The Stoop

Canon EF 70-300 IS review

2007-05-22T10:17:00.000-04:00

This is the first "quality" lens I've owned, if you define quality as "a lens that costs about as much as a cheap DSLR." Actually, this lens currently retails for about $550 at B&H, so as far as the higher end Canon lenses go it isn't too bad.

Physical Characteristics

General Info

This is the latest version of the 70-300 IS, with 2 modes of Image Stabilization. Mode 1 operates in all directions, and is designed to be used while shooting stationary objects in low light. Canon claims that its good for about 3 stops- I don't know if that's the case, but the results are obvious even on the screen of my 20d.

Mode 2 is used for action shots, the stabilization operates horizontally and is designed to be used while panning. This gives the object being "followed" greater clarity.

Physical Dimensions

The first thing I noticed when I got the box is that it is heavy; 1.4 pounds (640 grams) is more than you might think, particularly when its attached to the already weighty 20d. It is manageable, however.

Here's how it looks with the zoom rolled all the way back at 6.5 inches . The specs say 5.6 (14.3cm), but I measured it at a bit longer than that.

Fully extended the lens measures 8.8 inches. That's pretty big.

Hoods and Filters

The recommended lens hood is the ET-65B. However, with the ET-65B attached the lens can come in at almost a foot long. That's exceedingly clumsy, not to say conspicous.

Additionally, the lens hood, though it has a lovely bayonet attachment system, is ridiculously overpriced. It's risibly flimsy, and huge- very much a case of overkill. To my mind you can spend your $50 elsewhere; I returned it to B&H that day (what a joy these people are to shop with) and traded it for 2 hood hats, a generic rubber hood (pictured) and a very nice tripod carrying case. That's a lot for just one hood.

The filter size is 58mm. that's a nice standard, and a lot of the filters I aleady have will work with it.

Performance

The Positives

Image Stabilization, at least in Mode 1 (stationary objects) really works. Take a look at this shot, taken without the image stabilizer engaged.

It's pretty soft, at 300mm you need to be rock steady, and just looking through the viewfinder can make you a bit seasick- the "view" bounces around quite a bit.

Now here is the same shot with the stabilizer engaged.

The difference is extraordinary. It was obvious even when reviewing the shots in camera, but blown up the improvement is even more obvious.

IS mode 2 is a little more iffy. Or it could be that I'm not the best judge of it. I do almost zero action or sports shots, so I'm not too proficient with panning, nor am I experienced with what's really good or bad stability in this situation, but here is a panning photo for those who are a bit more knowledgable than me to evaluate.

For 1/40th of a second on a rapidly moving target, it doesn't look too bad to me. Then again, it's not up to the level of Bodwik & Company's motocross shots, but that's likely more to do with the photographer than the lens in this case.

Zoom Range

A 70-300 zoom range is pretty nice. I would prefer a little more on the wide end, but for less than $600, I can't really complain. Here's an example of the extreme wide and tele ends, taken about a mile away from the Goldman-Sachs tower in Jersey City.

70mm (effectively 112mm)

300mm (effectively 480mm)

On a full frame this range would be really nice.

Color and Light properties

The lens has a nice look to it, with pleasing colors and good "natural" sharpness. I didn't see any vignetting at all, but then again, I'm using it with an APS sized sensor. Here's a "warm" shot of City Hall.

I can't describe this quantitatively, but I like the representation of the green here better than I do with, say, my 17-55 kit lens. It's on par with my 300mm Orestegor, but the lens doesn't weigh 15 lbs.

Here's another one, maxed out at the long end of the zoom.

Very crisp as well, you even get good detail inside the windows.

The lens has eight aperture blades, a decent amount, so the bokeh is pretty nice.

Granted, it's widest aperture is only f4.

There is a bit of flare visible here, (OK, lets be honest, a lot of flare) but I am pointing it directly into the setting sun, which is a pretty stupid thing to do. Even so, its not that bad. I've had worse flare from other lenses in much better conditions.

The Negatives

Not as fast as one expects from USM

This USM lens isn't nearly as fast to focus or quick to acquire targets as some of the other lenses in the USM line. Even my venerable 35-135mm is faster out of the gate than this one. It has "micro USM" rather than "ring USM"; which is technospeak for "it isn't as fast as other USM lenses, but it costs a lot so we are going to slap the USM label on it. Perhaps that isn't fair. After alll, its still better than the kit lens, or the 50mm f1.8 mark II. As I tend to shoot street rather than "action" this isn't much of a problem for me. For sports or cycling fans it could be irritating.

Weight and Length

This is a heavy lens. It's also long and very noticeable, and tends to cry out "hit my owner over the head and steal me." I can also imagine it bumping into stuff if carried over the shoulder-all the more reason not to get the ET-65B lens hood.

I would much prefer the length of the 70-300 IS Diffractive Optics lens, which is about half as big. As soon as I get that phat job at National Geographic, I'll be sure to buy one. Seriously, the real advantage of the DO seems to be faster USM and shorter barrel length. It is, however, $1300 rather than $550.

Summary

A Great "Bazaar Lens"

Is it a perfect lens? No, but its very, very good. The quality of the glass is nice, the IS system works well, the zoom range is good. And the price is right. For $550 this represents an excellent value; and until I can convince my spouse/CFO to let me spend $1300 in the 70-300 IS DO, or I win the lottery and buy that 28-300 L lens, this will be an important part of my tool bag.

I bought this principally to do people shots in markets and places like the bazaars I like to shoot when I am travelling. With the IS, you can take decent shots of people that are tightly composed, from a distance that is unobtrusive, and still retain a good level of sharpness, even when the light isn't perfect. I've been looking for a "bazaar lens" for some time, and I am pretty sure that this one is it.

PhotoSafari: Bangkok

2006-08-31T10:12:00.000-04:00

We reached Bangok by flying out of Macau with Air Asia, a very reasonable flight at less than $200 round trip, after about 3 and one half hours we arrived at Bangkok Airport, to the hottest climate I had ever experienced; about 40 degrees celsius and 90 percent humidity.

Photography inside the airport was strongly discouraged and, given the ubiquity of sings informing me that I would be put to death for smuggling drugs, I heeded the "suggestions."

After emerging into the night, we caught a taxi for the 25km ride into the center of the city. If you are not leaving or arriving in the dead of night, allow yourself a great deal of time (at least two hours) just to get from the city to the airport.

Upon leaving the hotel the next morning to walk around the city, the first thing we stumbled upon was a religious ceremony in a small curbside open air shrine.

Thailand is Buddhist, and very devout at that. The Buddhism of Thailand also seems to be of a totally different nature than that of China (at least as far as the temple architecture goes) and I am lead to undersand that the follow the therevada tradition rather than the mahayana. I'm not sure about doctrinal differences, but it seems to me to be a more "old-school" sort of buddhism.

Also, whereas Chinese Buddhists are fat and generally happy, Thai buddhas are rather thin and ascetic looking. I'm not sure what this means. One would never rub a Thai Buddha's belly for luck, of that I am sure.

We wanted to go to a place called Wat Pho, which is the home of Thailand's biggest reclining Buddha. So we hired a "tuk-tuk," the thai version of the gypsy cab, whose driver immediately attempted to take us to, of all places, a carpet shop. I would have expected this in Turkey, but have never considered Thailand a prime source of carpets. Needless to say, we declined. So the driver drove us a ways, and dropped us off to see the "sleeping Buddha."

This was the temple at which we arrived. It was actually quite difficult to get properly exposed photos, as the "whiteness" of the marble tended to drive my camera's autoexposure system to distraction. As I had had this camera approximately 2 weeks at this time, I am afraid I was not up to the challenge.

The temple was quite nice, but I was a bit underimpressed at Thailand's greatest Wat.

The marble was beautiful, and the whole place was impeccably maintained. But the greatest religious center in all Thailand. Hmmm.....

