There I was in my automobile (as I am a great percentage of the day) minding my own business.
Suddenly I received a phone call and query about a gig for thee Jay-Z and, more specifically, his clothing line - RocaWear.
So then Yours Truly got to get out of a suit and into a more all-purpose shooting ensemble to document those coming to the HSBC gig in RocaWear (including these people above. not pictured: guy in very nice $450 sunglasses by RocaWear.
Where in the Middling City do you get these, YT asked. At - getthis - hardly-retailin' Main Place Mall.) and then Himself in his wares.
I worked the line of fans outdoors, then meandered into HSBC with cam out shooting in the lobby until a thuggish worker there in nice poly-oly-umphinfree-ester jacket informed YT that shooting in the lobby was absolutely never ever allowed. Alright then, YT sputtered, I'll continue shooting outdoors.
And out I went.
And then in I went to stumble along the usual process of Obtaining Photo Credentials.

sidenote: did see classical musician pal Gail, who'd also been recruited yesterday, but in her case to play classically behind the hiphopR&B stars. I liked saying, amid the backstage frenzy, costume lady looking all worried, lady gluing faux jewels to cordless mics See you at the Roycroft. Gail's Sunday gig is brunch at EA's Roycroft.

YT does not need to re-explain to You the way it was back in the day when three songs was de rigeur. Now it is one song and off you go.
Last night YT was given two passes - one Photo, one Working.
Working meant I could linger in the venue after the one song (which did feature a fab duet with Jay-Z and Mary J. Blige to many screams and delights and embraces of those on romantic dates) and document more RocaWearians.
I did.
Until the giant in the black tshirt collared YT. To which I fall into my most feisty vixenish self. I truly was heading toward the exit to meet up with Heady and Tiff for some v. late sustenance but decided to put up a little hacklish fight.
Pulling out my DayTimer and purple pen I demanded AND WHO ARE YOU ... so I can tell Jay-Z why I stopped working tonight.
He never did answer the question.
Suddenly all was well in our little power struggle but really I was famished.
I am leaving YT said, putting away cam.
For I had really done IT, done IT with aplomb and more.
Arrived back at little surface lot across from venue on the cobblestone street I like to show people, which much earlier (when YT arrived) was manned by a toothless couple who accepted Canadian money from YT to park there in what was obviously once a nice little brick building - or two.
The toothless couple had long split, having filled up the lot and their pockets hours before.
I had to slip off a rope to get the hell out of there. And I did.
I spotted an SUV of late arrival hiphop white boys looking for a spot, idiotically, on the street.
I beeped. They looked. I beeped again. They looked some more.
I made a hand gesture to indicate rolling down of window.
They looked some more.
Finally the driver rolled down his window.
PARK IN MY SPOT, I'M LEAVING, I PAID FOR IT, GO PARK THERE (pointing) ... YOU JERK.
I started driving away and heard the guy yelling Thank You.
Off I continued.

Real Love, Love.

A yesterday gig was for Community Foundation for Greater Buffalo's 21st Century Club.
This is a most Perfect org with dues-paying memberships and money collected is granted to a community group to fund their growth.
Last night's awardee was Massachusetts Avenue Project (MAP) that Yours Truly has been intrigued by for a long time: they aid food entrepreneurs with a licensed community kitchen, give job training in food-related arts, have a garden manned by west side neighbor kids, and sell their wares.
The $100K that they received last night during this CFGB biennial event will help them to purchase the Russ's Bakery building at Grand and West Ferry.
YT was there to document the process - the first round of presentations by about a dozen community groups - and then last night's presentations by four finalist groups.
As someone in the crowd of voters and onlookers said, MAP was a slam dunk.
This is exciting for the Middling City's west side, and the cafe attached to the endeavor will (hopefully) be a good site for the satellite office.
Just rollerbladed around the block during a quick laptop break - with Toshi mushing and pulling me along.
Time to split, make, and do.
Amongst other things this fine afternoon YT is interviewing Steve Kurtz about all things in his life Art.

