Portrait of a white-lipped panhandler photoblocking me while I attempt to shoot a woman in head-to-toe fur walking up Stockton.
Predictions of 2012!
The penultimate triumph of style over fashion.
From the 2009 photo archives.
If I had a private practice, I’d call it Dr. Kicks, M.D.
The sound of a popped collar, like that of a slap bracelet.
You, sir, are prepared to get in the way of my shot every step of this block. Go ahead and make your claim that your verbal little satchel is worth the pixels, but what lies beyond looks to be a custom airbrushed Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. Everyday on the street is a chance to weigh these options.
What you’ve heard is true.
We’re not fancy enough for this train.
Parsing that fine line between pet store and antique store.
An Elder of Mormons.
The Denise Huxtable.
Your guiding aesthetic principle: Neapolitan ice cream. Nothing wrong with this.
Tie fighters awaiting deployment.
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