(Atlanta)
November 16, 2009
Shafts of light pierced the atmosphere adding texture and shape to the skyline against a perfectly lit sky, a fleeting moment along Ralph McGill as the sun moves quick to set. (above)
In the middle of a dredged up yard in the Highlands, the tiny backhoe that had done the damage was sitting on top of a mound of earth. A man walking his long-haired dog had stopped to watch as I climbed halfway up one dirt mound to frame the shot. They eventually grew bored and continued walking perfectly into the frame. (below left)
“Have we met before?” I asked the barista after ordering a shot of espresso and a chocolate chip muffin. “You look familiar but I’m not sure from what”, she replied. “Marg, short for Margaret”, “Marg, Tim”, we exchanged names and said it was nice to meet again. I ate my muffin and drank my espresso, naturally sweet and syrupy. ”Who are you guys using for coffee?”, I asked Marg and the other barista behind the counter. “Batdorf and Bronson”, the bearded barista replied. “Marg,” I added, ”I just wanted to say that the shot tasted good.” She was proud of her accomplishment and replied, “Hopefully I’ll get my certification soon.” Latte art throwdowns and barista competitions are the eventual goal. I asked a few questions about their certification program, soon Mark was rushing to the back room to show me his certification flow chart, it was a simple diagram, I appreciated his enthusiasm. (above right)
The MARTA Civic Center Station has long corridors forming an overpass which straddles the width of the highway. These serve as massive outdoor waiting rooms for those in transit, those in transition, and for some who, it seems, would rather not move at all. (above left)
The top point of the Bank of America building looks like it was made out of popsicle sticks especially prominent at night with the lights glowing from inside the structure. (above right)
One of the best skyline views of downtown Atlanta is from the top of the parking garage at the main campus building of the Savannah College of Art and Design in Atlanta. It has always been a favorite spot. Originally I sought out the buildings lighted signage seen from a distance the way a mosquito flies toward blue neon bulbs to its demise. The top two levels are blocked off forcing one to walk the final leg to reach this destination. At night these last two floors are an empty, hollow, uniform space flooded with strange orange lighting. The line between covered and uncovered parking is dramatic due to the blue neon glow that washes over the uncovered spaces. I watched the highway traffic moving below and the fairly quiet airspace above, peering through the viewfinder searching cropping framing shapes and lines, the light of the skyline. (below left)
The sun was gone at this point but the warmth of it lingered. As I walked toward the Arts Center I noticed further up the street a large illuminated light board reminiscent of Times Square. I walked toward it and set up a shot just waiting for something to move into the frame. Soon the Jesus Bus rolled up. It was only after taking the shot did I notice the faces from inside the bus peering out at me. (below right)
On Highland Avenue just south of Ponce De Leon in the area designated as Poncey Highlands I saw a No Parking sign at the Highland Inn indicating the lack of spots for their neighbors at Soul Vegetarian or any other nearby business. (above left)
There was a murky haze in the air on the northbound platform at Five Points station. The man to my right tried to escape from the frame but was not quick enough. An approaching train sped into view from the left and far down the platform a striking figure in white walked into the tunnel of light ahead. Overhead MARTA reminded us to be safe. (above right)
Perhaps too safe and cordial to the point of possessing no sense of self or belonging. A landscape that seems bright from a distance yet feels distant upon close examination. However some elements continue to have drawing power, striking shapes stay burnt upon minds. Not enough perhaps to drive us, yet we keep on moving until we can find what does excite each one of us. They are diverse and fleeting moments, but the more of them we collect and the more of them we share, the sooner we will find that collective sense of self, of definition, of a city which demands that you belong here. (a)
