003: Art [and Surfbort]

“You don’t have to go looking for pictures. The material is generous. You go out and the pictures are staring at you.” 

— Lee Friedlander

There’s another quote out there, somewhere in the abyss of words that is the internet, that this Friedlander quote (discovered today by the signal boosting account of @icphotog), reminds me of. Basically, the just of it is, we as photographers are really just editors of light and shape. The raw material is out there, we just have to edit out the unpleasantries to the human eye and boom, an artist we are. 

The concept of photography as art is one that puzzles me. Of course it’s art, because art is art and let’s not get too serious with that idea right now. But really, we are just using some sort of technology that someone else made and perfected, and saying with our little brains “Look at this moment in time, a split second out of millions a year, that I deem, in my most high humble opinion, more valuable and interesting than millions of others. Please press like.”

Is it art when we basically just press a button to create a tangible version of “huh, look at that thing”?  Are we artists? Why is it art when all we do is say “look at this but not at that”? 

I actually hate the word “Art”, or more specifically the word “artist”. I’ve always been reserved when referring to myself as an artist, and lacked the self referencing confidence to even call my self a photographer. For a long time, to me, calling yourself something means you are that thing, and you couldn’t really be anything else. I had jobs that paid the bills, so I wasn’t anything else other than what my current business card said. That’s obviously short sighted and ill conceived inaccurate bullshit, and I’ve grown over the past decade to understand, that yeah, you can be something other than Your Job Title. 

I’m not sure where the vileness behind my emotional response to the word “Artist” came from. Why I am so against it? I think it’s a combination of the stereotype loofy artist persona that is portrayed in middle America’s anti-rose colored glasses opinions of the Coastal Elites, and the first few people I met that addressed themselves as such a title, were personifications of the douchebag artist stereotype. (Sorry if one of those douchebags is reading, but honestly you aren’t, because you lacked personal connections with humanity, Chuck, so shut the fuck up and care about someone. Asshole.)

Art and artists obviously mean a lot. And we can get esoteric all day long about What Is Art And Why Does It Matter (obvi art makes life worth living, or is that love? All this and more on my Ted Talk.) but the point remains, this is my little slice of the internet and I’m using my Case of Dove to say the word “Artist” makes me feel a way. I get that, I’m working on it, and maybe I’ll some day be able to call myself one without internally cringing like I just said something stupid to a pretty girl (who I didn’t have a shot with anyway)(unless I said a smart thing than maybe I would have had a shot)(but I said a dumb thing)(damn.)

If you are looking for an eloquent musing in this last paragraph to wrap my ramblings up in a neat little package, an ah-ha moment if you will, that ties some of the above thoughts together to Form A Point, you won’t get that. I’m not a writer, I’m a photographer.

Here’s pictures of Surfbort  [10/27/2018, Baby’s All Right, Brooklyn]

NW: House of Cards Season This New One With Claire Fucking Shit Up (on episode 6 no spoilers or I murder you)

NL: Distance Is A Mirror EP by Public Practice (holy shit when Sam said “Distance is a mirror, shifting my perception of reality, reflecting everything that I knew” DID I FEEL THAT)

NR: I Must Say : My Life As a Humble Comedy Legend by Martin Short

More tk……

002: Another One [and Tiger Sex]

So, technically, I only shot one band this week. Tiger Sex’s set at Otto’s Shrunken Head didn’t get started until 12:01 on the 25th (iPhone Standard Time), so that’s technically this week. 

Anywhos, here’s some pics

One Subject

Next week will be busier. A full work week plus some gigs, plus filming for some vlogs for an artist. Then a bunch of editing, then a few more random shows, then I start editing the 137 Zine. I guess we’ll see what happens. 

The Zine is problematic, because I want it to be high quality but also affordable, but I know only a handful of ya’ll might buy, which makes the bulk discount pricing a non issue. There’s also a problem in the amount of pictures I want. So what’s probably gonna happen is I’m going to the Modern Pop Artist Route and offer 2 versions. A more cost effective 40 page issue at $15, and a Deluxe Version with 240 pages for about $60, which is really the version I want to put out. 

I’m only going to offer it in a preorder situation, so it will be available to buy for about 2 weeks, then mailed out a little bit later. I will probably only put it up for sale every 5 months or so when a new issue is available, so if you don’t cop it in January it will be the end of the summer before you could grab some copy.

Another One

Is it okey to not be able to do every single fucking thing you want to do? I have a solid decade of ideas and artistic desires floating around in my head, and I want to knock them all out in the next month. The problem with that, is most of these ideas or situations can not be rushed. How can one shoot an entire presidential campaign and a huge world tour of a cool ass band in the span of a month? Your boy simply can not accomplish that, even if it seemingly seems possible if I just put my head to it. Or maybe I just need to shut the whiney little fuckface in my head up and take my time, and craft the story as it happens instead of rushing through the experience like a virgin smashing the first time. Take your time Mike, work the nipple, the promise land will be there always and you’ll both enjoy it more if you don’t smash, squirt, and run.

That was a sex metaphor icymi.

Love y’all. Don’t forget to do the work.

More tk……

NL: Katy Perry ‘peacock’

NW: House of Cards Season 6

NR: The Death of WCW by Bryan Alvarez and RD Reynolds

001: A blog [and Liza Colby Sound]

[Originally written on Sunday, November 18, 2018, but Tumblr was being a dick then I got distracted. You didn’t know you missed it so it’s ok.]

I always think “I should have blogged during that period of my life” and never “I am going to blog during this period of my life.” This is an attempt to remedy that. 

I’m three months into a numerous year stint in New York. I don’t necessarily know how long I’ll be here, or what I am even doing here. I’m here to take pictures and see if that’s a thing I’m either good at, or even like doing. My wife is going to college, which is the main reason I moved and will be hanging around for bit. While I’m here, I guess I’ll try to figure out what I am, besides for a workaholic and bastardized persona made up of 1/3rd populist plagiarism, 1/3rd poor imitation for peer pressure success and a 1/3rd a truly unique blend of confidence, arrogance, empathy and humor. 

I’m gonna to pound out some words every weekend. Preferably every Saturday. No one posts shit on Saturday on the internet, because we are so algorithmed out in our lives that we ignore the audience of the bored people who wake up early on Saturday mornings. This blog is for you, my brothers and sisters whose friends are sleeping, and those are intimidated by starting a Netflix binge on such short notice. For the 7 of you, know I stand with you, and will try to give you content until you start figuring out your next excuse to not put on real pants this morning.

Anywhos, here’s some pictures of Liza Colby Sound [11/20/2018, Berlin Under A, Manhattan]

NL: Patti Smith Group “Radio Ethiopia”

NW: NXT Takeover WarGames

NR: Fear, by Bob Woodward. Admittingly, I’ve stalled out for a bit on this, since THE WORLD FUCKING SUCKS and I’m at a breaking point with Trump’s utter incompetence. But I will finish, cause I’m just that kind guy.

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