Strangers Project #2

I'd like to introduce you to James Pringle and if there was ever a big man with a gentle spirit this was him . I first spotted James from across the square , I must have been at least 50 yards away . There he sat alone arms spread , it seemed as if they covered the bench from one end to the other . The late day sun shined through his ceiling of live oaks , their curtains of spanish moss hanging as it has forever . Walking in his direction I first heard this booming baritone voice " Lord Lord soon it will be fathers day " " The fathers day is coming " . I am certain that I've never heard a voice so big , so bold , deep and rich yet clear and on key . Then he repeated his chorus for the day "Lord Lord soon it will be fathers day" . Being it was the day before the American holiday that pays tribute to dad's it seemed appropriate , But as I later learned it was something of a much higher calling . 

        I introduced myself and told him of my 50 Strangers project and asked if he would mind if while we chatted I could photograph him " No No , not at all people always taking pictures here "  . Around his neck hung an identification badge , James Pringle crafter , to his side a bunch of sweetgrass that he made into roses , hearts and other simple shapes that would appeal to the tourists now starting to emerge with the passing of the midday heat . With hands so big that their sheer size made one wonder of their power , it's with these that he wove the most intricate little trinkets , then out of nowhere "Lord Lord soon it will be Father's day " 

        We talked more, I asked "Do you know Walter or Ezekiel" ? "Well that Walter still around plays the blues ya know" his voice still leaving me amazed with it's deep tonality "Ezekiel , well that a sad story , they got him in one of those nursing homes , Last I heard he was trying to get back to playing that saxaphone" Then with hardly a breath in between he broke out that baritone voice and started another negro spiritual almost as if it were a tribute to his missing friend . I sat a bit surprised wondering a bit just how to act as he sang . It reminded me of a tune from "Showboat" , how I could remember something that was before I was born I don't know , but I did . Here is a taste of what was in my mind http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pSzYRo9j7YM . Well so James Pringle , I'm Bob Gala photographer and it's been my pleasure to meet you

The Strangers Project

This is the 1st in a series of posts about a new project  Strangers . I am attempting to introduce myself to people that I do not know and photograph them . This is not simply to snap a photograph and leave , but also to find out a little about their lives , and maybe more importantly their views of life and their choices on how to live it . I hope to find out about their hopes , their dreams and where they fit into this wonderful journey called life . This will also not be a get the simple one shot project . I intend to bring my studio to them . Using Nikon's best technology I'll be lighting the subjects with strobes and flashes . Remotely triggering them so that I can control the light giving me the opportunity to be expressive as a photographer . Savannah , Georgia a town that has a rich history and seemingly has embraced the many free spirited souls that call it home . A recipe in which tradition and tolerance are two of the main ingredients . Since I live not far from here there is no doubt that these will not be the only sessions shot there . In fact the idea of an extended project on Savannah sits somewhere in the back of my head . 

       So here I'll introduce Michael Houston  , unlike many of the elder statesmen of the Savannah street music scene he is a very young 18 years of age. After a simple introduction he was very receptive to the idea of being photographed while he played for change in Ellis Square . My first thought was , how could a man so young be here playing only hoping to hear the sound of coins hitting the empty violin case that he stood behind . Our conversation started with a simple question "You live here in Savannah" . His answer came quickly "No Sir , I'm from Beaufort and I just graduated" . He took me back just a bit after I asked "So what now on to college" ? Another quick answer as he looked me in the eye "No Sir , I don't think so" . Somehow I had hoped that I would hear just the opposite. "So what's next for you have any plans" ? And this is when it got good . With a look that only a youth could have he said "I'm a violinist" well O.K then I thought "I'm also going to be a translator" . "So what do you translate " ? He then rattled off all of the languages he spoke so fast that I couldn't possibly remember them . It was then that I realized that this was just the encounter I wanted to start my 50 strangers project . Michael Houston if we never meet again I'll remember you . May your youthful enthusiasm turn into achievements , May your translations bring understanding to our world and may your violin give pleasure to many .Well hello Michael , I'm Bob Gala photographer and this was my pleasure to meet you today .

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The Beginning

"When I was very young and the urge to be someplace else

was on me, I was assured by mature people that maturity

would cure this itch. When years described me as mature, the

remedy prescribed was middle age. In middle age I was

assured that greater age would calm my fever and now that I

am fifty-eight perhaps senility will do the job. Nothing has

worked. Four hoarse blasts of a ship’s whistle still raise the hair

on my neck and set my feet to tapping. The sound of a jet, an

engine warming up, even the clopping of shod hooves on

pavement brings on the ancient shudder, the dry mouth and

vacant eye, the hot palms and the churn of stomach high up

under the rib cage. In other words, I don’t improve; in further

words, once a bum always a bum. I fear the disease is

incurable. I set this matter down not to instruct others but to

inform myself.

When the virus of restlessness begins to take possession of a

wayward man, and the road away from Here seems broad and

straight and sweet, the victim must first find in himself a good

and sufficient reason for going. This to the practical bum is not

difficult. He has a built-in garden of reasons to choose from.

Next he must plan his trip in time and space, choose a

direction and a destination. And last he must implement the

journey. How to go, what to take, how long to stay. This part

of the process is invariable and immortal. I set it down only so

that newcomers to bumdom, like teen-agers in new-hatched

sin, will not think they invented it.

Once a journey is designed, equipped, and put in process, a

new factor enters and takes over. A trip, a safari, an

exploration, is an entity, different from all other journeys. It has

personality, temperament, individuality, uniqueness. A journey

is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards,

policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find after years of

struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us. Tour

masters, schedules, reservations, brass-bound and inevitable,

dash themselves to wreckage on the personality of the trip.

Only when this is recognized can the blown-in-the-glass bum

relax and go along with it. Only then do the frustrations fall

away. In this a journey is like marriage. The certain way to be

wrong is to think you control it. I feel better now, having said

this, although only those who have experienced it will

understand it" . John Steinbeck "Travels With Charley"

​I first read this as a young man . With the passing years many things seemingly more important have fallen from my memory , these words that have endured the years. The word journey has taken on many meanings over time and it's relevance to my life has been bizarre yet in a strange way gratifying . So it's with these words that I choose to start another journey and I hope that you can come along .