home of DePaul University's technology school. Recently I was pleasantly surprised to learn that not only does Lyon & Healy still craft their trademark harps, but do so from here in Chicago, on Ogden Avenue on the Near West Side. Nice to see an American icon successfully resist the twins lure of foreign outsourcing and employee layoffs in response to challenging economic times.

Caboose

Love this photograph by Jack Delano, from 1943. Before seeing this, I didn't realize that I hadn't really seen the interior of a caboose before. Looks quite cozy, though I suspect it was much more uncomfortable than it appears.

New to the gallery

I recently finished off a roll of Kodak Tri-X black and white film (my first in over five years) and just posted some of the better images at my online gallery, starting here. (Plus a cute image of Maddie here.) Since hardly anybody shoots b&w film any longer, the camera shop had to send it to an outside lab for processing, and a single set of prints set me back twenty bucks. Whew. I'll probably be doing very little b&w any longer.

Fading Ad: Bismarck Hotel, Chicago

I was delighted to discover these two vintage ads on the back of Hotel Allegro, as I cut through the rear alley one morning on my way to pick up coffee. The ads date from the building's original incarnation as the Bismarck Hotel, built in 1925. The ads are specifically for the Old Vienna sweets shop ("Pastries Sodas Sundaes") and the Garden Lounge bar ("Pleasantly relaxing...Your favorite potion properly prepared"). There's also a Bismarck banner ad across the top of the building that was too high for my to photograph - the alley, while wide by downtown standards, is still too narrow for a broad perspective. (It also makes this photo much more prosaic than the nicely framed Boston Store ad from my earlier post.) Since I found these ads, I've strolled through a few more alleys looking for other unexpected ads, with no luck so far. But I'll keep looking - I'm wondering in particular if the Palmer House or Chicago Hilton have anything similar. Stay tuned.

That linked-to Allego promotional copy has some interesting background on the hotel's history, most notably that its German-American owners, retreating from anti-German bigotry, temporarily changed the name to the Randolph Hotel during WWI. Sometimes it's easy to forget that what is now such a mainstream ethnic group was once so reviled.

Fading Ad: Boston Store, Chicago

This is the first of what I hope will be a continuing series. My friend Frank Jump is a tireless photographer and chronicler of what he calls "fading ads" - old commercial advertisements painted directly onto brick walls. His website and blog are endlessly fascinating collections of fading ad photos which I strongly encourage you to wallow in. Frank has inspired me for many years, during which time I've dabbled in accumulating my own collection of fading ad images.

Despite Chicago's relentless effort to obliterate most of its unglamorous past - "unglamorous" including many nondescript yet functional brick buildings - there are still a handful of sharp old fading ads to be found in the Loop if you look carefully enough. That ad in the photo above, peeking out from a cluster of other buildings, is for the old Boston Store at the corner of State and Madison (now a Sears). The sign is painted on what appears to be the top of an elevator shaft, and can just be seen from State Street, right in front of the old Marshall Field's flagship store (now Macy's). The surrounding buildings are certainly an odd lot - the classic Reliance Building at the left, the hideous Block 37 mall in the foreground and, just behind the ad, First National Plaza/Chase Tower. I like how those buildings frame this fading yet still visible ad.

More to come, soon.

Frost

As my old college friend Rick used to say, it's a tid nipply out this morning.

'Tis the Season

That's right, nothing says "It's the holidays" quite like a quartet of Victorian-garbed carolers in a modern office building lobby, singing to indifferent white-collar workers hurrying past. Well, at least I noticed.

Boy's gotta have it.

Drool. Oh, to have $33,751.00 just burning a hole in my pocket.

(Via Dinosaurs and Robots.)

Through the Viewfinder

As I mentioned earlier, I recently acquired an old Kodak Brownie camera. I'd love to take photographs with it, but the required 620 film is pricey, and I'm doubtful if the optics - which probably weren't high-grade to begin with - have held up well enough that I'd be fully pleased with the (expensive) results.

