David Alan Harvey Loft Workshop, entry # 16: Times Square, p5: my search for 15 seconds of fame lead me into glamour photography and then on to the divine

What is this 15 seconds of fame advertised in the background? I was determined to find out.

This is what it is. People who want to be famous for 15 seconds go somewhere down below this big, ever-changing, electronic billboard, pay a fee, get their picture taken in a patriotic setting and then their image appears right here, on this billboard, for one-quarter of a minute. I never went in to check on the cost - I figured the salesman might be such a persuasive hustler that he might convince me I needed to be famous for 15 seconds, talk me out of my money and I might then have to forgo my evening shiskkabob and pretzel.

Some people standing near me said that it cost $15.00 - one dollar for every second of fame. I can't verify that figure, but, if true, then it is a real bargain for sure.

And what happens when the 15 seconds of fame that you paid so dearly for comes to an end? You get swept right off the electronic billboard, that's what. You get replaced by the real celebrities of Times Square, the electronic billboard glamour girls. They get a lot more than 15 seconds, because everyone is much more interested in looking at them than they are at you, anyway.

Fortunately, the flag still flies in its place, doing its part to preserve modesty.

Oh, oh! The breeze wavers a bit, the flag unfurls the wrong way. Modesty is lost.

Officially, us serious photojournalists and true photographic artists express a certain amount of disdain for glamour photography - it is just too shallow a medium for us. Officially, that's how we feel and we are proud to state it. But unofficially, deep inside, we are all just a bit jealous. How could we not be?

Take me - how many times have I frozen myself half to death, turned my feet into blocks of ice, just to try to get a few decent pictures? I will do it again. I will freeze - to get a picture.

And meanwhile, some effete guy down in New York City is strutting around a warm studio, with all these hot ladies - the hottest in all the world - and he is giving them orders, saying things like, "lay down here, take this off... no put it back on and take this off instead... no... no... that's not what I want... take them both off -- and stretch out just a little more... and turn your left cheek just a tiny bit this way... No! No! No! Not that left cheek! Your other left cheek!"

And someone is paying him really good money to do it.

REAALLLY GOOOOOD money.

So, despite our official disdain toward these photographers, how can we help but be a little jealous?

But suddenly, here on Times Square, I, too, got to become a glamour photographer.

Look... see for yourself:

Glamour photography, shot second-hand by me as I gazed up at the electronic billboards of Time Square.

I even got to photograph a beautiful lady who rose above the mundane crowd to kiss a red deer on the nose. This wasn't a red-nosed reindeer - this was a red deer, with a black nose.

I had heard of these black-nosed red deer and how rare they are. There are less than 900 of them in all the world. They live on a tiny island in the Great Salt Lake and nowhere else. Trophy hunters pay a million dollars for a permit just to shoot one - one being the full quota for one year. The waiting list for permits is 50 years long. It would be even longer than that if enough wealthy sportsmen believed they would live long enough to use it.

At great expense, one was brought to New York City and Times Square for the glamour shoot.

It was fun for awhile, but pretty soon all this glamour-shooting overwhelmed me. The faces of these beautiful women broke up into rigid pieces, and rearranged themselves together wrongly.

Nobody looks like this.

I decided I wasn't cut out for glamour photography, after all.

It was time for me to return to the street, to get a dose of reality.  He must have been out here, looking for joy, looking for something to uplift his soul. I hope he found it. Look up, Mister. Joy glows above you.

Down here, on the pavement of Times Square, there was also glamour to behold. Real, live, flesh and blood glamour.

Many faces lit up in smiles.

There were beautiful faces, divine faces. When she discovered my camera looking her way, she made a point to hide her braces behind locked lips, but I did not care about her braces. She was beautiful, braces and all -- divine. How blessed I felt just to be able to shoot a few frames of her. The man to her right - what a fortunate fellow, to have the fingertips of one so divine come to rest upon his shoulder.

If she would have but rested her fingertips upon my shoulder for three seconds, I would have felt truly blessed. But I am shy. I did not ask her.

"Ask and ye shall receive," He said in the Bible.

I did not ask. I did not receive.

"Ye have not, because ye ask not."

Yet, I do have.

I have in spades. Divinity surrounds unrighteous me. It is everywhere, in whatever direction I look - divinity. Truly, I am blessed. 

There were tattooed faces - one with many tattoos. And the man who owns the tattooed face speaks in a soft, gentle, voice. At least he did to me. Someone told me he is famous and he probably is, but I do not keep up with fame the way I once did.

