Entrepreneurship

Turning a trade into a livelihood is the basis of entrepreneurship. Just ask any artist. And, while artists might wince at this statement, they're quite adept in finding ways to pay the rent, get a plane ticket or finish their next piece that go around selling an artwork or performance, since it's not a dependable source of income (even if famous).

The one-person, do-or-die business model is in full display in developing nations since many entrepeneurs take to the streets to do business.  Beyond food vendors, some get their living from the streets by plying their trades: Need those heels done? Hand'em over. A hem to your skirt? Hold still. Need a paralegal to create document, typed with a typewriter? No prob, have a seat.


My interest is how technology aids in that entrepreneurship. The man selling pineapples needs to get his message across: I have to sell and save my throat, so I got one of these and found the speakers in a junk yard. Works great, huh?

A different weekly message is on endless loop, and interspersed with a joke or two, so I can attract customers with a laugh.

Move Over, Hermes

Further down the Fifth Avenue of Monteria are more ranger supply shops, some with ready-made items for the cowboy in a hurry, and others that will build to suit.

Needless to say, there are many kinds of saddles, each appropriate for the type of horse and its use. This particular outfit custom-makes draft saddles; taking orders and special requests from an iPad. Love it.



Left:
top: Look at that old Singer in the backroom! Now that's a work horse. The store owner said he's waiting for a part to come in for it...
middle: The exquisite leather punching detail is not for draft horse but for a gentleman rancher's steed.
bottom: Everyone likes a decorated stirrup...Note the motorcycle helmet: You know, we deliver.....

Sound Notes

I have other stuff, of course, but
here's the main set-up on my
beautiful bedspread. 

Shooting in the topics has its challenges. Taping sound in the tropics is a challenge on steroids. While my sound buddies will scoff at my set-up, I did come prepared with a digital recorder, my two Audio Technica mics--one cardioid and one shotgun, a lavalier for interviews, quite a few XLR cables of different lengths, brackets to hold the mics while I shooting, and headphones. I brought cotton-paper ear covers to make them more comfortable in heat. Good idea since they also offered protection from the humidity.

Early on I had determined not to synch any sound to the images, I was going to tape ambient sound and mix it in post production. So, I set about taping the sounds of the city--the birds, monkeys, river sounds, all good. However, within the week, the poor recorder was shorting out; the batteries heating up the little thing until it was useless. I'm looking for a spot where I can unscrew it to see what's wrong; but, the manual indicates that the recorder will not work in high humidity environments.

Come on....this isn't a steam room, I thought. Well, it is. Ninety-six+ degrees with rain three times a day and 99% percent humidity qualifies. So, I'm retiring it for the moment and I'm off to the market to get a pound of rice where I'll immerse it to try and pull some of condensation out of it. Go ahead, sound geeks, scoff some more. But it's not working now, so how's a little rice gonna hurt?

Panicked because I didn't have any way to tape sound, I turned to the camcorder I threw in the suitcase at the last minute. I got it a scant four years ago to tape my KS video and happy home vids.

Rewind to a few weeks ago at B&H: Technology now allows a professional grade outfit for $20 more than what I paid for my pro-sumer item. So, if you're in the market, go for the video recorder because  you'll get superior sound recording capability. Even my little camcorder has various sound file formats which most SLRs don't. But if the machine says it can shoot video, it ought to. Sound is a critical part of motion media.

The only drag about the camcorder is

that both jacks are accessible only 

when the screen pops open.

The SONY with which I have been shooting all the visuals doesn't have a mic input (perhaps other digital SLRs might); the camcorder has a the jack for the mic, and a jack for the headphones too. Just tested it, it sounds great; I'm back in business.

Going forward, I'll be bringing desiccator bags.

Ganado II

Note the earring: a different
type of cow chip.

Quick post: I went to a rodeo today, it's the 57th annual in this area. The exhibition of the animals were mostly the Brahman in various categories: male, female, age, weight and whether they supply meat or dairy. Most interesting are phone apps that, in synch with the chip on the animal's ear, can instantly populate a database with the animal's data: qualification, age, weight, vaccination schedule, and of course, (if one desires) name.

Another app developed by the local technical college is an app that alerts the manager when the feed is low, so a a signal can be sent remotely to solar-powered cell to distribute the appropriate amount of feed as necessary.