Mapped-out Love.

I watched the guy in blue t just suddenly fall over into the Oozfest mud.
It was especially curious as he hadn't just hit a ball or collided with another, equally-muddy bud.
Apparently, and I noted this to my bigU editrix, I am the go-to photog for all things mud-related and for that I am grateful ... and thrilled.
For who does not mind a little mud from time to time.
If you cannot stand the mud, get the F out of the garden, as I am wont to state with florid assurance.
Speaking of lush gardens, had a delivery yesterday at Butler Mansion, as I still call this U.B.-owned property and its demesne.

Did a CEPA auction purchase, the Josh Marks piece up for bids/grabs - wanted to own a piece by him as he's a former collaborator of Yours Truly.
Time to deliver some happiness in the form of images on disc and concurrently get the hell out of this temporary worksite teeming with people whose volumes are cranked to 11. Despite the earbuds are still hearing oso much of their shouts and murmurs.
Perhaps time to start carrying the noise-reducing Bose earphones about.
Ah yes, CEPA auction was much fun - with (as always) fab people/snacks/art.

Self-portrait with Annie at CEPA Auction/Market Arcade for Your viewing pleasure.
Sunday was part of Celia White's Urban Epiphany and, in keeping with the year's rules and outlines, read two pieces.
One about our mucking up the state of Nature, the other comparing Liz to a lily - written on the occasion of her last b-day.

Budding Love, Listening to Love.

+ Go To www.npr.org to see a couple of portraits of a very young war veteran made yesterday.

Once Upon the early 90s there was such a thing as acid-washed jeans, jeans that appeared whitish or lightish after some type of chem bath that rendered them the other side of worn out - in their last throes of material integrity.
Acid-wash meant fragile, a day in a photo studio whilst lifting and arranging props could mean busted-out knees.
Yours Truly knew about above from experience for there was a bitchin' pair of acid wash jeans back in The Day, the sole pair in The Wardrobe that remained intact for a couple of months only.
It was 1991 and Artvoice was underway - about a year old.
Yours Truly was helping develop the fledgling tab by being a photo columnist (What Has Happened), helping tidy up distribution, helping tidy up the chaos that was the office, helping tidy up what was slowly evolving into a staff (acting as an informal H.R. lady), and doing some design of ads and pages.
Steve Bartoo, an artist who long ago fled the Middling City for the Shiney Apple, drew an excellent series of still photo cells up one leg of the very holey acid wash jeans one day as he visited the Artvoice office of yore.
They are still on a shelf in The Walk-In Closet, suitable for framing.
Zoom ahead to the present day.
In lieu of acid washing manufacturers of all things dungaree now sporadically toss some flexible fibers into the jean mix.
They give, they bend, they rock.
So Yours Truly gleaned a super pair of jeans with a fraction of its fiber content being stretchy.
YT wore said jeans out on Friday night - to dinner, to an art op (Jerry Mead's excellent installation at Anderson Gallery), to a show at Babeville's (not to be confused with Nanceville) Ninth Ward (Mark Olsen formerly of The Jayhawks and now of a trio including a woman from Norway and YT asked - the cheese from there is a sort of Jarlsberg), and to Stillwater for some Veuve with the girls.
It was whilst picking up my camera bag that there was a separation of fabric from rear pocket.
All along the pocket line the fabric was skeletal.
Later, holding the jeans up to a light source, one could see that every juncture of fabric (where leg met pockets, where sections of waist melt belt loop) the dang-blamed thangs were about to explode away into oblivion.
YT does not harbour a fear of give-way jeans now, in sooth YT feels that this weakness is another precious quirk of Fashion.
Like elegant evening slippers, like a silk blouse from a fine shoppe in Tokyo, jeans remain sometime sartorial wimpware.
Caveat emptor.
Caveat stretchtor.

Fashionable Love.