An assortment of photo club members checked out the opening night of Open City: Street Photographs Since 1950. Later, over salads and wine at Arbor, we discussed the exhibit for half an hour (and swapped dating stories for an hour and a half).

James echoed my own thoughts when he said his impression of a disappointingly large number of photography exhibits is "I could do that." Don't get the wrong impression; we are not bitter or jealous. In fact, we agree that we often see better work in the darkroom we use as we do in the museums and galleries. There are exceptions to the rule -- and opinions differ among us, as well -- but last night was not one.

The first rooms were full of black-and-white prints, the original "street photography" according to the exhibit literature. Next were some obviously staged shots by Terence Donovan, photographs we would not consider street photography by our definition. Too many walls were filled with technically competent but ultimately dull shots of phone booths, storefronts, and parking lots. Many of the color shots disappointed as well. William Eggleston's work, in particular, seemed an odd choice, as did the huge inkjet prints hung by binder clips by a photographer whose name I haven't bothered to remember.

On the other hand, the moments Garry Winogrand captured made viewers laugh out loud or gape in admiration: young women on a bench outside the World's Fair; a man with a bandaged nose revving his convertible in the streets of Los Angeles; a well-dressed New York couple with their equally well-dressed monkeys in their arms.

Likewise, Susan Meiselas' journalistic color shots of the 1978 revolution in Nicaragua impressed us -- her eye for color and her bravery, to get close enough to take these shots. And Thomas Struth's large-format shots of Chinese city streets were beautiful, elegant and intricate.

Going into the woods for a day or two. Hasta pronto --