Dezey and the World of Tomorrow

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Disparity

This is "Dezey." He's not fond of giving people with cameras and notepads his first and last name. I think I understand why. More on that later.


I had the pleasure of meeting Dezey at the The Ruth Ellis Center in Highland Park(1). The Center sits inside a nondescript concrete box on a nondescript concrete block within throwing distance of a nondescript former factory where Henry Ford built a machine that changed the world.

Why Midtown is Better Than Royal Oak: A Tale of Two Starbucks

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*Encounters at two Starbucks - one in Detroit, one in Royal Oak -  provoked an epiphany about gathering places, demographics and how the interplay between these factors influence how people behave toward each other. 

But before we get into that, if you're on a Mac,  for the love of god, please change your monitor's color space to sRBG. Trust me. Its the right thing to do.  If you're not sure how to do it, go here

Part One: A Distinguished Gentleman

Researchers at MIT recently proved that not even time can escape the gravitational pull of a Xbox 360. So, when I need to pull free from the productivity-killing siren song of Grand Theft Auto IV, I bike to a nearby Starbucks in Midtown Detroit.

What I like most about this Starbucks is the way it serves as a nexus for people from all walks of life: med school students; other photographers meeting with perspective clients; city council members; and the occasional disheveled, quaintly aromatic stranded traveler who just needs 37 cents to ride the Night Train home.

A Wintry Encounter

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I was unlocking my baby the other day, when I was approached by a man named "Les." "Les" properly identified the make of my bike. He intimated that his son was also an avid biker.

He asked about my profession.  I told him that I take pictures and write about people for a living.

He then intimated that he also was a photographer. "Les" spent several years as the staff photographer for a local news station. "Les" engaged me in a discussion about our photographic philosophies. Surprisingly, they meshed rather well.

This, friends, is what we in the industry (I am a registered ninja) call an "affinity con."  That's when a clandestine inquisitor feigns common interests. Their goal is to siphon as much information out of you as they can.

No need for your polar spy tactics, "Les." I think we both know what you really wanted to ask:

I've been naughty.

But then, you already knew that, didn't you?

Happy Holidays to you and yours, dear reader. Hope to see you again in the new year.  

- Noah 

Mysteries and Enigmas

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I was around 12-years-old when my father took time off from his day job as a traveling absentee father, and arranged to finally meet the most handsome and best-smelling of his nine abandoned children.

The meeting place was my childhood home on a bright, sunny, summer afternoon. I remember feeling a roiling storm of contradictory emotions: hurt and anticipation, anger and curiosity. More than anything else, I looked forward to unloading 12 years of playing-catch-with-a-brickwall animus on its deserving progenitor.