Street Photography – Rebecca Floren Photography

Searching for Chicagohenge

I set my alarm for 4:30 am on a Sunday in March. It was 9:30 pm on a Saturday and I was already in bed, praying that insomnia didn’t pay me a visit. I was meeting a new photography friend downtown the next morning at 6:00 am to photograph Chicagohenge.

Chicagohenge is a phenomenom that happens twice a year. During the days before and after the spring and fall equinoxes, when the sun rises and sets, it lines up perfectly with the east-west streets in the Loop and you can see it framed between the buildings.

When my alarm went off at 4:30 am, I reluctantly pulled myself out of my warm bed and asked Alexa for the weather report. It was 19 degrees and windy. I must have still been asleep when I got dressed. It’s the only explanation I can come up with for choosing a thin pair of leggings, my running shoes and a long sleeve shirt.

By the time my friend and I picked our location I was quite cold. The wait for sunrise felt interminable. We took pictures as we waited and chatted about our mutual love of street photography. 6:25 am came and went. It was still pretty dark out, but we were pleasantly surprised that there were cars, buses, trains and people around so early on a Sunday morning. Surely in another 15-20 minutes, we’d see the sun, take our photographs and I could go home and crawl back into my warm bed. I was uncomfortably cold. My legs stung from the cold and my toes were numb. I wondered how long it would take for my toes to get frostbite and if they’d have to be amputated. Can a person walk without toes?

6:40 am. We can see the light of the sun as it starts to peek over the horizon.

Twenty-five minutes passes and we can see a little bit of light appearing over the horizon, but I’m getting impatient and my anxiety of the possible amputation of my toes is nearing panic attack levels. I start pacing and walking on my tip toes hoping that will keep the frostbite at bay. I can’t remember ever being this cold.

By 7:20 am, we should definitely have seen the sun. I’m disappointed. Did we pick a bad spot? We decided wander a few blocks to see if there’s a better spot. It hurt to walk and I mentally berated myself for not wearing my boots and warmer pants. The wind has died down a bit so the walk helped to warm my legs a little. I was positive my toes were going to be amputated and I made peace with it. I couldn’t feel them anyway.

We made it one block south to Monroe Street and my fears were confirmed. We were not going to see Chicagohenge. The light from the sun was bouncing off the south facing side of the buildings. I could see the glow of the sun hiding behind the buildings on the south side of Monroe Street.

We weren’t alone in our disappointment. We had run into a few others who were downtown to photograph the event as well. After comparing notes, I suspected we were a few days too early. I’ll try again in September. It’ll be warmer then too.

Cheers,
Bec

P.S. I’m happy to report I still have all of my toes.

Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary

I think this Mother Goose nursery rhyme was about Mother Nature for she has been quite contrary this summer. I spent all winter and spring dreaming of lazy weekend mornings on my deck drinking my coffee and reading. So far this summer I’ve been able to do so only twice thanks to Mary and her never ending rainy weekends.

Not only has the rainy weather kept me from my lazy weekend mornings on my deck, but it’s also kept me from going to the lake for a sunrise. On a clear day, I don’t think there is anything more beautiful or peaceful than seeing the sunrise over Lake Michigan.

For the past few weekends I’ve been trying to make it to the lake for the sunrise only to be thwarted by cloudy, drizzly weather. Last weekend I decided that if I couldn’t see the sunrise, I could at least get out during the Golden Hour and maybe get a nice photo or two. After walking around for a couple of hours and not seeing anything that spoke to me, I headed home dejected and uninspired. And then, just as I was standing on a street corner about a block from my home I looked up and saw the sky painted in such beautiful colors that it almost didn’t seem real.

I chased the sunset for a couple more blocks hoping to get a few more photos, but by the time I reached the second block the light was gone. In the span of 5 or 6 minutes, the sunset had faded to dusk and I thought about how much change happens in mere minutes.

RIP, Robert Frank

I was saddened to read about Robert Frank’s death in the New York Times yesterday.

There have been several articles about him in the New York Times over the past couple of days. You’ll need a dictionary and art degree to understand most of what’s written, but there was one word that I did understand without any help from Merriam-Webster. Influential.

He (along with Vivian Maier) has probably influenced my view and appreciation of photography the most. Before seeing his photographs, I thought of photography as perfectly composed and exposed pictures. Something pretty to hang on the wall. But his work in The Americans is sometimes blurry and cockeyed, sometimes grainy, and sometimes I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to be looking at. But throughout the whole book I feel like a voyeur peeping in the windows of a funeral or watching people eat a deli counter from front window, maybe even eavesdropping on a conversation at a table behind me in a restaurant. I find his work and the feelings they invoke infinitely more interesting than a perfectly composed landscape.

Please forgive the poor quality of the following photographs. I took pictures of the pictures in the book, The Americans. I probably could have found images on the internet to use, but given the industry I work in I’m a little paranoid about infringing on copyrights. Though I’m not sure that using a picture of the picture is any better.

The above photo is one of my favorites of Robert Frank’s. There’s so much detail. You can see an empty barbershop in his reflection in the window as well as the reflection of the street behind him. You see the texture of the screen over the reflection. The photo feels peaceful to me, like he took it on a Sunday morning walk around town. I wonder what made him stop to take this picture. Are there any other chairs in the shop or just the one?

This photo makes me laugh. There is something so strange about having a shoe shine stand in a men’s bathroom. That poor shoe shiner – does he have to sit in the bathroom all day? Or does he sit outside the bathroom and follow men in(also creepy) hoping they’ll want their shoes shined after they’ve dribbled on them? Which would be worse? I don’t think I would even have the guts to even take a picture in a restroom.

Is anyone else influenced by Robert Frank? Which of his photos are your favorite?