Documentary in Progress

Filmmakers Erin Crysdale and Kyle Maack are working on a documentary about me and my work. Even though we have really only just begun shooting, they put together a very short teaser just to whet your appetite. I’m delighted to be working with them.

"Neighbors"
Friday night, Troy Holden’s “Neighbors” opened at the Lower Branch Gallery on Eddy Street. If you’re looking for sentimental or sensationalist images, go somewhere else. You won’t find such in this show. Shot entirely in the central city area, the large-format color prints in “Neighbors” are compassionate, unflinching portraits of people in their personal environments. Given that the central city is the neighborhood people love to hate, this show is bound to be an eye-opener for many, revealing directly and undeniably just how much each of us has in common. Do yourself a favor and see this show at 233 Eddy before it closes. "Neighbors"
Friday night, Troy Holden’s “Neighbors” opened at the Lower Branch Gallery on Eddy Street. If you’re looking for sentimental or sensationalist images, go somewhere else. You won’t find such in this show. Shot entirely in the central city area, the large-format color prints in “Neighbors” are compassionate, unflinching portraits of people in their personal environments. Given that the central city is the neighborhood people love to hate, this show is bound to be an eye-opener for many, revealing directly and undeniably just how much each of us has in common. Do yourself a favor and see this show at 233 Eddy before it closes. "Neighbors"
Friday night, Troy Holden’s “Neighbors” opened at the Lower Branch Gallery on Eddy Street. If you’re looking for sentimental or sensationalist images, go somewhere else. You won’t find such in this show. Shot entirely in the central city area, the large-format color prints in “Neighbors” are compassionate, unflinching portraits of people in their personal environments. Given that the central city is the neighborhood people love to hate, this show is bound to be an eye-opener for many, revealing directly and undeniably just how much each of us has in common. Do yourself a favor and see this show at 233 Eddy before it closes. "Neighbors"
Friday night, Troy Holden’s “Neighbors” opened at the Lower Branch Gallery on Eddy Street. If you’re looking for sentimental or sensationalist images, go somewhere else. You won’t find such in this show. Shot entirely in the central city area, the large-format color prints in “Neighbors” are compassionate, unflinching portraits of people in their personal environments. Given that the central city is the neighborhood people love to hate, this show is bound to be an eye-opener for many, revealing directly and undeniably just how much each of us has in common. Do yourself a favor and see this show at 233 Eddy before it closes. "Neighbors"
Friday night, Troy Holden’s “Neighbors” opened at the Lower Branch Gallery on Eddy Street. If you’re looking for sentimental or sensationalist images, go somewhere else. You won’t find such in this show. Shot entirely in the central city area, the large-format color prints in “Neighbors” are compassionate, unflinching portraits of people in their personal environments. Given that the central city is the neighborhood people love to hate, this show is bound to be an eye-opener for many, revealing directly and undeniably just how much each of us has in common. Do yourself a favor and see this show at 233 Eddy before it closes. "Neighbors"
Friday night, Troy Holden’s “Neighbors” opened at the Lower Branch Gallery on Eddy Street. If you’re looking for sentimental or sensationalist images, go somewhere else. You won’t find such in this show. Shot entirely in the central city area, the large-format color prints in “Neighbors” are compassionate, unflinching portraits of people in their personal environments. Given that the central city is the neighborhood people love to hate, this show is bound to be an eye-opener for many, revealing directly and undeniably just how much each of us has in common. Do yourself a favor and see this show at 233 Eddy before it closes. "Neighbors"
Friday night, Troy Holden’s “Neighbors” opened at the Lower Branch Gallery on Eddy Street. If you’re looking for sentimental or sensationalist images, go somewhere else. You won’t find such in this show. Shot entirely in the central city area, the large-format color prints in “Neighbors” are compassionate, unflinching portraits of people in their personal environments. Given that the central city is the neighborhood people love to hate, this show is bound to be an eye-opener for many, revealing directly and undeniably just how much each of us has in common. Do yourself a favor and see this show at 233 Eddy before it closes.

