in chattanooga foodless. the time zone change at the city limits meant that most restaurants had closed. would even have settled for a subway, instead i had a stale egg salad triangle wedged sandwich and salt and vinegar crisps washed down with a poweraid at a gas bar after giving buddy waiting outside my change so he could feed his dog.

-looks like he’s dead doesn’t it?

in the motel room i pull out what pradip gave me in exchange - the third heaven - and was glad that i didn’t dally. in comparison to what he gave me, my drop off looked like something i would have brought home from kindergarden to be pasted on the refrigerator. while his was in a portfolio box, mine was wrapped in black photographic paper bags - two though mind you. while his used archival book tape to make a pristine accordion book complete with mickey mouse gloves, mine was book cloth binding four pieces of definitely non archival raw book board - it was meant to mimic the feeling of the snaps now i feel it looks pathetic. something one would make just before they were allowed to use sharp objects again.

while mine was as straight forward as us road 24 between el paso and chatsworth illinois. his ebbed and flowed circled back on itself. his was paul graham like mine weekly reader. while mine was the page version of genuflecting in front of the image his pages, spreads and images at time were so interwoven that i had to slow down and actually look.

as soon as i was marvelling at the dance between image page and spread. the premise would change. black and white, images not crowding the page, space to breathe, people.

when i thought that i had sussed this out another change. i had to stop i wanted to expand the book like i would a yamamoto but there was no place in the room to do so. the book was a shock from his website, pradip seems so calm, there is a quietness to his work that i thought mimicked his life. now i am looking at a work that vacillates between over caffeinated manic-ness that would put me to shame to the pradip that i had come to (think that i ) know.

am thinking that if he put the book in his studio i can sneak back and retrieve it before he has a chance to see it.

mal(de)function

determined not to be dithering about technologies, i loaded the machine with joãozão and clodoaldo, packed a road atlas but picked up a road map at a rest area on I-57. i had consulted google maps but determined that both options - interstate all the way and the more direct route - weren’t suitable. the direct route was hardly that. 

in truth what even what i had entered into google maps wasn’t really truthful as i was heading to baltimore via southern tennessee. one could think that i simply couldn’t take that deadly stretch of tollways through northern indiana and ohio but i had packages to deliver.

as i wrote - stopping was a problem until i did but then i was doing my usual uturns, pulling over, hoping out without locking the machine, and heading off. 

i found that i was photographing stereotypes - closed bowling alley, the many memorials along the backroads and us41, a monster truck rally stadium . didn’t try to stop myself simply added, wind farms, non descript intersections anything that would make me question rural and southern. 

thought downstate illinois too hilly, the skies to grey. thought of saskatchewan. also noticed the difference in the grain elevators - maize not wheat - and the railway - they seemed less present.

wanted more time in terre haute, vincennes and evansville.

wish that i could have stopped crossing the ohio.

liked the confusion of my primitive ways, never knew what time zone i was in always anticipated the state lines. somehow it was neat in summer to head east and lost the hour only to gain it again heading south into kentucky and tennessee. finally losing it at the chattanooga city limits. wonder if that would drive an i-phone crazy

two drop offs, one in nashville, which i knew would be relatively easy. people never look out their windows, if there was no movement, i would be safe. stopped the machine hopped out left the package on a table on the porch and drove off. 

the second would be difficult. when i wasn’t distracted by the scenery during the interstate driving. i was making plans. everything was against a seamless drop - a long driveway where i would have to do a uturn and there would be no reason to be there so i would cause curiosity. i could  park on the road and walk the 30 metres or so to the house but again movement with windows looking out where no-one is supposed to be. the tug of making time - i was even thinking of what the best time would be - duckish? dark?

leaving the interstate at mounteagle, after the climb, the coolness of the air, the lack of traffic, the local shops closed, i finally entered the domain. by then i had decided to drive in park behind the studio, hoping that if i were seen i would be perceived as some wayward farmer, drop the package off at the studio door then hightail it out farmer. 

before i could turn by the field house, i had to wait for three machines to pass. when they turned right by the stadium, i began to panic. what if the puckish platinotypist was having some sort of soirée - there weren’t too many houses left. 

quick thinking had me come up with a plan to hand the package to one of them and heading out but it seems in true hitchcockian fashion they stopped at the last house before my destination. i waved as i passed.

things looked good. no light were on but one on the upper floor.

the front screen door was open.

then things looked bad. passing the gap between the house and the studio - these poor southerners always have to have their outbuildings - i heard chatter. i saw rachel  who craned her head. 

it was too late now the only thing left was shock and awe. i parked where i had planned 

came around the side of the studio in full view, marched with purpose, handed over the packages and tried to leave hoping that they wouldn’t abandon their guests.

but a bout of manners took over, an espresso and package to take back  - the gaul having me come all the way down so that postage - substantial postage - can be saved. i made a run for it as he was getting his camera - some digital thingy no doubt - reviewing what had happened mentally. planning what i will do next time.

it is hard to arrive at that balance when an outing has a goal. having to make my way through chicago from the pissoir, when i finally hit the open road of the interstate the make time compulsion takes over. interstates help as rather than join they bypass.

