Books, Be Juice and bladders

Strand Bookstore at 828 Broadway is one of the oldest and largest independent purveyors of new and used books in

the US. I limited myself to one book, Photography After Frank: Essays by Philip Gefter.  Frank refers to Robert

Frank who, in the 1950's, was one of the first photographers to challenge the formal objectivity of

photography. Gefter is a former NY Times photo editor.  He writes: “[Frank’s]

pictures show us common people in ordinary situations, but his documentation is as much about his personal

experience as it was about his subject matter” (p.9). I picked up the book for its  academic but readable

writing. I have come to New York for technical training. But I have also come to develop my visual vocabulary.

I grabbed a Don Peppino at a “Be Juice” stand. The light green concoction is a zingy blend celery, lemon, mint,

pineapple and cucumber juice. It tastes like it is good for you, with a twist of lemon. I was delighted my 16 oz juice

was upgraded to 24 oz at no extra charge. However, this meant a bathroom break 8 oz sooner than planned. While

waiting to see how quickly my bladder would shift from fine-to-full, I sat on the shaded steps of the 13th Street

Repertoire Theatre and shot “Street Feet.” 

These photos are an homage to Amanda Peterson in Yellowknife. Amanda had her final round of chemo on

Sept. 3. You, my friend, will be on your feet in no time. 

Next stop was Caffe Bene where, ironically, I purchased another liquid to justify my use of their bathroom.

Observation: constipated people should be banned from one-stall public bathrooms. They are slower than the

internet in NYC on a Sunday. I waited 14 minutes for three (very likely) fibre deficient or mirror-obsessed people to

use the bathroom. That is an average of  4.7  minutes per person - or an eternity from where I was standing. When

it was my turn, I was in and out in a minute. Upon exiting the bathroom I brazenly announced,  “That’s how it is

done.”  It got a laugh.

I had an interesting trip home. One minute I was feeling smug at my grasp of the subway system, the

next minute I was on my way to Coney Island. However, one transfer later and I was “on the right track.” Luckily, it

was early evening.

 The day's highlight: Someone asked me directions while I was clandestinely shooting Street Feet. 

Lowlight: Seeing a man in urine soaked jeans, curled up in an alcove convulsing near Rockefeller Square.