"Neighbors"

Friday night, Troy Holden’s “Neighbors” opened at the Lower Branch Gallery on Eddy Street. If you’re looking for sentimental or sensationalist images, go somewhere else. You won’t find such in this show. Shot entirely in the central city area, the large-format color prints in “Neighbors” are compassionate, unflinching portraits of people in their personal environments. Given that the central city is the neighborhood people love to hate, this show is bound to be an eye-opener for many, revealing directly and undeniably just how much each of us has in common. Do yourself a favor and see this show at 233 Eddy before it closes.

"In Perditionem" (2013)

Something deep inside me has been withering.

Yesterday, it finally died.

I could feel its departure,

Like the exhalation of a sigh.

"Curt McDowell and Mark Ellinger, circa 1979" (1987)

Another Lifetime

Not long after my friend Curt McDowell died, I drew this picture from a photograph of the two of us shooting a scene for his film Initiation on King Street. The drawing was a gift for Curt’s older sister Marce, who lives in Indiana where Curt grew up. It’s a shame Curt never finished King Street. It was, or would have been, one of his best films: dreamlike, dark and moody, unsettling and prophetic,* densely layered with metaphor; it was an allegory of Curt’s unfolding as an artist. Initiation on King Street was not Curt’s final film, but it was the last film on which I worked with him. It was another lifetime — we were so damn young.

In ‘78 and ‘79 Curt and I shared a flat near the foot of Utah Street at the bottom of Potrero Hill, when it was still an active industrial district. There were no condos, galleries, or jewelry marts. Our neighbors were companies like Forderer Hollow Metal Products, Best Foods, Kilpatrick’s and Hostess Bakeries, Crown Zellerbach Paper, Lone Star Concrete, Hamilton Hardware, and diners; lots of little diners that fed the factory workers, truckers, and trainmen. Most streets in our part of town were embedded with train tracks, spur lines to the area’s industries, and at night we were often serenaded by the soulful chimes of Western Pacific air horns as switching engines shuttled raw materials and finished products to and from the factories. Much of Initiation on King Street was filmed near the Southern Pacific train depot, within a cobble-stoned labyrinth of low, wooden warehouses between King and Berry Streets, stretching from Fourth Street almost to Seventh.

It was the end of an era and I deplored its passing, so to live amidst the industrial remnants of that era was a little slice of heaven. It breaks my heart to think that nearly all of Curt’s and my documentation — motion pictures, photographs, and sound recordings — has been lost, for it captured the zeitgeist of that too-brief moment in history, of which only my memories now remain.

*The film foretold Curt’s untimely death, and included an eerily prescient scene of my own mourning.

