Saints out of sinners – the Cinematography of House of Cards

The Underwoods left the land of plausible reality end of season 1 beginning of season 2, entering more of a Shakespearean realm, caricatures of emotions and avarice. The plot and characters have rotated on this axis of moral extreme looking glass, a refracted lense to reconsider the depths of depravity, sex and power, plumbing the depths of darkness we encounter these scary creatures dimly lit glowing like phosphorescent fish in the depths of the ocean. For Cinematography’s sake the show required viewing, the characters move in paintings of perfect composition and color control. I tip my hat.


For more about techniques and trick of house of cards go here.

BIKEPARKNOW – the movement for an urban moto bike park in Baltimore

For 5 years I have been tracking the Dirt Bike issue in Baltimore City. The issue is a kin to many of the other issues facing economically under served in the city, but specifically the African American community who have been systematically oppressed for decades,  undoing the impact will disrupt the status quo in an attempt to find social balance. This is called achieving equilibrium.  Over time we will get into the nuanced issues around the bikes but right now let state something simple.

Urban Dirt bike riding is not going away, more over there is a whole generation of kids  practicing everyday on pedal bikes, dreaming to join the ranks of their heroes. In the current political environment these heroes are outlaws because their passion has not gained bureaucratic acceptance. This dirt bike park and the movement towards a solution is about this next generation of riders and their attitudes towards the system.

There is time for a solution for the summer, if we can find tolerance and compassion around the things we don’t understand.



Passage Interdit or How to hop the Paris Metro like a Pro || Part 1 – Zeitgeist


Turnstile jumping Le Metro is the only true Parisian sport, a subtle act of resistance to help the French stay French . Everyday 145,000 of Les Fraudeurs, the fraudsters, from all walks of life take a free ride, a brush with adventure, and a chance to stick to the man by illegally entering public transit. For all the broke expats and artist for whom the monthly pass is a bridge too far $$, Passage Interdit is a walk through  for getting in, getting around and getting out with out getting caught. As an American, from a place of ridged rules and few exceptions I was fascinated by the 80 year old women duck under a turnstile, or a family of three hold the door and walk in through exit, all the time thinking … what bravery? Jumping the metro is about coming to grips with the reality and fantasy,with control and the state with loopholes and house rules with the adventure of the everyday … stay tuned.

Refugee Remix or 100 year misery machine

You may forget

but let me tell you

someone in
some future time

will think of us

Sappho (c. 613 B.C.)

– Greek poet living on Lesvos

Lesvos, Greece – 10km from the Turkish boarder

Standing atop van, vigorously waving an orange life jacket over his head a handsome Spanish lifeguard takes a quick selfie, then refocuses on the horizon. Below him 6 of his fellow life guards dressed in neon yellow and oranges, human pylons, circled up to form a target for refugee boats. 10 or so photographers, a strange mix of seasoned pro’s, bloggers, amateurs and artists, mill about the life jacket covered beach. In the distance the Coast Guard cutters of Greece and Turkey troll by absently, in the foreground orange life jackets glint on the black of imitation zodiac puttering to us. Rumors is the orange life jacket go for more, 125 euro and up but most are fake, overpriced placebo’s. Thankfully Turkey clearly visible 10k away, as refugees usually pilot the boats themselves on the normally calm, transparent Aegean sea; a playground of the rich. The air is filled with stones clacking together as the Spanish lifeguards, Scandinavian volunteers, British doctors and the photographers surge forward clapping and cheering, prompting the passenger to cheer. Squeaking rubber against the smooth stones, signals the decent, babies and children are whisked off first, as the rest one by one out the front into the sea of helping hands and emergency blankets. Laughing, crying, praying, pulling out phones, calling family or taking selfies, men, women, children finally out of the hands of human traffickers. After landing they walk 1-5 kilometers of winding dirt road running the coast to the bus stops to take them two one of the two transit camps, Oxy or Skala to get food and water, dry clothes and a bus ticket to the refugee camps of Moria and Kara Tepe for processing and ferry passage to the mainland.

“The Albanian Mafia, in its entirety, constitutes one of the highest crime generating elements in the world … The massive logistics to almost anywhere and the syncretic nature of Albanian crime has facilitated its establishment outside of the mother country and its integration with the local criminality, exploiting the opportunities inherent in the entire compatriot network.”

