Around Town: Martin Luther King Memorial

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I am not one for too much time spent in post production. But then digital darkroom technology is awfully cool. Stitched together my very first panorama tonight. It’s of the The Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial at Yerba Buena Gardens in SoMa.

A quote on the sculpture reads: "I believe that a day will come when all God's children from bass black to treble white will be significant on the constitution's keyboard." -Martin Luther King, Jr., San Francisco, CA, 1956.

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Portrait Practice: Self and Other

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I’m taking a photography class at RayKo Photography Center. Our first assignment was to practice portraiture, using light, proximity and the surrounds to tell a story.

The first shot is for a piece I’m working on for KoreAm magazine. It’s supposed to tell you something about what the person in the shot does for living … Can you guess? The next two are just me messing around at home trying to create mood. I took a self-portrait next to a sunny window, and then I dunked myself in the tub for the second shot right after. Finally, we have Freidrich the Gnome. He needed pictures of him at work and at play for his online dating profile. 🙂

Environmental Portrait: JeWon at Work

Sketchbook and seasonal inspiration.

Straight Portrait #1: Dry and Sunny

Straight Portrait #2: Wet and Dark

Friedrich works in an urban garden.

But in his spare time, he likes to read.

More Poetry: This time with spiders

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Mount Madonna County Park, Watsonville, California.

A Noiseless Patient Spider

A noiseless patient spider,

I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated,

Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,

It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,

Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you O my soul where you stand,

Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,

Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,

Till the bridge you will need be form’d, till the ductile anchor hold,

Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.

— Walt Whitman (from Leaves of Grass)