Presented in silent movie format:

Yes, the Jazz Age party produces beautiful images, Bill Cunningham, impeccably attired band leaders, movie stars and well, this:

Men in masks playing crochet with people on their back.  Because, because, well, because why not?

And I got their portrait too:

People turn it out for the Jazz Age party.  But these are the people who add that extra bit of something special to their outfit that takes it into the style stratosphere:

People who read this blog on a regular basis know that one of its patron saints is a man by the name of Bill Cunningham.  We have two other patron saints.  They are Lithuanian basketball great Arvydas Sabonis (who I honestly hope reads this blog) and Ch. Rocky Top’s Sundance Kid (aka Rufus), possessor of egg shaped head and Westminster champion, who has sadly now gone to the great dog park in the sky.

Well, Bill is the only one of those three who is appropriate as a patron saint to this blog, as he an actual photographer.  He is not concerned with making lay ups or being a dog.  I’ve long admired Bill, because he has my dream job of just taking photos of all kinds of interesting people all day and all night.  I’ve seen the documentary about him so many times that I have parts of it memorized.  As some of you may recall, Bill appeared up here about two years ago.

As an aside, I became aware of Bill’s presence at the Jazz Age festivities when my mom said “the competition is here.”  Bill isn’t my competition, as I usually just try to shoot a photo of him:

My year follows certain patterns.  First there is Christmas, then ski season.  That first run on the skis after months off is one of the great days.  That fantastic ski trip where everything goes right is another great day.

Then you have those in between days.  The first kayak trip, the 4th of July fireworks, the first trip to the beach of the season.

But the best day of the year is the Jazz Age party on Governor’s Island.  Just the run up to the party means preparation, picking out of outfits and consultations with my stylish, who also happens to be my dad.

For me the top concern is which camera am I going to take and what am I going to focus on.  What I try to do with these photographs is to cut out non period looking details, like cell phones and plastic bags.  Just keep it period to make it look like a movie set.  I love the atmosphere, all of it.

Pretty much as magnificent as Nessum Dorma, Arvydas Sabonis, Reece’s peanut butter cups and foam T-rexes:

Everything sounds better in French.  Even when that French is cribbed from Google Translate.

But seriously now my friends, do the following two people, who presence I in no way staged, not look like people who belong in a movie from the French New Wave.  Or as the French say “films nouvelle vague.”

First off, a person who looks like she may be a business owner of some kind.   I will let your imagination run wild as to what kind of business:

A short anecdote about this photo.  I saw the subject of the photo and I coyly turned my camera around to photograph.  The flash went off, blowing my cover, but the person did not seem to care.  One day I’ll get kicked in the teeth.  Today I guess is not that day.

Second, a sad woman handing out flowers:

Now what kind of movie will they both star in?  And how did I make Boston 2013 look like Paris 1966?  My secret.  Le secret du photographe…..

The list is long, so beware:

1. Take a photo of a film or television

2. Use some kind of weird filter or lens to do so.

3. Alter the photo in post production.

And today I got to accomplish that goal thanks to an extremely weird short movie being shown at the Institute of Contemporary Art:

In a knitted sweater:

No, I don’t mean that these nifty new globes on display on Tremont Street are garbage.  Nor do I mean that these globes are covered in our kind of garbage.  And it looked really cool: