Buster Keaton and Dorothy Sebastian line up their shots, 1929.
Hypothetical question: Your house is on fire. Everyone is safe. You can run in and rescue one item. What will it be?
The answer, overwhelmingly, is family photos.
We are the sum of our memories. Photos help us capture time and space, preserve moments that otherwise would be lost. I seek the ordinary, the flat reality which is otherwise invisible.
You can click each image to enlarge.
In my local Walgreens I often cruise the aisles marveling at all the varied products. I was delighted to discover an abundance of Christian candles.
On my regular morning walk I recently discovered, at the corner of Beverwil & Cisco, this leftist graffiti. Imbeciles.
I know, this looks like an abstract expressionist canvas from one of Jackson Pollock's ten million imitators. In fact, Casa Avrech was recently painted. The courtyard wall was smothered in Ivy which the painter spent a full day removing. This is the ghostly impression that remained.
A graphically striking garage in Santa Monica.
Approaching the 10 Freeway on Robertson Boulevard I spotted this graphic—which made my eyes bleed. The message is pitched in English and Spanish to drunk drivers, a class of people who, I believe, should have their licenses revoked.
Every morning during my walk I pass this home with white picket fence. It makes me think of the Andy Hardy films, the MGM series starring Mickey Rooney that celebrated the American family. Each film was a moral lesson in which young Andy learned some small measure of wisdom.
Maayan Ariel, American.
Karen and I wish all our friends and relatives a lovely and meaningful Shabbat.