Oak Park, Illinois

A bit more of the story of Oak Park, just west of Chicago.  It's a very affluent suburb - there are some pretty, large and expensive private houses there - and not just those designed by the famous Frank Lloyd Wright.  Property taxes are stratospheric by UK standards, even for modest properties like my brother's and most of those taxes appear go to the single, large (very) local high school - Oak Park and River Forest, or OPRF as it is known.  Ernest Hemingway went to OPRF - although my brother's daughters took great delight in telling me only for one year and he hated it, apparently.  From the amount of property taxes that goes to OPRF I was slightly disappointed when I learnt the corridors aren't paved with gold. Mind you, there was a proposal a few years ago to spend more than $35m tearing down an existing building and constructing a new swimming pool/aquatics centre.  Yes, you read correctly - $35m on a swimming pool, for a high school.  I think the Trustees were hoping to sell various bonds to fund the scheme and while I'm all for thinking big the whole thing seemed a bit unrealistic to me.  I think the plans have been shelved, indefinitely.

A print for you:

On Lake Street, Oak Park, Illinois

This was shot the same day as the one the other day.  The cinema on Lake St (the main drag) looks great - very Art Deco. It was a busy Friday afternoon and I had to stand a serious amount of time to get a break in the traffic and then only just made it, as you can see.  This one's on Foma 131 paper, by the way, via Moersch Easylith developer.  Perfect for anything with stone/brickwork in it.

Oak Park is a strange mix of nothing-too-special modern and very-special historic.  The Unity Temple and buildings like the cinema above stand out in my mind as 'buildings of interest'.  As do the historic Frank Lloyd Wright houses - if you are ever there, take one of the walking tours around that district, they're very informative and it's a great way to spend a few hours.  The new library, next to Scofield Park where open air concerts are held during summer, is an impressive modern, glass-fronted building but very soon you are into the more usual mix of boutique shops, cafes and stores like...you've guessed it...Whole Foods.  Or Whole Pay Check as the joke goes.

While Oak Park and neighbouring River Forest are very genteel places to be, to the East of OP we have the district of Austin.  Austin is not wealthy.  In fact, Austin is on the other side of the spectrum entirely.  A few years ago it acquired the label of Chicago's deadliest neighbourhood, with more homocides than even places like Englewood on the notorious South Side.  Lake Street (above) extends into Austin and you don't have to drive too far to see a heck of a difference in terms of the shops, bistros, cafes etc...not to mention the various 'types' you see walking about, or just standing around.   You need to keep your wits about you wherever you go, even downtown Oak Park.  The day of the pic above my daughter and I were strolling around, looking like tourists (hard not to) and feeling a little like fish out of water.  Missy got heckled at least once as we passed a group waiting for a public bus...'Sup, baby' was said so low I didn't even catch it, but she did.  A little creepy, given her age (15) and the age of the commenter (closer to my age than hers).  Still, as I told her over a hot tea, with looks like hers she'll have to learn how to deal with a lot worse than that in the years to come...

Illinois Route 43

So yes, I took the head-staggers early August and decided it was time I paid The Brother a visit.  It was certainly my turn, since it was nearly 4 years since I was there.  Due to his work commitments (not mine, anymore) it was either go now or go between Thanksgiving and Christmas.  When I was last there, for a couple of weeks around Thanksgiving, the cold was so intense it was bone-numbing.  I mean we think it gets cold here in the North-West of Ireland but no, we get damp, we get wet, we get chilly but we don't get cold, not Chicago-cold.  So I checked the cheapest flight from Dublin and the deal was done. American Airlines, by the way. And they were good - very good, actually. I’ll say more about the actual travelling in a future post.

I knew it would be hot, in Illinois,in August.  And I wasn't disappointed.  It was hot - very.  That's from the perspective of an Irishman, of course...  It got up to the mid-90s on most days and the humidity was pretty high.  Hot enough and humid enough to make be feel very queasy most of the time, to be honest.  I enjoyed spending time with my brother but I didn't enjoy the heat.  Do you get the feeling I don't like the climate in Chicago much?  I'm sure it's lovely for a couple of weeks in April or May and similarly around late September/early October but the rest of the year it's either too hot or too cold for me.  I can't help it - I'm just used to the temperate climate we get here in Ireland, where it rarely gets hotter than the mid-70s Fahrenheit or drops much below freezing.  When I got home, late August, we had a couple of days with the temperature around 60 degrees and I was very, very comfortable - I could breathe again!

