Originally uploaded by Unbowed.
For respite, clarity, and vision, I take pictures.
Last week I was out, planning to take a trip to the cemetery to get some shots in during the golden period–that moment during the day where the sun produces beautiful golden rays. On the way to the cemetery I drove by Druid Hill Park–for the old heads, the park that Dru Hill took its name from.
It was packed. Cadillacs, El Dorados, Escalades, Yukons, Superhawks, Ninjas, tricked out with dvd players, bass heavy stereos, and Sprewell rims. Moving at a snails pace as drivers profiled. On both sides of the strip of road running through the park a sea of black men and women hung out, checking out the rides, and each other. Some brought pit bulls, some brought babies. Some brought their A games, testing their mettle against Baltimore’s best pickup basketball players.
Meanwhile, men with motorbikes, scooters, and four-wheelers popped wheelies around the lake. They are notorious for doing tricks in traffic, sometimes through traffic. No helmets. No leather jackets. No traffic lights. Speed, danger, and freedom.
When I found out that the cemetery was closed I tried to get back to the park with the quickness, parking on the outskirts because I knew that it’d take hours to get out of traffic if I did otherwise. I got off about a hundred or so shots, easily.
A group of sisters came up to me while I was taking pictures. “Take one of me and my girls,” they said. I shot a few.
Then one of the sisters wanted me to shoot her with one of the bikers. I did, with the brother pictured here. I didn’t know what their relationship was, and didn’t say more than a few words to the brother.
Last night I got an email from the sister.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering whether you had any other pictures of me and the boy with the bike? He was killed yesterday.”
Speed, danger, freedom.
(edited to add: i just received a response back. he was shot, walking to his car.)
Yes, saw two young cats without helmets, yesterday, riding standing on their bikes. Dangerous, I think.
Every year thousand of bikers ride pass my home the Sunday before Memorial Day for folks to be on the look out for bikers.
riding with responsibility
Doc you capture the essence of life;a trip to a cemetary was canceled because of timing;”a sea of black men and women hung out”,the final trip cannot be cancilled,can’t wait for pt2.
Great pictures. Sad circumstances surrounded them, but perhaps you were used at that moment to capture someone enjoying life as they know it before they departed this one. Ironic that instead of going to the cemetery to take pictures, you shot a picture of someone who was on their way to one (without even knowing it). My condolences go out to his family.
Hey Lester.
Beautifully told piece. And painful. A friend of mine and I had lunch today and we were just talking about how the crimes in Detroit have gotten much more predatory in nature. Used to be if you weren’t running with the wolves then you didn’t usually have quite as much to worry about. You weren’t necessarily all clear, but you didn’t have to worry about folks just coming after you at random.
Nowadays the desperation and rage is boiling over…
Did you hear about the 91-year-old brother that was beaten in a stroe parking lot by a young brother who just wanted to steal his car? So why didn’t he just take the car? Why did he have to beat the old man over and over and over and over?
damn. i didn’t hear about this.
one of my boys got killed selling weed. i think i knew then that we were living in different times.
still sad.
Keith:
Yes, the elder held on, and the young turf had to beat him down.
Death of a Biker pt. 1 http://t.co/o3y4Psd8
From the Archives: Death of a Biker pt. 1 http://t.co/o3y4Psd8
From the Archives: Death of a Biker pt. 1 http://t.co/o3y0hS3Y