Hard to believe it's Spring, with a fresh blanket of snow and 14 degrees F at sunrise. Maybe the smokers think it's warm, outside for a few puffs of sunshine. But the cold adds up when you stand in the same place for a few hours. It's cumulative.
This is guerrilla advertising. No scout, crew, motorhome, or retouching. Just me and a camera at daybreak, not far from my house, lens poking through a hole in the cyclone fence over highway 35W. By this time next week, the skyline will be stripped from the winter scene and pasted into a beer ad, just in time for summer.
Ten lanes of traffic below, honking their horns as if they know me. A stranger rolls down his window and shouts up, roaring toward the city at 65 mph. A cop walks up and asks what I'm doing. Says a driver called in to complain about suspicious behavior: Someone photographing the city through a hole in the fence.
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