Lamentando la Muerte del Barrio
I have called the central city “home” since 2001, but for many of the preceding thirty-three years, I lived and worked in various parts of the Mission District. My recording studio was on 22nd Street near Shotwell, and I was a weekend projectionist at the Roxie Cinema on 16th Street from 1985 through 1987, which was just about the time that signs of gentrification began to appear in the neighborhood. Since then, the North Mission has been radically transformed, and pockets of gentrification have gradually spread to the south; to Cesar Chavez Boulevard, Cortland Street and beyond. Now, with the massive influx of wealthy, young programmers and technicians from Silicon Valley, skyrocketing rental prices and widespread Ellis Act evictions are despoiling the barrio; extruding its heart and soul. The Mission District still lives, but its people and cultural landmarks are disappearing.
Over the past year, I have been making regular visits to San Francisco General Hospital for treatment. As it is just a block away, I always take a walk around 24th Street after I leave the hospital, stopping at La Palma and El Farolito to buy Mexican cheese, fresh tortilla chips and a burrito. It has become a bittersweet experience, for with each passing month, it seems that another neighborhood business has lost its lease and moved away or closed up forever. On my last visit, I took some pictures. From now on, I will be documenting the area whenever I am there.
"Memento Mori (detail)" (2013)
"Mission Memento Mori" (2013)
"Discolandia Despedida" (2013)
"Cerdos Canibales" (2013)
"La Virgen de la Calle 24" (2013)
“Iglesia de San Pedro” (2013) Lamentando la Muerte del Barrio
I have called the central city “home” since 2001, but for many of the preceding thirty-three years, I lived and worked in various parts of the Mission District. My recording studio was on 22nd Street near Shotwell, and I was a weekend projectionist at the Roxie Cinema on 16th Street from 1985 through 1987, which was just about the time that signs of gentrification began to appear in the neighborhood. Since then, the North Mission has been radically transformed, and pockets of gentrification have gradually spread to the south; to Cesar Chavez Boulevard, Cortland Street and beyond. Now, with the massive influx of wealthy, young programmers and technicians from Silicon Valley, skyrocketing rental prices and widespread Ellis Act evictions are despoiling the barrio; extruding its heart and soul. The Mission District still lives, but its people and cultural landmarks are disappearing.
Over the past year, I have been making regular visits to San Francisco General Hospital for treatment. As it is just a block away, I always take a walk around 24th Street after I leave the hospital, stopping at La Palma and El Farolito to buy Mexican cheese, fresh tortilla chips and a burrito. It has become a bittersweet experience, for with each passing month, it seems that another neighborhood business has lost its lease and moved away or closed up forever. On my last visit, I took some pictures. From now on, I will be documenting the area whenever I am there.
"Memento Mori (detail)" (2013)
"Mission Memento Mori" (2013)
"Discolandia Despedida" (2013)
"Cerdos Canibales" (2013)
"La Virgen de la Calle 24" (2013)
“Iglesia de San Pedro” (2013) Lamentando la Muerte del Barrio
I have called the central city “home” since 2001, but for many of the preceding thirty-three years, I lived and worked in various parts of the Mission District. My recording studio was on 22nd Street near Shotwell, and I was a weekend projectionist at the Roxie Cinema on 16th Street from 1985 through 1987, which was just about the time that signs of gentrification began to appear in the neighborhood. Since then, the North Mission has been radically transformed, and pockets of gentrification have gradually spread to the south; to Cesar Chavez Boulevard, Cortland Street and beyond. Now, with the massive influx of wealthy, young programmers and technicians from Silicon Valley, skyrocketing rental prices and widespread Ellis Act evictions are despoiling the barrio; extruding its heart and soul. The Mission District still lives, but its people and cultural landmarks are disappearing.
Over the past year, I have been making regular visits to San Francisco General Hospital for treatment. As it is just a block away, I always take a walk around 24th Street after I leave the hospital, stopping at La Palma and El Farolito to buy Mexican cheese, fresh tortilla chips and a burrito. It has become a bittersweet experience, for with each passing month, it seems that another neighborhood business has lost its lease and moved away or closed up forever. On my last visit, I took some pictures. From now on, I will be documenting the area whenever I am there.
"Memento Mori (detail)" (2013)
"Mission Memento Mori" (2013)
"Discolandia Despedida" (2013)
"Cerdos Canibales" (2013)
"La Virgen de la Calle 24" (2013)
