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Brief “shrinking world” anecdotes: Saturday was a bin full o’ art, starting with the Ray at Night art walk. There was a giant robotic walking giraffe, replete with blinking lights and electronic music – sort of a raver version of SRL. Of course, I said hi to Amy and hung out for a bit (her evolutions in wood-burned/epoxied/waxed pieces are phenomenal – get a website already, Amy!) Aileen also had some wonderful new photos up, and a beautifully disgusting close up of someone licking an ice-cream cone of yogurt, hair, corn, and all sorts of revolting things combined.

I ran into a student (this keeps happening more and more) who was wandering around the galleries – not one, were I required to guess, who I would peg as an art lover – but that’s why I love San Diego. Once you get past the tanned silicon, there’s really fantastically surprising crowd down here.

Shortely thereafter, I ran into a girl I’ve been out with once and have been talking on the phone with lately, or rather, she ran into me. I was hunched over flipping through the portfolio of a great nature and landscape photographer showing at Warp 9 when she came up behind me and tickled my head. Strange thing was that she appeared to be hanging out with a few people: a mutual acquaintance, a friend that just moved down to SD, and someone I could swear she was on a date with. (Who caresses a girls forearm when asking them what to do unless you have some degree of romantic interest flowing?) Anyway, it was a little bit of a relief for me, as I was starting to think that all the phone time put in on my behalf was imbuing some sort of “more into you than I really am” sort of connection when I’m really thinking more along the lines of “we seem to have fun when we’re out, but it’s not like we’re exclusive.” (I’ve never really been one for the phone. I’d rather just use it to set up some time to meet in person.) Cool. Maybe we’ll hagn out again. Anyway, after introductions and a brief conversation, I flew home to grab some grub and pick up a jacket.

On to the meat: I head over to the San Diego Sports Club in Hillcrest for the “Fashion Whore” fashion show, where the (very cute) Ginger is doing some body painting. Saunter up, grab a Guinness, and she asks if I have my gear in the car.

“Of course.”

“Want to shoot candid pre-show and the show?”

I scan the room: dimly lit, there are a couple other photographers wandering and shooting, but the room is dominated by a professional and his lighting gear. He needs it, there room is horribly lit, with neon, fluorescence, mirrors and spinning reflective things, etc. Very inconsistent with extremely hight contrast. Ouch.

“I guess I’ll try. No promises.”

I do a bunch of the pre-show, and meet the other photogs, who seem nice enough. I think I’m the only one (aside from random models’ and designers’ friends with point-and-shoots) that shot the show. The pro only agreed to the pre-show, and I can see why: the show room was even harder to shoot than the prep room, with very little space for yourself much less auxiliary gear. Given the conditions, I opted to take advantage of having to bump the ISO up to 1600, and shot harsher without a bounce on the flash even with my 50mm f/1.8. Kind of a gritty Nan Goldin underbelly at the bar sort of look. Still culling the photos, we’ll see what comes up.

But, yeah, I hung out with a bunch of hot girls in various states of undress and photographed them. Unfortunately, as soon as my eye hits the viewfinder, I end up entering “pro” mode (hah!), and am really only seeing composition, lighting, and shapes of the human body. Even though the photos may ultimately passionate emotion, the models had turned into subjects, and I was no longer seeing them outside of the frame. Fun regardless, and perhaps some portfolio work there.