Which is strange since it's my local bread and butter.
Whenever I've got a few hours free, I grab my cameras and head to the grid, to walk and look and capture.
I tend to have my best thoughts while walking with cameras, and my best photos too.
By the end of every month I've amassed a small stack of grid workprints, and thoughts.
Last week I thought about using my finger to write a small stack of phrases on all the dirty rear windshields I came across:
I made it to my fourth car before a woman asked me just what I thought I was doing to her car.
I explained that lately I'd had The Width of a Circle trapped in my head.
"It shuffled up on the iPod in July," I said. "I pushed repeat once. Now it's pacing around between my ears like a caged tiger. The thing won't come out..."
"And honestly I'm not sure I want it to. Who knows what might replace it?..."
"Such a strange tune. Tony Visconti's bass follows a drunkard's walk through the middle. When the song finally ends it's a million miles from the start..."
"Some of my walking thoughts end up eventually on B. Some wind up on windshields..."
"The prints generally don't make it as far into the world. I show them to a handful of others at the monthly meeting, then they go back in a box, basically forever..."
"One of my thoughts last week while walking around shooting photos and listening to early Bowie in my head, was that I should post some of this month's grid photos on B. Maybe caption them with lyrics, and fuck if they make sense or not..."
The woman looked at me blankly. I could tell what she was thinking: Another drunkard's walk.
Meanwhile I heard Bowie: Breathe, Breathe, Breathe Deeply...