“Iglesia de San Pedro” (2013) Lamentando la Muerte del Barrio
I have called the central city “home” since 2001, but for many of the preceding thirty-three years, I lived and worked in various parts of the Mission District. My recording studio was on 22nd Street near Shotwell, and I was a weekend projectionist at the Roxie Cinema on 16th Street from 1985 through 1987, which was just about the time that signs of gentrification began to appear in the neighborhood. Since then, the North Mission has been radically transformed, and pockets of gentrification have gradually spread to the south; to Cesar Chavez Boulevard, Cortland Street and beyond. Now, with the massive influx of wealthy, young programmers and technicians from Silicon Valley, skyrocketing rental prices and widespread Ellis Act evictions are despoiling the barrio; extruding its heart and soul. The Mission District still lives, but its people and cultural landmarks are disappearing.
Over the past year, I have been making regular visits to San Francisco General Hospital for treatment. As it is just a block away, I always take a walk around 24th Street after I leave the hospital, stopping at La Palma and El Farolito to buy Mexican cheese, fresh tortilla chips and a burrito. It has become a bittersweet experience, for with each passing month, it seems that another neighborhood business has lost its lease and moved away or closed up forever. On my last visit, I took some pictures. From now on, I will be documenting the area whenever I am there.
"Memento Mori (detail)" (2013)
"Mission Memento Mori" (2013)
"Discolandia Despedida" (2013)
"Cerdos Canibales" (2013)
"La Virgen de la Calle 24" (2013)
“Iglesia de San Pedro” (2013) Lamentando la Muerte del Barrio
I have called the central city “home” since 2001, but for many of the preceding thirty-three years, I lived and worked in various parts of the Mission District. My recording studio was on 22nd Street near Shotwell, and I was a weekend projectionist at the Roxie Cinema on 16th Street from 1985 through 1987, which was just about the time that signs of gentrification began to appear in the neighborhood. Since then, the North Mission has been radically transformed, and pockets of gentrification have gradually spread to the south; to Cesar Chavez Boulevard, Cortland Street and beyond. Now, with the massive influx of wealthy, young programmers and technicians from Silicon Valley, skyrocketing rental prices and widespread Ellis Act evictions are despoiling the barrio; extruding its heart and soul. The Mission District still lives, but its people and cultural landmarks are disappearing.
Over the past year, I have been making regular visits to San Francisco General Hospital for treatment. As it is just a block away, I always take a walk around 24th Street after I leave the hospital, stopping at La Palma and El Farolito to buy Mexican cheese, fresh tortilla chips and a burrito. It has become a bittersweet experience, for with each passing month, it seems that another neighborhood business has lost its lease and moved away or closed up forever. On my last visit, I took some pictures. From now on, I will be documenting the area whenever I am there.
"Memento Mori (detail)" (2013)
"Mission Memento Mori" (2013)
"Discolandia Despedida" (2013)
"Cerdos Canibales" (2013)
"La Virgen de la Calle 24" (2013)
“Iglesia de San Pedro” (2013) Lamentando la Muerte del Barrio
I have called the central city “home” since 2001, but for many of the preceding thirty-three years, I lived and worked in various parts of the Mission District. My recording studio was on 22nd Street near Shotwell, and I was a weekend projectionist at the Roxie Cinema on 16th Street from 1985 through 1987, which was just about the time that signs of gentrification began to appear in the neighborhood. Since then, the North Mission has been radically transformed, and pockets of gentrification have gradually spread to the south; to Cesar Chavez Boulevard, Cortland Street and beyond. Now, with the massive influx of wealthy, young programmers and technicians from Silicon Valley, skyrocketing rental prices and widespread Ellis Act evictions are despoiling the barrio; extruding its heart and soul. The Mission District still lives, but its people and cultural landmarks are disappearing.
Over the past year, I have been making regular visits to San Francisco General Hospital for treatment. As it is just a block away, I always take a walk around 24th Street after I leave the hospital, stopping at La Palma and El Farolito to buy Mexican cheese, fresh tortilla chips and a burrito. It has become a bittersweet experience, for with each passing month, it seems that another neighborhood business has lost its lease and moved away or closed up forever. On my last visit, I took some pictures. From now on, I will be documenting the area whenever I am there.
"Memento Mori (detail)" (2013)
"Mission Memento Mori" (2013)
"Discolandia Despedida" (2013)
"Cerdos Canibales" (2013)
"La Virgen de la Calle 24" (2013)
“Iglesia de San Pedro” (2013)

