punk rock since 2003
In the early days of Covid-19, a friend said 'we're getting old let's do old people things', so we picked 'birding'. Looks like it stuck.
Here, a photo of some baby Western gulls on Alcatraz island, which has many types of birds, including falcons, and herons and more. While Western gulls are kind of 'boring', I do love how these baby gulls have spots on their heads.
Once or twice a year I try to get on a boat out to the Farallon Islands with birders in the Bay Area. Pelagic birding is my absolute favorite type of birding: being able to get out in the ocean and see a huge amount of sea life of all types is a treat.
In June this year I had the opportunity to head out there again. And this was a lucky shot.
I love the Mission. Specifically, I love the less gentrified parts of it. There's still so much life and culture; DJs spinning records on the street, bands playing live Latin jazz, record stores where you can explore cumbria, and Indigenous dance groups that perform at the many plazas.
Despite its many problems, the Mission is where I default to for food, adventure and fun. And to just generally feel alive.
I took all of these photos on my iPhone yesterday.
Windows.
Universal Bakery has a wonderful torta de carne asada. With a huge block of salty cheese. It's the perfect sandwich for me.
I love the colors of the Mission.
More colors.
Ever since I started shooting medium format on film, I've much preferred square or 1:1 photos. It helps me see the world in a different way.
I have a weird story about scallion pancakes. It goes like this.
Around this time last year, I was walking down my street in San Francisco when a woman waved something at me. I thought she needed help with something, so I went closer. Instead, she clicked something (she was waving a torch, the kind you ignite gas stoves with), and she held the flame in my face.
I had no idea what she was doing.
She said, "I'm going to burn you!"
"Why?" I was really confused.
"Because you're Chinese."
Oh.
That's what was happening. Until that point, I had largely avoided the worst of that stuff. I had no idea what to do. A bus arrived. I got into it.
As I was leaving, she kept pointing it at me, and she said, I'm also going to burn your dog! She is.. also Chinese!
I know she wasn't well.
I know that she needs help.
But I didn't know what I would do when that happened to me, finally.
Not much, maybe other than a lot of crying. I got to take time off work. I had therapy. I talked to a lot of people. I thought often of the moment, of what had happened, and I don't remember anything else about her now (I am face blind, that helps). If I saw her again on the streets (this happened around the corner where I live), I would not recognize her. But I remember the flame that she briefly lit, and how it changed everything about my life and my experience of the city that I had, up until that moment, thought of as home.
I don't think of her very much now. But it comes up when I least expect it. For example, when I took out a package of Trader Joe's Taiwanese Green Onions Pancake.
Now, it's probably a perfectly fine product for most people, but it's going to be forever remembered in my home now as The Time I Had Trader Joe's Scallion Pancakes and Absolutely Lost My Shit.
Somehow, the act of eating a frozen scallion pancake had unearthed all kinds of.. feelings. Mainly, why the hell am I here? There's racism, and there's frozen scallion pancakes! I would never accept frozen pancakes for any meal back home! Least of all scallion pancakes with COCONUT OIL made for WHITE PEOPLE, that aren't even flaky or layered.. or good!!!
I was inconsolable.
My wife never buys them anymore. She calls it my crying pancakes.
(We really like this one. It doesn't make me cry.)
My pancake nervous breakdown, that probably wasn't really about pancakes, but about immigration, identity, immigration, anxiety, concern about the state of the world and my personal safety, led me to book a flight back to Singapore.
More than anything else, I just needed to know that I was going to have the safety and comforts of home in my family house with my parents and with food I like. Where I was never going to have to eat anything frozen, ever. So I did that, shortly after my pancake breakdown.
And the first meal that I had when I got there was a scallion pancake. From here. Freshly made. By hand. Not frozen. Available for breakfast. For a buck or something. It was really good, and I did not cry.
But my parents could not understand why I so desperately wanted to eat a scallion pancake. It was not something I would crave, or ask for. It's not even really... Singaporean at all.
I could not explain how: between two scallion pancakes, one frozen and one fresh, laid the entire spectrum of my sadness and grief as well as my happiness and joy. I get to be queer, autistic, and to be with the person that I love. But I also get fires in my face, and frozen scallion pancakes that make me cry.
From a late night Mastodon thread about homesickness.
Two years before I moved to the United States, I wrote something called ‘things I will miss when I have to leave Southeast Asia (because I am queer)’. I predicted that I would be deeply homesick, not for Singapore specifically, but for the entire region.
Even though I was born in Singapore, I lived many years in Malaysia, Indonesia and Thailand.
What I could not predict: that even watching videos of people in YouTube documentaries about Southeast Asia, the birdsong is enough to make me bawl.
I have such a deep affection for and attachment to that part of the world. The weather makes sense to me. The languages make sense to me. And oh my god I miss the food.
I’ve been lucky to have such a deep familiarity with so much of it. I went to a hippie run shop in SF the other day and they played ‘mor lam’ on their record player.
It instantly brought me back to long overnight bus rides through Thailand with my mother.
In San Francisco, there’s a neighborhood called the Tenderloin. Looking it up on the Internet will tell you it’s the worst place in the world; apparently a literal war zone.
I live there. There are Thai people, Lao people, Vietnamese people. I walk my dog in my batik pajamas and sandals, just like I would back home. There’s fresh galangal in the grocery store. Sometimes a Vietnamese uncle goes fishing and I’m invited to pick some fish, with other Vietnamese aunties.
Sometimes people ask me why I don’t live in a nicer neighborhood. But I struggle to think of how any neighborhood where I can’t buy fresh galangal, speak my languages, get free soy milk, buy the only tofu I find acceptably good, is possibly nicer in any conceivable way
But mostly I am afraid that if I move, my yearning for home will give way to a bigger hole in my soul. Leaving Southeast Asia is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
My neighbors go to the food pantry every day. They don’t have money. They came here on a scary boat ride, all those decades ago. The trauma of war and that journey still haunts them in many visible ways. They also insist on giving me vegetables that they get from the food pantry. I tell them I am not poor and I feel bad about taking free food. They laugh and say, they just want to give me something. I am the only young person who still speaks to them in their language. They like that about me.
With the benefits of community also comes the downsides. My neighbors nag at me as though they are my relatives. Don’t order food. It’s expensive. Get a house in Hayward. It’s cheaper. I help them set alarms on their phones so they can wake up to get into a shuttle to go to a temple in San Jose for Tết. They are surprised that I don’t know many traditions, like being vegetarian on the 1st day of lunar new year.
I don’t know how to say, ‘my evangelical Christian upbringing robbed me of my cultural traditions’, in either Vietnamese or Teochew or Cantonese.
Every Vietnamese American old person who speaks to me asks me, ‘why did you come here? Isn’t your country better? Cleaner?’
I also don’t know how to say ‘my country doesn’t accept me because of who I love, so I am here’. In any of the languages that I know. Which is, quite a few.