Auto-Exposure gone wild

It was here that we encountered our first Buddhist Monks.

I continued to be amazed at a number of things; first, the lack of tourists at the famous Wat Pho, two- the fact that, though very nice, it certainly seemed to lack the presence of a "national cathedral," and three- if this was the biggest reclining buddha in Thailand, then the others must be very small indeed.

The architecture was very cool, particularly the roof gables.

This was a monestary attached to the wat.

Also, I discovered the great reverance accorded to Monks by the surprising tomb of Nob Buhvadi. His mummified corpse was on display in a glass alcove, along with the following sign:

So, we left "Wat Pho" and began looking for the Grand Palace which was supposed to be next door. We failed to find it. After about an hour of attempting to navigate with the map, we realized that in fact we were no where near Wat Pho. The tuk-tuk driver, seeing that there would be no carpet sale today, had dropped us off at a conveniently nearby Wat with a reclining Buddha. To this day, we have no idea what temple we were wandering through- we call it "Wat Faux." So we headed toward the river, and took a ferry to the center.

the Chao Phraya river is heavily trafficed, with a lot of goods transported by water (travelling by road is nearly impossible in Bangkok traffic).

The Thai version of the Pepsi Truck

We were literally an hour and a half away from the Grand Palace. At this point the unpleasant bit of Thailand surfaced- our encounter with the con-man/tuk-tuk driver was unfortunately not an unusual one. I had heard that Buddhists had a reputation for sterling honesty, but apparently this did was not able to overcome the temptation for a few to blatently lie to tourists.

For the two days we were in Bangkok, whenever we attempted to take anything other than a standard taxi, or attempted to enter a landmark, we were assailed by folks who, inexplicably, attempted to sell us carpets (apparently some tourists think they have flown to Istanbul). Also, we were repeatedly assured that the [enter appropriate temple] was closed due to a Buddhist holiday. Even when we were directly in front of the Grand Palace and dozens of westerners were streaming through the gates. If you go to Bangkok, ignore these people.

The Grand Palace

The Grand Palace was indeed grand, and heavily laden with Gold. It contains dozens of chedi, both large and small.

There are also countless statues and figurines, some gilt and others mosaiced with bright tiles and jewels.

I find it amazing how the artisans who designed these statues made their facial expressions- divine power and majesty, but also a certain weariness at being trapped in the cycle of existence. It is an interesting way to capture, in sculpture, an important element of Buddhist theology.

The Central Stupa at the Grand Palace Temple Complex

Right Across from the Grand Palace is the real Wat Pho. It is very beautiful, and choked with people. There are also quite a few monks around.

Monks employing the latest digital cameras while pursuing Nibbana

Wat Pho in the distance, with Cannon from the Military Academy

Wat Pho contains an enormous sleeping Buddha, so we were clearl in the right place.

The Royal Palace complex (including Wat Pho) is a hive of activity, being an active palace and a center of religious activity.

Two Monks arranging their clothing

We realy had very little time in Bangkok, which was a pity, as it is a fascinating place. Difficult to navigate, a little more like the middle east in terms of scamminess (suprisingly, this was totally absent in Zhuhai, Hong Kong, and Macau), but overall a place deserving of a lot of time to see.

So we went back to the Airport the nex morning, and caught our flight to Rangoon, the great unknown.

I'll leave you with a photo from my favorite monument, the Bangkok temple of the municipal penis. Every city of note in Thailand has a symbolic phallus, with its own temple.

Here is a temple inhabitant engaged (I assume) in sacred ritual transvestitism. You have left the judeo-christian world far, far behind.

__________________

PhotoSafari: Macau

2006-08-29T00:25:00.000-04:00

Macau is, similar to Hong Kong, a Special Administrative Region of the People's Republic of China. It consists of three islands; Maca, Taipa, and Coloane.

Also like Hong Kong, Macau began its life as an Entrepot, a spot where foreigners could recieve chinese merchants and trade goods between Europe and China. It's existence, however, far predates that of Hong Kong. It was first established as a Portuguese trading depot in 1553, almost 300 years before the English established themselves in Hong Kong. Even today, Macau is a busy port.

The Inner Harbor (Porto Interior) looking towards Guangdong Province

in 1557 , in exchange for a leasehold and for combating piracy in the region, the Ming Dynasty recognized Macau as "Chinese territory under Portuguese administration."

In 1974, Portugal experienced a revolution that ended five decades of fascist rule, and began liberating its extensive colonial empire, including Angola, Mozambique, Guinea, Cape Verde, and East Timor. The government of Portugal offered to hand Macau over to the PRC at this time, but the PRC declined, waiting for a "more appropriate moment." There are many possible explanations for this, including the fact that China wished to eliminate the British presence in Hong Kong first, they needed a route to trade with the world, or that they simply weren't yet ready to swallow a potentially bitter pill.

Everybody needs lawyers

In 1987 a treaty was established calling for the handover of Macau to China in 1999, a full two years afterthe cession of Hong Kong. Many feel that this was done to slight the British, whose aquisition of Hong Kong was significantly more coercive than the Portuguese aquisition of Macau. Thus on December 20th, 1999, over 450 years of Portuguese rule came to an end, and China's "last colony" was returned.

Avenue of Prince Henry, the Navigator

Like HK, Macau maintains its own currency, the Pataca, which is issued by the bank of China and the Banco Nacional Ultramarino. It is also officially bilingual, with street signs bearing both Portuguese and Chinese script. (as above). Unlike Hong Kong, it was never democratic, so it does not have a lively independent political opposition or civil society to the extent that HK does, however, unlike the United Kingdom, before the handover Portugal gave everyone born in Macau Portuguese citizenship (regardless of ethnicity or language skills), with an absolute right to reside and work in Portugal, and by extension, anywhere in the EU. Strangely, that means that Macanese can work in England, But Hong Kong residents can't.

Canon at the Fortaleza do Monte

The city is much smaller than HK, with about 400,000 residents. Aproximately 1200 Portuguese still live there, working in business and municipal administration (some of them work at the border control). In addition, there are about 20-25,000 Macanese, ethnically chinese but culturally portuguese. My wife (who is Portuguese) and I were on a bus standing next to two teenaged chinese girls who were discussing the cute boys in their class- in portuguese. Very odd.

ARCHITECTURE IN MACAU

Additionally, the city (though it does have some modern buildings) is far less fast-paced than HK in terms of architectural change and general life. Most of the cities early modern and baroque architecture is still preserved.

Senate Square (Largo do Senado)

The central parts of the city have the calçada style of streets and pavements (as seen) above- and were it not for the inhabitants and the street signs, one could just as easily be in Lisbon or the Algarve.

Entrance to the Loyal Senate

Chamber of the Loyal Senate, The center of Portuguese power in Asia from 1630-1999

The Senate Square is the center of town, with the "Loyal Senate" building at the south side. The senate was given the official apellation "Loyal" due to the fact that it was the only Portuguese territory that refused to recognize the authority of the Spanish kings during their occupation of the Portuguese throne from 1580 to 1640. Of course they were able to do this because they were very far from Spain, and their city walls were stout.

Farmacia Popular

The most famous landmark of the city are the ruins of the Church of St. Paul, established by the Jesuits in the late 1500s, it was destroyed by a fire and a typhoon in 1835.

Ruinas de São Paulo

It is the most popular spot for tourists in Macau, most of whom are Chinese (very few westerners get beyond the casinos near the port).

Photographers at St. Pauls

St. Paul's is a popular spot to get married, for both catholic chinese (about 10% of the population) and non-catholic chinese.

The city has a number of largos, small squares built throughout neigborhoods, and winding side streets.

Theater of Dom Pedro the 5th

Away from the center, the architecture is less grand, but the whole island is generally clean and safe. In fact, as the cartoon below illustrates, spitting on the street will get you a 600 pataca fine.

