Law and Lamination

One. This Sheriff's deputy had in his left hand a warrant or a summons, and he was striding forward, stress throbbing in his temples. He was unaware of me with my camera, although he passed right by me. I imagine the man's work fills him with deeply troubling images: neglected and abused children, minds run amok, domestic violence, banks claiming people's homes. I wonder what draws him to law enforcement. My politics and my rebellious character usually put me athwart authority, though I am a peaceful and law-abiding being, but I felt great compassion as I watched this man go about his work today. I hoped he wasn't headed for a violent encounter. Quietly, in my heart, I thanked him for his service. Had I met him in another context, I might not have. This is the tenderness of street photography for me: a chance to issue blessings to strangers, to love what I see.

Joel Meyerowitz writes, "I use the real world: whatever the light is, wherever I find myself, I make the picture. I don't often say I will come back the next day for it. There is only now. The moment is now. I am here now, this is happening now, take it now." --in Photo-wisdom, edited by Lewis Blackwell. If you have time for that link, Meyerowitz talks lyrically in a five-minute video about the thrill of street photography.

Two. Your kind comments: I got a beautiful email from a friend who follows my blips but is not a blipper herself. She read your comments on the day I learned of M'e Mpho's death. She observes that our commenting on each other's blips "builds up very deep layers of connection, like laminating a very thin material patiently over time." Lacquer maybe, or the kind of shellac used in Byzantine icons, laid on with fine brushes of just one or two sable hairs each. Yes. Thank you for those eloquent layers of connection, for the comfort of your caring words. Thank you again.