An accidental double exposure of City Hall, San Francisco.
Seen at Crane Cove Park, San Francisco.
Whenever I can, I make the 45 minute walk to Chinatown in San Francisco to Dim Sum Bistro, my favorite 'cheap dimsum' spot. Sometimes, I take photos too.
I say this every chance I get: dimsum isn't always 'cheap' food. Dimsum can be fancy, and should be fancy, because to make large amounts of high quality dimsum you need a very large team. 'Nice dimsum' is a treat. It's a birthday meal, it's a treat you give your parents, it's going out to linger over nice tea and good ingredients to snack on dishes you probably won't make at home.
Cheap dimsum also has a place. But it should still be fresh and of relatively high quality. The menu should be large and the 'skin' of dumplings shouldn't be too thick. On these metrics, many of the other Chinatown dimsum places don't pass muster for me. But Dim Sum Bistro always delivers. So I'm glad it's here, and I'm glad I can have good, cheap dimsum.
Dim Sum Bistro
675 Broadway (Map)
(Photo taken on Minolta Hi-Matic 7S II, Kodak T-Max 400, developed in Xtol stock for 12:15 min @ ISO 1600)
As a person from the literal equator, I struggle a lot with winter. Not the cold, since it's not really that cold here in northern California, but with the increasingly shorter days. The best way I can describe it is that I feel as though my brain, happiness, and overall health is powered by the sun. The sun is my battery. The less of it there is, the worse I feel. Every year, without fail.
Going out for a run or walk daily has been the only thing that's worked to help me feel okay consistently. Even when it's grey and gloomy and rainy (the extent of winter here in San Francisco, but already way too awful for me), I try to go out for a run. I carry a tiny Olympus XA2 in my pocket and I take photos of the things that I see.
I see many beautiful things, because San Francisco is beautiful, and being outside in the beauty restores me.
Sunny, windy days.
Market days at Fort Mason.
Overcast but still lovely days.
(All photos taken on an Olympus XA2, Fuji Superia 400, self-developed at home with Bellini C-41 kit and scanned on Plustek 8200i)
A few firsts:
Ticket to ride.
Carousel.
Boats.
I probably won't go there for another ten years. Other than wanting to spend time with my friend, a place like Fisherman's Wharf simply accelerates my social and Covid-19 anxiety. I also don't like the shops and food there, but I know it's not for me.
I find myself spending more and more time in SF and Oakland Chinatowns. I love Chinese bakeries, so those are obviously the best places for me to get my fix. In SF Chinatown, check out Yummy Bakery and Stockton Bakery. In Oakland Chinatown I am partial to Napoleon Super Bakery. In all of those spots, pork floss bun, butter cream bun, hot dog bun, egg tarts: those are all classics. At Yummy Bakery definitely try the 'egg white tart', Japanese cheesecake and pineapple (bolo) bun. There are no pineapples in pineapple bun.
When I see old Chinese people staring at food in windows, I'm assured that that, too, is in my future. I mean I already stare at food in windows, especially in Chinatown, but I am looking forward to many more years of doing that.
A walk around Chinatown.
Abundant delicious foods.
Chinese delis look like this. This is a great spot, by the way. The chicken wings by the pound are great value.
(All photos taken on Leica M3, Minolta 40mm f/2 M-Rokkor, Fuji Superia 400, self-dev in Bellini C-41 kit, scanned on Plustek 8200i)
One of the more surprising things about living in San Francisco is that I'm now a part of a union. Never in my lifetime of working in tech did I imagine that would happen. However, now that I work in the public sector, union life is bustling. I'm very proud to be part of a union. I see its positive impacts everyday, from the pay rises I didn't have to personally bargain for, to the additional time off each year, and in a lot of little things as well.
Learning about all of this also got me to learn about the unions that protect the working class in the Bay Area.
So when I heard there was going to be a rally outside SF City Hall in support of the Screen Actors Guild – American Federation of Television and Radio Artists (SAG-AFTRA), I knew I had to go. San Francisco's media industry isn't as large as LA's, so our media workers make even less and have fewer protections. However, many Bay Area companies are responsible for the challenges we are now seeing. Decades of breathless tech solutionism and optimism with little concern for its ethical or real life consequences have led to the collapse of many industries, and people's livelihoods.
Although I now own a full frame DSLR (for bird photography), I ran there instead with a Yashica Mat-124G TLR camera from 1970, and three rolls of Kodak T-Max 400 film. Later that night, I developed the film in Rodinal in my bathroom. While I'm interested in some applications of AI (it has been useful in automating some tasks, for example), I am less positive about the creative applications. I started to learn to develop film this year, warts and all, partly as a response for that. It calms me to have a physical copy of a film negative that I can hold.
Many people enthusiastically supporting the SAG-AFTRA strike.
Plenty of slogans.
Placards.
It was a good crowd.
All kinds of signs!
All of our workplace rights today were won through similar collective actions in the past.
Media workers really have a raw deal, and there is no doubt that we should be supporting their strike against the studios.
Like so many film photographers outraged by the cost of color film these days, I've thrown myself headlong into the world of shooting stills on motion picture film. Kodak Vision 3 films can be purchased in bulk, spooled into lengths that bulk rollers can use, and then self-rolled into canisters at your own leisure. Instead of the $12-18 per roll abomination of standard color films, you can get motion picture film for $10 a roll if you buy them pre-rolled online, and $5-8 per roll if you do it yourself.
The huge caveat if that you can't just send this film to any film lab. They have a layer of black carbon on the film, known as 'remjet', that requires special handling. While I previously bought and sent my motion picture film to a specialist, I decided that I wanted to learn how to do it myself.
There's very scant information about how to shoot and develop motion picture film. The best information I've found has been this Reddit thread, other comparison threads, and some historical information on Photrio. Like I do in most things, I dove head first into it and made a ton of mistakes. But now I know.
I know, for example, not to use a stiff sponge to remove the remjet at the end. I know now that baking soda alone is not sufficient; borax is better. My darkroom (i.e. my bathroom) is now full of photo chemicals. I have all kinds of bottles and funnels. I'm truly getting into my mess around and find out era, and it's super fun. I discovered I have as much of a passion for the ins and outs of photo developing, scanning and printing as I do for taking photos and telling stories. It's been the important balm for my soul: the art and science of doing something that engages my heart, eyes, hands and soul.
This was from the first roll of Kodak Vision 3 250D that I developed. I used baking soda only in this roll to remove the remjet. Then, I used a stiff sponge to remove the remaining remjet at the end and.. that ended up scratching the negatives. But I'm learning to appreciate that mistakes happen and it's fine and maybe even cool, since it imparts a strong sense of physicality to the digital realm: if you were to look for this negative a hundred years from now, it will still have these scratches. It will be unmistakably something that happened from my own hand, rather than rendered by stable diffusion.
