Rain. Walking. Those damn Leica cameras. Diopter Philosophy. Fake reminisces of teachers from long ago. Pretend Elitism and much more.

In my experience there is no such thing as "free" coffee. It almost always comes with

strings attached. Yep. It's a pop up church in downtown. The coffee is a lure. You join

in and you're tithing forever. Avoid free coffee. Invest your pocket change.

It was like movie rain last night. Giants pounding the roof of the house with boulders of rain. Torrents. Like machine gun fire. More flashes of lightning than electronic flashes at a group swimsuit model shoot meet up. Thunder that made one think they were living inside a timpani drum, surrounded by hundreds of other timpani drums all being beaten by hundreds of monkeys, all jacked up on speed. Well that may be overstating things but it did rain, thunder and lightning a lot last night. We did miss out on wind damage, hail and tornados. Thank goodness since we just got all the furniture moved back into our living room yesterday afternoon. It would be a pity to see the whole house destroyed on the very next day...

(Joe, go look at the comments from the previous post. I answered your ??? about the flooring...).

Last week was a lost photographic week; at least to my mind. The action at SXSW was lame. The streets were as gray as the participants and the weather... well the weather was great whenever it was my turn to be at home supervising the floor install and miserable when it was my time for unsupervised  recreation. I never mind swimming in blah weather but I do get put off about doing photography when the sun hides its face. 

I decided that today I needed to go out and walk (gotta get in those 10K steps...) and spend some quality time with one of my cameras. I pulled out the camera that started my current deep dive into Leica M stuff out of the equipment drawer and put the 35mm lens on it. Then I headed downtown for a lively walk and a search for non-free coffee. 

I often wonder what other people think about when they head out to photograph. I tend to think about all the images I've seen from the 1940s, 1950s, 1960s and 1970s that look so incredibly interesting now. Images that document post world war culture, the rise of the enormous American middle class, the protests and hippies of the 1960s, and the big recession and the (short lived) death of big cars when the gas crisis hit. Many thanks to our dear Saudi friends who engineered the first major gas shortages of the post war years. And helped deliver to us an awesome recession.

In each era the hairstyles, the clothing, the shoes, the cars, the signage in restaurant windows and the amazing billboards are fascinating because they are so different from our normal diet of visual items and trends today. I think that, if I make the right kinds of photographs and then wait 20 or 30 years they too will be the proof of how weird the era we are living through right now will seem. Red "gimme" caps? Black tights on chubby people? Tattoos? Fads like bidets for dogs? Entrepreneurs mostly selling apps that do something for you that you used to do more quickly and easily with a ballpoint pen and a pad of paper? Entrepreneurs still trying to perfect instant red wine? Electric vehicles which were originally intended to save the environment now the victims of car design steroids and dwarfing pre-EV cars in size, weight and total energy consumption; and doing so at three times the price of the cars we used to buy back before the turn of the century? What an enormous cluster fuck we're living through. And I'm here to document it so some smart ass thirty years from now can make glib comments about how stupid we were back when. Yeah, I actually think about stuff like this when I leave the house with a camera in my hands. It helps. Or maybe not...

I thought the rain was all done when I locked my car in its usual spot, just across from The Treaty Oak, and took off toward the hike and bike trail. I didn't think I needed a jacket, a hat, a camera bag, etc. I was reveling in the cool, clean touch of the air on my face. I dangled my camera around my neck on a light brown leather strap, letting it hang down just so in the center of my chest, at the bottom of my sternum, just like a tourist in a strange land. All that was missing was a pork pie hat, some Bermuda shorts and some white "athletic" socks plunging down into a pair of joggers with thick, bouncy soles. And maybe a pair of mirrored sunglasses. (If I seem to be typing a bit funny it's because I got a new desk yesterday and I'm not used to it yet. I'll start researching desks in this coming week and make sure I have the optimum one for writing. There are so many to choose from and I want to make sure that my fifth grade writing teaching, Mrs. Smithington-Wells (who claimed my writing was so good it was destined to change the world...) isn't turning over in her grave because of grammatical mistakes I can vaguely attribute to external causes). 

I was about a mile into the walk, just wandering through the park near the Dougherty Arts Center when the rain renewed its interest in making my day more interesting and began pelting me with big, juicy drops of cold water. I know that a Leica M240 can stand a bit of rain but I hate to be unprepared if nature really lets loose with a fusillade of ferocious raindrops. I had visions of Mr. Plegly, my first scout master, dropping by the house to strip me of a handful of merit badges. Though he often said my ham radio merit badge was earned through exceptional work mastering the frequencies. But nothing equals the work I did in the cub scouts with my Pinewood Derby racer... My she was yar. (Movie reference anyone? Your turn to shine... Hint: Cary Grant).