So for a quick and cheap alternative, I'm trying Through the Viewfinder (TTV) photography. Basically, you use one modern camera (in this case, digital) to photograph images through the viewfinder of an older, usually medium format camera (here, the Brownie). The resulting images are less than perfect, but I still enjoy the imperfections in all their idiosyncratic glory. Here are three of my first attempts, all photographed in our breakfast nook.

Here's the artsy effort, including oh-so-chic kitchen chair from IKEA:



Here's feline heartthrob Spike, playing coy for the camera.



And here's the rarely coy Maddie, smiling as always.



This is a fun and easy process, one that I'm really looking forward to more of.

Another camera joins the brood

 

Over the weekend, Julie was kind enough to buy me the charming little camera shown above - a Kodak Brownie Hawkeye from the 1960s. During my teens I had one just like this (a family hand-me-down) but I don't know what ever happened to it, so I was quite pleased to find this one. Not only is it in perfect condition, but it also came in its original box, with flash attachment, all nine original bulbs (the old-fashioned screw-in kind) and instruction booklet. The only thing missing from the box was (I'm guessing) the roll of 620 film that came with the kit (there's an empty cutout in one corner of the box, just the size of a film package). And I just learned you can still buy 620 film (technically, it's 120 film re-wound onto a 620 spool, for a premium price of course) so conceivably I could really use this one. We'll see.

The Brownie now enjoys an honored place on my shelf, alongside my Mamiya C33, Beacon and fold-up Kodak Hawkeye circa 1910s. I've just now realized that I never featured the latter camera here on my blog, but it's a charming relic in its own right. Maybe I'll post about that one sometime soon.

Farm Security Adminstration photos, in color

Terrific collection here at the Denver Post of color photographs from the Farm Security Administration archives. The FSA photographs that most people are familiar with are the black and white ones, which seem to create a considerable historical distance between the subject and the modern-day viewer. But color makes them seem more immediate and current, even when the subject matter is obviously far in the past.

The two photos shown above are my favorites out of the Post's gallery - the first is from Rutland, Vermont, by Jack Delano, and the second is from Clinton, Iowa, by Russell Lee. Carnival barkers and female railyard workers are totally things of the past, and yet these great photos make you feel like you're right there, even though it's now 2010.

I have the best wife in the entire world!

Okay, so I have thousands of ways to back up that statement, more than I could ever fully elaborate upon here. So I'll cite just three examples from this weekend:

On Friday morning, she called me at the office. Fridays are when she and Maddie hit the local garage sales, hunting for unique finds, and the first thing she says is "What kind of camera do you have?" Long story short, I have two Mamiya-Sekor SLRs from the early 1970s, and she found me yet another, a 1000 DTL (I have a 500 DTL and a DSX 1000) in a complete kit. The camera's in great condition, but what really has me excited is the 50mm and 135mm lenses, both of which I've wanted for years. Once I get the lenses cleaned up, I think this will lead to a resurgence in my print photography. The fact that she was looking out for something I'd like to have, when she'd undoubtedly rather be hunting for Pyrex bowls or antique cast iron pans, really touched me.

Yesterday, after the three of us came home from another garage sale, I accidentally dropped the vintage Atari 2600 we had just bought for $3, and it's a testament to Julie that she didn't divorce me on the spot. Given how excited she was about the Atari - she's a passionate videogamer - she would have been totally justified in doing so, or at least locking me out of the house for the night. But instead she forgave me (I think!) and we found the Atari didn't sustain any serious damage. The Mario Bros. cartridge worked (albeit not to 2010 technological standards) though we still have to tweak the system somehow to get Asteroids to work.

Then this morning, I slept in until after 8 (very late for me) and awoke to the heavenly smell of Muffins That Taste Like Donuts. Julie's not a morning person, but she still got up early and baked this delicious breakfast from scratch. And now we're having our typical Sunday morning - sitting on the couch, surfing the web, drinking espresso, eating goodies, and watching TLC. I couldn't be happier, and Julie is most of the reason for that. (Maddie, too, of course, but Julie gets much of the credit for her as well.)

Author Photographs: Mark Twain, 1909

A man who needs no introduction, especially on this most American of holidays.