That's a significant leap in 100 years, even if the ranchers themselves sleep in hammocks above their herd.

The chip, through a bluetooth capability sends data to the phone, 

which then populates a spreadsheet and a 
hard copy is kept as well.

Shooting Notes II

Having spent most of my shooting years as a still photographer in the studio, then, outdoors shooting architecture, I remain faithful to a tripod. Not so much because I can't hold the camera stable, it's that crooked structures are unacceptable as are unaligned ones.

PShop has an excellent algorithm to take care of any flubs but I never learned it since I'm old school and prefer to spend a few minutes fixing it in-camera rather than hours on the computer. Similarly, software exists as plugins for motion editing to straighten horizons and adjust backgrounds, even though image will need cropping. I'm not editing at the moment so I haven't researched it yet; stay tuned.

For me, the same rules apply for still as for motion. I believe a straight horizon grounds the image, which can get difficult when using ultra wide lenses; everything slants inward. As I scouted locations for one of the last shoots before I leave for Cartagena, I started slicing away at the park along the river's main drive.

Since the boulevard isn't wide and traffic is one-way, it's negotiable. And, to deal with subjects moving across the screen, I thought that tethering the camera with a long lens and a high frame rate ought to give me the desired results.

However, upon testing it, a long lens flattens the scenery, pulling away the charm of the landscape. So, the conclusion is to start with the wide angle; if time allows, close-ups with the telephoto.

Shot with the long lens from slightly above.
It's easy to follow moving objects, but a lot
of the background could be forfeited.

Shot with the wide angle which
allows more room for moving
objects in the field.

I also found that honing in on the image by hand rather than the slide lever on the camera allows for slower and more deliberate zooming in, the rest can be take care of in post. Hopefully, the motion will be long and fluid, just as I want it.

The Cowboy Boutique

Cowboys have professional needs like all other trades. However, it's fascinating to see a cowboy shop in the same location my centenarian game me, smack in the center of town on the now-highly polished main drive along the river.

Right up front, bales of hay for the horse. Bridles, saddles, machetes and spurs are inside. Shoes for the hard-working fellow are on display; the shop owner explained he has both new and used--it's hard to find a good blacksmith nowadays.

Ganado

My 100-year (actually, now 101) lived in a town where livestock (Ganado) was a way of life. Families were large, and at least one of the sons were destined to work on the farm as a rancher.

Many acres of the fertile land were set aside for the huge beasts, and farms profited or floundered depending on the amount of dedication put into this truly difficult endeavor.

I was invited to the family ranch of a successful "Ganadero", which translates to Gentleman rancher, who also owns a pristine butcher shop in the center of town. In North America, especially New York, we have little concept of what meat and edibles are like in the developing nations. And while the Capital and cities like Medellín are probably more attuned to presentation, that idea is not a central preoccupation in this coastal city. A glass and marble butcher shop with its products meticulously displayed is a welcome, if sometimes intimidating, (to many locals) addition.

The laptop is right next to the evaluating
station; a little complaint that it could
better link with the phone app.

Back to the ranch.

Wiping away the tears from the pain of two illnesses I've come down with (the beginnings of bronchitis and something else I won't discuss), I got on my rubber boots and went to the farm at 7:30 AM, already late. If I go again, and I plan to, I want to be there just after sun-up, at 6:00 sharp.

I was received my the rancher's son, an affable and handsome man who studied veterinary medicine to maintain his family's livelihood. The place, like the butcher shop, is also pristine, with a farm house, potted garden and an outdoor living room with a perfectly thatched roof. All great. Walk to the choral, step inside.

Nothing prepared me for the gentle conversation I would have with the animals. A little shy, but quite curious, they wanted to know what on earth I was doing. Their master called them each by name and they followed his direction. (Really? Naming cattle? Of course, the rancher replied. They're all cataloged and numbered, why not name them, too?)

The breed of his cattle is called Huzera, which is a natural selection--not a bred animal. It is a descendant pf the Buhara cattle which originally came from India. This particular group of animals were brought from Brazil (now that's a cattle drive!) and chosen for their resistance to disease, adaptation to heat, and yes, personality. Finally! I met a cow I can deal with!

Otherwise, how could have I been able to enter their space and share the warm, sunny morning with them?

Lorica

Goods set-up in thecleaned-up old market
on the river's edge. The structure is open
to the outdoors, the rich earth colors preserved
from the original.

