-{ redgeek.net }-

Fits and starts. A jerky, spasmodic evening of false starts. Saturday night started with a trip downtown to Rouge (the old Hustler bar) to check out some local artists, including Ginger’s: DJ’s, belly dancers, body painting, bondage art and performance, all sort of interesting things to view.

Sort of. Ok, I dig some of Ginger’s work, but since I’ve photographed half of it, I was going more for moral support on her behalf and to check out the other artists. Most interesting were the nudes painted on the husks of giant palms, the the dim but variable lighting casting an erotic wave to the figures emerging from the undulating husks. Pretty cool. And there were some reasonably interesting abstracts in the back room. Unfortunately, that’s just about when I mentally checked out.

Out of the rest of the work, I was thoroughly unimpressed. The bondage art pieces were without depth or nuance, just far enough from flat to remove the impression of cartoon and not nearly close enough to indicate any understanding of light or perspective. The themes were entirely too literal and transparent, and the people were ill-formed but without suggestion of eros or disgust. Very emotionless pieces; exactly what I would not expect for bondage art.

There was also a photographer/model duo displaying various pieces, of which I really only enjoyed one piece – although that one piece was quite good. The rest of the shots were decent, but reeked of lighting and composition compensation via Photoshop filters. I could walk up to just about and piece and pull it apart, e.g., “yup, this one was shot digital, the depth of field is all off so they blew out the lighting in the background and ran the watercolor filter over the whole thing, and they printed it larger than the resolution of the camera can support.” Now I have no problem with digital (I shoot digital) or photo manipulation (I do that as well), but for the most part, it’s really hard to make a bad photo good, but really easy to make a good photo worse. It was a more subtle version of what you see over the net: a decent photo/rendering that’s had lens flare, ripple, and spherize effects dumped on top.

After speaking with half the duo, I believe they could do much better leaving the effects at home and learning how to use a camera. Most where shot of a little point and shoot digital, which while fine for snapshots, did not allow for the control required to get what could be a great shot: you could tell just from the contrast that the camera’s metering was off. The potential is there, but the filters killed it for me.

I said goodbye to Ginger, and bailed.

I was to meet up at En Fuego in Del Mar with Chris+Sarah, Mike+Stacey, Brett+Lisa, and Frenchie for a little birthday celebration for Brett. A nice, enjoyable, uncharacteristically mellow time. Frenchie spots two cuties ordering drinks at the upstairs bar near our table.

“Go talk to them.”

My beer’s empty to I saunter up beside them and place my order, nodding hello and attempting to introduce myself. I’m cut short with a disinterested “hi” before she turns to her girlfriend, blocking me out with body language. I pay for my beer and return to our table.

Frenchie looking at me incredulously. “What happened?”

“She wasn’t interested. She and her friend were actually whispering about some hot guy here I can only assume isn’t me. Nothin’ I can do about that.”

“Aww, shit. Oh well.”

Later in the evening Frenchie saddles up to a table with a Lone Lady at the adjacent table. We’re all watching surreptitiously under our conversation, as Frenchie is solid once he’s on the date, but not so good at the introductions. It appears he’s doing alright. Until Lone Lady’s boyfriend comes back and sits down next to Frenchie. And quietly stares at him.

Our table’s alternating between laughing, crying, and huffing “abort” underneath coughs.

But Frenchie doesn’t leave. He keeps on with the conversation, five, ten, twenty minutes with the girl.

After LL and boyfriend leave, Frenchie slides back over to our table.

“Dude, you guys are supposed to tell me when there’s a boyfriend!”

“Frenchie, remember that time a few months ago when I cut you off from hitting on my friend at The Pub after about thirty seconds? The one that was married? Whose husband wasn’t there because he’s deployed? As an active duty Navy Seal?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, aside from the ring, there’s no way you could’ve known she was married. But when the boyfriend is sitting right next to you, well, you’re on your own. You gotta know when to fold ‘em, or at least, exit gracefully.”

_ Note: Frenchie’s really a great guy, but exiting a relationship of several years, he just kinda lost that “go right up and talk to girls” attitude. But, it does provide us with some great entertainment. We luv ya’, Frenchie._