So, you've got that rangefinder camera in your hands, the rain is coming down, you are at least a mile from your car. What do you do? I looked around to see if there was a doggie poop bag dispenser any where in the vicinity. Nope. I looked through the park and over to Barton Springs Rd. where I spotted a convenience store. I hustled through the sloppy rain and went in. It has been decades since I've been in a convenience store. Like a 7-11. They haven't changed a bit. Are those Swisher Sweet cigars over there, behind the counter? They sure are.  I asked for a plastic bag and the guy behind the counter made gruff noises but then handed one over. With my new, impermeable accessory I could venture back out into the "deluge"  and keep heading toward my destination, the open air coffee shop called, Jo's. South Congress Ave. Right next to the San Jose Hotel.

Rain can make stuff look so different. The homeless are bent on getting to shelter and so just glance when passing by - instead of asking for cash. The colors are more saturated. The distant details blurrier. I was so happy I'd chosen Keen's hiking shoes instead of my usual Birkenstocks. The rain would make mush out of the cork soles on those oh-so delicate German sandals. 

When it's 58° outside and one is wearing a fairly light shirt over jeans one tends to look for shortcuts to the target destination. When one is soaked then one tends to shorten the estimated time of arrival by a good bit via faster locomotion. My philosophy teacher at St. Xavier school in Cincinnati, Dr. Blevins, taught me the expandable and contractible natures of context. He said I "got it" quicker than just about every other student ever. I forget what I replied because I was only there to swim with the Cincinnati Pepsi Marlins Swim Club. Indulgent parents indeed. At any rate, with the camera covered and safe I made good time to the order window at Jo's where I requested a nice cappuccino and a bacon, egg and cheese breakfast taco on a flour tortilla. Not sure whether my cardiologist would approve of the menu d'jour but as I've told him many times, "This is life. It's not a contest." His rebuttal? He hands me a printed sheet with a new recipe for lentil soup and kale. In a wry and subversive twist I add a half a pound of sausage to the recipe before handing it over to our cook. 

If clouds are deep and thick and moist (and which clouds are not moist?) I advise folding up a right sized plastic bag and putting it in a convenient pocket. Just in case. You'll likely thank yourself on that one time you get stuck out in the downpour. Lie and take credit for your preparedness.

I used to have no love for the 35mm lenses of this world. My north star was always the 50mm lens and, given the right opportunity, the 85mm lens. But in my high school typing and genome mapping class I was the odd man out. Most of the other students in my school swore by the 35mm lens and swore at me for my heretical preference. But lately I've softened my rhetoric and am now ready to admit that the 35mm lens can be quite a good choice for casual imaging. Especially for a day like today when, every once in a while, one wants to do a mild amount of zone focusing, and I have to admit that in instances like this the 35mm is the better choice when compared to the 50mm. Any wider than 35mm? Bite your tongue. 

I was just about soaked when I made it to Jo's. Ordered my cappuccino and my taco and I sat at the little faux bar overlooking the sidewalk that overlooks the street and enjoyed some casual people watching while haphazardly ingesting my frugal fare. Then I turned around and made some photographs of the pick up window and the people lingering around it. I love the neon signs  up on the wall surrounding the coffee portal and I really enjoy making casual snaps of the ever changing selection of couples, singles and groups nervously, calmly, happily waiting for their particular cup of caffeine to be announced. I take a lot of frames with my camera because people are animated. Sometimes multiple people's faces can be seen from the camera position and sometimes their gestures and body language become more interesting over time. Taking only one or two frames seems like only checking one or two tires before taking a thousand mile journey in one's car....

Jim Thomas asked in yesterday's blog about how best to navigate diopters and viewfinders when one becomes eligible to wear bifocals. And in my case, progressive lensed glasses. Here's my non-answer answer and I genuinely hope it's helpful even if it's nothing more than commiseration. 

If I know a camera well, and don't need to frequently check image reviews or menu items while out shooting, I find the correct diopter that gives me very sharp focus on the rangefinder patch and in the rangefinder window and ditch the glasses. I can still see fairly well in the range of about 2.5 feet to about  50 feet. At the longer range I'm better off augmenting with glasses. And in the closest range I definitely need optical help to read type and assess sharpness. I use a plus two diopter with the Leica M cameras. It provides as sharp or sharper a finder image than when depending on my bifocals or progressive lenses. But what this means is that I generally carry my glasses somewhere on my person so I can use them if I do need to consult the menu for any reason. Or if I find a convenient Wall St. Journal or NYTimes at a coffee shop and want to catch up on reasonably recent news. Today I had my favorite pair of glasses hanging off the front of my shirt collar just in case I needed them --- but not for viewfinder use. 

Now, most of the time, I can manage without the diopter on the finder eyepiece --- if I'm wearing glasses. But...but... all bets are off when I put on the 28mm lens because the glasses prevent me from getting my eye close enough to see the full frame without having to move my eye all over the place. And that slows down the act of photographing quite a bit. Too much for my taste. My options are to use a diopter which then allows a closer eye point, or to buy and use an auxiliary, dedicated 28mm finder attachment. Which has its own limitations. I broke down and bought a 28mm, outboard, optical finder just to see which I prefer. I like the optical finder; I can see the edges of the frame better...