The first port of exit (or entry, since the Rio Sinú is an estuary) from the Caribbean Sea is Lorica. A pleasant city that, because of heavy federal and architectural input, has seen restoration with more on the way.

The market has been totally redone. It's still quite characteristic with a "food court" facing the river, across from grazing brahma bulls. Facing the interior are merchants selling various wares, mostly touristic handcrafts. The rougher and more congested part of the market is an area just behind it and, I imagine, was once housed in the large golden yellow building on the river's edge. It's in a state of filth and chaos, but it's fun.

One of the official buildings on the town square. Note many
of the original details preserved in the louver doors and
cement tile so hot right now at home....

Immediately one is struck by the older buildings several stories high, and, as Dr. Puche explained, since they weren't made of reeds and mud, many of the original details were easily maintained.

That said, I noticed a lot less vegetation in this town--no shady streets under which moss grows, and gritty dust blasts the sidewalks clean. The blazing sun bakes everything dry. It's near from Montería but a world away.

Slow...s...l...o...w...

The state of suspended motion is at the core of most video work.

Under, a 3.5-minute video by Kevin Frilet (2014, however presented this year at Video Art and Experimental Film Festival, VAEFF, http://videoart.net/about-vaeff-2017-2/) is a mysterious black-and-white piece in slow motion under water. While the explanation says that the film was photographed in a public swimming pool with people the director knew, the piece was masterfully edited, with a large crew and beautifully scored to give the chills of a rape and its escape. I'm not sure, though, what opening sequence has to do with the violation--perhaps a predation of someone who strays from the crowd...?

Slo-mo seems to be the M-O of experimental video, contributing significantly to its genre. Video Art, as commented by various critics and curators need not have a narrative, and usually don't. They're meant to express a reflection on an event or emotion, very personal to the creator; hence the abstraction and eerie music.

We're in the artist's head!

I have my own take on this, of course. I find the persistent presence of sexy, naked, young people very commonplace--do millennials strip naked the minute they're inside? And, are we still so exploratory about sex that it's the main thing to make videos about? (Saying this may be unfair; we are a "puritanical" country, after all).

I have seen some nice work with and about kids, about travel and the freedoms it gives, dancing on the streets and roofs of Paris (https://vimeo.com/217624589). Most of it runs in real time--our shaggy friend crafts time for his own uses.

The slo-mo vid reads like an expanded photograph; the decisive moment just wasn't enough to capture the depth of the mental image. That could really be said for most video work, however the slower the motion, the more the viewer must train their acuity visual structure: color, form, composition, taking over where there is no narrative.  It's also why most vids have a ten-minute or less duration. You can ask just so much from your viewer--even a willing one.

Enter Bill Viola, but I'll write about him another time.

Shooting Notes

Arriving to a highly humid tropical town with a variety of equipment proved to be a good idea. Just before leaving I purchased a mirrorless camera with video capabilities and an adjustable recording speed.

Mini dolly with extendable
monopod.

 I was about to get a stabilizer/support, but backed down, thinking I didn't need it. Big mistake. Supports and rails were made for these ultra-light devices because, unlike the traditional video camera which is balanced from front to back, the leveling the horizon while shooting with an SLR-shaped device becomes a challenge.

The 3-axis crane.

So, today, I spent  time looking for a monopod with wheels (AliBaba trading has exactly what I want but will take 12 days--possibly more--to get here). I'll probably kluge something to a shopping cart or a tricycle.

As I considered a stabilizer, I came upon the exquisite Crane-M 3-Axis Handheld Gimbal by Zheyun-Tech (at B&H in New York) which stabilizes action and still cams beautifully but not my camcorder (the pull-out screen doesn't allow perfect balance).

Interesting that professional video equipment is now available for the price I purchased a consumer camera a scant four years ago. The reasoning behind my purchase was that this particular collection of cameras were well adapted to accept XLR input for the sound mic, which is critical for my work. But the pro cams have that, too.

Going forward, I'm seriously considering an upgraded camera; I'll post my research on the advantages. Then again, the motion picture Tangerine was shot on an iPhone 6.

Sticks, Mud and Plaster

To understand why a still-standing hundred-year-old house is a phenomenon, some attention must be given to construction on the north coast of Colombia at the time.

