Here's an early double portrait of my father and mother in the Muir Woods in San Francisco. We were all there in the Summer of Love - it was 1967 - ironically their relationship was coming apart. I think you can see that a bit in the picture.
Here's the view from my apartment on Delancey Street. The window looked out onto the Williamsburg Bridge. It looks like street level but is actually the second floor as the window was on the same level as the bridge. Most of the pictures from that time are gone but I'm glad this one survived as it reminds me of how cold that apartment was and the constant stream of traffic. Below the apartment was Attorney Avenue where they had a makeshift shop that sold live chickens that they would kill and pluck on the spot - and then hand you the warm body wrapped in white paper. I never tried their chickens but found the whole procedure horrifying and fascinating and couldn't take my eyes off it.
Here I am in the library back rooms at the Art Center College experiencing the "greatest job of all time." When I got the job in 1988 the place was in a mess with a very limited collection and it was a pleasure to build it up over the years, giving me time in the evening to do darkroom work and write. I learned more from working that job than I ever did from any formal schooling - I was very fortunate.
This is Avenida Central in San Isidro in Lima where I grew up. It was a very quiet street then. Pictured are Rochi and Lily, my favorite aunts, who were sisters that grew up together during the depression and war years and were very close. The arched entrance on the right leads to a passageway that opens out into garden and a house behind the shop where I lived my first ten years. This is also where my father spent most of his life - his ashes are in the garden now.
This is a self portrait from 1980, where the film has been exposed twice with a different image so you get a superimposition -- something I did at the time to achieve an instant collage. I'm reading Cesar Vallejo, my favorite poet. I was quite obsessed with Sergei Eisenstein's films and writings at the time and his picture hangs on my wall. The couch/futon mattress was also my bed that I unrolled in the evenings.