Source: George Grantham Bain Collection (photographer unknown).
(Via Shorpy.)

I guess I'm either happy, or not a hipster

The inaugural caption contest at Unhippy Hipsters has concluded but, alas, I failed to win. Here was my caption for the photo shown above:

Checking the manual for a third time, his worst fears were confirmed: the parts came only in orange, with none in brown, maroon or tangerine. With utter mortification he realized that his dream of color-coordinating the scooter with the area rug was forever ruined.

And here are the top finalists, as selected by the site:

Zen had come easily to him—sparse interior, shaved head, “rug-garden.” It was motorcycle maintenance he was having problems with. (Sebastian Biot)

He knew she would be happy that he had adhered to the “NO SHOES ON THE CARPET” policy. Finally, he was getting their relationship right. (Brilliant Anonymous)

She broke his heart and then his scooter. (Chad in Amman)

That he’d been volunteered to bring everyone’s luggage infuriated him, but right now, that was the least of his problems. (Dave)

Today was the day. The suitcases would stage the attack. They could no long take his fastidious refurbishment of vintage items he would never use. (A Dollop)

Though she’d taken most of the items of value, it would forever remain his color. (S’Mat)

He had been killing time for a year waiting for that tree to turn orange again. (Giacomo Cesana)

Although he was the only one involved in his embarrassing moped crash in the living room, he insisted both parties follow the correct insurance claim procedures. (Jan Moesen)

He had no intention of ever riding it, or even fixing it. But he decided from this moment forward, all visitors would enter to find him in exactly this position. (Steve Z.)

Two views of Craigville, Minnesota

This is fascinating - two very different barroom scenes, taken from the same perspective, in the same town (Craigville, MN), by the same photographer (Russell Lee), during the same month (September 1937). Judging by the architectural details of the two rooms, they appear to be separate establishments. The mood of each photograph couldn't be more different - the jovial, boisterous group scene of the first (in fact, part of that image was used in the opening credits of the TV show Cheers) versus the lonely, desperate tone of the second, whose emotional desolation is leavened only by the odd presence of the kitten.

Seeing that first photo today made me scramble to find the second, which I was already familiar with - in fact, it was the inspiration and basis for my short story "Deep in the Northwoods" which appeared in Wheelhouse Magazine in 2007. When I first saw that photo I was so struck by the sadness of the scene that I tried to imagine how it had come about, and where it would lead, with that story being the end result. (Had I had come across the first photo instead, I doubt that I would have been inspired to write a story about it.) The story is part of my chapbook This Land Was Made for You and Me which I've been unsuccessfully shopping around to numerous publishers.

More fun with Google Maps

Below are aerial photographs which show the remnants of three demolished/abandoned structures. See if you can guess what each was.

First, from Joliet:



Second, also from Joliet:



Lastly, from Blue Island, Illinois:



For answers and links, please scroll down. No cheating!

1. Bowling alley: Washington Lanes (demolished).
2. Drive-in movie theater: Hilltop Drive-In (still standing, but closed long ago).
3. Railroad roundhouse: Blue Island roundhouse of the Rock Island Railroad (apparently the turntable is still used to rotate trains, though the structure is gone).

Wabash Avenue, 1900

I love almost all of the old photos at Shorpy, but what I love most of all are the full-sized original versions of each displayed photo. Case in point: this 1900 image of the west side of Wabash Avenue in Chicago, looking north from Adams Street (presumably from the Adams El station). The main image is interesting enough, but if you click on "View full size" you'll see an immensely larger version, in which fine details can be easily discerned. That image I've posted above is cropped from just a fraction of the larger photo, from which you can clearly see the faces of pedestrians and read shop signs. The literatus in me couldn't help being drawn to the "Pilgrim Press Booksellers" and "Summer Reading", though the former was presumably a purveyor of inspirational works which would probably not have been of much interest to me. If you look several floors up on the facade of this building, the name "Potter Palmer" can be seen, which leads me to believe that this is actually the backside of the Palmer House hotel which would have fronted onto State Street, just one block to the west.

