Cycle protesters at the Ferry building, San Francisco.

Four days, barely enough to sip at this richly mixed cocktail. Still, long enough to lead one from temperance to temptation. Even allowing for the sharp relief of coming directly from that empty promise of a city Las Vegas, SF was a heady pleasure.

Contrast abounds: Relaxed yet bold in championing  freedoms; coldly commercial yet bohemian; sophisticated yet apparently indifferent to the squalor found within a block or two. The city is a flamboyant enigma.

Occupy San Francisco was particularly poignant. All stripes of life forsaking their daily routines and comforts to take a stand against marginalization of “the 99%” by a political and financial elite. However, moving from earnest protest to constructive engagement for such a patchwork of ideologies may be its unravelling, but for now lets hope that the Occupy groups across America saying “enough is enough” are indeed enough to reshape the dialogue in this wonderful,  deeply flawed land.

You might lose your shirt in Vegas, but in San Francisco it’s your heart you have to keep a hold of. Waiter another cocktail when you’re ready please….

(Follow this link or click the photo to see more images from my trip.)

“No city invites the heart to come to life as San Francisco does. Arrival in San Francisco is an experience in living.”

William Saroyan 1908-1981 (American writer known for his stories celebrating the joy of living in spite of poverty)

There I was strolling peacefully through the woods (location undisclosed to protect the not very innocent) camera in hand wondering what small gems of photographic inspiration I might stumble across, when I heard what I thought was someone having a wisdom tooth extracted  up ahead.

With each tepid step forward the moans grew stronger (perhaps she was having a root canal too?) then some leaves started to move (I’m pretty sure the earth wasn’t moving; at least not for me) And there they were “In Fauna Fornicatus” as the Latin would have it, right next to the path.

Peeping through the fingers of my hand, (a hand drawn rapidly up to shield my eyes from such leafy lustiness) I was bemused that could he not have noticed me just inches away? (I say he because she was clearly at the “gas & air” stage of the procedure by now) Perhaps he thought it wisest just to keep his head down and press on, after all isn’t that what we all do in a crisis?  Or perhaps he, like she was so lost in a such a pure untainted moment of physical rapture that the world beyond his lovers arms was just a vague blur?

I chose not to ask for clarification, but to confront my own dilemma; Should I cough loudly, wait for them to rearrange themselves and proceed to give them a stern talking to about the dangers (both moral & physical) of such outdoor activities (not to mention the the likely negative impact on the local rambling community) or should I, as a photographer who takes a delicious joy in trying to capture life’s everyday oddness take the shot? Well dear reader, as you see I am but a weak and fallible man. Although I shall in future derive slightly more pleasure from visiting the dentist than I used to.

(Click the image to see more of my images, which for the most part are both wholesome and safe for work)

BMX Bikers

When schools’ out, chances are you’ll find gangs of high rollers down at the local skate park by Millennium Place. Talented, cool and carefree about all the cuts & bruises that come with learning that next monster move, they yell competitive encouragement to each other across the bright hard concrete. When the girls come around, the jumps get  bolder and the chat a little sharper, and when the sun sets, they slip away.

(To see more  please click the image or here)

Like all good friends, trees share so much and ask for so little. They wait for us and never complain if we don’t show up, and when we do they’re happy to listen to our stories without interrupting.  They’re strong in the face of adversity, yet tender to those who need them.  How lucky we are to have trees like these.

(Click the image to see more of my good friends from Sherwood Park)

Walk just a few blocks from it’s pumping heart and you find a part of Edmonton more like a gangrenous limb; where the city’s drugged, drunk or desperate collect in the back alleys of low rent stores. Wesley just wanted to be alone, out of plain view, out of harms way, till he could turn up at one of the hostels in the district sober enough to be given a bed, and if not he’d grab some sleep under a bridge by the river. Robbed repeatedly, his guard was up, who can blame him.

After walking the district for  a few sunny hours, meeting more like Wesley whose life had somehow slipped from the grip of their cracked calloused hands, I went home; to safety, to comfort and to the love of my family. I know there are no easy solutions to the problems of homelessness in our cities, but as I laid a little less peacefully than usual in my bed, I felt shamed and unsettled that with all we have we do not do more.

Each day after I finished teaching, if the weather & light allowed I would say a little to prayer to St. Serendipity, the patron saint of street photography, and head off to unexplored parts of town.  And each day, just when I thought perhaps she’d been too busy to pick up my voicemail, she replied, but always in a different, unexpected way. As Robert Doisneau said:

“The marvels of daily life are exciting; no movie director can arrange the unexpected that you find in the street.”

To see the the full series click here.

Although manicured golf courses, theme parks and old ladies with heads like china dolls would not usually figure on my list of things to see on vacation, overall it was surprisingly good fun; The coastline was a real joy to behold, especially on the 5am that I saw it; raw, powerful and vast. The theme parks were pretty good, although wildly expensive once you were inside, and the kids naturally just loved the whole experience. Overall the people were friendly, had clean nails and most of their own teeth.

Back behind the snow banks of Sherwood Park, I miss the 24hr hot tubs, the endless boulevards lined with palm trees and the countless opportunities to wander into wonderful photographic scenes. Mickey ears off, long Johns back on, snow shovel in hand. Hasta la vista California, we’ll be back.

(click the photo to see more images from our trip)

Sometimes, it pays not to plan anything.