Though the city has a few refreshingly seedy neighborhoods.

Quinquilharia (Junk Shop) Long Seng Hou

Macau has a number of churches and religious institutions beyond St. Paul's and several times a year one can see processions on various saint's days.

Holy Water, St. Lawrence Church

Exterior, St. Lawrence

In addition to Christian Churches, Macau has a number of Buddhist and Taoist temples- the most famous of which is the Ah Ma temple on the south side of Macau Island.

Worshipper lighting incense at the Ah Ma Temple

Kun Iam (God of War) Temple on Almirante Sergio street

Not all the architecture on Macau is old. There is quite a lot of modern construction that has been or is being built. Unlike Hong Kong, however, Macau has done a better job of integrating the new into the old, rather than simply building over it, as can be seen with the new Macau/Zhuhai land border crossing post.

The most visible modern landmark is the Torre de Macau, one of the tallest freestanding structures in the area. You can bungee jump off of it, if you are so inclined.

Dragon boats from past year's races

This was the site of the premiere of Bruce Lee's first film

Macanese Culture

The descendants of luso-chinese relationships, as well as "pure" chinese who were drawn into the portuguese cultural sphere due to the long duration of Portuguese rule, are not as numerous as their counterparts in Hong Kong. Portugal never had more than a few thousand administrators and soldiers in Macau at any given time. Nevertheless, a significant mestiço community did develop, with its own customs, food, and language (a cantonese-portuguese creole called patuá.) Though the Macanese community remains viable in modern Macau, the use of Patua is declining as most of the young Macanese are educated in Mandarin and standard Portuguese. Even the use of Portuguese is declining, as more and more young people opt to learn english.

One of the most interesting places to see the fusion of Chinese and Portuguese societies are the cemeteries of Macau.

Here rests Maria Benjamina Chiang Lok

Some of the architecture at the Cemetério São Miguel Arcanjo is quite beautiful.

the food is generally good, as well. If you go to Macau, you must try Frango Africano (African Chicken), a dish originally brought from Mozambique and spiced up with some chinese Flava. Very nice. Sometimes, however, the food and language can surprise you. a Pasteleria in Portugal, for example, is a bakery shop were you can get sweet cakes, pie, etc. A Pasteleria in macau is a shop that sells meat jerkey. At least, I think that's what it is.

After a fine day on Macau Island, my wife and I headed down to Coloane to relax, and blow a years worth of Sheraton points for a night at the Westin Macau.

Coloane Island

The Westin Macau is a resort composed of a hundred rooms or so, all of which face the sea, situated on remote Hac Sa Bay.

Coloane Island is the southernmost of the three islands that make up the Macau SAR. It is mostly nature preserve, with a small settlement on the Hac Sa bay called (not surprisingly) Coloane village.

Coloane Village Square at Night

Coloane Village has, I would imagine, only a few hundred inhabitants, and is very reminiscent of the fishing villages of the Algarve that my wife's mother's family comes from. The inhabitants here are mostly Macanese, and one can here Portuguese spoken frequently. It's also home to one of the Island's finest Luso-Chinese restaurants; Espaço Lisboa. the Chef is a fellow named António- he first came to Macau in 1972 when he was stationed there as part of his military service. After returning to Portugal for a year or two he moved back, and has been there ever since.

António is very likely to sit down and have dinner with you (the place has, I think, only 5 or 6 tables); particularly if you speak Portuguese. This is true all over the island. If you are lusophone, the community will instantly help you out. The day we were leaving I struck up a conversation with a Portuga at a bus stop, and he immediately offered to have us over for dinner. It's that kind of scene- very small and cozy (for the westerners). In fact, if you wander of the main track, which essentially consists of the Largo do Senado, Templo Ah-Ma, and the Casino Lisboa you are very likely to see very few non-locals.

Macau is ofted overshadowed by its neighbor to the east, Hong Kong. But I actually found Macau to be a much more pleasant place to visit. There is quite a lot to do, from Casinos (such as the famous Casino Lisboa)

to small market shopping, to relaxing on the other islands. Generally, Macau gets a bad rap, due to the fact that Hong Kong people view it simply as a "place to gamble," but in reality I found it to be far more relaxed and pleasent than Hong Kong. So after a few days here, we headed out to the brand new airport to jump on our "Air Asia" (the Asian version of Jet Blue) flight to Bangkok. I'll post on that subject later.

PhotoSafari: Hong Kong

2006-08-24T15:34:00.001-04:00

I had originally intended this blog to be a wide-ranging sort of thing, but it appears that I have gotten too concentrated on recent political events, so I would like to return to my first "love"; photography.

My Company sent me to Zhuhai, China, for business, and as it was my first trip to asia (and I love nothing more than a free plane ticket) my wife and I decided to tack on our vacation to the business trip, and see a bit of the world. I also wanted to give my recent acquisition, the Canon 20D, a workout. As I had just blown my budget acquiring it, I had no opportunity to acquire anything other than the kit lens, an 18-55mm f3.5-5.6. I had entertained the idea of picking up a lens in Hong Kong (our first stop) if it was a deal, which I would surely find.

One would think that Asian camera equipment (such as a Canon or Nikon) would be cheaper in Asia. Alas, it was not so (although I have heard that these things were cheap 20 years ago). Due to different tax structures and the plumetting dollar, everything in Asia was crazy expensive. So I was stuck with my basic wide angle. Now that I have picked up a 300mm and a 35-135mm, I guess I will have to go back.

This is the itenarary of our total trip (behold the power of inkscape!), although today I will confine myself to Hong Kong.

The flight departed from lovely Newark, NJ, Queen of American Cities. I was expecting a huge 747 for a direct Newark to Hong Kong flight, but was sadly dissapointed;outside the gate window we saw the same long haul domestic carrier with the same economy sized seats.

So I put my decidedly business class sized posterior into my tiny seat, and prepared for a 16 hour flight over the north pole.

The flight itself had a few cool moments, such as the eternal sunrise/sunset at the top of the world.

And a chance to take a few photographs of Siberia. Frozen rivers and, at one point, some kind of small city (by the time I grabbed my gear from the overhead rack it was gone), according to the GPS on the plane it seemed amazing that people could live this far north, but apparently they do. What a great place to take photos, if you could only get there!

Hong Kong

The first thing I did when I got to Hong Kong was try and find a cheap place to stay- my company put me up in the Kowloon Holiday Inn while I was actually there on business, but even though it was a decent hotel (just as you would expect a Holiday Inn to be) it was crazy expensive- about $250 a night at that time, although I think its normally cheaper.

So we found Singh's Guest House. The Guest House is in a building called Chunking Mansions on Nathan Road (Kowloon's Main Drag). Not exactly the "dee-luxe apartment in the sky" that the Jeffersons were talking about. But it is semi-famous, in that it was the location of one of HK's great movies, Chunking Express.

It's about 20 stories, the first two of wich are given over to a bazaar. The other 18 floors have hotels, restaurants, apartments, and even some light industry factories.

There a a series of "mansions" like this up and down Nathan Road, The Chunking, Miramar, and so on.

The Chunking Mansions are served by one rather dodgy elevator, once the doors close everybody shifts their weight around until its evenly distributed, then the lift can move.

Once we arrived at the 12th floor (iirc), this was the room that awaited us- it was literally no bigger than the bed, but it did have its own toliet and shower. Actually, the shower head was right over the toilet, so you closed the bathroom door, and took a shower while sitting on "the throne." Singh's Royal Guest House, indeed.

All this can be yours for only $40 per night. My parents had been to Hong Kong in the early 80's, back then it was cheap. Now it is insanely expensive. Beats the hell even out of New York.

Safety is not a big concern in China, as we noticed when we looked out our window and saw a guy doing some sort of building repair, 10 stories above the street. Notice the lack of safety harness. Elsewhere in Asia it was worse, but even in this ex-British colony they have nothing (apparently) resembling OSHA.

