Looking At The Ground: A Photo Walk Through Frisco

It’s just after 9 a.m. Saturday morning, and I’m late for my adult field trip. No bag lunch, forgot my name tag and I’m rolling solo — clearly not adhering to the buddy system. But I got my camera.

Photographer pablo circa stands in front of about 40 to 50 other camera-toting people, explaining that we’re set to embark on a journey through the Mission: down Clarion Alley, around Dolores Park and back to KQED headquarters.

The meet up & photo walk is a part of a CatchLight Visual Storytelling Summit. Pablo, co-founder of the Cameras and Coffee Club, leads us on a two-hour exercise in artistic exploration and community building; a reminder that photography doesn’t have to be a solo sport.

I’m in the back of the crowd, chit-chatting and cracking jokes with some familiar faces as we head out. A few blocks into our journey, Pablo tells us to be aware of a turd on the corner of 21st and Harrison streets. From that point on, I take note of the ground.

San Francisco’s pavement is evidence of a unique civilization. Urban decay alongside glimpses of innovation. Expensive cars and unhoused people. Fallen leaves entangled with discarded trash. Everywhere, political messages on stickers and tags; artwork rules the avenues.

As I kneel down to photograph the words “CURB CREEPS” painted on the street, renowned photographer and dancer Traci Bartlow makes my day by telling me she enjoys watching my process, and seeing what catches my eye.

And in that, she names my internal reaction on the photo walk: by seeing other photographers on this excursion work in real time, my eye became a bit more keen. What are other folks not seeing?

We’re all on the same street, and we have essentially the same tools. But what sticks out to you? What story do you tell? What gives you a unique perspective? That’s what I kept asking myself.

Murals made for dope backgrounds as people posed for portraits. Photographers took candid images of moped-riding delivery men. Others clicked away making landscape portraits of the MUNI bus along Mission Street.

I kept my eyes affixed to the sidewalk. Gum stains, dried paint, a dead rat and a small bush growing through the pavement. A soiled pair of pants and the six-pack plastic ring that we used to cut up back in the ’90s. “How in the hell are companies still making those?” I asked to anyone within earshot.

As we walked, the conversations flowed. Photographers Rudi Tcruz and Galex Tcruz joked about the need to focus less on our 9-5s and more on our 5-10s.

Shamika, a part-time multi-hyphenate creative and full-time cyber threat intelligence analyst at Twilio, told me about the theory of recycled faces. Now I can’t stop seeing the similarities in people.

Lost in a conversation with educator and portrait photographer Adam Dunn about his move from Cleveland to Sebastopol, I hesitated and missed out on a photo of an older woman in front of her business, cleaning the stoop. The perspective of the water hitting the sidewalk would’ve been refreshing, but the conversation’s currents were too strong.

One photographer told me about his unique telephoto lens, another told me about the evolution of microchips inside the camera.

At one point, our posse crossed paths with a bunch of adorable dogs and their owners. I thought we were going to heal the world right then and there.

At another moment, I stopped on a corner to watch photographer Darius Riley capture the smiles of a family walking down Valencia Street. An extremely talented photographer, Riley goes on group photo walks regularly, he says, “because they offer spaces to be connected with other photographers, and also be inspired.”

“We need more photography community events, things that bring us together,” he says. An entrepreneur and artist from East Palo Alto who often works in isolation, Riley finds solace and affirmation in the creative circles of Oakland and Frisco.

“To be in company with other people who are in the same field, and recognize me for my craft,” he says, “is very validating and makes me want to keep going.”

He’s right. Photography is an isolating sport. At times, I’ll bring my camera to an event as my plus-one, hiding behind the lens instead of socializing. But at a photo walk, the device becomes a way to introduce yourself to others.

Before even telling me their names, people would ask questions like “What are you shooting with?” or “Who do you shoot for?” One person asked me, “What are you taking photos of?” I answered, “The ground.”

It was musician and photographer Fatosh Arabacıoğlu’s first time out with the group, and she didn’t know what to expect. “But it ended up being one of those days where you just click with people instantly,” she says.

Photography is so much richer as a shared experience — creating art while learning about others and seeing what inspires them lit something inside her during the event. She’s already scheduled get-togethers with new friends made from the photo walk.

This particular photo walk only happens once or twice a year. But the Cameras and Coffee Club offers monthly meet ups, mostly in the East Bay. Those gatherings, pablo circa says, are “intended to slow things down,” giving space and opportunity for visual storytellers “to connect around the craft and shift out of their usual rhythm.”

That’s what the two-hour walk did for me. After all the conversations and photos, I left with a handful of new photographer friends and a new perspective on the streets of San Francisco.