this masquerade

One of the last Atlanta area high schools to celebrate their prom did so last week at the Fabulous Fox Theatre and it was exactly as I imagined. The boys were decked out, the girls were glitzy and the setting was majestic. Everything up to the evening was a pain in the ass.

The Fox is one of the last icons that rests on Ponce's west side before it disappears into the interstate. Built in the 1920's as the Yaarab Temple Shrine, the venue is rich in Arabian design and has the appearance of a mosque. When the Great Depression forced the Shriners into debt, movie tycoon William Fox scooped up the building with plans to open it as a movie palace. The building has since undergone several renovations and several attempts to bulldoze it (the latter has prevented a total swamping of Midtown with vacant, overpriced condos and faux lofts). While it rarely shows films anymore, with the exception of the Coke-sponsored summer movie festival, the Fox hosts a variety of musical/performance acts and is one of the premiere locales in the city.

For the past two years I've tried to gain access with no luck. I found out many high schools hold their proms in the Fox's fabled Egyptian room and decided such an event would be a great opportunity for the photo project. Last year I tried to get clearance through the theatre's management. While they were slightly helpful, they could not give me much information and essentially became a dead end. By the time the prom season surfaced, I had no leads and the management would not provide any information on prom schedules for fear of angering the schools.

The second year I tried to work with the media coordinators of Fulton & Gwinnett county schools. This was again difficult because for some reason the coordinators would not divulge who was holding proms at the Fox and when. They only agreed to pass along my photo request to the unnamed schools and get back if anyone gave me the greenlight. I had little faith in their plan and tried looking up info online and calling the schools themselves. However, with more than 50 high schools in the metro area, it was not worth the number of phone calls I would have to make. Not only that but I found that many schools would not include prom on their calenders.

I almost gave up for the second year before I received a little help. One of the local rags, and I honestly can't remember which one, published a list of schools holding their proms at prestigious Atlanta locales. The history museum, the botanical gardens and the Fox were all included. It wasn't much, but at least I knew which schools were attending and the dates.

I won't ramble too much, but the hurdles were still insane. I made countless phone calls, getting transfered from desk to desk. I got rejected from one person then accepted by another. It became a numbing cycle. Describe the project. Reassure that I was not trying to sell senior pictures. Name drop. Repeat. I was having little luck as an independent journalist and even tried to cover it for local publications, but that just got more complicated and I had to drop that idea. Deeply sighing after an ended phone call became standard procedure. When I worked for newspapers, high schools used to beg us to come photograph their events. Now it was just the opposite.

Eventually I contacted an alumni of one of the high schools. I had photographed this young woman before and had a good relationship with her. She still had friends in school and agreed to try and contact a few on my behalf. With a little persuasion, there was hope I could convince them (and their parents) that I should follow them on prom night and record the evening. Time was ticking and my contact assured me, even hours before prom started, that she was still trying to locate a couple for me.

The thought of trying to wait another year churned my stomach and I decided to simply go up to the Fox and pray that I would get the go-ahead phone call while waiting outside. In the meantime, I could photograph the students getting out of their limos and walking the red carpet. It was papparazo time.

A quick walk up to the Fox and I was in the middle of it all. Flashy suits, Hummer limos and colorful dresses in every hue. I snapped photos from the sidewalk and talked to a few parents who were also there. Eventually one of the administrators made her way over and asked about my presence. I told her about my project and that I was waiting for a phone call for a couple I was hopefully going to photograph. After almost two hours, I completely gave up hope of getting inside with a couple. At about that moment, the administrator came up to me again and pointed out her daughter walking up. She asked me to get some pictures for her. I obliged and snapped a few. She loved them and I agreed to send her a few images.

I then explained that I hadn't heard from any couples and no longer thought that they would show up. However, I told her that I did want some pictures of prom from inside and would be happy to send her copies of any good shots. She agreed and we shook hands. Suddenly I found myself inside the Fox with hundreds of students enjoying prom. From there I was allowed the freedom to do anything. With the exception of having to snap the occasional 'over here' shot, I moved freely and was able to document the evening for hours. The kids were great and gave me the chance to witness prom as an outsider.

