10th Avenue

SW 10th Avenue, Portland, OR, September 2009. Kodak TMY.

Portland really is a transportation city. It seems that we can never have enough different modes of transportation, much less use them as officially intended. We have light rail that behaves like a metro, commuter trains trying to behave like light rail, and last but not least a streetcar that sometimes behaves like a streetcar, but other times tries to be something more like light rail as well. Then there’s the busses, cars, boats and ships, and oddities like the aerial tram.

The end result is that by-and-large there’s always something moving in town, always some vehicle loaded with people going to and fro different places. It’s also a cacophony of sharp edges and curves, smooth shiny reflections and grime, stillness and motion. It makes Portland — and especially downtown — a target rich environment.

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Review: Classic Steam: Timeless Photographs of North American Steam Railroading

Classic Steam: Timeless Photographs of North American Steam Railroading

By John Gruber. Forward by William L. Withun. Fall River Press, 387 Park Avenue South, New York, New York 10016; http://www.sterlingpublishing.com/imprints?imprint=Fall+River+Press; 12.25 x 12.8 in; hardbound; 224 pages, 43 color and 248 b/w photos, $19.98

The steam era of railroading in North America remains one of the most evocative subjects in transportation history. The period has become a romanticized, almost stereotyped part of the American narrative, part-and-parcel of our national myth along side Paul Revere, wagon trains on the Oregon Trail, and the storied two-lane blacktop of Route 66. Even to those far too young to have witnessed the steam era, the iconography of the word “train” remains the cartoon-like image of a steam locomotive, huffing and chuffing, belching steam, smoke, and cinders. In Classic Steam: Timeless Photographs of North American Steam Railroading, author John Gruber attempts to take us on a photographic trip back to that era.

The book opens with a forward by William L. Withuhn, a curator at the Smithsonian and author of a previous work along similar themes, the volume Spirit of Steam from the mid 1990s. As Withuhn notes, Classic Steam is meant to be a follow-on to that volume. The forward text — like all subsequent texts throughout this rather hefty volume — is short, and frames the work as a collection of photographs of the late steam era in the United States.

Following the forward, Gruber presents us with a three page introduction, by far the longest stretch of text in the entire work. Much of the text discusses the steam locomotive itself, rather than railroading in the steam era in a general sense. Although Gruber does briefly — and perhaps presciently — mention the influence of photographers Lucius Beebe and Charles Clegg on the cultural image of the steam era railroad, this text is primarily a short nostalgic romp, even going so far as to rope in a mention of Lionel toy trains and the author’s grandson.

Next come eight chapters, each containing a multitude of photographs. Each chapter is themed: shortlines, narrow gauge, local passenger trains, luxury named trains, mainline railroads, people, stations, and steam in preservation today. These themes are not always immediately evident, however, as some chapter titles carry quotes such as “Connections to…” and no explanatory deck. Following the title is a short text — about 200 words or less on average — that provides a bit more explanation, but little in the way of additional detail. After this brief interlude of text — opposite a full page image — we launch into the meat of the chapter, consisting of primarily black-and-white images. Although some images are shown at less than a quarter page, most are bigger, and many are shown either full page (and full bleed) or double truck.

Also interspersed within each chapter are what could best be described as mini features, each relating to the chapter’s theme. These usually consist of 2-3 images across a two-page spread, accompanied by a text of some sort, usually about the action caught within the images themselves. Following the last chapter is an index, a brief listing of biographies for some of the photographers of the book, and some other housekeeping material.

Having almost no interpretive text, this book is dedicated to the images themselves. Gruber has chosen to give us a rich range of photographers, including the likes of J. Parker Lamb, Richard Steinheimer, David Plowden, Jim Shaughnessy, and Phil Hastings. He also gives us outsiders like Farm Services Administration (FSA) photographers Gordon Parks and Jack Delano. (A number of the latter’s precious color images adorn the book.) We also get work from less well known photographers such as Frank Barry, James P. Gallagher, and John Shaw, and a number of others. Finally, the author includes a number of his own images. Each photograph in the work is accompanied by insightful, sometimes lengthy captions.

