Monday, February 25, 2008, 7:14 PM
Anybody who knows me knows I have a thing for photographing feet. Everybody's always so concerned with faces and the sky and the cat. Well, what about what you're wearing on your feet at the time? Check your photo albums. How many photos do you have of the shoes people were wearing at the time? Shoes can tell as much about a person as a pair of polyester pants, or a man's pink tie.
I was in Chicago walking on a sidewalk when I first realized I had this quirk. "Wait a second," I told the person with me and aimed the camera at our feet. We were standing on an issue of The Chicago Sun Times. "For posterity," I added.
I wish I could find the photo, but it would be as frustrating as looking for that black sock I can't seem to find.
This photo was taken during my 2004 cruise to the Caribbean. It was the first "dress up for dinner" night on the ship. We hadn't even left the dang room yet and already my feet were killing me in those itty-bitty heels. (I'm on the left by the way, in case it matters.)
Another shot I couldn't resist taking during our cruise was when I was standing over a glass porthole on the concession deck. As you can see, Jaws could have been circling right below me and it could be seconds before my death, but hey, posterity.
A lot of people wonder about this shot. It's unusual. It puzzles them. They can't understand why I took it. I say: foot nerdery.
You know what scenery looks like without anyone in it, right?
I was riding on the back of a golf cart in Michigan at the time and felt the urge to snap a photo. Only it wasn't really exciting (C and I were slobber-nockered and you know how gorgeous that would look on film), so I stuck my sandle-clad foot up and there you go.
Another one for footlery nerdery posterity. And because I see the shoe, I remember what I was wearing that day, too. Brown shorts and a white t-shirt.
This next one was taken just before I moved to California. I love group foot shots. I'm wearing the red flip flop, C is in the white sneaker, Rhonda is in the orange, and my crazy mother has both feet in--one with a sock, one without. She must be the genius behind my nerdism. After all, she's the one who knows how to spell abominal without having to look it up in the dictionary. abdomidable. abdominal. The terrifying snowman, you know?
I found the foot print necklace in a San Diego shop and had to have it. I'm an aries (the ram), but my sign is also a pair of footprints. It resonates with me and in my head I always thought that's me, oh that's me all over. My handwritten motto growing up was Unhinged was here placed between two drawn footprints. I couldn't just write I was here, I had to personalize it, and feet seemed appropriate. It's one of the most widely-recognized ways people know I was here. There. Over there, too.
These are my infamous black Mary Janes. I wore them on my inaugural walk around the block after I moved to Los Angeles. I'd used up all my courage moving from Indiana to California, and I was terrified to walk outside by myself. There was just SO MUCH outside the door. I'd never been in the thick of so much humanity.
So I took my camera with me, telling myself that surely a digital camera would ward off any potential attackers because I could capture the face of my murderer. If the button didn't stick.
And here are my feet standing on the beach in front of Misson Bay in the Paradise Point resort in San Diego. I don't know why I always stand like a duck with my toes pointed out, but I'll have to do something about that. It looks stupid.
There you have it; my foot nerdism. I have many more photos of feet, but I'll spare you.
Unhinged was here.