Anyway, time for a scan of one of the prints you might have seen the other day resting on my home-made drying rack in the darkroom.

IL-43 as it cuts through Oak Park, Illinois

Illinois Route 43 is, apparently, a major north-south road through Illinois.  Although I've been to Illinois more times than I can remember in order to visit The Brother I can't say I'm overly confident knowing whether we're driving north, south, east or west - unless I get a glimpse of the Willis Tower or one of them big tall skyscraper things in the distance, that is, which is a dead giveaway since they are due East of Oak Park where The Brother lives.  It would probably be different if I was the one behind the wheel, but I leave that to him.  This particular day I went for a dander around 'The Village' of Oak Park but it doesn't look remotely like the villages we get here in Ireland.  It's famous as the birth-place of Ernest Hemingway and for having a number of houses designed by Frank Lloyd Wright.  As the name would suggest it's a leafy old town, about a 20 minute drive from the city of Chicago.

Believe it or not, it was the roadsign informing everyone of the fact that you are on Illinois Route 43 (aka Harlem Avenue right here) that caught my eye - not the rather leggy young girl strolling towards me.  I did wonder about waiting another second or two until she came up a bit closer but since I was using the Hasselblad, which has a mirror slap about as subtle as a brick I decided to trip the shutter then and there.  Printed on 9.5"x12" Adox MCC fibre paper - a first for me and very nice it is too.  Mild sepia tone.  HP5+ of course, developed in RO9, in case you're interested in that sort of stuff.

Back in action

So I got into the darkroom proper this afternoon - first time for a long time. I was rusty but knocked out s couple of prints (one Multigrade and one Lith). They look ok at the moment but they’re still wet - or a bit damp at least - so judgement needs to be reserved until tomorrow. Anyway, here’s a preview which also is a dead giveaway to where I dashed off to for 10 days in August. More to come...

A couple of real prints

Apologies the image needs to be rotated but I’ve no WiFi today so I’ve had to do this via my phone and the wonders of 3G. And it was not easy, I can tell you. And then some, as they might say over there in the US of A.

Amalfi walkabout

A few more shots from our afternoon walkabout in Amalfi.

Drip dry in Amalfi

This sort of scene above I love - it's real and To heck with the tourist trade, I'm hanging out my washing.  There's many a place in the world - mostly the 'better off' areas - where local by-laws preclude the hanging out of washing.  It might lower the tone, don't you know and we don't do that sort of thing around here.  What a load of piffle, eh?

Amalfi - town square

As you can see, the narrowness of the main drag there means it does get a little congested at times.  That's well and good, but that narrow little ginnel there is still a right of way for vehicular traffic, believe it or not.  So every few minutes people have to stand in the doorways and let local cars, motorbikes (lots) and vans (lots) pass.  And the drivers don't hold back on using the horn to clear the way.  Chaos, basically - Italian chaos, and great value.  I wouldn't want it any other way.

Some Amalfian architecture for you

Most of my shots here seem to be in portrait mode.  Something to do with the narrow streets and tall buildings, no doubt...

Amalfi

A bit further on down the road, past Positano and you get to the town of Amalfi.  Yes it was busy and yes there were tourists there (and not just ones from The North East Liberties of Coleraine) but I liked Amalfi.  There was a much more realistic feel to it compared to Positano.  We happened on a wedding in the town square for example, which led to an impromptu round of applause from all the onlookers.  Actually it was a bit like The Godfather, truth be told - a very slow walk by the bride and her elderly father up to the church in the middle of the square, everyone beautifully dressed and unrushed, in spite of the busy-ness all around.  Lovely, it was.

