It is 1977 and I am new to San Francisco, freshly graduated from the University of Utah with a degree in creative writing (major: poetry with an emphasis in unemployment). I become a clerk in a record store. I fall for a man who shows me a book by local photographer Imogene Cunningham — portraits of the elderly taken when she herself was an elderly gnome. I know nothing about photography, but I save up to buy a "fancy" camera anyway, one step above a brownie.
Then I looked through my own Flickr photostream to see if I had done any or many red & black shots. I found a few, though they aren't as good as the ones in the gallery, which give me more to aspire to.
I snapped this from the car as Jack wove crazily in and out of San Francisco rush hour traffic, on our way home after a doctor's appointment where I got some good news instead of the feared bad news. The red leaped out at me. Irresistible.
This is a close-up shot of a portion of a disintegrating mural (a boring scene that wasn't that artistic or beautiful when the mural was new, and is now even less appealing) on the exterior wall of the Bernal Heights neighborhood library. In front of the mural, you see a portion of a black iron handrail. I liked how the photo came out looking sort of like an abstract painting.