So I will keep shooting motion picture film and keep developing them.
I love you too, California, San Francisco, and Green Apple books.
Bob's donuts. A landmark of San Francisco.
Donuts donuts donuts.
Mona Lisa, modernism, and scratches across the negative.
(All photos taken on Minolta Hi-Matic 7S II with Kodak Vision 3 250D film, self-dev in ECN-2 chemistry and scanned on Plustek 8200i)
Last Friday, I had the unfortunate honor of experiencing (yet another) race-related incident in San Francisco. A mentally unwell person pointed a kitchen blow torch at me, with the flame out, and threatened to 'burn me' because I was an 'ugly Chinese ho'. I laughed it off, but I guess she was serious, and then she started pointing that thing at my dog and also calling her an ugly Chinese ho (???). Thankfully, I was able to leave as my bus arrived quickly.
I took the day off to decompress. This situation came hot on the heels of some conversations that my wife and I have been having: what is home? Where is it? What does it mean for us to build a home together? I decided to take a long walk through San Francisco. I needed to remember why I came here, and why this city is still, despite its many, many warts, a home I see us living in for the long haul.
I got coffee, met friends and family for dim sum, pet many dogs. I looked at the bay; I breathed in and out. While the city's beauty cannot make up for some of the ugliness that one experiences as a result of bigotry, I am reminded of how, on balance, I have had a largely good time here; I have experienced a lot of love and support, especially at moments like these; and I have the space to participate in activism to push back precisely on this sort of thing.
Delicious coffee at Home.
Playgrounds for the children in my neighborhood.
Vintage signs in Chinatown.
Saw many gorgeous dogs on a gorgeous day.
And many relevant signs.
At the end of the day, I come back to my maybe slightly nihilistic view that there are no good countries. My wife experiences everyday racism in Singapore, that felt like it was worsening towards the end of her decade there; that, plus the fact that my home country doesn't recognize our marriage, are among the many reasons we don't live there anymore. A country where we are both outsiders, where we have the ability to participate fully in the building of a society that we want to be a part of, feels, at this point, like where we want to be in spite of the other BS that it comes with.
All photos taken on Minolta Hi-Matic 7S II, Kentmere 400, self dev in Rodinal 1:50 and scanned on Plustek 8200i
I'm not actually a very handy person. It's amazing that I am able to load film at all in a change bag, into a reel, into a tank, and then get pictures out of it. Anyway, this was the first ever medium format color film that I developed myself at home: clearly, I put too little chemistry. I still like the pictures, and I like that I'm now able to post stuff like this instead of being a perfectionist.
Part of the reason I shoot film and develop it myself is really to learn, and you don't learn without making mistakes.
Anyway, some photos from Drag Up, Fight Back rally: all photos shot on Fuji GW690II, some kind of Portra (400?), developed in Cinestill C41 kit, and scanned on an Imacon Flextight 848 scanner.
Fuji Superia 400 has been my stock color film for a long time. I have 10 rolls left, and when that's gone it doesn't look like I'll be able to find it easily anymore. It was my favorite 'buy it at a drugstore' film, but now that I can't buy it easily, I don't think I will put in the effort to source it. For color, I will probably switch to Ektar and Kodak Vision 3 250D or 500T. Or some combination of all of that.
Until then, some photos celebrating Fuji Superia 400.
I like Fuji's colors with neon lights, especially reds. (Minolta Hi-Matic 7S II, handheld)
A friend came to town and invited me to an epic dinner. (Minolta Hi-Matic 7S II, handheld)
The next day, I had a delicious tasting menu at Ox + Tiger, a Filipino-Japanese restaurant in San Francisco. (Minolta Hi-Matic 7S II, handheld)
View of the San Francisco skyline from Yerba Buena island. (Rollei QZ 35T)
The greens and blues of San Francisco bay. (Rollei QZ 35T)
Almost 50 years ago, a drag queen named Tessie started feeding the homeless in the Tenderloin and so many decades later the tradition continues. I was grateful to be able to volunteer this past Easter at one of the Tenderloin Tessie events.
Every Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas, the organization puts out a massive event feeding hot food to anyone who needs it. Not everyone who came was homeless, all who wanted a hot meal were welcome. Many immigrant families also came and I think, the opportunity to feed your entire family good food and have fun entertainment is always welcome, regardless of your financial situation.
I was very impressed with the values that the organizers imparted to the volunteers. Treat everyone with respect, seat them at the table, provide table service, make sure that people have what they need and that they go home with things that will help.
The line started on the street, on Geary and Franklin.
There were also free haircuts to be had.
There was also free clothing, very neatly organized by gender and size.
The venue was wonderful and light-filled.
We also handed out gift bags with some essential items.
It's a wonderful initiative. I'm going to keep going back to volunteer when I can.
All photos taken on Minolta Hi-Matic 7S II with Fuji Superia 400, self developed with Cinestill C41 kit. Scanned with Plustek 8200i and Negative Lab Pro.
I had a drag-filled weekend that was full of trans joy. For that, I am grateful.
On Saturday, I went to the Drag Up, Fight Back march for drag and trans rights. Unless you've been living under a rock, trans people are under attack all over the world including in many parts of the US. California is not immune. It would be silly complacency to assume that because we are in San Francisco, things are going to be fine. In fact, a Republican in Riverside, CA, has just sponsored AB 1314 which would require educators to inform parents if their kids are trans. I hope I don't have to tell you how harmful that will be to trans people, and how that's just the start of more anti-trans legislation wrapped up in the supposed just-asking-questions 'concern' of 'children'. If they truly cared about the children, they would support an environment where all children, including queer and trans children, don't have to live in fear, where they can be who they are without being used as a political prop.
So we march.
I met a few other film photography enthusiasts!
Lots of people were being interviewed by all sorts of journalists.
Stop the joy destroyers, indeed!
Cistem of a down.
So much joy. Especially compared to the lone, sad, and hateful anti-trans protestor across the street who nobody could hear or care about. He had a Repent or Perish sign! Very stylish. But not as stylish as these folks on the right side of the protest.
Drag IS Joy.
All photos taken on Minolta Hi-Matic 7S II, Kodak 5222 film, developed in Rodinal 1:50 and scanned on Plustek 8200i
Recently, I had an opportunity to purchase a few rolls of Kodak Vision 3 500T Film (5219). I was warned that it would be almost too 'cool', that it had tones of blue in most photos unless I used a warming filter, or fixed it in post.
While my style of color photography tends to be vibrant and warm (Portra and Ektar are favorite film stocks), I wanted to try something new.
I went out shooting photos of San Francisco at dusk, and also in the midst of our poor weather (on the days when it rained ceaselessly). I think that if you know its quirks, you can get a lot out of it. I really like this look and am excited to try other motion picture film stock (I have a 50ft roll of Vision 250D film I'm going to bulk roll myself).
