i like to tell stories

Then years later I bought my own Hasselblad. Then over those years I built my career on it. Then a few short years later, I sold it one day on eBay.

George Carlin died yesterday, he was 71 years old.

Carlin was a personal hero of mine growing up, I can remember seeing his famous HBO specials even before I really should of been watching. The sharp wit, piercing observations and sarcasm all poured out of the man with a brilliant point of view that seemed so obvious, you wondered why it took Carlin to point it out to you.

TIME called and needed him photographed for a 10 Questions article. I set up hours early and waited for him to arrive in the hotel suite. I left the door closed before he arrived, I wanted to see Carlin through the peephole. He was just like you would of expected, only kinder and happier. He went into a rant about hair care products when I asked him to take his hat off, that then descended into a wonderful moment of he and I yelling the F bomb back and forth at each other till I blew the circuits to that half of our hotel room. Thankfully, I had this second shot ready to go, it was a better photograph anyway. I am so happy I blew those circuits or this image never would have happened.

It was the best assignment I ever had, it was one of my favorite people and it was one of the happiest days of my life.

March 19, 2004.

“The most unfair thing about life is the way it ends. I mean, life is tough. It takes up a lot of your time. What do you get at the end of it? A Death! What’s that, a bonus? I think the life cycle is all backwards. You should die first, get it out of the way. Then you live in an old age home. You get kicked out when you’re too young, you get a gold watch, you go to work. You work forty years until you’re young enough to enjoy your retirement. You do drugs, alcohol, you party, you get ready for high school. You go to grade school, you become a kid, you play, you have no responsibilities, you become a little baby, you go back into the womb, you spend your last nine months floating…

i got the images off it the other day. these were the only two i had taken with it. because wherever i had been, i had no other camera and was bored, wanting to make something…

it has been one of the darkest weeks that i can remember.

the other day i saw a photograph in a book at a book store, in the picture i believed it to be an old love, wearing something i had given her. if this was true, it would mean that during the time many years ago that we were together, the truth of what i was told and what was actually happening weren’t connected. i made the mistake of asking and then the mistake of it possibly not being her in the photograph in the first place.

then today i had the cruelest conversation happen to me on the telephone, from the sweetest person i have ever met. even if i stretch my brain to understand why, it doesn’t change how it felt, i did my best, it wasn’t enough.

3 random events in one week and my life is on a path i don’t want and i cannot do anything about it to get it back.

i didn’t realize this till writing this, but i am reminded of the first photo assignment i ever had.

– make a self portrait, the artist as a young man, “invented by belief; each the author and hero of a real dream by which our own courage and cunning are tested and tried; so that we may wonder all over again what is veritable and inevitable and possible and what it is to become whoever we may be.” – that was my assignment, literally, exactly as worded by the 1st the professor i ever had.

this is my 413 story in 353 days here or 817 in 725 days total including the old site. i started thinking one a day, or at least that average, then the past few months, it became simply making a story better then the previous one or at the very least, make it the best effort i could on any given day on whatever was important to me in the moment because of simply how it felt to make something.

Everyone loves photography, everyone hates photography.

Everyone has a camera, everyone doesn’t want their picture taken.

Camera where they want you to take pictures = tourist.

Camera where you want to take pictures = terrorist.

Love photography, read a blog.

Love photography, start a blog.

Love photography, link other blogs.

Love photography, turn off your blog.

Your camera is a weapon, your camera is a witness, your camera is entertainment, your camera bores me, your camera bores yourself, your camera inspires you, your camera inspires me.

All true.

Photography is exploding like never before. Anyone can make images like never before. There are more images to see then ever before.

Love it, hate it, at the same time.

Pinkberry chooses to hate you and stamps it on the outsides of their stores.

I am okay with this, as 48h prior to seeing this sign tonight, I tried it for the first time, it was maybe one of the most disgusting things I ever put in my mouth, so that implies a lot.

a few blocks later, the helicopters came screaming over, he must of made it or they would of stayed for more shots of the results of a fall, i smiled as i got to where i was going, i was glad he made it, i was glad he did it, i was glad i got to see it.

moire is caused when the textures of a fabric or something are almost the same size as the pixels, or at least it has to do with that relationship. i hear the step to correct is either to change lenses or step forward or backward a little. once and a while it happens and there’s nothing else to do about it. i missed it this time, not good. i am sure there is a clever trick to do it on purpose, but doing it with intent and doing it cause you missed it aren’t the same thing.

the girl above, i forgot to reset the ASA from one situation to the next, so this, combined with water on the lens, got me an image several stops overexposed, so hit auto adjust, again and again, see if it starts to get interesting…. not as interesting or unpredictably beautiful as a good old fashion light leak, but i guess its something to watch software attempt to correct. play sometimes equals learning things, other times, it’s just playing.

i didn’t know too much about the subject the day i made these. sometimes i look a ton, other times, i don’t look it all. we got to the location and were told this room and this room only. the PR did a good job in a way, many other articles were laid on the table for my reference of what he looks like and what he was about. it was clear right away, i should of known more about why i was there. in front of me in this room i had to shoot in, were at least 4 different portraits of my subject to be, all shot by a photographer i had heard of, that you have heard of if you’re reading this, all made in this very simple little conference room. now it was my turn, make something, make something better or different or more interesting then those that made his portrait before, in this very room. you have 1h to set up, and 15 min to shoot, GO.

so i made 3.

james was great. really nice, very calm in front of the camera, a good story teller himself as it turns out too. go rent Enron, The Smartest Guys in the Room, give him a listen. he was interviewed throughout the film, on the good side, he spoke of the experience of being included and being a part of the film with great affection. i can safely say that of me, my assistant and james, he was definitely the smartest guy in the room that day i made these. we shared our stories of identity theft and $ stolen, as i had HSBC give away all my money to someone in romania that very morning, somehow, sharing this random inappropriate info with him, made my day better. thanks james. james chonos, president and founder of kynikos associates.

it sold on ebay to someone from brooklyn. turns out he is a photographer too, imagine that. worked for more names then i ever could, that any photographer would admire and seems to be somewhat of a lighting genius from what i can gather about to head out on his own.

he picked the colnago up from my apartment at about 3:45 today.

after he left, i boxed up and walked the contax T3 and panasonic LX2 to fedex, sent them off and hit the deli on the way home. i always watch the bikes zoom down 9th ave as i wait to cross, there is always something to see. guys from the park heading home on $$$ machines of bike beauty or messengers dodging the traffic.

just as i started to cross 9th, at 5:05, i saw a guy come flying through my intersection, screaming through before the red light blinked on, it was my colnago, just feet in front of me, zooming on by, he looked quite happy…

it takes less then 10 seconds to go from 52 to 51 down 9th ave in front of my place, and i just happen to be there for those few seconds he rode by, 1h and 20m after i handed it over. this is why i tell stories.

for the first time in 11 years, i am bikeless. 5 down to zero, #1RN = bicycle graveyard.