A number of images stick out as notable. One of the finer conventional scenes is that on page 29, a photograph of a small Texas shortline by Fred Springer. A small, generic looking steam locomotive approaches across a blank, rolling grassland, belching out a plume of smoke with the depth of black usually associated with burning tires. To the left and far away are some low scrubby ridges, and to the right there is only a boney old pole line, receding into the lonestar distance. There is a vast emptiness here that is timeless. On page 40, we have a view from a similar region, this time Colorado and a scrappy narrow gauge line from that state. The photographer, Barclay Robsinson, has shot from the roof top of some of the train’s boxcars, looking up towards the head end and against the sun. Two plumes of dense black exhaust pile skyward, one from the lead engine, and one from a helper tucked in mid-train. It is not just a photograph of a train, it is a classic photograph of the mythic West. Looking at this image, one almost expects to see Wyatt Earp riding down the dreaded red-sashed cowboys on the flanks of the distant rolling hills.

More precious, perhaps, are some of the human interest photographs. An image on page 102 from the Arthur Dubin collection at Lake Forest College shows a worker at Chicago Union Station in 1938, adjusting a new electric sign for the Pennsylvania Railroad. There is only the monolithic sign with its promises of escape, and the face of the worker awash in its reflected glow. What is there, beyond the darkness, between the worker and the sign? The picture is sharp and precise, and the years between the viewer and the viewed fall away into the shadows. Another image of labor and the steam era is found on page 153, in a photograph of a young hostler in Winnepeg, Manitoba helping to refuel a locomotive with coal. Taken by FSA veteran Gordon Parks, the hostler is fresh faced and caught mid-work, with no artifice or pose, his hair tossed in the breeze and his feet lost in the swirl of blurry coal dust. The photograph does display some odd yellow haze, as if it had once been toned, but despite the flaws it remains fresh, almost cinematic.

The last two images I will mention are both panoramas, but very different ones and from different eras. The first is a photograph by Esther Bubley of the New York Central’s yards at Weehawken, New Jersey, found on page 174. Apparently taken in the 1930s, the photo shows a busy, gritty yard beside the Hudson River as a short train departs below the highly-set camera. Taking up the upper quarter of the image, beyond the river, is the classic skyline of Manhattan, triumphantly centered on the ghostly presence of the Empire State Building. Few images so well capture the era of American industrial progress. Just looking at it gives one the urge to break out the Monopoly game board. Displaying an equally breathtaking but completely opposite scene is Joel Jensen’s black-and-white panorama of a Union Pacific steam special, found spread across pages 210 and 211. Pushed far down to the bottom of the frame is the train — the entire length of it, from it twin steam locomotives at the head end to the observation car at the rear. Hovering over the train is a sweep of exhaust, and above it all is a sky that is vast, tumultuous, and heavy with portents of rain and change.

Classic Steam puzzled me from the first glance. This is a thick volume — it is over 200 pages after all, and weighs a total of five pounds. It is, in short, a tank, with a massive amount of content stuffed into it. Between the sheer number of images and (at first) unclear organizational method, it seems to lack focus. Upon cracking it open for the first time, one wonders, is it a book on locomotives? The forward suggests not, the introduction doesn’t really clue us in either way, and the first chapter with its nebulous title is primarily a collection of locomotive pictures. While the book is more than locomotive-centric, this makes for a misleading start. Even after grasping the organizational idea, there’s still the feeling that there’s just too much there. The book would benefit from tighter organization, or less overall content, or best of all more text to provide a narrative upon which to hang this large collection of images.

It is only after considering the broad range of photographic talent within the volume that the book begins to make some sense. Classic Steam is not a comprehensive illustrated history, nor a book about the photography of steam era railroading. Instead, it is a general pictorial, in every way the spiritual successor to the many works of Beebe and Clegg, mentioned by Gruber in his introduction and included among the ranks of the photographers in the book. Like this duo, Gruber includes a wide selection of the best photographers, has a ranging taste in subjects, and happily includes his own (thoroughly deserving) photographs along side those of his contributors.

Regarding quality and finish, this is a mass market book, produced for sale at Barnes & Noble, and as such there are a number of compromises that have been made to bring the price down. Most notably, the cover stock is printed paper over board, much like a college text book. This likely will not hold up as well long-term as a cloth covered binding. The book does come with a dust jacket, printed with the same colorful design as the cover, but in true B&N fashion it will likely have a large price sticker slapped on the front, as mine did. Overall, the size of the book is massive, to the point that it feels almost too large for holding in ones lap; this truly is a coffee table book. Fortunately, the spine does allow the book to lay fairly flat, and the double-truck images thus are displayed fully and excellently.