It was almost midnight when I called it quits. I thanked the administrator and promised to send her copies within a few days. I walked out of an event I'd spent countless hours toiling over just to get in and now I had been given the right to come and go as I pleased. Inside the music still hummed while outside the limos were lining up again to take their patrons out on the town as the sun rose. I walked home, regretting nothing except that I wished I'd worn a suit.

the tourists

Future attempts are being made to differentiate between the types of photos posted here. There are the pictures I record to coincide with my project and then there are the photos that I simply snap whenever I'm just out and about. This is the latter. Young tourists walking in the rain after leaving a matinee at the Fox Theatre.

peters house

Access to some of the photos I take can be limited. I've grown accustom to rejection and learned the art of patience and repetition. It took me four months before a business owner would even talk to me. It's been another three trying to convince him me and my camera are not a threat. Whenever I get turned down, I just remind myself it's a not a sprint, it's a marathon.

Working for newspapers, getting permission to take pictures was a breeze. When you're working on a personal documentary project the subjects always want to know why. Why do you want to take pictures? Why are you interested? Its part of the territory but I don't know if I still have a perfected response. I just try to explain my project and tell them I enjoy taking pictures of my neighborhood.

The above is why I approach bureaucracy with apprehension and prepare for questions when I ask to photograph something on the radar. However, I couldn't believe it when I was easily given permission to explore the old Peters House restoration at the corner of Piedmont and Ponce. I typed an email and was allowed in the next day. I'm grateful to Bob, the overseer, and his crew.

I'm planning an audio slideshow, so I don't want to say too much yet, but the 120 year old building is one of the few remaining mansions than once loomed over downtown/midtown. It's in the process of restoration and is set to reopen in October as a literature facility for Savannah College of Art and Design (SCAD). The process is amazingly meticulous and things like original tile and wood molding are being painstakingly redone by hand.

happy birthday

I found this balloon blowing in the evening light and though it was fitting with a recent obituary. I was saddened to learn that a local celebrity had passed away this week. Bill Hargrove, who last year became the world's oldest bowler, died in the hospital four days before his 107th birthday.

Though Hargrove lived in Clermont, he was a member of Grace United Methodist on Ponce. He regularly made the 70 mile route for Sunday services and was famous for participating in singing Happy Birthday annually on his birthday. I'm sorry to say I won't ever get to witness that.

From the obituary:

His daughter suspects, though, that his long life had more to do with what was in his heart than what was in his body.

"He was a standard-bearer for optimism," she said, "and I think that's what kept him in shape all those years."

spencer

I got back from out of town and immediately hit the streets on Saturday to find the whole neighborhood alive and seething with all sorts of activity. The panhandlers and prostitutes were especially vocal and talked to me at length, both friendly and suspicious. I've noticed that many of the familiar faces around Ponce seemed to have left and the contacts I made over the past two years have faded. It's difficult because you feel like you've established yourself as someone to be trusted and recently I've come to find that I need to socialize more and introduce myself to a whole new set of residents.

After a few chats with some of the locals at the corner of Boulevard, I headed east to Murder Kroger. The infamous grocery store, so named for its frequent appearances on 90's episodes of COPS, stretches between Ponce and North Street. Behind the Kroger is the Masquerade, which is the largest music venue in the area. Some time ago I noticed that before certain shows, patrons would scrambled across North Street and hit up MK for beer and sugary snacks. I guessed my best option would be to simply hang out before a concert in the rear parking lot and wait for colorful people to wander over.

I did this a few months ago before an hardcore show with mixed results. The people I photographed had painted clown faces and were a perfect sight amongst the lettuce carts but they were difficult to photograph and not the most cheerful dudes. After one threatened me I backed off and decided to find more optimistic music fans.

This time the concert was punk show and the kids were younger and more relaxed. I met Spencer and Eleanor, who were from the city. I followed them and a few other ticket holders around MK and the parking lot. They were friendly and we chatted briefly about my project and other punk bands. I admitted to them that it was difficult to walk up and start taking frames but they understood. The others groups I met were the same way and we shared ten minutes intervals with one another before the gates at the Masquerade finally opened and I decided to call it a day.