Author Photographs: Sinclair Lewis, 1922

Source: Chicago Daily News Archives, Library of Congress (photographer unknown).

(This is the first in an occasional - and, I hope, regular - series.)

Art Shay

The Chicago Reader points to a new Art Shay photographic exhibition, Art Shay True Colors, which opens this Friday at Thomas Masters Gallery (245 W. North Avenue in Chicago) and runs through February 15. A bit out the way from my office in the Loop, but a show I'd definitely like to see from the venerable artist.

Incorporating his known poetic punch and blunt bravery, Shay True Colors exhibits the peaks of our history with life’s softer moments and fresh perspectives of fleeting irony. From a man joyous and green working on the el to mourners over Martin Luther King’s open casket, we see Shay's roaming, unceasing perspective upon more than five decades.

Which reminds me that I really need to move Shay's Chicago's Nelson Algren to the top of my wish list. And not just because I'm absorbed in reading Algren at the moment.

The Flatiron, Under Construction

Though I've seen images of the iconic Flatiron Building countless times (including a framed poster of Edward Steichen's famous photograph, which once adorned my college dorm-room wall - yes, I've always been a geek), this is the first I've ever seen of the building under construction. Two oddities catch my eye - one, the unfinished fifth and sixth floors, as if the builders just skipped over those floors and vowed to get back to them eventually; and two, the scaffolds on the top floors being supported from within the building itself instead of from the ground.

Not Fade Away

My friend Frank Jump is the subject of a lovely film by Jim Sayegh, Not Fade Away. The film highlights Frank's photographic documenting of "fading ads" painted on brick walls in New York City and elsewhere, which he charmingly refers to as "this ongoing project that doesn't want to go away." Frank has been a huge inspiration to me, both in photography and life in general. Please take a look at the film.

Dorothy & John

I submitted this photo to the wonderful My Parents Were Awesome several weeks ago, but since I've gotten impatient waiting for the site to post it, I thought I'd just go ahead and post it here. That's my parents, Dorothy and John Anderson, during their college years in the late forties. And for the record, though my awesome but late dad is no longer with us, my mom is still thriving and remains quite awesome.

Kickapoo

The foolish young man in this photo is none other than myself, circa 1985. I'm standing on a railroad trestle, about a hundred feet above the Vermilion River in Kickapoo State Park, just outside of Danville, Illinois. It was a single track with no railings or any other safety features other than a single side platform halfway across which one could use to escape from an oncoming train. One had to walk across on just the wooden rail ties, step by careful step, with nothing but empty air beneath. Which, being daring and/or stupid, I did. Though the view was pretty spectacular, in hindsight it probably wasn't worth the risk. My buddy Fred was smart enough to stay off the trestle and instead just take the photograph, which he was kind enough to mail to me recently and remind me what it was like to be young and stupid.

Dover Book Shop, 1945

Photographs of Dover Book Shop, 102nd and Broadway in Manhattan, taken by Sam Gottscho in 1945. Love that stylish Midcentury Modern design.

(Via Shorpy, which has full-sized versions of these images here and here.)

End of an era

Kodak kills Kodachrome film after 74 years

I must admit, I'm as responsible for this photographic icon's demise as anyone. I never shot much slide film to begin with (in fact, I never owned a carousel projector) and have gone almost exclusively digital during the past five years or so. Still, without Kodachrome, the viewing of boring vacation photos will never be the same - crowding around a digital's tiny viewer screen can never replace sitting in a darkened living room watching a slideshow and trying not to doze off.

Yesterday's News

Lovely photograph by Jack Delano from 1940, in Brockton, Massachusetts. Those old Kodachromes can be quite gorgeous - this one almost looks like an Edward Hopper painting.

(Via Shorpy.)

Frank Jump, "Bay Ridge Subway"

I greatly admire the photographic work of my friend Frank Jump, he of the anachronistic images of old "fading ads" painted onto brick walls. This new image of his is particularly striking in the way it blends the old (the fading ad for the shoe repair shop) and the new (the woman on the cellphone, warily eyeing the camera). Very nicely done.