Image reproduction is acceptable, but there are many cases where the darks of an image have become somewhat blocky and dense. Having printed black-and-white before and seen many prints in person, I suspect that there were subtle midtones and darks that were lost in the printing. That said, this is a generalist book and it is unlikely that the audience it is intended for will notice this. There are a couple of odd choices, however. Although the quality of images chosen is generally high, a few images were sourced from prints that appear to have been made in rather dusty darkrooms that were not equipped with spotting brushes. (This can perhaps be forgiven, however, considering the rarity and likely lack of negatives for some of these images.) Worse, though, is the leading image of chapter eight, a shot of an East Broad Top locomotive wreathed in steam. The color image blatantly displays heavy pixelization, as if the image were a low quality JPEG from the Internet that had only been used by mistake.

Overall, Classic Steam is one of the more comprehensive photographic anthologies of steam era railroading produced in the last half century. Unlike many consumer oriented generalist books, Gruber has assembled an “all-star” cast of photographers and content. Although the book has some flaws — mostly due to a lack of enough text “backbone” — it is a huge endeavor and when the price is considered it becomes likely the best book deal in a long long time. Although the book frustratingly lacks much in the way of an interpretive history, a photographer may find this to be the greatest bargain way of sampling some of the most meaningful railroad photographers of the mid 20th Century. In addition, those with a general interest in railroad history or those seeking a gift for a young person with a budding interest in railroads would be well advised to pick up a copy. In some ways, this successor to the tradition of Beebe and Clegg is just that, a gift to the author’s young grandson and an attempt to convey to that generation a precious experience before all traces of its memory are lost.

Classic Steam: Timeless Photographs of North American Steam Railroading is available from Barnes & Noble.

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Chairs on the Bus Mall


A brief homage to my friend Scott, who will never live down his association with chairs. From the newly refurbished TriMet Bus Mall in Portland, Oregon, September 2009.

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Ramen, soul of a city?

Anticipation is always deceiving, and nothing is ever as one imagines it. Vancouver, B.C. is both more and less than my mind had envisioned. It is less a futurist’s city, but far more human. This is especially true about the edges, or in the nooks and crannies away from the landmarks.

Denman Street and the West End is a prime example of a place where the focus is not on tourism as much as on the local, as evidenced by the presence of — tada! — that novelty, the grocery store, along with a post office and lots of small inexpensive restaurants. This is everyday Vancouver. And — perhaps this will come as no surprise — I enjoyed it far more than touristy Gastown or the shops of Granville Street. Keep Stanley Park, keep the Harbour Centre viewpoint, keep the Olympic Village. It is here at the West End (as well as places like the Chinese streets of Richmond) where the authentic Vancouver can be felt.

Kintaro: Kitchen
At Kintaro, in Vancouver, B.C.’s West End, ramen is served up from a genuine Japanese-style ramen shop.

Sitting in Kintaro — a ramen shop on Denman — I found heaven. The little shop’s kitchen is hopping with two young Japanese men, holding up the tradition of this culinary genre. Both staff and clientele are young, which bodes well for the future of the shop. Indeed, the formula must be paying off, as there are two more ramen shops within a block’s distance, and a third a bit beyond that.

Kintaro: Miso ramen with egg, and gyoza.
Ramen, gyoza, Heaven.

The noodles came tasty, swimming in a rich miso-based broth, and accompanied by the prerequisite slice of pork, hard boiled egg, and a mix of vegetables. I also ordered a plate of gyoza, succulent and hot. This is the real comfort food, the way I like it, putting a smile on my face and made with genuine love for the art of its creation.

In Portland, Kintaro would be an ethnic restaurant, a culinary lark in a solidly intellectual, liberal, Caucasian American city. But here, in a metropolitan region where less than half the population speaks English as a first tongue, Kintaro is more akin to home cooking. And that is why, to me, this bowl of ramen is the real Vancouver.