So my first thought was, how do we get out of here if there is a fire. Certainly NOT the elevator. We would have to descend labyrinthine hallways like this:

So the wife and I mapped out an escape route. Which is wierd (I spend a lot of time in hotels, but don't usually think about hotel fires), because, the next morning when we emerged to go and assault Hong Kong, this is what we saw:

The next "Mansion" over was, in fact, on fire.

So, enough of the roughing it stories, lets see whats out there in Hong Kong:!

The Subway in HK is clean, fast efficient, and cheap, albeit a little crowded. It's a great way to get around.

On the Metro at Wong Tai Sin

One can also go between Kowloon and Hong Kong (and the other islands) by using the Star Ferry, old British diesels that look like they were converted from steam. They may well have been.

Kowloon Terminal of the Star Ferry Lines, with Central and Wan Chai in the Background

At the end of Nathan Road (the main drag of Kowloon) is Victoria Harbour, which seperates Kowloon and the New Territories from Hong Kong (the island). during the day dozens of ships pass to and fro, including some old style junks.

Early Morning Traffic in Victoria Harbour

Night Shots are great, especially if the water is calm

Kowloon Ferry Terminal at Night

The Hong Kong Skyline from Kowloon

Almost all of the buildings in HK are skyscrapers. They have the population of New York City, but 20% of the buildable area. But you can find a few traditional buildings nestled amongst the towers.

Hong Kong contains all sorts of cultures and peoples, from British, to Sikh, Hindu, Muslim, and of course, Chinese.

Nathan Rd. Mosque

Morning Prayers at Victoria Harbor

HK also boasts a number of taoist temples, this is one dedicated to healing and medical arts:

There are also Buddhists in HK. The Chin Lon monestary is typical of chinese Buddhist structures; the ones we saw later in Indochina were much different.

Overall, however, HK seems to be something different than simply "chinese." It's an odd fusion of east and west, that's true, but the "east" in that fusion is the entire east, from India, to China, to the Phillipines, all of whom have significant populations in the city. And the "westerness" of the city is more than just patina, HK is profoundly different from mainland China. Perhaps this is why the Central Government has decreed that they will maintain their own currency, language laws, and border controls for the next 50 years. China will need a lot of time to catch up.

Overall, HK is strikingly modern, modern in a way that occasionally makes our own modernity look a little shabby, but at other times lags far behind the west. Nevertheless, amidst the modernity traditional elements of chinese culture persists, such as an overwhelming belief in joss (luck). Chinese are incorrigible gamblers, although there are few opportunities in Hong Kong, other than a few OTB parlours and the Happy Valley Jockey Club.

Outside the betting parlour in Central

Most Hong Kongers follow traditional Chinese religious practices, but there are also quire a few christians. On the top of the mountain in Hong Kong is the Chinese Protestant Cemetery. Like all cemeteries, is faces the sea. Christian or not, the belief in Feng Shui persists.

The Legislative Building and the Bank of China Building

We could only spend a few days in Hong Kong, for a number of reasons. The first was cost. HK is exceedingly expensive. The second was that we really wanted to check out Macau, which is a 45 minute ferry ride from Hong Kong. Macau was really the last colony in China, with the Portuguese pulling down their flag 2 years after the British in Hong Kong (a carefully orchestrated snub that nobody noticed but the Portuguese and the Chinese)

On the ferry to Macau

Later in the week I'll post a Photosafar: Macau

Knocking on the Barracks Door

2006-08-18T09:13:00.000-04:00

"Do not trust the cheering, for those persons would shout as much if you or I were going to be hanged."

-Oliver Cromwell, 1654

There’s an interesting point/counterpoint article over at Citybelt, my favorite Jersey City Left Leaning Blog. Please follow this link and check it out, it’s a good read. Also, their blog is infinitely slicker than mine, and I am having difficulty suppressing feelings of insane jealous rage over their obviously superior html skills.

I was considering talking about the defeat of Joe Lieberman, and where I see it leading the country, but it seems as if Mssrs. Weill-Greenberg and Whiten have beat me to the punch. Never mind, it gives me a good point of departure to critique what they have to say. The article’s center point is actually a local politician named Bill Pascrell. I won’t delve into the details, as they have already done a fine job of it, but I did notice a sort of general tone to the whole thing which is salient to those of us who care about American politics. In asking how much compromise one can stand, or if one should compromise at all, the deeper question really is as follows:

How much strategic or long-term “good” should we sacrifice for a tactical political victory?

Cavaliers vs. Roundheads

It’s an important question, because the fall of every republic has been preceded by a party or parties answering the question incorrectly. The Senate of Rome did not intend to vote itself into irrelevance, nor did the Long Parliament initially set down with the aim of cutting off the king’s head. Republics rarely collapse out of the blue; they usually bleed out first, from a thousand wounds. And often this happens not because an evil or overweening faction alone slowly strangles the commonwealth, but because the faction that supports the Right (as in rightousness) kills the body politic by the methods it uses to wrest it from the control of evil councilors. It is this which I fear may be happening in the United States now. The Republican Cavaliers may be insufferably arrogant, elitist, and rapacious, but beware lest Democratic Roundheads prove to be a cure worse than the disease.

The first warning sign is the use of the apocalyptic rhetoric of absolute good and evil, and the subjugation of all other ends to the immediate one of seizing power, by any means necessary.

Concomitant to this is the refusal to judge anyone’s actions other than by whether they promote or impede a particular factional agenda, and to refuse to recognize that people may honestly come to different conclusions from the same set of facts for reasons other than simple stupidity or evil.

Ms. W-G spoke of the fact that the administration and even representatives of their own party had ignored or disagreed with anti-war protesters as meaning that they had been “disenfranchised.” This is a powerful word- disenfranchisement. It means a total and permanent exclusion from the political process. Historically in the United States most political factions have lost some battles, won some battles, and been able to revisit politically previous defeats and victories. There is an ebb in flow in American politics (as in all stable democracies) that means that no defeats are total and no victories permanent- and everyone has a stake in remaining within the system because there is a reasonable chance of their interests being accommodated on some level. There are rarely autos-da-fe in American politics, and this is the true meaning of the secularism of our democracy. This language of a temporary defeat being turned into disenfranchisement is ominous. It is ominous because it sounds very much like absolutism, theocracy, and even a bit like privilege...

I have long been familiar with the right behaving this way, but the long years of exile seem to be radicalizing the American left to the same degree of hyper-orthodoxy amongst its strident elite.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t see in Ms. Weill-Greenberg the ferocity of a Cromwell or a Pym; her willingness to disagree with another colleague (even within, broadly, her own faction) indicates a salutary flexibility of mind. But I do see her looking down a road that has a dangerous end, and I fear that she does not see where it goes; it is the path of praetorianism- the substitution of force for reason and for law.

A New Model Army for America?

She makes the statement, in reference to military forces serving in Iraq;

“Following orders is nothing to be applauded. I support and admire the courageous soldiers and veterans in Iraq Veterans Against the War and Veterans for Peace who come home and speak out against the war, who tell Americans the daily atrocities in Iraq or who refuse to fight.”

I admit to being hypersensitive to this sort of discourse, possibly because of my history of academic research in civil-military relations (I wrote my thesis on the sources of military intervention in politics, and heartily thank the three people who read it, while I also wish for their full and speedy recovery). But I must express to Ms. W-G, and to others who seem to cast aspersions on the military for fighting an unjust war, that in fact following orders is to be applauded. For what is the alternative?

It is often the case that something that is a permanent part of the political or actual landscape that is truly remarkable may be taken for commonplace, or even fails to be recognized, simply because it has always been there. When was the last time (if you live in New York) that you gawked at the Empire State Building, for example? Though a miracle of human engineering, I never look at it, because it is part of the landscape. Tourists from Des Moines, however, stand amazed, because they have nothing like it back home. It’s new for them, not something to take for granted as we do. It’s also instructive to remember that even the grandest of buildings can collapse in an instant.