Etta James just died... so why bother?

She was divine. Her voice was divine.

Johnny Cash. He was another one who was divine.

He left too, not long ago, just like he knew he would.

He is a rickshaw driver. He is pedaling the bike that pulls the rickshaw. His rickshaw is empty.

This does not mean that business is bad for him. It just means that right now, at this moment, his rickshaw is empty. Maybe it is often full. His eyes do appear to be searching the crowd for potential customers. However often his rickshaw is full, he still always needs to find another load of riders.

This also was taken when I was shooting what is destined to become my pending entry, theoretically titled, "Chosen from above."

She is beautiful - as beautiful as any of those pictured above. She doesn't look very happy at the moment. I hope it is just a momentary thing. Maybe she is not unhappy at all, but just lost in thought, thinking about things I know nothing of.

Sometimes people ask me, "why do you look so unhappy?" when I am feeling quite happy, but am just lost in thought.

Last night, I stated that I would complete all my wandering about Times Square outtakes coverage between the time I got up this morning and the time I went to bed tonight. It just isn't working out that way. First, I did not get up this morning. I got up this afternoon. In the morning, I was struck by blessed sleep and I took full advantage of it.

It is now 11:53 PM. On one hand, I feel like I could go for hours yet and maybe I will, one way or another, but I feel that I have posted about as much as is reasonable to post in one day. Too much, perhaps. I had meant to be more disciplined in my selection and posting of pictures than this - as disciplined as David Alan Harvey would be. But, for all his teachings and my strivings to learn, I remain, after all, Bill Hess. Undisciplined and unruly, never knowing when to stop. I completed the workshop, but I have yet to obtain David's kind of discipline.

It would be pointless for me to post any more pictures today, so I will stop now. I still have at least two more Times Square posts to make - the main two, the two that most fit my theme of finding religion in Times Square, secular religion and street preacher religion - each striving for glory. Maybe I have three posts left. I will try to keep it to two. 

David Alan Harvey Loft Workshop, entry # 15: Times Square, p4: of cops and cameras, terrorists and criminals, in target #1

Officers Iocco and Kerekes, at work, Times Square, New York City.

Officers Iocco and Kerekes pose for pictures with a tourist.

Officers Iocco and Kerekes pose for pictures with another tourist.

Officer Iocco. It is he who we who wander Times Square rely upon to keep us safe.

Young woman poses with Officers Iocco and Kerekes. The two cops willing posed with everyone who asked - and while I was nearby, everyone who asked was female. Not a single male asked. The two young cops did not ask for money from people who wanted to pose with them.

Someone else could come onto Times Square in a New York cop costume, ask for money and then all kinds of people would be willing to pay him for the right to pose with him.

I wonder if most of those would be women, too?

Maybe next time I go to New York, I will buy a cop costume, head to Times Square and test it out.

I looked up the ten most photographed places in the world. Ten cities were named, with a landmark in each one of them. New York City and the Empire State Building was number one. I don't how they figure such a thing, but I don't believe it.

It may be that just about every tourist who goes to New York takes a picture of the Empire State Building, but those same tourists also go to Times Square, where, for every frame they shoot of the Empire State Building, they probably shoot 10, 20, or more in Times Square.

I have no stats to back me up. Logic just tells me it is so.

Cameras everwhere.

Cameras looking here, cameras looking there, cameras looking at me, cameras looking at you - and Angela, too.

People posing with sketches of themselves in front of camera so that they can get their picture taken and prove that they were really here, in Times Square, in New York City, where a world famous artist never spoken of by the critics sketched their likenesses onto paper.

And this is what all these cops are charged to protect. The most crowded area in the most crowded city in the United States, the number one target for terrorists from around the world - not to mention would-be pick-pockets, thugs, shysters, murderers, rapists and hucksters.

Still, I felt as safe in Times Square as safe can be. Certainly safer than in Wasilla. There were no loose dogs to bite me, no ravens to steal from me, no moose to jump up and down and stomp on me, no ice to send my feet flying out from beneath me, no snowmachiners or fourwheelers to roar blindly down the same path I walk upon, no frostbite to steel my ears, toes, fingers or nose away from me.

Even so, and as interesting a place as Time Square and New York is to visit, I prefer Wasilla.

Cop at work in Times Square, New York City.

David Alan Harvey Workshop, entry 14: Times Square, p3: amidst the chaos and clamor, glimpses of love, unabashed

We can always hope.