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Review: Oaks Park Pentimento


Oaks Park Pentimento: Portland’s Lost and Found Carousel Art
Photographs by Jim Lommasson. Introduction by Inara Verzemnieks. Afterword by Prudence Roberts. Oregon State University Press, 121 The Valley Library, Corvallis, OR 97331; http://oregonstate.edu/; 12.5 x 10.5 in; hardbound; 48 pages, 30 color and 9 b/w photos; $25.00

The transitory nature of art has always been fascinating. Photographs can fade, negatives can stiffen and crack and slides can succumb to color shifts and mildew. Sculptures fair little better; it has been suggested that the features on the statues of St. Mark’s Square in Venice have softened over the years, eroding away from acidic rainfall. And paintings? Even in the care of the greatest museums, many of the masters of the Renaissance onwards have developed crackled surfaces. The resulting revealed lower layers of paint are known as pentimento, but they are not confined to great canvases in the museum halls of Europe. In Oaks Park Pentimento: Portland’s Lost and Found Carousel Art, photographer Jim Lommasson explores an example of this effect on a Portland landmark, the carousel at the Oaks Park amusement park. The results, far from trivial, create a fascinating juxtaposition of Edwardian and Mid-Century cultures, as well as provide a unique encapsulation of the temporal nature of the arts.

Lommasson’s book is almost the result of an accident. During an assignment from a photography class in 1970, the photographer noted that the paintings on the central pillar of the carousel at the Oaks were peeling away, the victim of age, exposure to elements, and occasional flood waters. Lommasson only shot a single frame in black-and-white, but he returned to the Oaks over a decade later and recorded all the central panels, this time in color. It was a prescient decision: a few short years later, the panels were “restored” to their scenes of northwest scenery by a local painting club, covering over the Edwardian imagery that had been bleeding through in the pentimento.

The slim volume opens up with an introduction by journalist Inara Verzemnieks, who writes lyrically about the nature of time and art. She describes the roots of the park as a competitor to the Lewis & Clark Exposition of 1905, a place of excitement and perhaps moral danger, where young women would cozy up to young men in the darkness and be frowned upon by the local clergy for so doing. The original paintings on the carousel mimic this somewhat naive sense of adventure, with Arabian sheiks on camels, befeathered Indian chiefs, and beautiful women exhibiting a range of behaviors from stately and elegant (strolling under a parasol) to scandalous (can-can- dancing). By the 1940s, such images were dated and old fashioned, and the park had them covered over with scenic vistas of the Columbia Gorge and other northwest scenes, all far more family friendly and far more in keeping with the highway-centric provincial boosterism notions of the era. Yet, as the surface images degraded, they began to merge with the lower layers, almost as if they were interacting with each other, a process that Verzemnieks relates in a haunting way.

Following the excellent introduction, Lommasson provides a short text describing how and why he shot the images of the carousel’s central riding panels, and then come the 18 large color plates. The most striking image is perhaps that of the woman with a parasol, with the Columbia Gorge Highway circling about her legs leading to the Vista House located rather provocatively between her thighs. It is such a strange image, almost like an intentional double-exposure on film, and yet, there was no artist for these images. Yes, there were the artists who painted the original panel of the woman, and also two later artists — the eccentric Chase brothers — who painted the scene of the highway and river. But who painted this image, this amalgamation? Time, nature, God? No human hand with intent created this image. For that matter, is the art in question here the painted panels themselves, or Lommasson’s photographs? Who is the artist, and what is the art? The lines all blur here in ways that are similar to graffiti art. Everything about the panels is provocative.

The book wraps up with an afterword by art historian Prudence Roberts. Roberts tells the story of the panels, from their creation by anonymous immigrant artistis at the carousel factor in 1912 to their repainting by off-beat brothers Waldo Spore and William Corbin Chase. The Chases were painters and wood-block printers, part of the larger arts-and-crafts movement. They were also highly unconventional, living for a time in a teepee in the woods of Western Washington State. The text is accompanied by images of the park and works of the talented Chase brothers.

Overall, the book succeeds in placing the carousel panels in a much larger context of art and regional culture. The texts are rich, and the images largely thought provoking. If I had any critical comments, it would be that there is not enough. I would have welcomed more information on the chases, as well as on the original anonymous painters who created the Edwardian imagery. Then again, in the words of circus promoter P. T. Barnum, who would no doubt have felt at home at a place like the Oaks, “always leave them wanting more.”

The book is the typically shelf-awkward size that photography and art books assume, and it also feels rather slim. This makes it seem, at first glance, a bit pricey for its size. Although time spent pouring over the work ought to dismiss those concerns, it does remain slim enough that it just doesn’t feel good to hold in your lap and flip through. I always felt like the book was awkward and wanting to slip from my hands or lose its dust jacket. It is far easier to view set on a table top, and while that’s probably the recommended way to view any book of art or photography, I really like to relax in a nice chair with my books, and with Pentimento you just can’t do that. The images themselves are all crisp and the entire book is printed on a thick, high quality paper with a satin sheen to it.