The obedience of the United States Military is just such an odd thing. Any visitor from Turkey, or Venezuela, or most other countries (including European ones) can tell you that if they are familiar with their history. Since the last military intervention in the core of the English speaking world (that is to say, the US, Canada, and the UK) took place in the 1650s, we look upon the obedience of the military as something so natural it is not even to be thought about. In fact, it is quite unnatural. As Samuel Huntington stated in his classic, The Soldier and the State, the question is not why the military coups, but why they ever don’t coup.

The fact of the matter is that the military holds ultimate potential power in any society. Particularly in an advanced industrial society such as ours. You may be able to fight off the King’s soldiers when they are armed with muskets, but if someone in an Abrams Tank decides to knock down your house and kill you, as a civilian, there is nothing that you can do about it.

It is not the fear of an armed citizenry that prevents the military from taking power, despite what the NRA would have you believe. Nor are there other countervailing sources of coercive force that the government can avail itself of to keep the soldiers in their barracks- I don’t think the LAPD would have much luck taking on the 3^rd Infantry Division. What keeps the soldiers in their barracks and out of politics is a long habit of military subservience to civilian authority. Such a long habit, in fact, that it is so deeply integrated within military society as to be, not only a key value, but a core part of the American military identity.

Lest it appear that I am singling out Ms. W-G too much, let me take issue with a statement made by the other author in the counterpoint, Mr. Whiten.

“Blindly following orders is not the choice of the soldiers per se, but rather the choice of the institution of the military. Individuals enlisting in the military are trained to operate as a unit and not as people. Dehumanization is part of the process. While this stimulation of groupthink on a mass scale is certainly something to be deplored, to fault individual soldiers is pointing the finger in the wrong direction, much as it would be somewhat incongruous to blame television news anchors for the propagation of infotainment. These people are working within the confines of institutions. Without changing the institution, it is fruitless to blame the individuals, for I believe they are victims as well. Whether or not we should be a militaristic society is another question entirely.”

I had at one point completely swallowed the idea (often held by the left, but also the right) that militaries were naturally conservative to the point of rightist extremism, reactionary, and joyously oriented towards violence, who were mostly itching to bend a noble and disinterested body politic to their will. This is, in fact, not the case. The military is a socially complex organism that, while it membership is universally patriotic and nationalistic (in the American understanding of that term) is hardly universally conservative politically, and is definitely not militaristic. Keep in mind that the folks who staff the military are the ones who actually pay the blood tax for decisions mad e in Washington- it’s a lot easier for folks who have none of their own family at risk and got themselves seven or so deferrals from their own potential military service to think of war as a glorious game that they can play (and do play) from a safe remove. It’s quite another to go into combat yourself, to watch your children and your colleagues die, often horribly, and to order those who have placed themselves into your hands, to destruction. Keep in mind that the military is an insular community with strong intra-group bonds forged by ritual and levels of stress that civilians can hardly imagine. Members of a squad become, in ways, closer than family. And then the leaders of these tight knit groups are ordered to send them, and usually themselves, to their deaths.

I don’t know a single person in the military who loves war, beyond the greenest grunt who has never seen it. They may love machismo, and drinking beer, and swaggering, and behaving like good old boys (which, I suspect, is what intellectuals like myself find truly scandalous about them), but rarely are they psychopathic lovers of violence- they are not so much dehumanized as Mr. Whiten suggests, but rather de-atomized by being inserted into a group whose claims are intensely stronger than those of simple self interest; claims strong enough to literally lead one to sacrifice their life for the safety of the group. I am not certain that this s to be deplored. Mr. Whiten is certainly right to say that we ought not to be a militaristic society, but I think the militarism he is thinking of is found more outside the military than within it.

This post is getting a bit long winded (believe me, I could talk for hours on this subject) so let me cut to the chase.

While reading Huntington, Finer, and others on the subject of civil-military relations, I came across a concept that truly revolutionized the way I thought about the military coup.

The idea is this, “the willingness of the military to leave the barracks and enter the political arena is directly related to the willingness of those in the political arena to knock on the doors of the barracks and invite them to come out.”

It seems that, in almost every coup in Latin America in the 1970s and 1980s (and elsewhere and elsewhen) military coups had almost universally been preceded by sections of the political establishment asking for a coup. Now no one today is doing this- but by asking for the soldier to substitute their own judgment to that of the body politic, we are asking them to leave the barracks and enter the factional struggle. Once they enter, its hard to get them out. And though they may agree with you today, what about tomorrow? For when your comity of interests end, you will find that they fight not with ballots and parliamentary procedure, but with guns. Guns bigger than we have. So it’s best to let them continue to obey, even evil councils and bad orders, because Long Parliaments which unleash New Model Armies to cleanse the land of evil have a nasty habit of turning into Rump Parliaments.

When Wedding Photographers Attack!

2006-07-20T14:57:00.000-04:00

Last Friday some of my friends got married at the Hudson River Hyatt in Jersey City. Nice place, with a pier that faces lower mid-town manhattan. The place was packed with Brazilians and upstate New York people (leatherstocking? What do you call those people?). The location was excellent, the weather was beautiful, and a good time was expected to be had by all. I was particularly happy because, (as some of you may know) I am a bit of a photography junkie, and the Hyatt was rife with good possibilities of Bride and Groom shots with the Empire State building, etc. I showed up with my Lowepro full of lenses, my tripod, and my 20d, and set off to overeat, get drunk, and possibly take a few shots of a lovely bridesmaid, her husband to be, and a few of her incredibly hot Brazilian cousins.

Hiring a professional photographer is a great idea (normally). A lot of folks think that just anyone can take good photos, totally unaware of the fact that it takes a special godlike artistic vision (similar to mine) to shoot good images of two reasonably sane adults shoving pieces of cake into each others faces.

Seriously, Wedding Phototgraphy is hard work. I have done it precisely one time in my life, for a friends wedding in Mexico, and I will NEVER do it again. You have to make sure that you get photos of everyone. From Grandma to third cousins fifteen times removed. You have to be as invisible as possible, yet omnipresent throughout the day. You have to make sure that you get the right lighting; you have to sweat about whether or not there will be a technical malfunction with your equipment. You need an assistant. You are operating under the knoweldge that if something goes wrong (like you accidentally expose a roll of film, or your memory card is on the fritz) that you will undoubtedly be sued for "emotional pain and suffering" by Bridezilla. Nope, wedding photography is not for me, and I normally give mad props to those who do it- which is why I was there only to take a few shots for my own edification and pleasure.

But sometimes even wedding photographers include among their ranks hostile wankers. As I found out when I went to this shindig on friday. The fortunate couple had hired a pro wedding photographer, a lady working alone sporting an old Nikon and huge "sidecar" type flash for candids, as well as a hasselblad for the set shots of the ceremony.

I certainly didn't want to get in the pro photog's way, so I set up my tripod in the corner about 50 ft away, behind the pro, and used my 35-135, as well as my 300mm telephoto. Granted, my camera is indeed sweet, and this particular lens is certainly very pro-looking, and has nothing to do with any residual feelings of male inadequacy on my part, I swear.

I wasn't the only person taking photos, but I was the only one with anything other than a point and shoot, mind you, the people with the point and shoots practically crawled up on stage, whereas I stayed the "furthest out" at all times (further out than the person that they hired to shoot, so there was no possibility of me entering her frame).

Despite all this, The wedding photog pretty much freaked out.

Incident #1

while I am sitting there, set up, waiting for the show to start, the photog comes up and says rather icily, "so, you're the backup photographer, huh?"

I could tell she was getting territorial, so I said something self-deprecating about how I "just like to take pictures."

she noticed my massive lens (like all the girls do) and said "you can take the close ups, and I can stick with the wide angle lens."