this necessitates using the national - but even better - the state roads. i have to slow for towns but stopping is another problem, it is hard for me initially to synchronise my awareness with the brake pedal.

the first stage in the process of slowing down is justifying what i saw really wasn’t that great and there will probably be many more scenes that will not only be similar but better.

the second stage is registering what i saw while continuing realising that it has potential and making a u-turn some kilometres away, making use of peoples’ driveways and breaks in the two roadways in divided highways. this is the usual working method when moving at 100 clicks.

finally i anticipate, and slow when there is potential.

after a while realising that forward progress has slowed- this usually starts when i realise after mentally recalculating an estimated arrival time to be so late that finding a room and food will be impossible - i have to reverse the strategy. this is as difficult as slowing down. now everything has potential in cities i have to kill the urge to park the machine and walk away. along strips on the outskirts, there is an overload of stimuli. the continual delay doesn’t phase me as much as it should but this is where the interstate comes to the rescue. the relative sameness of the view coupled with the relative impossibility of the u-turn - off ramp, on ramp, reversed direction, pass scene, off ramp, on ramp finally the locale making sure there are no state patrols - keep me focused on the destination.

i lied.

i assured everyone at goldmiths’ that not only was i coming with enough funds to survive for at least a year but that i would have a place for my studio.

the funds ran out before the course began, and as for the studio. with less than a fortnight to go i was still at snow’s hotel, spending my time in the bar listening to the horror’s the male prostitute would have to endure by his rich clients, watching the saudi men attempting to pick up the blond aussie bar keep while buying me free beers.

i was out and about every day trying to find a place but it seemed that i was baffling all the people i had to talk to. when i asked one agent for a place south of the river - this is 1980 remember - there was this blank stare as if all she could think of was brighton.

one agent became angry when i insisted on living alone.

after seeing a place that i liked a great deal in streatham,  a flat that opened out onto a garden with my own kitchen and bath - but apparently wasn’t suitable as the person renting it sighed and said she was looking for a doctor, i was in the offices of the college confessing to my dilemma when a retired tutor who lived in peckham, said that she knew someone who had a place to went in her house along grove lane, she would ring her and i could go over to-morrow.

it wasn’t streatham, a good thing as i was within walking distance of the college - goldsmiths’ then was in cormont road, camberwell was - to my mind - the best place to be south of the thames as it was close to victoria, charing cross and the city. i could walk to the oval.

the following day i knocked on the door, a lady answered, invited me in showed me the flat - kitchen bedroom shower up the stairs - shared but in truth she used the bath on the other landing. she showed me how to use the reinforced locks, handed me the keys and said that she was off to switzerland the next day for a month she would see me when i got back.

that’s how i met alison, a vegetarian - like me - well not really. she told me that she was on a retreat once and the soup had meat in it, as i was commiserating she told me that she asked them to take the meat out. i was invited to come upstairs and watch the television whenever i wanted - only did so during the world cup as television wasn’t needed. i had radio 4.

while doing improvements to her part of the house she put in a sink in an alcove for me so that i could not only wash up without heading upstairs but also rinse my film -at night my kitchen turned into a darkroom.

i helped her wallpaper the top floor.

she loaded the ford cortina with two women from the states and me and took us around southern england - corfe castle, swanage, studland bay

on the the fourth of july after i had come back from america - actually the america, which is   which is outside ely in sutton in the isle. told friends that i had walked to america  between boston and cambridge - she had sparklers that we lit in the back garden.

we traded food, i met her friends, penny and alec, daisy and her mum, bruce who would always corner me to talk about his leica m3 with the sumMIcron lens and wondered if he should have bought the sumMIux instead. 

when it was finally time to leave britain she helped me move by taking all my books to the post office - i moved back to the states by royal mail. when i showed up in december for the external show - which the tutors thinking that i wouldn’t return, “forgot” to hang my work - i went back to my flat.

i stayed there again when i went back to teach at richmond college the next summer.

i appalled her when once she arrived back from switzerland early only to find my largish prints washing in her tub. she confessed that she didn’t use the bath for a month after that. i promised that i would never do it again.

i sent post cards constantly she would reply with letters. at christmas there would be a calendar or something arriving.

she moved out to essex - manningtree - to be close to her friends. she said the place was small but there would be space if i chose to visit. never quite got around to it. oddly enough what blair did to britain didn’t much have me want to visit - this coming from someone who had to endure the thatcher years.

when she moved to oxford, i continued to send my usual postings to her until one day, a relative wrote saying that alison’s place was small and there wasn’t any room for my mailings could i please stop.

i didn’t alison was a friend writing her kept her alive for me. stopping would be casting her off. in the end, however, i feared seeming a typical overbearing yank in ignoring the wishes of her family and i stopped.

earlier this year matthew wrote. matthew whom i met when he was about three. he said that alison was in hospital for a bit but was back at her room alert but weak. he was going up to see her in a few weeks.

i had realised that in stopping my part of the correspondence had in essence consigned her to those of my friends who had passed away. hearing this from matthew, had the effect of making me feel ashamed that i had listened to her relatives and that i thought she had died.