Pentimento is a volume that explores history, artistic philosophy, and Pacific Northwest culture through a unique lens. It is far more than a book about an amusement park ride. It should prove valuable to those interested in the esoterica of Portland history, as well as those with a passion for documentary photography and painting in general.

Oaks Park Pentimento: Portland’s Lost and Found Carousel Art is available from Powell’s Books, Amazon, and directly from the publisher.

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Overeating in Richmond, B.C.

Richmond Storefronts
Storefronts in Richmond have all sorts of interesting things to see.

Recently, I visited the Vancouver, B.C. area. Among a number of goals, I had one that stood out: to sample the legendarily good Chinese food available in the suburb of Richmond.

Interacting with the culture of Richmond was an adventure of its own, especially if that adventure involves ordering something to eat. The first restaurant I tried was Top Shanghai. Although they had some English signs the predominate language spoken inside sounded like Cantonese. I immediately felt out of place, not so much for my skin, as for my lack of fitting into the social norm: every table in this place was built for eight or so, and here I was, a single patron looking for lunch. My awareness of being the only gwai low in the place did not disconcert me so much as it puzzled me: Richmond is the heart of Vancouver’s storied Asian food scene, but here I was, the only non-Asian enjoying it? What’s wrong with these people? I thought.

Richmond Storefronts
English is definitely not the predominate language in Richmond.

Perhaps the menus are to blame. Mine had almost no English on it, with several pages of purely Chinese characters and only a handful of items with English descriptions. I looked on the bright side: there was no way I had time, even if I spent all the rest of my stay at the restaurant, to sample everything on the menu, so this helped me to narrow my choices.

When I ordered the Shanghai Style Pork — they are a Shanghai style restaurant, so it made sense to try what they ought to be best at doing — the waitress seemed perplexed. She brought over an older woman who tried to explain something to me that seemed very important. Bones kept being mentioned, and I indicated that was fine, fine. Perhaps my nice shirt and tie made them think I didn’t want them? Or was she so used to the Caucasian obsession with personal health and fitness that the ordering of a bony, fatty cut of meat was surprising? For a split second, I considered that maybe I had just ordered a dish of marrow. No matter, this is an adventure, I thought to myself; try something new even if it was the wrong thing to order. I just nodded and encouraged them, and with one last check back — “They ribs. Pork ribs. Okay?” I confirmed my order and sat waiting, drinking tea and reviewing some of the day’s photos on the digital camera.

Shanghai Style Pork
Top Shanghai’s Shanghai Style Pork.

Having cycled through the photos on the camera, my food arrived, a large pile of lustrous deep brown, short-cut spareribs that smelled luscious. As if my insistence on ordering them had made some sort of difference, I could feel the mood change in my servers. Suddenly, I was attended to often, albeit in a discrete and non-intrusive way. Did I need some rice? It appeared in a bowl shortly after. When my plate began to fill with bones, a new clean one quickly arrived unbidden. And the ribs? Moist, tender, succulent. Were they worth the trip all the way here for? I was not convinced that I couldn’t find some similarly good food at home if I looked hard enough, but at the same time, consider, my choice of restaurant had been a shot in the dark, as had my selection from the menu, and they had arrived delicious and without fault, not dull or oversalted or greasy in the least. The same could not be said of picking a random Chinese restaurant in Portland and picking a random menu item.

Although I had done what I had not planned to do — finish an entire plate of ribs — I still had enough room left to try one more place before heading back. My next stop was HML Seafood, located on the second floor of a newer building and offering Dim Sum until 3 o’clock. Inside, the atmosphere was a bit like a modern hotel ballroom, with rich carpet and upholstery, pinkish walls, and crystal chandeliers. There was no overwrought Suzy-Wong-dancing-with-a-dragon theme here. The dining room was relatively packed, with only a half dozen or so tables empty. I was amazed and impressed, however, to note that they had tables set up for two and four people as well as the prerequisite Chinese restaurant staple of the 8 person round. Plus, the smaller tables were not shoved into some corner by the restrooms, but in the thick of things where a good view of the dining room could be had. The staff here all dressed up in rather nicely cut suits bringing a very professional air, and they glided about the room in silent stately grace.