Wikipedia Albanian Mafia


As the last of life jacketed step off the boat a handful of rough hewn swarthy men immediately begin slashing the boat, pulling out the make shift floor boards and lugging the outboard engine onto the back of a pick up truck. Just another day at the job for the Albanian Mafia henchmen, normally narcotics traffickers but due to market conditions have become human traffickers, adapting their logistics chain to fill the demand, each person on the boat is paying $1000-2000. The smugglers Crossing at night is much riskier; the refugees are more shaken and dazed or hysterical. At night the Albanians would sit by bonfires on the beach, drinking taking phone calls, flashing lights then finally going meet the boat, sometimes the only people there to greet them. “They are doing the job the coast guard should be doing” a Greek Coast Guards officer told us.


Afghans told us you could book your passage from online, a one time fee to be passed through a network of smugglers and onto the shore of Europe. Trafficking networks have always existed but now they are being flooded with legitimate war refugees with legally protected status unable to find safe passage because the legal political systems are unable to find solutions forcing them into the hands of smugglers. IOM reports that over 3000 people have died crossing to Europe. If the refugees were given status trip from turkey to Greece is simple, ferries make the journeys everyday, safely and legally, at 1/100th the black market ticket price.


“Wiped out by the wind and exiled from the memory of men…because races condemned to one hundred years of solitude did not have a second opportunity on earth.”

–Gabriel Garcia Marquez in 100 Years Of Solitude


100 years ago Albanian Muslims, absorbed by Greece after the Balkan war, were deported to Turkey in a religious cleansing/population swap, scattering the Albanian diaspora over the Balkans and uprooting 1.2 million Greek Christians back to Greece on the same trade routes running from a Turkish genocide as the Ottoman Empire crumbled. 100 years later, the conditions are much the same, massive ethnic tension, war and reports of genocide, the fall out of other wars that destabilized the region. Ending the war is a clear solution to the problem, easier said then done but till then the handling of refugees with dignity and humanity through legal channels creating safe passage. Fiscal pragmatism is the key to creating new routes of passage, money will always create access Europe in ability to allow access only empowers the existing back channels, empowering those networks to wreak further criminal havoc in our world. All this money and human potential is passing through the most economically fragile country in Europe, why can’t this be harnessed to help lift the Greek economy out of the mire.

The Paris attacks rocked our trip to the Lesvos, our whole crew has family there. That day we spoke to refugees none of them were callous to the suffering or said “welcome to our world”, but instead seemed deeply saddened and concerned. They are doctors, lawyers, people with smart phones, people like you fleeing a genocide and collateral damage of a war the whole world has a hand in. Daesh will not go so quietly into the night. Attacking Paris, stirring the bee’s next of NATO while casting doubt on the refugees work to create more of them but giving them less places to go. Deash wants to see the end of western civilization, to see us burn, to see backlash against refugee by Europeans. As Europe closes it’s boarders, xenophobia spreads and refugees cry to be recognized and protected by laws the Europeans created to protect Europeans after world war one. A century later, all has been forgotten, the new refugees of our new proxy world war; only today the world is watching live, leaving clever comments and heartfelt likes on facebook; making us all complicit to this crime against humanity


“What has come to light is neither nihilism nor cynicism, as one might have expected, but a quite extraordinary confusion over elementary questions of morality—as if an instinct in such matters were truly the last thing to be taken for granted in our time.”

― Hannah Arendt, Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil





Metamorphosis or Kafka as a Parisien woman scorn

Fast French women=slow motion matrix mamma to this brown eyed American boy in tow, each movement split into 7 micro seconds, 7 hands slapping, you have to rewind your mind in the evening.

Sexual energy sparking off her, I turn to shield myself in the smile of a simple stranger with a hat that say $f sparking our scheduled dialog of traveler’s tales and fond memory.

Fast French Woman=thief of sweet $F hat stranger’s boy friend while she was in SF, getting her hat.

Later, by later I mean day’s later in a squat party, I cross Fast French Woman, telling me $f hat too is there, dressed like a Nazi Harlot to reclaim her man.

$f sent the needle scratching, clicking static in the mind of men, raw sexuality showering passersby.

Takeover not makeover, how did she transform into this “blonde” nietzschean beast skulking in the bowels of this Parisian squat.

Sure she got her guy back, but to what avail, what woman reclaimed him?

Later with my lens i searched the beast, or maybe just breasts, finding neither

Frumpy French girl fragility tucked away, gone the animal who lives with in us all?

Vive La France


Summer Of Love

this summer Food Not bombs is stepping up it’s game 

reaching out to collaborate with people from all over the city 

to take food rescue to a whole new level 

we are gonna need you so stay tuned