I said "Ha ha, I wouldn't rely on any of my photos to turn out, ha ha."

She responded quite bitchily "I was joking." sort of a snarl, really. Then she made some sort of snide comment about film vs. digital. Keep in mind that I am exuding maximum Buddha nature at this point. I am totally chill and friendly. (I think that's Buddha nature.)

So I figured, maybe she thinks I am going to rush in and hog the shooting space during the whole deal, and she'll chill out after the ceremony is over. Or maybe I am imagining her hostility, and she's just sort of a Jersey City kind of person. So I do my thing, and she does her thing. Keep in mind that "my thing" involves hanging way out of everybody's line of sight, being totally unobtrusive, and shooting from a fixed position under my Bodhi Tree.

Incident # 2

After the knot is tied, and my man Skadave finds himself eternally linked to a chick whose hotness clearly blows away all of his high shcool friends (like me, he was probably more of an intellectual than a ladies man back in the day, and nothing says "comeuppance" like a hot latina wife) that we go up to the ballroom for the dinner, dancing, and the general post-wedding gig. I put my camera away for most of it, and remain at the table with my party, except when I am getting food or drinks. At some point I whip out the camera at my table and take a few shots of my friends. Strictly "holiday snap" kind of BS.

the Pro photog IMMEDIATELY rushes over and says, in the most condescending manner humanly possible, "have you managed to take anything good yet?" All of my friends, who didn't witness confrontation number one, look at her like she's suddenly sprouted an extra head. She then snaps all of our photos, so I put my camera away. After she leaves there is a general discussion that she's super aggro, so I am convinced it's not just my spin on the situation. The wedding photog is, in fact, a tool. Without an extremely sweet lens to make up for her lack of personality, as mine does.

Incident #3.

The ballroom has a balcony that overlooks the hudson and manhattan. The lady getting married askes if I can take a photo of her and my wife, as well as some other girls (they have a sort of grrl power pack they run around in, like dangerous and sexy wolves). It's 11 pm at this point, so I take a photo of them, with my flash.

The photog, who is apparently omnipresent (the one thing she's done right all evening), literally RUNS up and asks me, (snidely,as if I need to add it) if I got the skyline in the shot with the ladies.

Technical note for the non-camera oriented. Camera flashes only work within say (for a super powerful one) perhaps 40 feet or so. That means shooting it of from the 200th row at an ant-like MickJagger is meaningless.

As am using my flash, and the empire state building is something like 1/2 a mile away, I answer (getting a tad snarky for the first time) "I don't think so, New York State is a little out of my flash's range."

She says, "let me see if I can do better" and takes a few shots. BTW, her flash is apparently malfunctioning, so she has to ask the girls if it went off. Not only does she lack an enormous ~~penis~~, sorry, lens, but the equipment she has isn’t even up to snuff. Her flash has been failing to go off all night, so I am interested to see how the low-light indoor shots of people dancing have turned out.

So, to all the wedding photographers that might be reading this out there. Don’t assume that just because someone has a nice camera means that they are trying to take, or even want, your job. Also, remember that the first duty of a wedding photographer is to contribute to the happiness and enjoyment of the wedding party and their guests. You can do this by making good photos, but also by behaving civilly during the wedding itself.

The "Sport of Kings"

2006-07-17T12:51:00.000-04:00

A couple of weeks ago, I was hanging out down by Hamilton Park when I noticed some folks had appropriated the (admittedly) seedy tennis courts for an altogether different purpose- Cricket. It's usually played by Indian or Caribbean gentlemen, and is yet another example (see Rugby and Soccer) of a sport invented by the English, but played much better by just about everybody else.

So I did a bit of digging about the rules of cricket, in an attempt to make sense of what these guys were up to. After reviewing the field positions of a typical cricket team, I must ask- would you rather be an "outfield nancy" or a "deep fine cock?"

Such philosophical questions aside, I really would like someone English (or preferably Indian, as it's always better to get answers from an expert) to tell me if this chart is really accurate, or simply a strange plot to confuse the American side of the Anglo-American alliance. Additionally, I find the idea of someone earnestly explaining that "by Jove, the bowler threw sent it right down the crease to the queer off, but wouldn't you know it the silly mid off got in the way, sending it to the dogger instead!" to be an immensely humerous prospect- particularly if said in a Gujarati accent. Cricket was invented in english Public shools, and I defy anyone to take a look at it, read Tom Brown's school days, and then tell me with a stright face that Public schools are about anything other than institutionalized rogering and torturing of young boys. What kind of monstrous evil could invent a game as boring as baseball, but make the matches 5 days long!

I have had the opportunity to see cricket twice; once as a small boy when my family took me on a trip around the UK (daddy, what are those twenty seven men doing in that field, all wearing the same outfits?), and again when I found myself, through misadventure, upon the island of Antigua. Both times I managed to escape unscathed.

Antiguans are mad about cricket. As mad about it as the subcontinentals. When you think about it, it sort of makes sense that the Indians and Pakistanis would adopt cricket. Often the most cultivated of Indians tended to out-English even the English in their enthusiastic assumption of English high culture (well, apart from the buggery aspects of english culture). Think of Dr. Verswami in Orwell's Burmese Days. Though most Indians would today deny it, English culture has struck deep roots in certain levels of Indian society. Look how the English introduced Tea to India. I hear that its quite popular there these days.

This is not so much true in the carribean- they drink beer, rather than tea. And certiainly no Jamaican would be caught dead stick their pinkie out while drinking. Certainly, the carribeans have enthusiastically adopted the English language. A bit too enthusiastically, a few Oxford Dons mght say, but as they are convinced that anything other than the strictest BBC accent is howling barbarism (in the case of Glasgow, they are unfortunately correct) they are best ignored. It might be said that the carribeans took the best of English culture, that is to say, parliementarianism, general courtesy, and the language, and tossed out the bad bits, such as Morris dancing and English Hygenic practices. The one English vice they seemed to have maintained is cricket.

The day I was there the West Indian team was playing England, and trouncing them thoroughly. A number of wild pronouncements were made, involving words like "century" and "googly." Each individual word was, in fact, an English word, but when they were strung together they appeared to be nonsense. So I got back on the boat away from that lovely isle, no wiser in the ways of sport, but with a nice T-shirt.

The Immigration Debate

2006-05-17T10:02:00.000-04:00

A great deal has been in the news lately about immigration. Apparently, Middle America woke up a few weeks ago and noticed a great many Mexicans had popped up unexpectedly in their midst.

Notice that I say Mexicans and not immigrants. On Fox News and NPR you will hear the word immigrant bandied about, but this is, in actuality, a code. When Fox news talks abut immigrants, they aren't referring to Mr. Gopal who is the engineer at my factory, or my Italian chemist friend, or the lily-white Irish construction workers who are constructing NYC one girder at a time. They are really talking about Mexicans. And occasionally about other Hispanics- But mostly Mexicans. Actually, lets be really honest; when we say Mexican, we are of course referring to anyone who speaks Spanish and is from somewhere south of Laredo. Also, to anyone who speaks Portuguese, as that is indistinguishable to us from Spanish, although occasionally we notice that thy have strange rituals that involve dancing semi-naked in large groups in the streets of Rio de Janeiro, which is a well known city in the south of Mexico.
It may surprise some of you, but Hispanics come in many varieties. For an in-depth exposition, take a look at what El Guapo has to say about it.

We prefer our immigrants from countries that end in "-land." That is, Ireland, Poland, England, Scotland, and, of course Germanland and Swedenland. This is due to the mistaken belief that the folks from these areas are economically, intellectually, and culturally more advanced that those south of the border. Economically, most definitely. Culturally? I refute that idea thusly. Intellectually? Not from the continent that came up with such wonderful ideological novelties as fascism and salted cod. Anything that needs to be soaked for three days before it becomes edible is edible only in the most conflated sense of that word.

