009: Sundays [and Sloppy Jane]

I don’t really understand the football. I tried to watch as a child, as a Christian homeschooled basically orphan, there was truly nothing more I wanted to do than fit in and have friends, but ultimately those desires clashed with my indoctrinated superiority complex I was blessed with. The internal struggle to care about football because everyone else in my social circle did versus the stance of the outcast that football was dumb and stupid was the main event in my brain every winter. The hill I chose to die on was lonely and high, but offered a great view of the masses cheering that amazing touchdown.

The Super Bowl is on, and I am trying to catch up on editing my own work, and the paid work, while having just done back to back 11 hour days at the studio job I have. I want to continue watching old WWF Superstars episodes from May 1992, my recent guilty pleasure and a throwback to a simpler time. When wrestling wasn’t about 5 star matches and being a fan meant being an outcast in society. Everyone wore Eagles or Steelers outfits on Sundays, but my weekends began and ended with that 11am Superstars program filled with squash matches and endearing but shameless hawking of merchandise. I wish I still had that Doink teddy bear.

Times have changed, I no longer forcibly don’t care about football, and you don’t get laughed at for being a wrestling fan. It may not be exactly “cool” to watch the squared circle soap opera, but then again, being “cool” isn’t even cool nowadays. Growing up, being cool or hip was literally everything that mattered to a young buck in the 90s. It is perhaps the first sign of maturity to see those things you raised high on pedestals as a youth, be thrown aside for newer, fresher values. And if not maturity, then at least a sign of world tenure. 

I should stop procrastinating and get to work. The work that matters, some that will teach me the values of forethought and planning, and others that will inform me of where I stand as I continue to measure myself against the Masters of the business I choose as my current artistic dance partner. And after getting those results and reflecting on my inadequacies, the lesson I will no doubt surely learn again tonight, is that I should not compare myself to the others. For they are them, plentiful and loud, and I am who I am, for better or worse, on a hill hacking away at my own story. 

Anywhos, here’s some Sloppy Jane pictures from Monday. They’re going on tour and you should go see them.  

NWWWF Superstars May 1992

NL: “Stuffed & Ready” Cherry Glazerr

NR:  yeah I haven’t read shit in a minute. Not a good spot to be at really.

More tk…

008: Words [and Wooing]

“If you want to accomplish something that hasn’t been accomplished, you have to be relentlessly and unapologetically determined.” - Bruce Springsteen

It seems ridiculous to assume I need words to go with the images in these blogs. If it is my goal to attempt to create decent imagery, then why downgrade the user experience with mediocre writing? I am not a writer, nor I want to be, I don’t read articles on how to be a better writer, it is only therapeutic to clean my brain out with some subconscious ipecac in the form of prose once in a while. It does seem like it would be perfectly okay to just throw some Jpegs on here and call it a day, but I decided to challenge myself to always include words with some minor thoughts, to not only offer some clearing of the brushes behind my eyes, but to also possibly hook a viewer into buying into my User Experience, which tends to be a bit ranty and rambley after the work is done and I have some space to breath.

Perhaps it is also driven from the current culture’s seemingly endless demand for new and different content. Gone are the days of photographers taking just pictures, they are now expected to be directors and speak the moving language as well. Long form writers are encouraged or demanded to offer 240 character micro thoughts into the instant consumable landscape for no reason other than with the right combination, you might “break the internet.” Designers are tasked with coding websites, unless, that is, the product is simple enough to be hosted by your favorite podcast sponsor. Perhaps I feel that pressure to write as well as craft visual stories. But also perhaps it’s just my creative journey, and much like a child going from toy to toy in the play pen, I am just needing to stretch my creative juices by working in fonts rather than light. Perhaps a drive for exploration is also why I tend to continue to dabble in video projects, with starlights projecting dreams of being as an intelligent of a moving designer as Spielberg or Nolan. Is it creative exploration, is is societal pressure, is it a cause and effect of the two, or a self cannibalizing circle of the process? 

Am I using the written portion of this blog just to ask questions of myself, in an attempt to look thoughtful and deep, when I provide no real answers for myself or the possible readership? Is it my responsibility to provide answers for your life in the creative field, or is it merely my own cross to bear? Should I position myself as a subject matter expert so that I can get called upon for a future Ted talk despite believing myself to be a matter of no expertise? Should I admit that in written form, when I would like to eventually claim my paycheck solely from people paying to get my approach to photography to represent their brand?

Maybe we’re all just wasting time, creating content for Mark and Jack. But perhaps also we as a people are finally, slowly, realizing that humans can be more than one thing. We can be more than just a career all day and a father at night, we can be builders, makers, explorers, and creators. Perhaps the slow evolution of millions and millions of centuries have lead to this day, when any one of use can pick up a computer, craft a song or sonnet, capture light in still or in motion,  send it into the world, and connect with a soul a continent away. Perhaps we are experiencing the most advance cranial software, with widgets galore at our fingertips, to be the greatest, and most powerful version of the human operation system we can be. 

In my own life, I do tend to struggle with the idea of focusing on one item, or continuing to dabble in the river of creative opportunities crashing past us as we walk along nature. Do I focus on the still image, cut everything distracting out, and grind a frame out of the marble, or do I consciously take time away from the picture box, stretch other parts of my brain so when I go back to shadows and illumination, I am a stronger, more powerful creative body?  Almost every waking moment is a vast tug of war between my internal desire to throw myself into the volcano of work and the logical assessment that muscles, no matter the creative or physical, need rest and varying exercise in order to maximize results.

So here I sit, procrastinating reading up on model posing techniques in the form of word puking. This exercise shall continue, in hopes of continuing to grow my visual strength. And much like working out for the majority of Americans, it is not necessarily pleasurable, but it is a mandate, if one is to live the best life to our ability. 

Here’s some pictures of Wooing at a few different shows.

NW: The Orville

NL: “O.K.” Gabby’s World

NR:  “The Coming Storm” by Michael Lewis

More tk…

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