Shooting motion picture film is an interesting premise for a film stills photographer: you can buy it in bulk! It's affordable! And has very interesting look and film somewhat reminiscent of many of the movies we know and love (500T was used to shoot parts of Euphoria, among other TV shows and movies). The main downside is that regular labs don't process motion picture film. It has a black layer of 'remjet' at the back that can lead to damage of commercial labs' equipment. What you want to do is look for someone who does ECN-2 developing (there are several), or do it yourself with an ECN-2 kit.
Also, it never fails to amuse me that people think San Francisco is a really modern-looking big city: to me, it's a small town trapped in time, where buildings and entire neighborhoods (except the downtown area) look more or less the same as it did when hippies were running around naked in these areas.
No parking at any time.
A church in blue and pink and cloud.
Victorians in this neighborhood seem to like blue and white a lot.
And purple.
Retro blues.
Pink and yellow.
All photos taken on Minolta Hi-Matic, Kodak Vision 3 500T film, developed and scanned by Eureka Film Lab.
I used to be a creature of the night, but no longer. I used to be out all the time, but rarely now. Partly, it's that San Francisco is so chilly at night, but also that it's pretty dead at night compared to the much bigger cities I've lived in. I don't quite enjoy walking around, cold, in areas where there just sijmply isn't that much going on at all. For my wife's birthday, we went out to dinner in the Mission and I also brought my Minolta Hi-Matic 7S II. It's fast becoming one of the cameras I use the most: its f1.7 lens, combined with the small form factor and weight, makes it easy for me to pop it into my jacket pocket. It works really well indoors at night, too, with black and white film (and a steady hand.. or an elbow firmly on a table or chair or door, which is my style. I dislike tripods).
Here are some shots on Kentmere 400, pushed to 800 in Ilfosol 3 (1:9). I really like the combination of this film and this camera, and my self dev setup at home these days. Scanned on Noritsu LS-600.
The outdoor space at Blue Plate is quite lovely. So is the key lime pie there.
I love neon signs. I also love that I was professionally involved in getting these 'parklets' up early pandemic: my team at sf.gov helped get a joint permitting process out quickly to help businesses move their business outdoors.
Alamo Drafthouse in the Mission.
Street tacos are the best tacos. There was a lot of light from one side from the street lamps, but I quite enjoy the effect it casts on the photo.
I am starting to feel more confident about bulk-rolling black and white film and developing it at home. Other than the cost savings, it's the immediacy that I love: I can roll a 24 exposure cassette in black and white, shoot it in an hour, and come back and process it immediately and see it shortly after through a scanner or light table.
Join me on a walk around Lower Polk, a neighborhood directly adjacent to mine. I spend a lot of time here because it has the grocery stores and other shops that I go to the most. I rarely need to take a bus or car anywhere else because I get everything in the Tenderloin and Lower Polk, as well as in and around Nob Hill.
A sign of the times.
I feel lucky to be able to walk to a world class film photography store, Glass Key Photo. They have everything I need, and more.
RIP, Harvey Milk. Thanks for everything you have done for this city.
Hi-Lo has great drinks. Back when I still imbibed. These days, I just like the neon signs of these bars.
Count the rubber duckies.
Sutter St is home to a mosque frequented by the Yemeni community in the area.
This part of San Francisco has a strong link to Frank Norris, the anti-Semitic author. A bar in Lower Polk is named after one of his novels, McTeague.
All photos taken on Leica M3, 50mm Summilux, bulkrolled Kentmere Pan 400. Self developed in Ilfosol 3 (1+9) for 7 minutes, and scanned with Plustek 8200i.
Look up any travel information for San Francisco and 'helpful' people will tell you: avoid the Tenderloin! It's not safe! There's lots of.. stuff we don't like!
Well, I live there. By choice. I won't downplay the issues we face here: the living conditions on the streets are dire. They are maybe comparable to some other places in the world when you think of 'squalor'. It's not befitting of one of the richest cities, in one of the richest countries, in the world. But the squalor is there for a reason (historical and other neglect). There are few effective ways to 'improve' it (short of building more housing and providing more services), and certainly few that I personally support. I do not want to put more people behind bars simply for being so poor they no longer have a home. At the same time, many Tenderloin-dislikers have disingenuous reasons for singling out this neighborhood. We have different politics. Beyond politics, a fundamental disagreement about how we should treat people without homes.
Personally, I enjoy this neighborhood's diversity and density. I have never lived somewhere less dense; the TL was literally the only place in the city that felt like home (in terms of taller buildings, and no of people). I don't do well in the suburbs. I struggle mentally and emotionally with the suburbs. I am happy being among people. And buildings. And great food.
Sun set in the Civic Center area of San Francisco
This part of the city is full of historical hotels like these. Some of these are now student housing, others are homeless support housing. Others are still rented out by the day. The conditions are not always acceptable.
I have never lived too far from transit. So being in this neighborhood is great because I can go anywhere by transit, if I am not biking. Light streaks and dust on negatives on this frame, but I quite like the character it imparts.
I have not always been confident about taking film photos at night. But in rolling my own bulk film (Kentmere Pan 400) and developing and scanning at home, I feel a little more confident about it since it costs less, and I can see the results faster. These photos were taken with a Minolta Hi-Matic 7S II, with Kentmere 400, developed in D76 1:1 for 14 minutes, and scanned on a Noritsu LS-600.
While my primary mode of transportation in San Francisco is my bike, I do find myself enjoying the varied modes of transit here as well. They are especially useful during the rain: it has been pouring, for days at a time, during the 'atmospheric rivers' that we are currently facing in California.
When that happens, I don't love being on my bike. Not only are roads slick, but drivers are also worse than they usually are (and they are usually awful).
The train I take the most is the N.
There are so many transit systems and agencies here that it took me a while to learn all of them. I wish someone had told me at the start, when I was a tourist, that the 'tram' is a 'train' (trains were only subways to me) or a 'streetcar', and that they all have letters; whereas Muni local buses have numbers, like 38, 49, 5.
View of an underground station from inside the N.
These days, I most frequently take the N to get to the Harvey Milk Photo Center.
The Harvey Milk Photo Center is a darkroom and photo center run by the city of San Francisco. It is also one of the largest darkrooms in the west coast of the United States. The darkroom has something like 30 different enlargers; they also have a cool set up where you can go in, as a member, to enlarge and develop prints, and they take care of the chemicals and wash for you. I took a few lessons there this past month, and love going there to learn and to spend time with like-minded photography enthusiasts.
Since this roll of film was also developed and scanned on my own, I feel like I have made some large leaps where film skills are concerned: going to HPMC has been a large part of that journey.
All photos taken on Olympus XA2, Tri-X 400, developed in D76 1:1, scanned with a Noritsu LS-600 and edited for dust and contrast.