Lamentando la Muerte del Barrio

I have called the central city “home” since 2001, but for many of the preceding thirty-three years, I lived and worked in various parts of the Mission District. My recording studio was on 22nd Street near Shotwell, and I was a weekend projectionist at the Roxie Cinema on 16th Street from 1985 through 1987, which was just about the time that signs of gentrification began to appear in the neighborhood. Since then, the North Mission has been radically transformed, and pockets of gentrification have gradually spread to the south; to Cesar Chavez Boulevard, Cortland Street and beyond. Now, with the massive influx of wealthy, young programmers and technicians from Silicon Valley, skyrocketing rental prices and widespread Ellis Act evictions are despoiling the barrio; extruding its heart and soul. The Mission District still lives, but its people and cultural landmarks are disappearing.

Over the past year, I have been making regular visits to San Francisco General Hospital for treatment. As it is just a block away, I always take a walk around 24th Street after I leave the hospital, stopping at La Palma and El Farolito to buy Mexican cheese, fresh tortilla chips and a burrito. It has become a bittersweet experience, for with each passing month, it seems that another neighborhood business has lost its lease and moved away or closed up forever. On my last visit, I took some pictures. From now on, I will be documenting the area whenever I am there.

"Memento Mori (detail)" (2013)

"Mission Memento Mori" (2013)

"Discolandia Despedida" (2013)

"Cerdos Canibales" (2013)

"La Virgen de la Calle 24" (2013)

Iglesia de San Pedro (2013)

"SoMa Sidewalk" (2013)

Vanishing history. Contractor trademarks such as this are becoming increasingly difficult to find.

Life Goes On
Thanks to the kindness and generosity of a friend, I recovered all my gear on October 16. A few days later, I was out taking pictures of Market Street and the back streets between 5th and 7th. These shots are among my favorites so far.
"Sunday Morning – Market Street" (2013)
"Construction Site – Jessie Street" (2013)
"Federal Hotel" (2013)
"Mechanics Savings Bank Building" (2013) Life Goes On
Thanks to the kindness and generosity of a friend, I recovered all my gear on October 16. A few days later, I was out taking pictures of Market Street and the back streets between 5th and 7th. These shots are among my favorites so far.
"Sunday Morning – Market Street" (2013)
"Construction Site – Jessie Street" (2013)
"Federal Hotel" (2013)
"Mechanics Savings Bank Building" (2013) Life Goes On
Thanks to the kindness and generosity of a friend, I recovered all my gear on October 16. A few days later, I was out taking pictures of Market Street and the back streets between 5th and 7th. These shots are among my favorites so far.
"Sunday Morning – Market Street" (2013)
"Construction Site – Jessie Street" (2013)
"Federal Hotel" (2013)
"Mechanics Savings Bank Building" (2013) Life Goes On
Thanks to the kindness and generosity of a friend, I recovered all my gear on October 16. A few days later, I was out taking pictures of Market Street and the back streets between 5th and 7th. These shots are among my favorites so far.
"Sunday Morning – Market Street" (2013)
"Construction Site – Jessie Street" (2013)
"Federal Hotel" (2013)
"Mechanics Savings Bank Building" (2013)

Life Goes On

Thanks to the kindness and generosity of a friend, I recovered all my gear on October 16. A few days later, I was out taking pictures of Market Street and the back streets between 5th and 7th. These shots are among my favorites so far.

"Sunday Morning – Market Street" (2013)

"Construction Site – Jessie Street" (2013)

"Federal Hotel" (2013)

"Mechanics Savings Bank Building" (2013)

Untwisting the Truth

Goo-goo goo-goo goo-goo goo

Goo-goo goo-goo goo-goo

Googly, googly, googly goo:

That’s how we fill a column.

— GK Chesterton

Last week, the San Francisco Chronicle published an article, authored by CW Nevius, that begins with Mercy Housing’s acquisition of some of my early photography, recently installed at the Arlington Hotel. What follows is a muddled retelling of my life story, refashioned by Nevius with cherry-picked facts to fit his doctrinaire point of view. In his eyes, success is synonymous with wealth and prosperity and is therefore quantifiable and attainable by upward striving. Misconstruing my perseverance in recovery with upward striving, he assumes that success is a corollary of self-redemption.

The truth is that I often must choose between necessities to survive, and that any recognition my work has received has in the long run made life no less difficult. Due to ongoing health problems, a lack of print sales and commissions has recently forced me to pawn all of my gear just to pay the bills. I simply cannot keep afloat on a baseline SSDI income of 985 dollars a month. For now, until I recover my cameras, I am no longer a photographer. I cannot say where my life goes from here. What I do know is that there are no easy answers. There never are.

