What caught my eye today was a New York Times article about a Metropolitan Museum exhibit of Walker Evans photographs. You're a pretty enlightened bunch, so even if black-and-white 20th century photos don't make your world go round, I'm hoping you'll find the article worth reading - I did. If not, I admit I'm mostly posting the link for the benefit of Bugs, who actually owns one (or two?) Walker Evans photos. Which I think is very cool.
There was one sentence in the article that seemed particularly encouraging to me:
"Born in St. Louis in 1903 and reared in Chicago, Evans started collecting postcards in grade school, years before he failed at his initial goal of being a writer and took up a camera." [italics mine]
Made me think: Maybe there's hope that I'll make something of myself yet.
Although if the lesson here is that the first step to great artistic success is collecting postcards, that could be difficult. That might mean I'd have to clear out room among my Sports Illustrateds, Wheaties boxes, baseball cards, commemorative state quarters, ticket stubs, and I'll stop there lest you get the impression that I have a problem.
But I do like to pretend once in a while that I can take good pictures. Want to see one? OK, good. Here's a shot from last month in Malibu. I'm sure it'll be in a retrospective somewhere in a few decades. Behold:
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