In most of the US, we had much different building techniques due to our need of keeping warm in the winter. Although most places have hot summers, a lot of the US--even the deep South--can and do get snowfalls, even in this age of global warming.

No such thing in this Colombian town. The area I'm drawn to is in the winding delta of the Sinú River, a plain of fertile soil and twice-daily rainfall, once home to the finest indigenous goldsmiths in all of South America.

The homes built around the turn of the 1900s all needed to provide shelter from the sun and rain. Other provisions, but not many, had be made for fungi and moss that grow in the dark, warm, shade. Nothing lasts too long under these conditions, except, a significant element of the population, but I'll write about them another time.

The houses were made by reeds nailed to a hard wood frame. Mud (usually cow manure) was stuffed into the cracks on both sides, and finally, plaster with casein was troweled on. Several coats of oil-based paint sealed the deal, with occasional patch-ups.

The ceilings are high, and the roofs are made from corrugated sheet metal. In some areas, curved brick is put on top of this, but mostly not. Instead, sometimes the roofs are thatched with dried palms.

There are bars on every window and two-level shutters for the afternoon and nighttime. These homes do not have screens, since the insects in the area can easily enter the standard mesh. Instead, people used mosquito nets; I discovered some still cling to that tradition.

One Day a Hundred Years Ago

I had the opportunity to meet with an architect from the mayor's office in Monteria. Dr. Luis Eduardo Puche. He's at the helm of developing an historic quarter for this passed-over city. The project involves an investigation to evaluate, repurpose, rehabilitate where possible, and ultimately preserve the architecture of a a town that blossomed into a city and is bursting at new seams every few years.

As stated in other posts, the town was once a livestock processing center, with cattle health care and evaluation, auctions, bull fights, etc. Roads weren't paved to facilitate the cattle moving from place to place (trucks do that now...) and hey, who needs sewers in that case? When I visited Oklahoma City's Stockyards I saw similarities.

Built around 1900 from mud, piles and plaster, this house is
inhabited by descendants of its owner.

Cattle brings a lot of money; and other land industries sprung up--cotton and sorghum farming. The village was a kluge of shops selling all kinds of wares--purveyors of cowboy products like saddles, feed, twine, barbed wire and the like. Fabrics made from the fine cotton grown nearby went into making clothes and of course, there were food markets.

This kind of living brought about a type of planation living for the wealthy, even though it was edging toward an urban environment. Entertainment, night clubs, and restaurants weren't a large part of the flow of life, since these needs were better served by older, more established cities like Cartagena, Medellin or the capital, Bogota. Instead, entertaining at home was the chief activity, and most participated--even if it was a pre-dinner walk to visit friends in the late afternoon.

Back to Dr. Pucha: He gave me PDFs of the proposals and reports he's put together for the mayor's office of planning and development, which detail the blocks and lots in the oldest part of town. Houses are separated by age, and notes which have been demolished, which suits me perfectly.

I've identified 21 structures that may have been frequented by my subject; and  this web will widen. I plan on visiting them all, early in the morning, since the heat is outrageous. Sunrise at 6:00 and sunset 12 hours later, doesn't make things easier. But the adventure is that I'm never sure what I will find. 

¿Bueno...?

In a total state of disarray, I booked a ticket, filled out the necessary forms to replace an expired passport and got on a plane to the north coast of Colombia. Internet research on the area proved futile, and in full knowledge of how slow life is in a small town in the middle of nowhere (think Oklahoma City with mosquitoes), I rolled into town with the intention of staying a full five weeks to shoot and tape sound.

¡Ay Caramba!

When I got here I was slammed against a thought lurking in the back of my head: Everything in the epicenter of my centenarian subject was, too, going to be around 100 years old. Houses, sidewalks, and friends lingering and lumbering on, mostly withering away.

One hundred-year-old people are surrounded by 100-year-old things.

Yes, it's a part of life, and there is a sweet sadness to be savored. However I didn't understand until I got here that I was walking into a closing book.

One of the houses I was planning to photograph was being evacuated; stacks of fine china and armies of crystal glasses were being packed away, their destiny unknown, the process being done in a different universe from its owners.

I had experienced this several times before. Leaving a place where many years had passed within, what is left behind? With every item packed, discarded, sold or given away, one can't help but look back on an item's significance. The window is poised on a moment etched in time.