Poor Nevius; reviled and ridiculed, because his preconceptions are always getting in the way of accuracy. Accordingly, he compartmentalized and re-contextualized my personal history as a “success” story, using the template of a materialist ideology that interprets life as a rat race to the top and classifies people as winners or losers. When I acknowledge that change is the only thing of which I can be absolutely certain (even death can be thought of as change), life becomes a never-ending process of unfolding and transformation. Insofar as my journey through life is a reflection of my psyche, the highs and lows have been extreme, but this is not how I measure either failure or success. As a perennial student in the classroom of experience, success for me is a lesson well-learned.

By the way, if you would like to read a really well-written article about me and my work, "Histories Intertwined" by Maria La Ganga of the Los Angeles Times is superb.

Photo: "New City for the Upper Class" (2012)

A Fine Place Indeed
At the corner of Hyde and Eddy, in the very heart of the Tenderloin, is my favorite bar — a dive bar, of course — a little place named the Brown Jug Saloon. Currently owned by the genial Max McIntire, who loves to follow the ponies, it has been in continuous operation since 1941. Before that, it was an Owl drug store. People from all over the world and from all walks of life sooner or later end up drinking there. A more cosmpolitan atmosphere would be hard to find. Just because I never go anywhere without a camera, I have taken many pictures at the Brown Jug. These are a few of my favorites
"Saloon Incumbents" (2012)
"Max and Randy" (2012)
"Cassie May" (2012)
"Rodney and Fred" (2012)
"Self-portrait" (2012)
Also see Saturday Afternoon. A Fine Place Indeed
At the corner of Hyde and Eddy, in the very heart of the Tenderloin, is my favorite bar — a dive bar, of course — a little place named the Brown Jug Saloon. Currently owned by the genial Max McIntire, who loves to follow the ponies, it has been in continuous operation since 1941. Before that, it was an Owl drug store. People from all over the world and from all walks of life sooner or later end up drinking there. A more cosmpolitan atmosphere would be hard to find. Just because I never go anywhere without a camera, I have taken many pictures at the Brown Jug. These are a few of my favorites
"Saloon Incumbents" (2012)
"Max and Randy" (2012)
"Cassie May" (2012)
"Rodney and Fred" (2012)
"Self-portrait" (2012)
Also see Saturday Afternoon. A Fine Place Indeed
At the corner of Hyde and Eddy, in the very heart of the Tenderloin, is my favorite bar — a dive bar, of course — a little place named the Brown Jug Saloon. Currently owned by the genial Max McIntire, who loves to follow the ponies, it has been in continuous operation since 1941. Before that, it was an Owl drug store. People from all over the world and from all walks of life sooner or later end up drinking there. A more cosmpolitan atmosphere would be hard to find. Just because I never go anywhere without a camera, I have taken many pictures at the Brown Jug. These are a few of my favorites
"Saloon Incumbents" (2012)
"Max and Randy" (2012)
"Cassie May" (2012)
"Rodney and Fred" (2012)
"Self-portrait" (2012)
Also see Saturday Afternoon. A Fine Place Indeed
At the corner of Hyde and Eddy, in the very heart of the Tenderloin, is my favorite bar — a dive bar, of course — a little place named the Brown Jug Saloon. Currently owned by the genial Max McIntire, who loves to follow the ponies, it has been in continuous operation since 1941. Before that, it was an Owl drug store. People from all over the world and from all walks of life sooner or later end up drinking there. A more cosmpolitan atmosphere would be hard to find. Just because I never go anywhere without a camera, I have taken many pictures at the Brown Jug. These are a few of my favorites
"Saloon Incumbents" (2012)
"Max and Randy" (2012)
"Cassie May" (2012)
"Rodney and Fred" (2012)
"Self-portrait" (2012)
Also see Saturday Afternoon. A Fine Place Indeed
At the corner of Hyde and Eddy, in the very heart of the Tenderloin, is my favorite bar — a dive bar, of course — a little place named the Brown Jug Saloon. Currently owned by the genial Max McIntire, who loves to follow the ponies, it has been in continuous operation since 1941. Before that, it was an Owl drug store. People from all over the world and from all walks of life sooner or later end up drinking there. A more cosmpolitan atmosphere would be hard to find. Just because I never go anywhere without a camera, I have taken many pictures at the Brown Jug. These are a few of my favorites
"Saloon Incumbents" (2012)
"Max and Randy" (2012)
"Cassie May" (2012)
"Rodney and Fred" (2012)
"Self-portrait" (2012)
Also see Saturday Afternoon.