Surprised, anyone? 

What does it mean, when one closes her eyes while the other keeps his open? I don't know. The possible answers are many.

I spoke briefly with them. They are tourists from one of the northern European countries - I forget which one. I do not really know the nature of their relationship. They could be best friends. They could be something more. Whatever it is, it appears to be good.

I could have saved this shot for another post I will put up sometime between now and when I go to bed. I plan to title it, "Chosen from above" - but the truth is, until I actually post it, I cannot be 100 percent certain what I will title it.

When you see it, remember that these two were a part of it.

Love rapidly sketched out. I wonder why the artist switched their places around, moving her to the left, and him to the right?

All I can say for sure is that they are beautiful and there is a bond between them.

She loves her dolly too much to leave behind in the hotel, or whatever other place they might be staying.

Mother-baby love.

A time to comfort.

The wedding had apparently taken place elsewhere, perhaps in one of the Times Square churches - located a short distance away on two intersecting streets. Now the bride and groom had brought their parties to the square for picture taking purposes.

Amidst the clamor and chaos that is Times Square, the photographer works to pose the bridal party.

Boy! That is one big camera bag he carries!

The groom and his party pose for their official picture. And here am I, an interloping photographer, sneaking in a frame for my own purpose.

Brother and sister love - sometimes, there is and will be distance between them, but I bet that in the long run, it is the love that will win out. Of course, I cannot be certain of anything - even if they are actually brothers and sisters. If they are not, they are good standins, anyway.

No need for me to elaborate.

David Alan Harvey Workshop, entry 13; Times Square, p2: No, Sir, I did not take a picture of Priscilla's butt!!!

Sometimes, I happen upon a scene and I do not see a picture immediately, but I see the potential for a picture. I think a picture is likely to happen soon, so I prepare myself. So it was when I found Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. She was standing there, her back to me, striking a pose, nothing happening. I framed the scene in my camera, so I would be ready when something did happen.

I fired off one frame that I knew would be worthless, because that is the kind of thing I do. Immediately, the good fellow to the left stepped into the frame and said to Priscilla:

"The guy behind you just took a picture of your butt!"

I reacted quickly and shot this image before the lie had totally left his mouth, so that I could document it.

Priscilla turned to look behind her and see who it was that had just taken a picture of her butt - but I had taken no such picture! Yet, in such a situation, one cannot explain such a thing, as to do so would be awkward indeed and would only make matters worse.

So, I just continued to shoot pictures as the man grinned his smug and warped grin as he continued to walk on by.

Priscilla was cool and collected, unphased by it all. She continued to perform. She struck a new pose. My false accuser walked smugly out of the frame, feeling very pleased with himself.

The little girl was most entranced.

David Alan Harvey Workshop, entry 12: Times Square, p1: Elvis gets angry but Naked Cowgirl seems OK with it; professional posers demand to be paid (warning: explicit content)

Towards the end of my Times Square shoot, I looked down the street and saw Elvis walking toward me, in the form of an impersonator. He was plugged in, rockin' and jivin' to whatever he was listening to - Elvis, I presume.

As I had started out trying to shoot an essay on Mormon Missionaries, then, when that failed, turned to street preachers and then, after I failed to find any, turned to Times Square - I decided to look at the life on Times Square kind of in the vein of it representing its own sort of secular religion, where people go to find the blessings of happiness and signs of their own self-worth, connection to the universe and even recognition from above  - even if only in a most fleeting way.

Just about anything that I would see could be construed to qualify, but certainly Elvis more than most. The real Elvis lived hard and fast, all right, but was none-the-less possessed of deep inner faith. What a gospel singer he was! Can anyone listen to his rendition of How Great Thou Art and not feel some kind of connection to the eternal divine, be they Christian, as Elvis was, or something else?

There, hanging from him, was the cross that stood for the Christianity that Elvis believed in.

Surely, if he chose and dared to carry such a symbol of the love of Christ, then this impersonator must be a kind man - as the real Elvis was known to be.

The Elvis impersonator quickly spotted me. As unlikely as it seemed to me, he seemed startled to discover that I was pointing a camera at him.

He was not happy. In fact, Elvis Impersonator was angry. He suddenly came marching straight at me, an intimidating look upon his face.

Closer he came, fast, angry - too close to allow the lens that I had on my camera to focus upon him.

Closer yet - trying his damndest to frighten and intimidate me.