Amalfi - emerging out of rock

It was late afternoon when we were there but the sun was still strong.  I pointed the M6 directly into it just to see what would happen.  I think it was the Canon 50 f/1.4 LTM on the front of it -without lens hood - and I was conscious it was made around the 1960s, so I tried to shield it a little with my hand.  I shouldn't have bothered, of course - eejit that I am.  Those Canon folk knew what they were about...

Into the sun with old Japanese glass

The long building up top was, I think, a Franciscan Monastery. Now it’s a hotel. Progress, eh?

A bus ride to remember

Positano is, they say, is one of the jewels of the Amalfi coast.  It lies about halfway between Sorrento and Amalfi.  We made the mistake of trying to get there by public transport - the Sita bus.  There was a stop outside the hotel and the timetable was in the lobby so we waited at the allotted time...and waited.  Eventually - and 20 minutes is a long time when it's 30+ degrees - a bus came...and went.  It was full and the driver wasn't for stopping.  So we waited some more...

At some point you have invested sooo much time waiting that while your head says 'Give up' your heart says something else.  And so another 20 minutes later another bus came along.  Two things then happened - both, in hindsight, mistakes.  (a) the bus stopped for us and (b) we got on.

I could see the bus was busy but Hey, I thought, Sharpen the elbows and just get on...people have to make room - right?  Well, yes, correct - up to a point.  When there is no room left on the bus then it's difficult to make some.

Positano, from the road

I severely underestimated how winding the road was between Sorrento and Positano.  It wends its way around the coast and there are sharp bends every 100 metres or so.  And the driver (Italian, obviously) must have had been on a serious bonus to make the bus run to schedule as he wasn't holding back.  Either that or he was hoping for a drive with Ferrari sometime soon. We were stood trying to hold on as best we could - at one point all I had was one finger wrapped around a chair's armrest trying not to fall over.  Missy was trapped in the stairwell next to the door and every time the bus swung around another 90 degree bend I couldn't help think if those doors swing open we're all going to hell in a handcart, ending up a few hundred feet below in the Mediterranean Sea.  It was, I have to say, bonkers and that bus trip will never - never - be erased from my memory as long as I live.

Positano buildings

Now Positano is, I have to admit, a pretty amazing place.  Nestled as it is among the mountains the only way to build is upwards, not outwards. So you have buildings built on top of buildings and the whole thing is pretty nuts.  The Sita bus leaves you at the top of the town and it's a very steep walk down (and up again) to the main drag. Once you get down to the bottom, however, it quickly becomes apparent that the whole place is geared up for tourists and all trace of authenticity has been lost.  I know the locals have to make a living but I was disappointed - the place isn't real.

The bus ride back wasn't quite so bad - or maybe my nerves had settled a bit.  We were on the mountain side of the road going back so less likely to fall into the Med in the event of a mishap and that probably helped.  So...Positano - was it worth it?  Somehow I couldn't help but be reminded of Samuel Johnson's reply when asked if our local attraction the Giant's Causeway was worth seeing...'Worth seeing yes, but not worth going to see'. 

Agip

I enjoyed seeing some old-fashioned petrol pumps on a small garage forecourt in Positano. These sorts of forecourts have all but disappeared in my neck of the woods, having been replaced by larger petrol stations usually connected to supermarkets or smaller (but still large) convenience stores.

Traditional forecourt pumps, Positano 2018

Now might be a good time to document what garage forecourts still remain since it seems likely they will mostly be gone in the not-so-distant future, as hybrid and all-electric cars become the norm.  I think the UK government has set a date of 2040 for the end of sales of petrol and diesel cars but at the time of the announcement this was regarded as a bit late compared to other European countries.

We don't have Agip stations in Ireland - that's a continental thing :) The usual suspects around The Liberties are Texaco and BP.  Esso and Shell were once commonplace but seem to be less so nowadays.  Total, Exxon and Mobil are other suppliers and as I already said we have those linked to the big supermarkets (Asda, Sainsburys, Tesco) who sell under their own brand labels.  There's probably a whole dose more that I've forgotten about - I'm sure some folk still only use BP ultimate or whatever but personally I couldn't care less what I fill up with in order to get from A to B.