Getting the good light…

Most of you know that I’ve always harbored a secret love of photography. And now that I’m looking at DC with less of a jaundiced eye, I am finding some really good shots. It’s hard to think about taking pictures when all that’s on your mind is dashing to the Metro and getting to your car before the rush home starts in earnest. The last couple of days, I’ve had time to really walk around the monumental core of the city and watch how the light moves on it. With so much sculptural detail, it’s a really magnificent study in shadow and depth. Just sitting at the reflecting pool, or lurking in the trees along the north and south ends of the building give you a chance to get a sense of the building. I think the ones I posted here are a good example set of what I took early yesterday evening.

I’ve always liked to take pictures early in the morning or late in the afternoon. Getting the good horizontal light that softens the edges without sacrificing detail. Sure, you can shoot tourist shots at high noon and be perfectly happy with getting Aunt Franny and Uncle Cletus in the frame with the bottom half of the dome. You can even control aperture speed to compensate for the harsh mid-day light, but you lose something in the translation. I’ve never quite figured out how to keep everything from washing out on the edges even at high speed. For me, the hour between 6 and 7 is almost perfect; exhausted tourists are heading off to dinner and most of the staffers have started to clear out. And you have this window of opportunity where the sidewalks are deserted, the light is perfect. If you’re quick, you can even manage to avoid getting the ubiquitous Capitol Police in the picture. Pictures with people are a pet peeve of mine… I want pictures of the thing, not the thousands of jackasses who came to see the thing. Any time I can get some good pictures, unobstructed by Skippy and Suzy Dragknuckle and their 3 kids, I’ve had a good day.

Playing Tourist…

I never really stopped to play tourist in the whole time I was working in DC. The Capitol and the White House were sort of landmarks you used when giving someone directions about how to get from point A to point B. They were just sort of “there,” but not something you ever really paid a good deal of attention to. I certainly never toted a camera around town between meetings and I guess that’s why I was so pleased with how some of my pictures from last week turned out. I was lucky enough to find a hotel downtown at 16th and K and had a perfect weather in the evenings for shooting.

The heart of the empire…

It has been years since I have flown directly into Washington. Living in Baltimore, it was always more convenient for me to use BWI. This afternoon was one of those moments that gives even the cynical and jaded bastards among us a moment of pause… following the Potomac north the City spreads out from the Jefferson and Lincoln Memorials in the West (ever stopped to think that the two presidents most identified with “the west” have their memorials on the west end of the Mall?) to the dome of the Capitol in the east. It’s later afternoon and the marble of the official city of Washington is catching the last orange rays of the day’s sun. It absolutely glows. Working here for the better part of four years, you grow a little immune to the charms of this place. You never really stop to look because you’re on a mad dash to the next meeting or trying to get home before the rush hour really gets fired up.

It’s good to be back here, in this place, in the beating heart of the American empire. Of course it’s even better to know that all I have to do is walk downstairs and hail a cab in the morning and someone else will drive me to work, too.

Right back where we started from…

I’m due back in DC on Friday to sit in on a 45 minute briefing. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to feel wanted, needed even, but shuttling back and forth between Memphis and the capital of the free world is a little wearing. It’s not so much the flight itself, as that is only a quick two hours and barely enough time to serve drinks, but the two hour ordeal that is checking in and waiting to board, playing Russian roulette with your luggage, and the hour ride back to where you are staying that makes it something to be avoid whenever possible. I’m sure there was a time when travel like this was fun, and maybe it would be if it were for purely personal reasons, but there’s something about working all day, dashing to catch the last flight out, and then needing to show up at 6:30 the next morning looking well rested and put together that makes you wonder.

I could even almost justify it in my own mind if the pain and agony were for something more than 45 minutes. I stopped wondering why the government is in hock up to its eyeballs a long time ago… know what I mean?

A rant on rails…

I’ve never tried to run a railroad, but I love things that are organized, so I think I could make a pretty good show if it. Unfortunately, the people at Metro (who have been running a sort of “mini-railroad” for the better part of 30 years) seem to either have an intense hatred for organization or are simply incompetent. This, however, isn’t a rant specifically aimed at Metro’s leadership. Rather it is a rant pointed directly at the asshats who are my fellow riders.

The Green Line was delayed this afternoon due to some maintenance fuck-up down the track and as a result, trains were packed to capacity. Yet every time one pulled into the station, the great unwashed sea of humanity surged forward in an effort to cram themselves onto the already full cars… If you are getting the image of salmon leaping over themselves on their way up the rapids to their ancestral spawning grounds, you’re getting the right idea.

I’m never quite sure what thought goes through someone’s head when they think they are going to fit in the several inches of space between people already standing on the train. They apparently look in the mirror and have some sort of interesting disorder… their body image and the real world are completely at odds. I may be a pasty, white widebody, but I have enough of a concept of my own general dimensions to realize I am not going to fit in the 6-inch gap between some guys left shoulder and the door. Sometimes I wonder what actually goes on in people’s heads when they clearly are doing something stupid, but usually my give-a-shit isn’t strong enough to spend much time pondering on it.