sent a post card feebly starting off since i last wrote… with the intent of crowding her room again.

not soon after matthew wrote that she had passed away. 

so now it does stop. but i found this snap that i made of her when i did finally leave for the states for good. her on the front stairs seeing us off as we made our way up denmark hill for the train, seeming to make it seem more like one of my many awaydays half expecting us back.

needing batteries, i cross the frontier into pikesville to the rite aid. entering i see that my reference to what was once called the third world is incorrect, i find that a more relevant comparison would be the old soviet block.

the first thing that i notice is the queue to check out. although there are four wickets only one is open and there are a dozen people waiting to pay. there is no self check-out.

groaning i search the shop for the battery display. seeing the amount of empty space on the shelves the shop looks as if it is closing for good. finding the self serve display i try to pick up two packages as if i buy two the second is 50% off. i pick the only packages where there are two as most of the slots are empty.

after trying to lift the packages off the hooks in the self service display i noticed they were locked. i had to find a clerk to unlock my selection. the only people i can find are in the queue.

finally seeing someone dart by and start to rearrange a shelf, i track her down, tell her my predicament. she heads over to verify the situation, fetches the key, i pick out the two remaining battery packs and queue up to pay.

a transaction that normally would take five minutes takes 30.

day pass wander forgetting to pack a meal

thinking that baltimore with its infrastructure a complete basket case, would be ideal to force me not to rush and allow time for making snaps.

this realisation came from trying to simply travel five miles using public transport and finding that it is quicker to take as indirect route as possible than the logical direct one.  i thought that i would leave that to another entry.

t0-day armed with a day pass, i walked into pikesville to wait for the 53 bus which would be along in 20 minutes by the schedule. i could also take the 59 bus which would be along in 21 minutes. logic would have it that if you have two buses along the same route for a while you would stagger - ah logic and baltimore. it seems that when two different buses share a route they come within five minutes of each other - ah now i have started. i was trying to hold off to broach this another.

the 58 and 60 duplicate their route to a great extent and run within 10 minutes of each other. that would sound good if the buses didn’t run every hour. miss one chances are you miss both. 

i’ll try to stop and get back to how i made use of this. 

i was heading up to pikesville to go to the post office. that task completed i would await the next bus in either direction to head over to what is becoming a serial ding don ditching - my uncle must be getting gun shy whenever he opens his front door. 

because a bus in either direction wouldn’t be around for a good 20 minutes i could wander the alleys of pikesville and marvel at the empty shops along reisterstown road. 

a southbound 53 left me off at mondawmin where i asked three people where i could catch the number 51 north and got three different answers. i took the 52 instead. 

having successfully leaving the package unseen, i again played the waiting game for a number 51 again either north bound or south bound. another 15 minute wait - more opportunity to make when two north bound 51’s came. 

it is here where the game begins. i could try to catch a number 33 across town to the light rail but who knows when it would arrive. in baltimore it is best to cover one’s bus betting by finding a stop with as many options as possible. this would be the rogers avenue metro station. 

thought that i would be in luck as there was a crowd at the 27 stop but i could also catch the 33 to the light rail. again a 20 minute rate but here no real place to make snaps and i was held prisoner of the schedule as the 27 was overdue.  so 33 it was retracing the route of the 51 to cold spring road then watching the bus pack up with students i finally get down at the light rail to head to lutherville only four stops while there are quite a few stops in the less desirable parts of town the good people of ruxton make sure there is no chance of all those rowdy swarthy people get down in their neighbourhood. 

one would think that light rail having its own right of way would be reliable. ah but this is baltimore. after a 30 minute wait i made the 15 minute ride to lutherville.

while i am only through the outbound part of the wander, what i had been expecting was that with regular transit service i could hop off and on buses to make snaps and while i knew that this would not be possible the way it is in chicago where buses with all their problems run with a schedule that germanic in precision compared to baltimore. there i can get down in a neighbourhood that i am not sure about make a few snaps with the assurance that there will be another bus along shortly. along lower reisterstown road there were all sorts of potential photographs but not being assured of a bus coming any time soon i didn’t get down. 

i am sure that if i sent photographs of this area of baltimore to the favelados in rio de janeiro they would be more than happy to send funds to help out those less fortunate than them. i also forgot how there are great swaths of the city that would be considered poor in the poorest of the old third world. i forgot about the devastation along lower park heights, liberty heights, druid hill avenue and mccolloh streets, all of west baltimore, the alemão complex was less depressing and actually more life affirming.  

i diverted again.

i also found that thinking that the infrequent bus service would free me up to make snaps was wrong when buses come so infrequently and irregularly, i tend to hover around the bus stop not even venturing from one to another, fearing i’ll miss one and will have to wait another thirty minutes to an hour.

even with the diversions the total distance of the wander was only 10 miles maximum. it took four hours. this was four hours of not missing a bus - meaning letting a bus go by as i would catch the next - it was four hours as even though the longest time i was on a bus was from pikesville to mondawmin - the total wait time was over two hours. the return trip was 30 minutes of actual travel, an hour waiting. nevertheless a few snaps that seem to have potential.