A conversation between me and an executive producer

My ep is a large white man with a booming voice and the no-nonsense attitude of a high school coach. But he can also be quite humorous and witty. He has the grizzly bear charm that seems to make women feel safe. But at the same time, has a gruff bluntness that frustrates them as well. One day I seem him wearing a zip-hoodie with the logo of the “eskrima/kali academy reseda, ca” on back. Its opened revealing a white t-shirt stretched across his barrel chest and tremendous belly.

Me: Hey so do you still practice kali and eskrima?

Ep: Yea yea. You Filipino?

Me: Yea.

Ep: So you must know it?

Me: Not really.

(Talks about how great kali and eskrima are. He talks for a while about the intricacies of the art, the culture and history, the practicality.)

Ep: You know, sticks are the perfect weapon. Not like nun chucks, which are hard to control. But anything can be a weapon. Like this sweater.

(He picks up a sweater and demonstrates a chokehold on one of the other designers.)

Ep: See.

Me: Yea yea totally.

Ep: So do you do the squat where you talk and smoke cigarettes. Yea those old guys all do it. Man, they’re something. They’re so fast.

Me: Heh heh…yea

Ep: So do you carry a knife?

Me: Um…no. I live in mar vista. I don’t rea--

Ep: I do. I’m not carrying it today. You should go to some of the classes…I can show you some moves out in the back. I have a mat in my office

Me: Why do you have a mat in your office?

Ep: They were using it for a shoot. I asked if I could have it and they gave it to me.

Me: Oh…maybe later.

Labor Day

I drove around the neighborhood of my hometown. A once booming dairy town, many livestock pens and farms still remain. There’s one farm across from the stater bros. I stoop through a barbed wire fence to catch some shots of the field and workers. One is napping in the shade behind me. An old Asian woman in a rice hat and a machete is chopping down these tall leaves. She doesn’t see me.

Two men in the distances are hunched over. One sees me and waves at me to approach. I hesitate, thinking that I’m trouble. He keeps waving me in. He seems friendly so I go ahead and walk through the field. I squat down to greet them. They are both smiling and welcoming.

The first man introduces himself (in broken English) first and last name, and shakes my hand. I tell him my first and last name and (in broken Spanish) explain I’m a student of photography. He responds with “orale” and asks if I like farming. I say I do. He then goes on to describe the vegetables in each row. He is talkative and friendly. The other man is older and shy. I ask to take his picture. He politely refuses showing me his hands. They are dirty and I think he feels embarrassed. We talk for a while and I snap a few photos. The younger man continues to talk about vegetables and work. He asks me a lot of questions, especially what I like about farming. I explain I like the colors and also I like salad.

The other man listens to us. He adds a few comments when he feels like it. But mostly he listens. The woman with the machete sees us and is yelling something, first at the napping man and then at us. I ask is she’s a friend of theirs. They say, “No…chino”. “Jefe”? I ask. They nod, “Si, jefe” I thank them and walk back. The woman is waiting for me. She says something I don’t understand. I smile and say, I’m sorry. She smiles too and walks back to the tall leaves.

Fotografia

I've been working on this photo essay for Nato's newly formed creative collective "line check". It first started out as a journal of my summer, comparing LA, Chicago, NY. But it has evolved to be more of a meandering statement about my place in LA.

It is a contradiction; a place at once brimming with optimism but full of dark places; a place that feeds your vanities and insecurities at the same time. It feels open and new and shiny and empty. A place of solitude and community.

So lately, my photo excursions have been aimed at finding subjects that allow me to express this dichotomy and explore this tension and hopefully find…something.

Part of this project is a small collection of portraits. It is of the owners of thrift shops I go to, field workers from the small farms in Ontario (my home town). Strangers. I guess it’s my attempt at creating a community, albeit an imaginary one, in a place that can make you feel so alone.