A Fine Place Indeed

At the corner of Hyde and Eddy, in the very heart of the Tenderloin, is my favorite bar — a dive bar, of course — a little place named the Brown Jug Saloon. Currently owned by the genial Max McIntire, who loves to follow the ponies, it has been in continuous operation since 1941. Before that, it was an Owl drug store. People from all over the world and from all walks of life sooner or later end up drinking there. A more cosmpolitan atmosphere would be hard to find. Just because I never go anywhere without a camera, I have taken many pictures at the Brown Jug. These are a few of my favorites

"Saloon Incumbents" (2012)

"Max and Randy" (2012)

"Cassie May" (2012)

"Rodney and Fred" (2012)

"Self-portrait" (2012)

Also see Saturday Afternoon.

Hammett’s View
From 1926 till 1929, Dashiell Hammett lived at 891 Post Street in Apartment 401, where he wrote his first three novels: Red Harvest, The Dain Curse, and The Maltese Falcon. Sam Spade’s apartment in The Maltese Falcon is modeled on Hammett’s, which was on the northwest corner of the fourth floor. Sans modern autos and parking meters and two distant highrises atop Cathedral Hill, this is what Hammett and Spade saw from the Hyde Street window of that very apartment.
"Hammett’s Desk – Window onto Post and Hyde" (2012)
"View from Hammett’s Window on a Rainy Day" (2012)
"Twilight View from Hammett’s Window" (2012)
Also see Hammett’s Living Room and Murphy Bed and Crawford Apartments. Hammett’s View
From 1926 till 1929, Dashiell Hammett lived at 891 Post Street in Apartment 401, where he wrote his first three novels: Red Harvest, The Dain Curse, and The Maltese Falcon. Sam Spade’s apartment in The Maltese Falcon is modeled on Hammett’s, which was on the northwest corner of the fourth floor. Sans modern autos and parking meters and two distant highrises atop Cathedral Hill, this is what Hammett and Spade saw from the Hyde Street window of that very apartment.
"Hammett’s Desk – Window onto Post and Hyde" (2012)
"View from Hammett’s Window on a Rainy Day" (2012)
"Twilight View from Hammett’s Window" (2012)
Also see Hammett’s Living Room and Murphy Bed and Crawford Apartments. Hammett’s View
From 1926 till 1929, Dashiell Hammett lived at 891 Post Street in Apartment 401, where he wrote his first three novels: Red Harvest, The Dain Curse, and The Maltese Falcon. Sam Spade’s apartment in The Maltese Falcon is modeled on Hammett’s, which was on the northwest corner of the fourth floor. Sans modern autos and parking meters and two distant highrises atop Cathedral Hill, this is what Hammett and Spade saw from the Hyde Street window of that very apartment.
"Hammett’s Desk – Window onto Post and Hyde" (2012)
"View from Hammett’s Window on a Rainy Day" (2012)
"Twilight View from Hammett’s Window" (2012)
Also see Hammett’s Living Room and Murphy Bed and Crawford Apartments.

Hammett’s View

From 1926 till 1929, Dashiell Hammett lived at 891 Post Street in Apartment 401, where he wrote his first three novels: Red Harvest, The Dain Curse, and The Maltese Falcon. Sam Spade’s apartment in The Maltese Falcon is modeled on Hammett’s, which was on the northwest corner of the fourth floor. Sans modern autos and parking meters and two distant highrises atop Cathedral Hill, this is what Hammett and Spade saw from the Hyde Street window of that very apartment.

"Hammett’s Desk – Window onto Post and Hyde" (2012)

"View from Hammett’s Window on a Rainy Day" (2012)

"Twilight View from Hammett’s Window" (2012)

Also see Hammett’s Living Room and Murphy Bed and Crawford Apartments.