I love running or biking towards the Golden Gate Bridge. I come here far more than I go to Golden Gate Park (which many of my friends prefer). They're both the same distance, but I come here more because as an island girl I need to see the ocean. (Also, I don't have to go uphill too much)
Recently, I caught Covid-19 after three and a half years of avoiding it. Once I felt better, I had to come here again: I grabbed my medium format camera and some Portra and headed to Crissy Fields / Presidio.
Depending on my mood, and how much time I have, I either stop right at the marina and head back, or I do the whole stretch to Fort Point (under the bridge) and back. Or, I might take a detour into the Presidio if I want to do a trail run, or visit friends who live there.
Sometimes I take the 22 from here and head to Japantown to get groceries. Or I head back to Van Ness and take the 49 BRT, which I love. (So much faster along upper Van Ness these days, with the rapid bus lanes)
I never get bored of this place, rain or shine.
Boats in the marina.
Fort Mason from behind some plants.
Sunset over Golden Gate Bridge, tiny kite in the sky.
All photos taken on Fuji GW690II, probably Portra 800, and processed by Robert over at Brooktree.
Some photos from the first roll of film I developed and scanned myself.
I have been wanting to learn how to dev and scan for many years now. The sheer number of items and chemicals to procure left me dizzy, and I never did. I'm lucky to be near the city-run community darkroom and photo center, Harvey Milk Photo Center. For a reasonable price ($193 for 6 months, you can have unlimited access to the developing chemicals, equipment, and darkroom and digital lab.
While walking to a black and white film development class, I came upon the St Patrick's Day parade that the mayor of Cork and the mayor of San Francisco took part in. I took some photos, and less than an hour later (including transportation to the darkroom, and learning how to load film into reels for developing.. challenging for a person like me with dexterity issues), I was able to see how the photos turned out, on a light table.
It took some more time to scan. I am still figuring out my dev and scan workflow, and will keep trying different things until I find something I feel I can stick with.
The mayor of Cork, Ireland, was visiting San Francisco and took part in the 2023 St Patrick's Day parade.
Many people participated, in spite of the weather (the 10th or 11th atmospheric river event in San Francisco!)
Rain or shine.
All photos taken on Olympus XA2 and Tri-X 400, developed in Kodak D76 1:1 for 9 min 45 seconds, and scanned on Nikon LS-40.
San Francisco's Chinatown is one of the oldest ones in the United States. Chinese people, mostly from the "Sze Yap" region of Toishan and surrounding areas, came to northern California almost two centuries ago. They were boxed in in certain areas, within cities and regions, both in the city and outside it.
Great acts of discrimination and violence happened to them. In nearby Antioch, Chinese residents were prohibited from walking on the streets after sundown. This led to the development of secret tunnels that brought them to and from work. I recently learned about the town of Locke, just outside Sacramento, formerly known as the last rural Chinese town. People fled there to flee the racial violence in Sacramento and San Francisco.
As a much more privileged ethnic Chinese immigrant to this country who came with far more money, a better passport, I have it a lot easier, of course.
But that doesn't mean I don't feel the occasional challenges of living here at a time of increased anti-Asian hate. I've had far less of a problem living in California than in parts of Europe, Australia, but there are some among of us who never miss a moment to let others know that they are not welcome.
In the shadow of the Transamerica Pyramid, Chinatown stands with its lower rise buildings from an earlier time. The Financial District to one side, the Italian community of North Beach to another. Borders real and imagined are continually defined here. Some decades ago, a minority within a minority resided on the edges of Chinatown and the Financial District, not far from here.
Manilatown was in Chinatown, San Francisco, until one day it was no more. It was the site of a fierce battle between those who wanted to build high rise buildings, and those who wanted to keep a home for the 'Manong Generation', the Filipino men who came here, were discriminated in many ways (they were not allowed to bring their families), who then aged out. It was said that they were not welcome outside the borders of Manilatown, for a long time. So this was literally a refuge and a home away from home for them.
I'm reminded that borders are defined not only in maps, but also in minds. Walking away from Chinatown and into the Financial District, when I see signs for 'French Laundry', I'm also reminded of how, not too long ago, that was thinly veiled code for 'no Asians', but now it's just one of the most famous restaurants in the world. California is weird like that. Everyone tells you you are welcome, until you're not, but until then you're free to build your community, until you're not. For what it's worth, it's now home.
Rollei QZ 35T, Ektar 100, developed and scanned by Underdog Film Lab in Oakland.
I talk about this sometimes: for various reasons, my cultural identity as a Teochew / Chaoshan / Diojiu / Chiu Chow person is important to me. Speaking the language regularly is important to me. Being able to eat this food is important to me.
I am now 8000 miles from home but I am anchored by this Vietnamese Teochew noodle house near me. People speak to me in this language on the streets. My dog has a Teochew name. I speak it with my neighbors. On days when I am extremely homesick, I come here and order what I always ate with my grandparents, almost ten thousand kilometres away: dua kway teow tah, mai tau geh, keh ark tui.
(干捞大粿条 / 不要豆芽 / 加鸭腿 / wide rice noodles, soup on the side, no bean sprouts, add a braised duck leg)
The roasted chilli oil (not sriracha), and the soup on the side, makes it especially close to some early childhood memories.
I was especially close to my paternal grandparents, and they were my link to that culture. I felt especially thankful that I got to form these ties with them, the land they came from, and the language they spoke, in ways that many of my peers did not. By the time I was in kindergarten, I realized I was one of the few people of my generation who were able to communicate fluently with them in their first language. The political and education system in Singapore had sought to destroy all ties to non-Mandarin Chinese languages around the time I was growing up. They were largely successful: today, I speak more Teochew on the streets of the Tenderloin in San Francisco, and even more of it in Bangkok, or in Paris, than I do in Singapore (I don't know more than five people under the age of 50 who speak it well, other than my relatives).
Even as I mourn language loss in one home, I have also cultivated strong links with the community that mostly comprises Vietnamese and Cambodian Teochew people who have moved to the West Coast of the United States. I am thankful to Mr Hua, who reminds me of my late grandfather in his movements and his speech, and in his family members Nancy, Randi, Amy and others who keep these traditions alive so that somehow someone from somewhere else is able to feel like I can live in this country because I am not all alone here.
Photo taken on Rollei QZ 35T, Ektar 100, developed and scanned by Underdog Film Lab.
For whatever reason, I've been going to Chinatown in San Francisco more often. I don't particularly love the restaurants there (a few faves, but that's it), but it is convenient to go there when I want to pick up certain groceries.
When I want the Malaysian instant coffee I desperately miss (Chek Hup brand from Ipoh), the only place I've seen in the city that carries it consistently is Sun Kau Shing Co. (The older people who work there speak Chiu Chow / Teochew, if that's also what you speak, like me.)
Nearly all of the snacks I grew up eating, and more, at Pang Kee Bargain Market.
The freshest tofu at Wo Chong (look at the glass cabinet by the counter, not in the fridge.. get literally anything there).
