I’m home. Chicago. It’s good to be back. Well, it’s good to be in one place, but to be honest, I’m a little shell shocked. I went from balmy fifty two degree Seattle weather to a frigid seven degrees. But, as I walked home from the train station shivering in my thin travel coat, my heart soared with feelings of love and affection for my city. I turned down my snow covered street, smiling openly, barely able to suppress a skip. Then, in true slap stick fashion, I fell on my ass. My first winter wipe out.
Today I decided to document my neighborhood by camera. During the past three months I’ve spent a fair amount of time snapping photos of cool buildings, signs, and street art in the cities I’ve visited. I wanted to see Wicker Park with fresh eyes. There’s this scene near the end of Public Eye, maybe you remember it. Joe Pesci’s character, a 1940s crime photographer, achieves fame and notoriety by catching a huge mob hit on camera. As he walks through a cheering crowd, we see for a moment, how he views the scene around him: a series of snapshots, different angles, emotions, frames. Everything around him is a potential work of art.