Any society that produces such an abomination (Swedenland in this case) ought to have its citizens permanently barred not only from immigrating to, but from even setting foot on the sacred soil of the New Jerusalem that we have constructed here amongst the savages (by New Jerusalem I mean Jersey City, and savages refers, as always, to people from Connecticut). It's bad enough to make me listen to country music, but to mix it with techno is a provocation that cannot be ignored. Why has our fearless leader not placed these folks in the axis of evil?

This sudden appearance of large cohorts of Mexicans (excuse me, immigrants) would not have been so bad, except, according to an inexorable natural law which is hard to describe in discrete mathematical terms, yet inexorable none the less, the existence of a concentration of Mexicans tends to cause the spontaneous generation of Taquerias. I, for one, have no problem with taquerias, except in that the ones here usually suck. Here's a key- if you ask the guy at a Taqueria what an Antojito is, and he doesn't know, run, run for your life.

Taqueria concentrations aren't necessarily such a bad thing to middle America, at least when they are unobtrusive in the same way that the folks who pick your fruit, mow your lawn, and take care of your little middle American babies for non-union wages are unobtrusive. But when taquerias get to close to Presbyterian churches in places like Rolla, Missouri, the locals get a tad nervous. The Mexicans have been doing inconvenient things as of late, like marching in parades demanding civil rights, wanting to become citizens like "us" (we can't have that, after all, citizens do pesky things like getting social security numbers and demanding minimum wage), and marrying into the Bush family. I myself can forgive them for most all of that, except for those who have married into the Bush family, but most Mexicans have more pride than that.

We are awash, my friend- Americans are tenuously clinging to a life raft of mom and apple pie dangerously awash upon a sea of job-seeking terrorist samba-dancing foreigners. Middle America has just noticed this. Apparently, they have never visited my lovely town of Jersey City, New Jersey, which is overrun by Mexicans from all over the world- including Mexicans from the Philippines, the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, Pakistan, and (occasionally) from Mexico.

the fact of the matter is that this is an immigrant nation. We are all immigrants, or descendants of immigrants. Or descendants of indentured servants or descendants of chattel slaves brought here, strangely enough, to do back breaking agricultural work for wages even lower than those of illegal immigrants. Or occasionally descendents of Melungeons. And almost all of us are descendants of folks who got here in questionable ways- either by getting off a boat and swindling some natives out of prime Manhattan real estate (how's that for legal immigration), or chained up in the hold of a slave ship, or packed into steerage class on a tramp steamer, very few immigrant stories are nice and tidy. In fact, I would say that, until the advent of cheap air travel, which would be the seventies, most immigrant trips were made in desperate conditions and for desperate reasons. Up until recently, a trip to America was a one way trip, with no hope of going back and very little chance of communication with loved ones except by long distance letter. To immigrate to America was to cut yourself off from your roots. As we drive to our local PTA meeting in our immaculate SUV's, let us not forget that back in the day our great grandfathers were fleeing debtors prison, or the boot heels of czarist secret police on their necks, or bigamy charges back in Merry Olde England, or a shotgun toting angry Bavarian father trailed by an underage fraulein with an inconveniently swollen midriff. Or simply the fact that nothing awaited them in Ruritania except an endless future of dirt, poverty, and cholera.

Nativist Americans today remind me of the hordes of pompous scum in Central Europe who try to lord it over other people by claiming to be related to the Hapsburgs, while failing to mention that this connection comes from an ill-used chambermaid. Those Habsburgs got around.

So I can't fault folks for going over a fence, or under a wire, or doing whatever it is they have to do to get here. Of course I don't like the fact that our borders leak like a TJ hooker. If Armando from Puebla can get through undetected, so can Ahmad from Peshawar. And Ahmad may have different intentions than Armando, or he may not- the fact remains that it is important in this modern world to know who these folks are, and where they are; to facilitate good intentions and to frustrate evil ones.

The borders are leaky because we want them that way. We say we support American Workers, but we aren't willing to bay $5 per lb. for apples, or $25,000 a year for child care. Last week I was in New Orleans and saw a McDonald's advertising fast food jobs for $10.75 an hour! Guess What? They couldn't get enough workers to run the place. So it’s clear that jobs aren't being "stolen" from anyone. If only I could quit my job as a high paid blogger and work in a cane field, but alas, some Haitians have stolen my dream.

H1B or not H1B, that is the question...

We say we want folks to go the "legal" immigration route, rather than the illegal one. Of course, the folks that say this have never had to deal with the INS in any way shape or form. I was lucky enough to win the genetic lottery and be born in this, the greatest of all countries. But my bebezinho was less fortunate, and was born in Portugal. She, obviously, moved to correct this gross injustice as soon as possible, but was given a green card (obtained entirely legally) by the INS with a Typo. This was 5 years ago. She still hasn't gotten a correct card reissued and may be deported for the simple act of going to visit her family for Christmas, without her green card, which the INS took to "correct". Apparently fixing a typo, laminating a new card, and sticking it in the mail requires Herculean effort. But that's for another post some day. My Italian friend, who is blonde-haired, blue-eyed (from Padania, wouldn't you now) has lovely British accented English, a PhD in Chemistry and cooks the best Risotto in Jersey, submits herself to a monthly ritual of humiliation with the INS in an attempt to get her H1B converted into a green card. It's been eight years. No luck yet. By the way, I know a guy in Texas who needs to hire eight chemists to run his lab. He's had openings for over a year. There are no Americans with the proper degrees who want the jobs. There are dozens of qualified chemists in India, Romania, England, and even Italy who would love them. Also, my friend is single. And hot. I'm just sayin'!

We don't want people to speak Spanish instead of English, but we make nothing available to help them learn English

Mexicans are not here to be dirty, or corrupt, or lazy, or shiftless, or to remain a permanent underclass. These are precisely the things they are running away from. I understand that the law is the law, and must be obeyed. Having been an expat for a few years myself, I know what its like to live in a place with no rule of law. It's an awful thing to be at the total mercy of a vindictive and powerful state that will humiliate, exploit, or steal from you at their whim. Few Americans appreciate how this feels, unless they have had to request something from the INS. In theory, I am against illegal immigration.

In practice, how do you look an honest, hardworking, ambitious person in the eye and say, "No, this American Dream, it is not for you. It is only for me."

Artistic Onanism in Jersey City

2006-04-05T15:56:00.000-04:00

Well, it didn' t take long for the "inspiration" for a new post to hit me. Although no one may, as of yet, be reading this, hopefully we will get some visitors, even more hopefully we will get visitors who comment, and (dare I dream) eventually visitors who comment in an educated and even possibly interesting fashion.

I will take this opportunity to use my soapbox to sound off about one of my passions- Art. More specifically, Art as it is often displayed in Jersey City, my current home.

Jersey City is a fine place to see Art. Not that the art itself is necessarily fine, but it is in fact there- and there somewhat regularly. This is far superior to the situation in my hometown, a tiny berg in East Tennessee, where Art typically referred, in some fashion, to Bob Ross or the estimable Mr. Garfunkel.

I love photography. One of the reasons I love it is that, during our short stay on this mortal coil, I would like to see as much of that coil as possible. And photography, particularly the photography of others, allows you to see things that you would otherwise never see. Like this photo above, for example. How often do you get to see a gay cowboy trundling down 5th Avenue in a giant mock saloon hauled on the back of a flatbed truck? Not as often as you would like.

But now you get to see it, because I saw it and passed it ont o you. By the way, my first little toe dip into the world of onlineiana was with my local community bulletin board, JClist- the finest local resource available to residents of Jersey City, and this was the photograph I chose as my Avatar. It was generally well recieved. I then went on to use it on a website where I discuss technical and aesthetic elements of photography, and was told I needed something a bit more acceptable for the "general public." I myself thought that 5th Avenue is about as general public as you can get, but I suppose the public here, and the public in Peoria are somewhat different. Lo, the heavy hand of the red states reaches even unto the banks of the Hudson.