The best deal on hotpot supplies (everything from hotpot soup base to the best quality beef and lamb, homemade fish paste, all the sausages and tofus and noodles you need, even the hotpot) at Gold Coin Trading.
When my mother was visiting, she also loved Mow Lee Shing Kee, a local SF Chinatown lap mei business that has been preserving meats the traditional way for the last 150 years. I never had this quality of Chinese meats until I came to California: many people have been doing it in old school ways for the last 100 to 200 years, whereas I've only had very commercially made Chinese meats in modern Asia. (SoCal has a few really good stores, too.) Try their duck liver sausage. If you've had lap cheung in the past and not liked it (Chinese sausages), I guarantee that the ones from here are.. different. The difference between a Chinese sausage from here and one made in a factory, is an even wider delta than say, an artisanal Italian sausage and an American factory made sausage. I am a big fan of this place.
Photo taken on Minolta Hi-Matic 7S II, Fuji Superia 400, developed and scanned at Underdog Film Lab, Oakland
Another photo from another concert I walked to from home.
We were invited to attend a gala concert for the New Century Chamber Orchestra. I'd gone to a show some time ago, really liked it, wrote about it, and met some of the folks involved through that.
It was our first time attending a high society event in San Francisco. There was wonderful music. The multiple Grammy-winning San Francisco Girls Chorus sang a few select pieces, and we were also treated to the 'dark, velvety' operatic voice of Nikola Printz.
Since the theme of the evening was 'Out of the Woods', there were also fairies. Naturally. I took a photo of one of them here.
Photo taken on Leica M3, 50mm Summilux, Kodak T-Max P3200, developed and scanned by Underdog Film Lab, Oakland.
One of the joys of living in downtown San Francisco is how I can get to many cultural events with a 10 minute walk. Some nights it's jazz at SFJazz, others it's at the opera or symphony. Many rock and punk (even Balkan music!) shows within walking or transit distance, too! Even though many artists have been priced out of San Francisco, many cornerstone and higher prestige shows still remain here at the downtown venues. I do find myself popping over to Oakland for more hiphop and even folk music, though. That stuff is barely in San Francisco anymore.
I brought my Leica M3 and 50mm Summilux to the SF Symphony to watch Herbert Blomstedt conduct Dvořák’s Eighth Symphony. With high ISO film (T-Max P3200) of course. The Leica was very silent, though of course I didn't take photos while the orchestra was playing. It was also my first time shooting T-Max P3200 indoors in a dim setting. I like this photo, and want to keep documenting the music I go to see.
A series of unprecedented storms swept us in San Francisco in January and February. Dark clouds and gloomy skies are not your typical fare here. I felt just as gloomy, but also thankful for the rain's impact on California's drought situation.
Soon, the sky started becoming bluer and bluer. Sometimes pink too.
And now we're back to blue, and I'm happy again.
Chinatown photo taken with Olympus XA2. The rest with Nikon L35TWAD. All on Fuji Superia 400. All developed and scanned by Underdog Film Lab, Oakland.
Photo taken on Leica M3, 50mm Summilux, Ektar 100. Developed and scanned by The Darkroom.
When you think of bakeries in San Francisco, perhaps you think of sourdough. Certainly, there are some well known bakeries in the city known for their sourdough, but that's not a style or type of bread I enjoy at all.
I don't think it's for everyone, but I like Chinese and Japanese bakeries. I like soft, pillowy breads that straddle the line between savory and sweet. I like hot dogs in my buns. I like ham in my bread. I like scallions in them, too. Barbecue pork. Eggs. All of it. My palate leans heavily on the savory side of things, and I also prefer my breads that way. Salty. Savory. I opine on that, and more, in this video.
As part of my increasing frustration at the perennial sour-ness of bread in the city I now live in, I seek out Chinese bakeries. Here are a few of my favorites.
Mee Mee bakery in Chinatown (pictured), is known for its 'cow ear cookies' or 'pig ear cookies', a savory spiral biscuit that's really more salty than sweet. I love that shit.
I also like Yummy Bakery for Hong Kong style 'paper cup cakes', which are fluffier and softer than American cupcakes; almost like a souffle, but like paper. If that makes sense. Also try their egg white tarts and wife cakes.
In the Outer Mission, Princess Bakery is an old school favorite. Try the coconut buns and the hot dog scallion buns. In the same neighborhood, Hong Kong Bakery is a classic. Don't sleep on the Excelsior: I think it has the highest density of my favorite Chinese food in the city, more than Chinatown and more than the Sunset or Richmond.
Lastly, Pineapple King Bakery, like I recommend in the YouTube show. Try literally anything there, and definitely don't skip the milk tea. I wish there were more Japanese bakeries in the city, but there are not. I'm glad people enjoy the sourdough of San Francisco, but I'm overjoyed that I have these alternatives here. I'm trying to take the perspective of "it's okay to not like things", but it is so goddamn hard when it's so hard to find good bread in this city that isn't surprisingly sour. (Recently, I bought a bag of bagels, and it was made of sourdough. Without warning. Sour simply isn't a flavor I enjoy: I also feel that way about American hot sauce.)
This is one of the photos that made me very glad I had a film camera in my pocket. I was able to jog alongside these friends, who were having so much fun on a Segway tour of San Francisco's Crissy Fields area near the Golden Gate Bridge, and they were very kind to pose for a photo for me.
Ever since I got my Olympus XA2, I've had a capable film camera in my pocket at all times, including when I'm out running. It's not my favorite camera, but it is very capable. It certainly fits the bill for 'everyday camera'. I did not have any issues zone focusing with it as I used to own one.
It was my first time using the Fuji Acros 100 II film, though. It's very sharp, very dark, very contrasty. I probably prefer the Tri-X and HP5 look in general, but it was fun to have tried something new. I don't think I would shoot the outdoors in black and white again; a big part of why I love this part of San Francisco is the sunshine and blue skies. Even when it's extremely foggy out, it still tends to be quite colorful. I'll probably end up shooting this area regularly with different types of film stock, and see what we end up with. I think I spend most of my time outdoors in the city in this area, at least four times a week.
More photos:
Yachts outside Fort Mason.
Which way? Near the Palace of Fine Arts.
All photos in this post taken with Olympus XA2, Fuji Acros 100 II, developed and scanned at Underdog Film Lab
Photo taken on Olympus XA2 on Fuji Superia 400, developed and scanned by Underdog Film Lab.
Mention the Tenderloin and a certain type of San Francisco resident will definitely scrunch up their faces. "Homeless people", "poop", "crime"; look behind all of those terms and I believe the fear and condescension is "class".