Alas, I did myself in here, deciding to be a little more experimental. My order: superior shrimp dumplings, custard bao, and — yes, I’ve seen Anthony Bourdain in Indonesia, and yes I ordered it anyway, or perhaps even because of that — baked durien pastries. The dumplings were excellent, although not necessarily unobtainable at home. The custard bao was unique, but a bit difficult to eat as anytime you bit into one a hot stream of orange custard would gush out. (Fortunately, none of it landed on my clothes.) The flavor was sweet — perhaps too sweet for me, but still interesting.

And the durien pastries? Well I bit into them skeptically, expecting the horror story of their smell to suddenly cause me to be caught in a foul yellow cloud of stench that would drive my fellow diners away. I was surprised, and maybe even a bit disappointed, but they simply weren’t that bad. There was no foul odor, and Bourdains’ description of a “stinky cheese” didn’t really come to mind. At the same time, there was a slightly off vegetal taste to them that didn’t encourage me to finish one, much less eat the other two. When the waiter came back with the check, he made a double take and stopped to ask if there was anything wrong with the pastries. I denied it, stating only that I could eat no more; I did not want him to offer to take them back and replace them with something else merely because I had made the mistake of ordering something I had not in the end liked.

Waterfront Station
The Canada Line makes for a quick trip to Richmond, earning it the nickname of the “Orient Express.”

Sadly, my list of things to do on my stay in Vancouver was long, and I didn’t get a chance to eat again in Richmond. The experience, however, was good, like a tantalizing appetizer. Without question, the new SkyTrain Canada Line had made exploring the area much easier, and I am looking forward to returning to the area on my next visit to try another couple of restaurants. Or three. Or more!

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2009: Ten Favorite Images

Well its now the end of 2009, and it’s time again for the ten favorite images routine. This year I noticed that although many photos were made near the rail environment, none of them fit a conventional train theme. Instead, urban and built environment subjects are becoming more predominate in my work.

As with the previous two years, the order is chronological, and clicking on the image will yield the image’s Flickr page.

* * *
1.

0068-B-22
February in Portland, and a real urban survivor shows up on the streets in the form of an International Harvester Metro van. (It was in use by a window washer service.) This was part of a test roll for a friend’s Nikon FG, picked up at a garage sale for under $10. The film, of course, is T-Max.

2.

Red
King Street Station, Seattle, in March, looking down the stairs at the platforms for the commuter trains to Tacoma and Everett. A single figure in red makes her way to a train home.

3.

Jackson Street Stairs, King Street Station
Another image from March in Seattle, this one from one of the less restored sections of King Street Station.

4.

Taxis, King Street
Yet another King Street shot from Seattle in March, this one of some rather interesting automotive subjects. Can’t get too much more contrasty than this.

5.

IMG_4190
Breakfast Every Day! The only way service at the Dockside could get better is if they served breakfast all day, too. July.

6.

0073-B-32
In July, I got reacquainted with an old friend: my first SLR, a Pentax K-1000. One of the first rolls through it was a heavily transit filled one, and included this shot, taken on the TriMet Bus 15 to Montgomery Park. Kodak TMY.

7.

07
Another Pentax shot, again on Kodak TMY, this time of a gellateria in Northwest Portland, not far from Powell’s Books. A very hot day in August.

8.

Bridge within a bridge
In December, looking west towards the Steel Bridge on a cold evening. The structure is seen through the foil of a pedestrian and bike overpass over the Union Pacific tracks on the east bank of the Willamette.

9.

High Rises even here
Still later in December, I visited Vancouver, B.C., where I caught this image on the G9. Something about the way the building towered up over Gastown made me think of the original (1995) Ghost in the Shell movie, with it’s Hong Kong inspired towers.

10.

Kintaro: Kitchen
My last shot is also from Vancouver in December, in this case from a ramen shop called Kintaro, in the city’s West End neighborhood.

* * *
And that wraps up 2009. To be frank, most of these are snapshots from the G9, usually shot to accompany posts on civics21, a blog about public policy and politics. As a result, few of these are images I’d consider as intended to be art. That said, the amount of film I shot during the year was possibly among the highest I have ever shot, and I am adding to my negative files rather rapidly. In addition, I have a number of photography projects I am working on but that are not yet ready for airing. I may get to finishing at least one or two of them in 2010. Stay tuned.

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