But I digress, as I am wont to do.

Photography ought to show you something you have never seen, or show you something you have seen in a new and interesting manner. I generally take what one would call "travel" photographs- that is to say, photos that happen to be wherever I am travelling due to business or in the sparse free time that my job allows me. I do Travel photography for a variety of reasons; I could wax on about broadening the mind, new vistas, reaching across cultures, &tc, but the fact of the matter is that I do travel photography because I like to travel. Also, I can afford to hire neither models nor studio space to do the hot hot girlie pics that really sell.

Photography can be done about pedestrian things. My friend Beth likes to take photos of hands. Everybody has hands, well, most everybody- but Beth's pictures of hands, though they are common objects, are not common photos at all. They capture and hold your interest. As ALL photos should; if one is going to have the balls to hang them on a wall and call them Art. Photography suffers under a serious lack of respect, artistically speaking, vis a vis things such as painting. After all, we just point and shoot, right? A painter actually has to paint. That requires work- so many folks look at photography as sort of a surrogate Art form for the lazy or untalented painter. and I don't really blame them.

Much as the current writers of hollywood sitcoms and movies have lost sight of the fact that an essential element of comedy is actually being funny, so too have many contemporary artists lost site of the fact that Art, to be good Art, must say something. It must have artifice. It must be interesting. I recently went to a show of photographs at a local bar which shall remain unnamed, as (coward that I am) I one day wish to display my own work there, that sucked. They were simply rank. A 5x7 photograph of a woman, standing dead center, on a sidewalk in a street. For the price of $100. The woman was neither beautiful enough to entrhall, nor ugly enough to fascinate- she was simply forgettable in every respect. As was the street, and the sidewalk. It wasn't even properly exposed, nor exposed improperly enough to, again, be in the slightest bit interesting.

It is not enough for a photographer to point and shoot, they must also see. And their sight must be informed by some sort of aesthetic vision. A great many people who pass themselves off as photographic artists have neither practiced nor thought about things such as symbolism, or even basic elements of composition. These elements are as active, or should be as active, in fine art photography as they are in painting.

There once was, quite a while ago, an artistic tradition shared by all the all the artists of the west. There was a golden artistic thread running through the western tradition from the medievals to the impressionists (I am sure some Art Historians are howling about this, but I don't care- I am suspicious of the relegation of criticism to the exclusive sphere of the "experts."). This tradition became, eventually, oppresive and insufferable. It also produced a lot of schlock. Not good schlock, like the aforeseen Gay Cowboy, but bad schlock, like the painters who were trying to imitate Mucha, but sucked. So the modernists rebelled against tradition, and that rebellion reached its apotheosis in the likes of Andy Warhol. Modern art subverted the old school.

But here's the thing- most of the great subversive artists, whose project was to undermine old status quo's, understood the status quo they were attacking. They used that status quo as a point of departure, and their art said something interesting about the old status quo, and about the new society that was forming about them. That knowledge was hard won, and came about through study and tireless application.

The lesson that the current generation of artists seem to take, in the main, from these rebels was that their art was different, and nothing more. the deeper lessons they failed to learn. So now art is different for the sake of difference alone. The first question an artist has to ask herself while preparing for her work is "what am I going to say, and why am I going to do it in this fashion." The answer should not be simply because it's new, or no one has done it before. I don't beleive anyone has ever base jumped from the top of the Old Jersey City Medical Center- that doesn't mean its necessarily a good idea; although I would certainly like to see it.

Simply finding something new can be easy. And often soulless. And I fear that is why people do it. Because to be a good artist, and this is especially true for the ""pure" visual artist (and here I think this diverges from photography, which is somewhat more documentary; a strange mix of art and craft) the artist must be familiar with the culture his art is located in. And that requires intellectual work, and reflection.

It is one thing for art to critique society- this is, besides being beautiful or interesting in its own right, one of its major functions. It is even appropriate for art to critique art's critique of society. But, at some point, when we critique criticisms of other's analyses of those that critique abstract art that may or may not be related to pure visual beauty, or social commentary or, well, anything of substance; we become lost in an endless masturbatory hysterises. I fear that this is, in the main, the status of most Art as it is currently practiced. The worst sin against aesthetics, it bores me.

This is not to say that all artist's in Jersey City or elsewhere engage in this sort of higbrowed onanism. It's just that it is depressingly common.

Please, no more people on street corners. No more "paintings" that consist of pieces of fruit dipped into pigment and then stuck repeatedly on 16 foot long canvases. This is my request to the artists of Jersey City. Tell me something interesting.

As an aside, I myself have an exhibition running through the month of April at Subia's Market, 506 Jersey Avenue, in Jersey City. Come and pleasure yourself.

First post- welcome to The Stoop

2006-04-05T11:31:00.000-04:00

Hey all.

I imagine the number of folks reading this must be very, very few. Particularly since this is a) my first post, and b)I have no idea how one goes about publicizing a blog. My computer skills are limited, to say the least.

Nevertheless, let me introduce myself, and what I hope to get out of this blog, and what you, dear reader, may expect.

About Me

Name: Ryan Davis, known by some as O Justiceiro and by others as "the gay cowboy" despite the fact that I am neither gay, nor a cowboy. Nor actually a justiceiro, come to think of it.

Age: Mid-thirties, some would say I comport myself with youth and vigor, others that I am an immature ass. Have lived longer than Jesus, but haven't accomplished as much.

Work: I peddle industrial chemicals, hardly a surprise given my location. And by industrial chemicals I do not mean drugs. I would prefer not to reveal the name of the enterprise for which I work, as later on in this blog I may have the occasion to say disparaging things about it.

What I do When not Working: Reading, arguing, taking photos, slacking, trying to see stuff that you don't normally see.

Strengths: eidetic memory, but only for information with no practical value. Kind to Animals. Hates Mankind in general, but tends to love them as individuals. Distrusts the Mob. Occasionally has flashes of insight concerning the sources of human behavior. Innate feel for the aesthetic. I Pick up foreign languages the way rock stars pick up groupies.

Weaknesses: Horribly unorganized. Generally hedonistic. A notorious glutton. Somewhat pretentious, moreso pompous. Has been guilty of "overweening hubris." Awful Speller.

Major Concerns: The deterioration of culture. The fact that no one writes with style anymore, and that all our neologisms are flashy and easy, at worst stupid and at best "clever." The death of Wit. The fact that Artists innovate with no agenda and no introspection. Why one never actually does see baby pigeons, only adult pigeons- thanks for creeping me out, NPR. The fact that republicans have become anarchists, and anarchists have become fascists.

What I hope to get out of this board

A forum to inform the world about my vices, interests, prejudices, and delusions- that is to say, a space wherein I can write essays about things I am thinking about; principally Art, Culture, Politics, and Religion. And where you, faithful reader, may respond to them.

Although I do so long to retain the highmindedness of this cyberliterary project, I will also more than occasionally delve into topics more mundane, such as my f

feelings and experiences with certain camera equipment, and why Nikon users squat in a darkness of their own making.Why writers no longer use words such as and must needs and mayhaps.

Why I hate George Bush despite the fact that I am innately conservative- Why Mayor Healy is a Jackass, and how we should attempt to stop the Jersey City Municipal Council from stealing all of our money, and content themselves with only absconding with the majority of it.

Here you can view the campaign poster I have designed for next years election. Occasionally pointless and lackluster photoshop projects will litter this blog like so much artistic detritus.

All in all, I hope this blog to be a judicious mixture of the sacred and the profane, to the edification of all, and (of course) to my own benefit as well.

So, until the muse of the screed descends upon me and I contribute to this, my blog, a second post,

Fare well