steves

This is Steve and his son, Steve. They just opened Fort Worth's newest gun shop, the Ft. Worth Gun Emporium over on S. Main. Work for The Project is getting me deeper into things I know nothing about, and maybe--I often think--shouldn't be delving into. But I love it and therefore I need to keep going. I love learning new things, I love engaging with things that make me uncomfortable, things I know little to nothing about. But I need to work on my confidence--a lot of the images are wash-outs on account of keeping my camera set on f10 for some reason. I mean these guys could tell as soon as I walked in, I had no idea what I was doing. The younger Steve had his hand on his holster (they both were carrying, and in fact later, Steve Sr. showed me that he had two guns on him, a tiny little pocket shooter as well, no bigger than the palm of his hand) during our first interaction. We didn't even get to talking about my photography at all for about 35 minutes and I ended up chatting with them for about an hour and half total. I found a story, found the narrative, the human connection we share...

I heard about Steve Sr.'s health problems that bankrupted his first gun store venture, heard about the Banditos motorcycle gang (they are one of the infamous 1%ers and began in Texas) of which Steve Sr. had extensive knowledge for reasons we didn't really get into, we talked about Texas' conceal and carry laws and their store's training classes (they want me to sign up, 40 dollars down, 60 dollars after I finish), I heard about their friend in Tennessee that makes custom knives modeled after George Washington's famous one; I heard about (and then saw) Steve Sr.'s father's old police gear (a .38, nightstick, handcuffs) that he keeps in the case to remind him of his dad; I heard about the mural on their wall they had painted for the store; I heard about a $10,000 rifle made with burled walnut and gold plated, hand-engraves steel; I held a musket made in the 1830s with a giant iron bayonet. I could go on and on. It was great. I'm heading back later this week to let them have some of the photos I shot for as they were gracious enough to invite me in, engage with me, and let me ask them all sorts of rookie questions (really, I was like a small child: what's this, what's that, how do you work this, etc etc etc). When we were done, they realized a bit better who I was, me who they were. And while we certainly have differing views on firearms, the firm handshakes we shared as I left reiterated that we are all just people going from this day to the next and hopefully the one after that. It was real. I need real.

In other news: before all of this, I had stopped in to the Amon Carter Museum to turn in some paperwork for viewing the Richard Avedon "In the American West" series--if all goes as planned, I will have a private viewing appointment on Wednesday, but I needed to fork over some references for them to call beforehand. Anyway a lot of intriguing, political turmoil there which is why, essentially, this important series has been relegated to the basement for nearly a decade. But that is a story is for another time...