Then, he was right in my face, one lens of his sunglasses practically ramming my lens. Just after I shot this image, I could not help it - I started to laugh. He stepped aside, and stormed off. Christ said, "Judge not that ye be not judged," so I am reluctant to the judge the man, but on the surface, despite the cross that he carried, it would appear that he did not have the love of Christ in him.

That's ok - he was just an impersonator, anyway.

Here is another impersonator - of the Tin Man, from the Wizard of Oz. He has good peripheral vision. After I took this picture and lowered my camera, he immediately turned toward me and demanded that I pay him.

There is a profession of impersonators here on Times Square. They make their living by posing with tourists while their friends or loved ones take pictures of them together. To pay them for posing with your family or friends is one thing - but they have no more right to demand payment from passersby who snap their image and do not pose with them than does anyone else. If everyone demanded the same, and all photographers yielded, street photography would die.

That must be why Elvis was angry, too - I had photographed him, but had not paid him. I didn't pay the Tin Man either.

Same with Tickle Me Elmo. Somehow, those big eyes caught me as snapped this picture of him posing with a man who I presume did pay him for the honor. Elmo then demanded payment from me. I did not comply. He shouted angry words at me as I walked down the street away from him.

The thing is, Elmo, Elvis and Tin Man, when you make a spectacle of yourself in the most densely-crowded piece of out-in-the-public real estate in America, where everyone has a camera and people are wildly shooting everything they see, as they have every right to do, people are going to photograph you and you can't make them all pay.

Just stick to demanding payment from those who pose with you, and let it go at that. Don't make these beloved, delightful, sweet, characters that you have chosen to impersonate look like mean, greedy... well, you know.

Here is an actual example of how the impersonator payment business model works. This woman calls herself the Naked Cowgirl, although, thank goodness, she is not totally naked, nor is she a cowgirl. I've known cowgirls, and she is not one of them. I'll bet she's never sat on a horse and chased after a cow, nor competed in a barrel race in the rodeo or rode a bull.

Those are the kind of things cowgirls do.

So she is an impersonator, too.

Still, she is close enough to naked that I did what David always does on Burn when one of the essays that he runs includes a picture of someone who is even close to naked - he puts in the "explicit content" warning. He says he does it to protect himself. There is nothing pictured here that will not be seen by every innocent eye that walks through Times Square when this lady is out on the street, hard at work. Still, David has posted the warning for less than this, , so I figure I had better, too 

Anyway, here is the Naked Cowgirl, collecting money from some men whose eyes she caught. They have now paid for the privilege of posing for pictures with her.

The lady in green does not appear to be impressed.

She poses, as the men photograph their friend with her. Afterward, I went in to the bank in the background to get some money so that I could buy a pretzel. There were some ladies in there who were also getting cash from the ATM. They were talking about the Naked Cowgirl. They were totally grossed out and disgusted.

The more famous Naked Cowboy was no nowhere to be seen. From what I googled, he sued the Naked Cowgirl for infringing upon his trademark. That was two or three years ago. He must not have won. Or maybe they reached a settlement. I suppose with a little more Google research, I could find out.

Maybe one of you readers who have more time than I do will research the answer for me.

The shoot is over. She knows I have taken pictures that include her, but she does not ask for payment. She is okay with it. She knows she is a public spectacle and people are going to photograph her. Through their photographs, her fame will grow. For reasons that I cannot understand, even more men - and some women, too, I am certain - will want to come and pay her for the honor of posing with her.

So there you go: Times Square, New York City, New York, USA, Planet Earth.

I found this lady posing with an impersonator of a man who has been one of my favorite actors since I saw the film, Pulp Fiction. This impersonator does not ask for money from anyone.

This impersonator simply doesn't care, or have any feelings or thoughts about it one way or another.

It is now late Friday night, January 20, and I have begun to tell the story of the things I saw as I roamed about Times Square, hoping to pull myself off Humiliation Road and come up with a presentable essay for the Loft Workshop show.

I will finish my Times Square adventure tomorrow, Saturday, January 21, in a series of action entries that I will begin to post shortly after I get up - which might not be all that early, and will continue until I go to bed tomorrow night.

On Sunday, I will move to the final day of the workshop and the evening presentation and will show the slideshow titled, At Home With David Alan Harvey. This includes the essays shot by all the Loft Workshop students. Again, I will save the images from my own slide show until then. None of them will appear in this blog until then. What you see here and will see in the posts tomorrow are and will be outtakes, 

After that I will do a followup and that will be it. This series will be done.