The Tenderloin is a working class neighborhood with a largely Southeast Asian, trans, Mexican, Arab, queer, and Black population. It is also home to many of the city's unhoused population. We also need far more toilets. And housing. Problems aside (as a board member of the Tenderlon Community Benefit District, I am working to improve things in this neighborhood!), I live here because it immerses me deeply in my communities. It is Southeast Asian, and queer, at the same time. I am also far more comfortable around working class people than around the types of people who live across Van Ness. It has the food that I want to eat, and the groceries that I need.
The freedom to run downstairs and get the types of tofu, lemongrass, galangal, many rice types, noodle varieties that I use without having to go to a 'special store', or the 'ethnic aisle', is what makes me feel connected. I know that living in a 'nice neighborhod' where my food lives in the ethnic aisle will be extremely alienating. Not to mention inconvenient.
So here I am, and I am always giddy with joy when I get to grab the freshly made tofu, and the nice stalks of lemongrass, from a Cambodian grocer in the Tenderloin. The lady and her son speak my native language, even though we come from different countries. We have the same conversation daily. "What are you cooking today?"
Tofu is often my answer. The answer is always tofu.
There's a curious shop on a street I walk past daily, that makes it look like we're in the '60s. It sells vintage magazines and other memorabilia. It also has vintage theatrical programs and erotica.
I thought it would be a nice shot to take photo of a retro magazine store with my retro camera. So here's a shot of The Magazine, taken with my 60 year old camera.
Leica M3, 50mm Summilux, Ektar 100. Processed by the Darkroom in San Clemente, Orange County
As I previously mentioned, I've had my Nikon L35TWAD for some time but was not able to turn it on until now. I'm glad I managed to do that, because it's been such a joy to use! The idea that you can have two very good lenses: a wide and a telephoto one, in such a tiny package, is wonderful to me.
Here's a test shot at dusk with Fuji Superia 400 film, handheld: I like it a lot. I'm going to take it out for a few more rolls.
Nikon L35TWAD point and shoot camera, Fuji Superia 400, developed at Underdog Film Lab in Oakland.
I was having a horrible day in August 2020, feeling shut in and defeated. There was no Covid-19 vaccine yet, and we had been sheltering in place in our tiny studio apartment for around 6 months by that time. Going out for a walk with my camera was something that helped me find the little joys of life.
I hadn't used my Leica in a while, and this was one of the moments that brought a smile to my face. I'm glad I managed to stand there and hear them play for a few minutes. It lifted my spirits. I'm also glad that I have a photograph to remind me of that time.
Photograph taken on a Leica M3 with 50mm Summilux, Kodacolor 200.
In 2018, my wife and I moved to San Francisco. We love the Mission district and try to spend as much time there as we can, especially for groceries and tacos. (La Oaxaqueña is our favorite.)
I'm especially interested in the less gentrified bits of it that remain. A few steps away from Valencia Street, there are still pockets of the Mission that are gritty and edgy. Those are the parts of the Mission that tend to have the food and groceries that I want to have.
Sometimes, I admire the old department store signs for shops long gone, in buildings still vacant and abandoned. I like grit, real people, and greasy tacos. I like these parts of the Mission.
Photo taken on Leica M3 with 50mm Summilux, Kodacolor 200, processed by Underdog Film Lab in Oakland and lightly edited by me for color and contrast.
The Tenderloin neighborhood of San Francisco frequently gets a bad rep, but I could not live anywhere else in this city. I live on a block where I get to speak my first language, the Teochew / Chiu Chow dialect of Chaoshan, with all of the Southeast Asian Chinese people here who own restaurants, grocery stores, and who mostly settled here after the Vietnam War.
Being in community and surrounded by the intimacy of language and culture has given me a different perspective on this part of town.
My photographs will often reflect this, and here I really like these half frame photos I took around here with my Kodak H35 toy camera.
The Burmese community comes out to City Hall often to advocate for help for their country.
The people who run this noodle shop not only sound exactly like my grandparents, they also make food like my grandparents'.
Photos shot on a Kodak H35 half frame toy camera and processed at Photo Plus, San Francisco, then lightly edited by me for color and contrast
Happy holidays! We're having weather here in San Francisco, which is a bit of an event. My plan for the next couple of weeks is to stay inside. This city is not made for weather, since we so rarely have any.
The best thing that happened to me over Christmas 2022 is that I started shooting film again.
Funny story: I was so mad at how my last few rolls of film turned out that I stopped using my film cameras for a few years. Turns out I have poor eyesight in my right eye, and I can't really focus rangefinders very well. I'm getting that fixed. So thank you, rangefinder focus, for letting me know to check my eyesight.
Some Santa-related photos from the last couple of weeks. I think this was Kodacolor 200, but I can never remember.
A Santa figurine inside a Thai dessert and coffee shop in San Francisco's Tenderloin neighborhood.
A Santa figurine reading a book outside a bar in San Francisco's Polk Street.
A Santa blow up outside a club in San Francisco.
Photos shot on Leica M3 with 50mm Summilux, processed by Underdog Film Lab in Oakland, then lightly edited for color and contrast in Photoshop.
Some time ago I read a tweet by a queer Singaporean asking why any queer Singaporean would move to San Francisco, citing the following shortcomings (not verbatim):
There was a time in my life where those thoughts resonated with me.
This topic has been on my mind since I moved here and, surprisingly, did not hate it as much as I imagined I would (I did not like San Francisco at all when I came as a tourist).
Unlike many other immigrants I've met here, who have left deteriorating and debilitating circumstances, my 'why I moved and how has it been' calculus is different. I did not move for material comfort. I am, daily, reminded of how I left home, away from material comfort, and my support systems, to be here. (Not to mention the tremendous amounts of social privilege I've left behind.)
Some time in 2012, I was pretty satisfied with my life as a queer Singaporean living in Singapore. I was in a high growth industry (tech), I got to date (a lot), I had many opportunities to create and carve out a life for myself as an upper middle class Chinese Singaporean gay woman who'd probably end up in a relationship with someone like me. In fact, when I went home recently we hung out with my ex (as queer women do), I took a photo of their home office in their absurdly beautiful Bukit Timah home and I captioned it in my phone as: "the life I would have had if I stayed home".
Every conversation when I was home revolved around, "when are you coming home?" because it seems unexpected, even among some types of minorities in Singapore, to entertain the idea of leaving the supposedly best place in the world (that we still all complain about anyway).
I found that my connection with Singapore was weakening. Other than family, I don't have anything to do there, or many people to spend time with. I have loads of acquaintances, of course, but many of my friends are.. elsewhere. (Not all of them to the hegemonic core, many of them to many parts of the world, including China, Vietnam, Indonesia.)
Still, every conversation (especially with my family) was around: so are you done yet with San Francisco? Isn't it absolutely terrible, that country? When are you coming back to this superior place? was the underlying question. If you're an always online Singapore leftist, your concerns with my city of choice probably has more to do with the above list of questions. If you're not a leftist, your concerns with my city of choice probably has to do with things like safety, medical bankruptcy, housing, why someone would realistically choose a higher cost of living and physical discomfort (as mentioned, Singapore is far more comfortable, materially, in nearly very way), and give up substantial amounts of socio-economic privilege.