Found Art

I love all of the "found photographs" at bighappyfunhouse, most of which are funny, one-off snapshots. But I absolutely, positively LOVE this one (full-sized image), which to my (admittedly untrained) eye is nothing less than fine art - the framing of the neon sign, the angles of the sign supports and how the worker's body both complements those angles while being just slightly askew with them, and the tension of the worker's precarious position all make for a near-perfect composition. Reminds me quite a bit of Henri Cartier-Bresson.

Underwood joins the family

My wife is the best. Last Friday morning my phone rang at the office, much earlier than I'm used to hearing from Julie every day. She and Maddie had decided, spur of the moment, to go to an estate sale, and she informed me that she had found an old Underwood typewriter, and asked if she should buy it for me. As I suspect is the case with many writers, I have a fetishistic attraction for old manual typewriters, though I had not yet taken the plunge. Trouble is, I had never studied the old machines well enough to know exactly what I was looking for, and Julie knew little about them. So she tried to describe it for me as well as she could, while I prowled typewriter websites looking for something that matched what she was describing, without much success. Finally I said, Oh what the hell, go ahead and buy it. Which she did - for just twenty bucks. Bless her heart - I know that old typewriters certainly weren't high on her list of things she wanted to at during that estate sale, but she still took the time to do so, just for me.

So when I got home that night, here's what I had: an Underwood Universal portable, from 1938. That's it in the photo above, and I couldn't be happier with it. It's in very good condition - it shows well and seems to be in perfect working order. (That website linked to above has their model listed for $450, but that's in completely refurbished condition. Plus that's their asking price - who knows if they'll ever sell if for anywhere near that much. Still, it looks like Julie made a very good deal.) The only thing that needs to be replaced is the ribbon, which was all but dried out. But the ribbon had just enough ink left in it to allow me to type out my first message:

I'm really looking forward to buying a new ribbon and giving the old relic a real workout. I'm toying with the idea of writing an entire new story, start to finish, completely on the typewriter, and mailing off the final typed draft to some literary journal without ever using a PC. I'll let you know how that goes.

("The Lovely Miss Underwood", indeed!)

Ghosts among us

Love this image, love this post.

The latest new baby

Over the weekend the three of us went to an estate sale in Naperville. Going through the house - a rickety 19th Century relic that's been in the same family for three generations - was interesting in its own right, but it's always nice to take a little something away. And I did just that, picking up the Beacon camera pictured above. It's a lovely little thing, with Art Deco touches and made (I believe) of Bakelite, which fits comfortably in the palm of the hand. It was made by Whitehouse Products, Inc. of Brooklyn, sometime during the early 1950s, and is admittedly more of a snapshot camera than anything a serious photographer would use - the lens is fixed focus and the aperture appears to be a little balky, so I doubt I'll ever actually photograph anything with it. (It also uses 127 film, which I don't even think is made anymore.) But it looks quite sharp on our bedroom mantel, right next to its new big brother. And it was only eight bucks, so I really couldn't resist.

I now officially have a collection on my hands.

Leon Lewandowski

Ron Slattery at Bighappyfunhouse has made a truly wonderful find: an extensive collection of photographs of Leon Lewandowski, who studied under Harry Callahan and Aaron Siskind at Chicago's Institute of Design during the 1950s. Here's Ron's explanation:

Another wonderful find. A very good friend of mine recently sold me a large collection of photographs, proof sheets and negatives. The photographers name is Leon Lewandowski. He was a student at the Institute of Design here in Chicago. The fun part is, he studied under famed photographers Harry Callahan and Aaron Siskind. Leon attend the Institute from 1951 to 1955. He graduated with a Masters in Photography in 1955. In the 1950s there were only 14 other students to do so.

Mr. Lewandowski was one hell of a photographer. Many of his shots are from the streets of Chicago in the 1950s. You can see the influences of Callahan and Siskind in his work. The photos posted today are scanned from some of the proof sheets so I apologize for the quality of the images.

No apology needed, Ron - all of the photographs are great, even those scanned from proofsheets. Here are the first sets posted so far:

Leon Lewandowski - Part 1
Leon Lewandowski - Part 2