OH my.

Wendy and I are in Chicago.  It is late spring  and the weather is perfect.  It lingers between warm and cool, with a breeze that floats softly though the streets.   

The thing that strikes me about Chicago is that it is so clean.  I do not quite understand how a city of its size remains so unsoiled.  My working theory, gnomes.  

The people are ridiculous.  In that they are so friendly.  Earlier that day, our shoot was interrupted by an opening door.  We were using a green garage door as a backdrop and blocking a man’s exit.  He opened his door and I braced myself.  

The downside of shooting in cities is that people often do not like you being where you are.  Especially if they feel that they have some claim to the place that you are.  I have been yelled at, berated, cursed, scolded, and threatened.  I hoped that this man’s rant would at least not involve profanity as there were small kids at the shoot.

The man opened the door and stared at me.  Here it comes.

“Oh, I am terribly sorry, I did not realize that you were taking pictures.”  Wait, what?

He then closed the door, and motioned for me to continue through his window.  When we finished, he exited his front door and preceded to tell me all about the history of the building.  It had been converted from a stable, it had almost burned down, and other details that now escape me.


We had several encounters with strangers in Chicago that left us quizzical.  The people are just so friendly.

We finish our last shoot of the day and our rush back to our apartment for a workshop.  We speed along the sidewalk to our car.  A forest green Forrester stops alongside us.  I notice it stop in my periphery.  

Motion catches my eye and I glance over.  A middle aged man waves at me.  I pause.  I wave back hesitantly.  This is Chicago, people are friendly.  He then waves some more.  Okay buddy, I think that we have gotten the wave out of the way.  I give him a half smile and a slow nod.  I then begin to walk away.

He motions me towards the car.  I look around to make sure that there are people about.  It is a busy street and there are several.  So I apprehensively approach his car.  This is Chicago, I remind myself.  The people here are very friendly.  I have no idea why, but apparently, this man wants to talk to me.  Maybe he wants to tell me about the buildings that we are passing.

The man rolls down his window.  He has days old stubble and disheveled hair.  His hair is mostly gray.  He has on a faded ACDC t-shirt.  He leans toward me.  He informs me that I am blocking his driveway; using the most disgusting vile language I have ever been addressed with by a stranger.  (He is no match for my close friends, however, you will be happy to hear.) He tells me I have no business stopping in front of his garage.  Again, his language makes my ears bleed.

I try to explain to him that I was crossing his driveway at a fast walk when he waved me down.  But he will have none of it.  This is the crassest man that I have ever met.  Not knowing what else to do, I turn around and walk away.  This causes him to increase his volume.  

We reach our car with his shouts echoing down the block.  He is half way out of his window yelling at me.  I get in the car and he parks.  I fasten my belt, grin at Wendy (I do not know what to say) and glance in my rear view mirror to make sure that he is not walking toward us.  He is not.  Instead he is pulling down his garage door; in his pink pastel skirt.


This shoot was a special one, in Boston, with none other but the famous Damomma.  Check out her blog and see her description of how it all went down. And get ready to laugh, because Damomma (Liz) is hilario.

Salt Lake Utah   Lifestyle   Photographer
Salt Lake Utah   Lifestyle   Photographer
Salt Lake Utah   Lifestyle   Photographer
Salt Lake Utah   Lifestyle   Photographer
Salt Lake Utah   Lifestyle   Photographer
Salt Lake Utah   Lifestyle   Photographer
Salt Lake Utah   Lifestyle   Photographer
Salt Lake Utah   Lifestyle   Photographer

BLUE LILY | Lifestyle Photographer | Salt Lake City, Utah