dumpster-dreads, originally uploaded by nezua.

i think this is my favorite so far of the dumpster series. i plan to keep this series going. maybe it will be my first showing. once i’ve shot all summer, i’ll invite all the people of the town the opening and we’ll…break bread.

i wish these images were a bit sharper…shooting through a screen adds a natural diffuser, of course. think i’ll start jacking the ISO, try for a supahfly shutterspeed. crisp it up a bit.

here, i laugh, as i start imagining running remote flash units to the trees hanging over the dumpster. it could really get out of control. someone could reach into the dumpster and POOF a huge multi-strobe setup could fire. might ruin the authentic, gritty feel. yeh, i guess on shots like this you excuse a bit more artifact and flaw. especially when it feels like a surveillance/spy lens, as these inevitably do—once the person looks up and into the lens to find out what that motor-drive shutter sound is, that is.

the human body is a metaphor for all reality. the word made flesh, they say?

i really can’t tell you how different it felt to be in this place (not included in foto, this is a view del otro lado de la calle) as compared to the banks i was turned down in. man. the banks were well vacuumed, well furnished, had coffee and couches and glass walls and well-dressed and perfumed people and even when they were nice, they were icy when it came down to rejecting me. the banks were business as usual, tons of cameras and a stifling and intimidating air. sort of how i felt when i’d go to someone’s house for dinner as a child and realized that they lived in a different world, a world where you weren’t allowed to sip out of the bowl, where you had to watch where your elbows where, and generally felt uptight about everything you did.

this credit union didn’t turn me out, they had worn benches, wood benches, a dirty rope instead of a velvet one, wood floors that almost smelled like a dog was somewhere in the joint. the first thing i noticed was that behind the counters (so short you actually sat down at them to do your business with the teller) the room was so informal and cluttered that it felt (and looked) just like someone’s house! books, junk, pictures hung up, shelves overloaded, plants, worn wood. the tellers knew all the people and laughed and talked with them, joked with each other. and this non-latino woman was talking fluent spanish with some mexicano at the counter. and then behind me, another one, and then i realized that the majority of customers were brown! whoa!

i sat down at the counter and the (‘white’) woman asked me if i preferred to go by my first name or middle name, and i just smiled and said my first name. (mexican naming consideration and such). and we spoke english (good thing for me) but i felt at home. i really liked how all the mexicanos were treated like good people. just part of the flow, as we all should be.

if they ran my credit, i couldnt tell. in the bank, when the supposedly-friendly man (there were signs everywhere, clearly part of tthe banks’ ad campaign, different lines about “nice people do this, do that, smile pretty,e tc, welcome mat said WELCOME NICE PERSON!) when he ran my credit his face soured like he had just smelled a fart and then his Nice Man Voice got trembly and clipped at the edges and he told me they couldn’t help me and i walked out feeling so stupid, but in this place there was none of that and she simply told me that i would need to wait until this date to access the cash, and after a few deposits of the same check, they wouldn’t need to hold them anymore, and i could cash them right away.

the rail was rusted on the outside of the joint, and i put my hand on it smiling, walked out of there, and went back to the “classier” part of town. where i seem to live. (though in a cheap apartment building.)

hanks to my online amigos, mi novia’s hurting teeth can be fixed. ustedes sent us $255 in paypal funds and then, just the day before yesterday i got a big knock on the door and opened it to find a smallish box sitting before me. can you guess what was in that box?

amazing! a little chest of quarters! wow! i haven’t counted them yet, but i’m guessing it is no less than $400. so you see, you all actually took care of 90% what our insurance wouldn’t! and the rest won’t be a problem. between all of this and i’m SURE we can find a dentist who charges at least a little less, we are good. i’m so…well, of course, i’m overwhelmed. with gratitude. and of course i am so relieved that she can get her teeth fixed with no further delay.

but also, this gives me hope in US. you and me. not the misplaced uneasy sense of “security” we get from fucking massive insurance companies. isn’t that a joke!!! i mean aren’t THEY supposed to be why we pay all year? aren’t THEY why i shouldn’t have to ask you? so why do we use them? fuck them! all we need is ourselves. we help each other out when we need it. you better believe the next time one of you posts on needing money for something, from a computer breaking to a tooth breaking to a job breaking, i am going to pitch in. just like i’ve done already in the past, because this was done for me before, too. see? a cycle of giving. that’s how it CAN work. the FEAR is what makes us think ‘no no no gotta take care of minez, gotta hoard! can’t lose any!’ and the HOPE and the heart are what makes us say “i can give him/her something now, because i have some extra, and they need it. and i dont want to see them hurt…and i hope others can do for me, too, if i need it.”

others can have and keep the individualist/ capitalist/ republican/ whateveryouwanttocallit “gotz minez” approach. me, i’d rather have comunidad.

gracias to mis amig@s.