Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Mythology
Remember this: if you are a photographer, you are always busy, and you never fuck up.
I know plenty of people who are willing to tell the truth about how much they've been working, or tell stories of their scrub moves. I know a few people who are actually busy all the time, and they're all willing to relate tales of ignominy.
But at gatherings it's always "ohgodI'vebeensobusyneveradullmomenthahaha". When people ask me, and I say something like, "Nope...been pretty slow...did a test...when was that? last week...", they edge away, as if it's contagious.
What's the upside of these myths? I guess if you repeat something often enough, it'll come true, maybe? There's something to that, but I don't think it works by lying to everyone all the time. I know the downside, for sure: it makes me think: "Man, everybody's busy but me, what the hell?", and yet I'm skeptical, so it's like being surrounded by a bunch of people in Superman costumes.
Anyways. I dropped an Octobank on a rental car! Which rental car was meant to be in the shot!
We were on a hill in Pacific Heights. It was fairly windy. The photographer liked to use an Octobank, 12-15' up, on a high roller. We set everything up, positioned the car, were starting to work with the subject. I turned away, but heard the photographer shouting, "Light, light, light, light, light, light...", so I looked around, wondering what he was going on about. The high roller had a sickening kind of list to it, like something over at the Mystery Spot, and I watched as the Octobank seemed to float down to the ground.
No, not the ground. The hood of the rented Mini Cooper. In the last 12 inches, it accelerated huge and crashed into the hood. I looked at the photographer. He turned on his heel and walked away. I ran over and started clearing up the mess, thinking "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...".
I go things re-situated but there was a twelve inch gash on the hood of the car. The photographer came back.
He asked, "Is there sand in the truck?".
I nodded.
He said, "All sandbags need to be on the lightstand."
I nodded some more.
"You will stand on the lightstand until we're done."
I nodded.
Later I offered to pay the damages on the hood, but he would have none of it. I apologized profusely and he wouldn't have much of that either.
I've been extremely fortunate to work with forgiving, generous photographers, who took chances with me, and suffered for it, and yet continued to push me along, help me, and even hire me.
And the thing about these myths, is that if we're all these Supermen and women, then there's no need for forgiveness, for humility, for tolerance, for help, for breathing or growing or living up.
I know plenty of people who are willing to tell the truth about how much they've been working, or tell stories of their scrub moves. I know a few people who are actually busy all the time, and they're all willing to relate tales of ignominy.
But at gatherings it's always "ohgodI'vebeensobusyneveradullmomenthahaha". When people ask me, and I say something like, "Nope...been pretty slow...did a test...when was that? last week...", they edge away, as if it's contagious.
What's the upside of these myths? I guess if you repeat something often enough, it'll come true, maybe? There's something to that, but I don't think it works by lying to everyone all the time. I know the downside, for sure: it makes me think: "Man, everybody's busy but me, what the hell?", and yet I'm skeptical, so it's like being surrounded by a bunch of people in Superman costumes.
Anyways. I dropped an Octobank on a rental car! Which rental car was meant to be in the shot!
We were on a hill in Pacific Heights. It was fairly windy. The photographer liked to use an Octobank, 12-15' up, on a high roller. We set everything up, positioned the car, were starting to work with the subject. I turned away, but heard the photographer shouting, "Light, light, light, light, light, light...", so I looked around, wondering what he was going on about. The high roller had a sickening kind of list to it, like something over at the Mystery Spot, and I watched as the Octobank seemed to float down to the ground.
No, not the ground. The hood of the rented Mini Cooper. In the last 12 inches, it accelerated huge and crashed into the hood. I looked at the photographer. He turned on his heel and walked away. I ran over and started clearing up the mess, thinking "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...".
I go things re-situated but there was a twelve inch gash on the hood of the car. The photographer came back.
He asked, "Is there sand in the truck?".
I nodded.
He said, "All sandbags need to be on the lightstand."
I nodded some more.
"You will stand on the lightstand until we're done."
I nodded.
Later I offered to pay the damages on the hood, but he would have none of it. I apologized profusely and he wouldn't have much of that either.
I've been extremely fortunate to work with forgiving, generous photographers, who took chances with me, and suffered for it, and yet continued to push me along, help me, and even hire me.
And the thing about these myths, is that if we're all these Supermen and women, then there's no need for forgiveness, for humility, for tolerance, for help, for breathing or growing or living up.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
In Context
I've gotten a bit tired of single objects on studio backgrounds.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
After Picasso
I shot these this week, on both film and digital. These are from the digital captures.
The 4x5 transparencies look amazing, like little jewels. But what a pain-in-the-ass. I've haven't shot film much, only dabbled really, and this is the first time I've shot 4x5. It is: expensive, time-consuming, stressful. No wonder everyone is a photographer, post-digital.
I shot this one on film as well as digital to answer this little gremlin in my head. When I shoot stuff, this little gremlin always whispers "This'd look better on film.", so I put it to the test. I borrowed a view camera, Hunter donated some 4x5 film, I picked up some Fuji instant film, and got to work.
Digital went first, so I could noodle around without burning $3.50 a sheet for the Fujiroids. Once I got the digital, I switched to film. So aggravating, double-checking and triple-checking everything (focus, composition, shutter, f-stop, swings and tilts, strobes, dust, pulse-rate, biorhythms, etc), but the image on the ground glass is a little bit magical. And the polaroid, too.
And then the dropoff at the lab - and the nagging feeling that I'd forgotten something, for the rest of the day. But then, picking up the film and looking at the slides, little gems, and then the loupe, the startling detail and clarity...
The gremlin is right.
The 4x5 transparencies look amazing, like little jewels. But what a pain-in-the-ass. I've haven't shot film much, only dabbled really, and this is the first time I've shot 4x5. It is: expensive, time-consuming, stressful. No wonder everyone is a photographer, post-digital.
I shot this one on film as well as digital to answer this little gremlin in my head. When I shoot stuff, this little gremlin always whispers "This'd look better on film.", so I put it to the test. I borrowed a view camera, Hunter donated some 4x5 film, I picked up some Fuji instant film, and got to work.
Digital went first, so I could noodle around without burning $3.50 a sheet for the Fujiroids. Once I got the digital, I switched to film. So aggravating, double-checking and triple-checking everything (focus, composition, shutter, f-stop, swings and tilts, strobes, dust, pulse-rate, biorhythms, etc), but the image on the ground glass is a little bit magical. And the polaroid, too.
And then the dropoff at the lab - and the nagging feeling that I'd forgotten something, for the rest of the day. But then, picking up the film and looking at the slides, little gems, and then the loupe, the startling detail and clarity...
The gremlin is right.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Guess This Thing is Coming Along
Smoke's been done before, but I haven't seen anybody anthropomorphize it.
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