It's a whole different thing when I shoot with the SL or SL2 cameras. Those have built-in diopters and great viewfinders with a very high eye point. I can center the diopter dial at neutral and use my glasses. I can see all the way to the edges of the frame with no swiveling nonsense. Or, I can set the diopter adjustment at +2.0 and ditch the glasses. Since I can bring the menus up in the finder I can make camera adjustments without having to look at the rear LCD panels and the same thing with image reviews. The SL cameras are really wonderful when it comes to everything viewfinder-wise. But, they aren't M rangefinder cameras. 

I remember the day I found I needed glasses. I had recently purchased a very expensive Hasselblad camera and was using it on a photo shoot at Motorola. My assistant and I had set up lights for a group shot and when the group arrived I seemed to have some problems getting them adequately in focus. My assistant, who was twenty years younger than I, jumped in and focused the camera for best focus and we soldiered on. But with all the hubris and narcissism I learned from my oh so privileged upbringing I could not accept that the blame for being unable to achieve sharp focus lay with me. It had to be the gosh darn new camera. I boxed it up and sent it back with a pithy note about spending thousands of dollars on a product only to get a defective article. I was 46 at the time and feeling immortal and bullet proof. 

Several weeks later I got a phone call from someone with a classic, Swedish accent. He introduced himself as a tech advisor for Hasselblad. He told me that they had received my camera and, using hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of optical test and mechanical measuring equipment they had discovered that the camera in question was ..... operating ..... perfectly. 

I responded that I have always had perfect vision. His response? He asked how old I was. When I told him he said, "You did have perfect vision. But now, perhaps, you need to visit your oculist." He further added, "Most photographers I have met require some sort of eyeglasses prescription when they've reached your age..." 

He made arrangements to send the camera back to me and suggested I look into purchasing a diopter accessory after I'd visited my oculist.  This was at a time before built-in diopters were routine. He was right. A +1.0 diopter did the trick back then...

And this brings up yet another niggle. I have a Fuji GFX 50Sii. I like the camera mostly. The files are quite nice and the slight difference in depth of field compared with full frame/35mm type cameras makes me happy. But... the range of the built in diopter is limited. When I use the camera without my glasses to help me I have to move the diopter control all the way over to one extreme and when I get there it's just on the edge of being sharp enough. I could use a few more clicks in order to satisfy myself that I have the right click selected. The work around for that camera is --- just to use eyeglasses. But it still pisses me off that they included a feature that isn't universal enough to serve me.

If there is a God, and by any chance I make it to heaven, I will surely take this situation up with the management. Maybe I can get an upgrade on the supplied harp.

So, I walked back over a different bridge and into the heart of downtown. I ran into someone who knew me but, in the moment I didn't recognize him. I just flat out admitted it. Turns out I had photographed him for an accounting practice many years ago. We chatted for a few minutes and it was nice. 

I walked into the J.W. Marriott to use their restroom. The one I usually use at their hotel was closed for maintenance. I asked the concierge at the desk about the location of an alternate. He left his desk, guided me across the lobby and showed me to another restroom facility on the other side. I wondered if everyone got guided tours when asking for restroom directions but it did make me feel special. He must have recognized the Veblen heritage of my 12 year old camera and acted appropriately. I wonder if he would have been responsive at all had I been sporting a Sony instead... (attempt at humor; nothing more).

Just before making it back to my car the rain started up again. Almost as a swipe at me for having the temerity to expect a dry walk. I slipped into my car and dropped the camera onto the passenger seat. Not a drop of water on it anywhere. I headed home smugly thinking that I'd gone toe-to-toe with the rain and come out with a draw. No camera destruction and a free washing of my clothes. How lovely. 

And, I like my little Carl Zeiss 35mm Biogon ZM lens. Cute and highly functional. As well made as a Mennonite horse carriage. But without the baggage. Just another day in paradise.

A full on Yeti store with a full bar, etc. Right there on S. Congress Ave. 

I still don't get the logic of spending $500 on an ice chest. Anyone 

ever heard of Coleman? Geez. Talk about Veblen...

Looking to the east the Austin skyline is starting to look a bit like Shanghai.

I count six new high rise buildings just in the tiny Rainey Street (former)

neighborhood. More at every other point on the compass.

Shade tree mechanics?

ground zero for coffee on S. Congress. At least it's covered...

The lighting in the restrooms at Jo's comes from daylight through a red filter 

as a ceiling. It can take some adjustment.

all the plants look juicier in the rain.

I am my own drone. Okay. Okay, I was on a bridge...

trudging back to the car through our dystopian reality...