Why people choose to leave home is deeply personal. Every situation is different. I moved here exactly three years ago with my wife and my dog when we suddenly had to make a huge life decision on the spot, when her work visa ran out and we decided to get married. We were lucky to have the option to come here, and to be able to thrive.
I learned quite quickly that I would have survived in Singapore (it's getting harder for queer people there), but I no longer felt like I could thrive. In spite of my immense privilege.
I felt like like the short-lived optimism I had for Singapore expanding queer rights was over. Even if 377A is repealed, I don't feel optimistic. I don't feel like I want to wait for incremental improvements. That's not to say that I don't want to do the work. I did, for a time. And if my circumstances were different, if I had decided to spend my life with another Singaporean person, if I was okay with surviving and not thriving, if I was able to shut up and be okay with the already tiny space around me in Singapore, eroding further and further; perhaps that would have been different.
I don't pretend this city, or this country, is perfect. Far from it. Unlike the home I grew up in though, it lets me say so: even if I am not a citizen. No country is perfect, so for now, we'll enjoy the wide open space of California, where, frankly, life is pretty good (if you can hack it). I feel immensely lucky to be able to grow as a person out here, far from home, while also having the ability to move back to my country, which has given me so much, yet currently exasperates me, whenever I need. I'm certainly cognizant of how this is a huge thing to have. So many of the other people who have moved to where I now am, no longer have a country at all. After three years in San Francisco, I feel like I've finally passed the moment of transience and 'uprootedness' that I've felt for so many years, and that maybe 'home' is always 'small cities surrounded by the sea, that punch above their weight'.
But there isn't a single day where I don't grieve what I left behind.
When we first moved to San Francisco, I was excited to have a new environment but I was not sure I would enjoy the city as much. My previous visits to the city had been mostly work/tech related. While I love many of my co-workers and friends in big tech and in startups, parts of San Francisco felt.. like a tech mono-culture.
Consciously going out to things and meeting new people, making friends with people who have interests outside of tech, through sports, volunteering or music activities, has changed my relationship to this city.
In this series of posts, I will write about the events, venues and activities I have enjoyed in San Francisco.
Music used to be a huge part of my life. From the time I was six or seven, I was in band practice or piano lessons a few times a week. Without music, my life might have turned out different. Not having much music in the last decade or so was a terrible idea, so I'm now furiously trying to get it all back. Piano lessons, jazz clarinet lessons, going to shows, meeting new friends who also like music... I have enjoyed the access to top musicians and teachers, and to excellent shows of all genres nearly every single day.
Envelop SF popped up on my radar when I was looking for music events: they were hosting a Flaming Lips listening party for Zaireeka, the band's 1997 experimental album that I'd never heard (mainly because in 1997 you needed to put 4 CDs in 4 players and press play all at once).
(image from Envelop)
At first, I had no idea what these shows were. Were the Flaming Lips in town? Was it a live show? It was actually cooler than that. Envelop is a non-profit that runs an immersive audio venue in the lower Dogpatch (and another one in Salt Lake City, with popups and satellites elsewhere).
I don't know much about audio engineering or sound design, or what 'spatial music performances' are, but as I attended their session for the Flaming Lips' Zaireeka I quickly became a fan.
The venue in San Francisco is in a tiny space in an industrial area near the Dogpatch, with dim lighting, and ambience that reminded me of a yoga studio mashed up with a private DJ set. 32 speakers at the venue are positioned in a sphere, with the audience seated on foldable chairs on the floor, surrouned by said speakers. "The entire room is an instrument" was the experience they promised, and it really did feel that way. This immersive experience is powered by their open source audio software that works with Ableton Live 10.
A trust-based minibar rounded up the experience by providing for the wine, beer, tea and water you might want to sip while listening to music.
While I was initially confused by why I might want to experience 'spatial music', I came away from it a fan. I think it would be a good way for a music lover to experience music they know and love in a totally new way, with audiophile technology that would be difficult to create at home. I plan to listen to Miles Davis, Pink Floyd and Coltrane there as I think their music can be experienced differently in this environment.
Next week, jazz shows with new jazz friends. Jazz hands!
Photo by Jack Finnigan on Unsplash
Growing up in Singapore, I thought I would one day live in San Francisco. It seemed like the things I liked a lot — music, writing, technology — converged in this town. Last year, I made the move here with my wife and dog. We immediately adopted a huge cat, which seemed to show that this was going to be home.
My diverse career has so far seen me either run companies, or work in startups. I love shipping products with remarkable user experience.
I have spent the last five years working in developing markets, focused on Next Billion User products. I now turn to Current Million People software for my adopted city of San Francisco.
I see people left behind everyday where I live in the Tenderloin. It is heartbreaking to see such disparity in one of the richest cities in the world.
This is why I jumped at the opportunity to join the team when I (1) found out they existed, and (2) that they were hiring.
The idea of gov tech is not new. Neither is the concept of using agile methodology in government. As a tech and politics geek, I have observed governments like Estonia and Singapore use technology to improve public services.
The work we do here differs from those countries in several ways, as my boss Carrie Bishop points out. For one, it’s far from “top-down”. I have not been here as long as Carrie has, but I am learning not having centralized control is a feature, not a bug.
The challenge for any product manager is to corral people and resources towards a goal. This goal should preferably overlap with a shared vision for all the people and organizations involved.
All large organizations by definition have some chaos and inertia. Big tech companies and small city governments have more in common with each other than it seems.
Despite significant challenges ahead, I am excited to be part of the team. How do you design for many languages, reflecting our city’s incredible diversity? How do you make sure services are accessible for people regardless of what they have (or do not)?
For many of us, our interaction with gov tech is frustrating. I am a recent immigrant, and I had to use local and national government software to set up my life here.
A people-centered approach like ours is essential. My coworkers Persis and Anita craft readable content for all San Franciscans. Lauren ensures our city website reflects our diversity and progressive values. Others keep an eye on accessibility.
I now commute daily on foot, bicycle or skates past the San Francisco City Hall. It is usually lit up with different colors for the myriad events we celebrate together. It feels like I have a part to play in this city.
I have spent the past week learning about our work. DAHLIA makes it easier to apply to rent and buy affordable housing. The Office of Cannabis works to enhance fair access to the cannabis business. Accessory Dwelling Units may be one way to increase our housing supply. California as a whole is taking this approach. We are working on tools to support these programs.
Finally, our team led a redesign of the city’s official website. Read more about this ongoing effort.
Our team is growing. We are looking for content designers and strategists for the growing body of work. Drupal, full stack engineers, and senior product managers to help shape our products.
If you are keen to help make an impact with your skills, check out our openings. We would love to hear from you.
43 posts tagged "sanfrancisco"