Doug Levy is a former professional baseball umpire turned wedding and portrait photographer. Doug attended umpire school after graduating from Syracuse in 2003 and spent six seasons on the field, reaching the AAA level before deciding a lifetime of 7:05 starts wasn't for him. He lives outside Boston with his wife Jessica and miniature schnauzer Bentley.
So I’m LA for the week, visiting family that I haven’t seen in, oh, 23 years (which means what I “remember” is from photos, not actual memories), because my cousin Jenny was kind enough to fly me out here for a few days.
I took the opportunity today to take advantage of my body still being on Eastern time to get up with the sun and head to the beach with my camera. Now I’ve kinda been thinking for a while that I’d like to try my hand at shooting some portraits of strangers on the street. Sounds scary right? Well, a little bit, but significantly easier then when I worked at the Boston Herald and used to get sent to South Station at rush hour to do man on the street interviews.
My attitude back then used to be, “What’s the worst that can happen? They can say no? So what.” (Also how I got dates in college btw.)
Anyway, enough blabber, on to the photos. (That’s Santa Monica beach at sunrise above, by the way.)
I met a lot of characters today, let’s start with Wyndon. He was hanging out by the skate park on Venice Beach when I asked him if I could make a portrait. Peace.
This is Farah Fawcett. Her owner made sure to point out that she didn’t name her – she came with that name.
This next guy didn’t tell me his name, he just asked that I write, “Please Pray for Vicki.” Done.
Some preferred to remain anonymous.
Caspa and Shortie.
Dr. John, a Vietnam vet who’s been living on the beach since 1961.
Next is Jamie, who, when I told him my goal was to take 10 portraits of strangers said, “I can be strange.”
This is Joe, who only asked that I send him a print so he could give it to his mother. Joe your print is on the way.
Who said I couldn’t count a portrait of a bike?
I snagged a quick shot of this next guy as he was on his way home.
Douglas, who was probably in the middle of the next great American novel before I interrupted him.
And apparently this final fellow – who was rocking out on rollerblades – is famous. I have no idea who he is…anyone? Bueller…?
